The Final Goodbye

by Brittney Sahin

  He swiped at her tears, her mascara smudging beneath her eyes.

  “I understand. And I’m sorry.” He rose to his feet a few moments later and helped his mom to stand. “We’ll have dinner with Ava and Aiden tomorrow or Wednesday, okay? I’m sure they’d love to see you.”

  “I’m so thankful they could fly out here to help out on such short notice.”

  “Me too. Aiden left his father in charge of the bar, and Ava was already on vacation from work. But you know how we roll,” he said with a smile in his eyes. “When one is in trouble, we move heaven and earth to help out.”

  “I’m so glad you have friends like them.”

  Ben was, too.

  But there was one friend he missed more than any others. And now that he had her back in his life, how the hell would he ever let go?

  Chapter Twelve

  “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Mandy . . .” Riley shook her head as if Mandy could see her through the phone. “I’m just asking you to be careful and watch your back. Don’t be alone with Bobby, okay?”

  “And who’s watching yours? Maybe you should stay with Daniel instead of your parents until the killer is caught. He may be a doctor, but he’s also tough.”

  She thought about telling her how Ben was protecting her, but she didn’t want a lecture from her friend. Mandy would worry too much about her, and she’d rather Mandy focus on keeping herself safe right now.

  “I’ll be okay, but I do need to talk to Daniel. Is he still in surgery?”

  “Last time I checked, yeah.”

  “Maybe you could stay at the hospital tonight instead of going home. I hate the idea of you being alone.” Riley doubted Bobby was dangerous, but if there was even the slightest chance he could be the killer, she couldn’t lose her best friend.

  “Probably will, anyway. I have a late shift.”

  “Okay. Well, if you see anything suspicious, tell the sheriff, okay?”

  “Yes, Detective Carpenter.”

  “This is serious.”

  “Girl, I know. But I’m trying to keep my sanity together so I can operate and not accidentally kill anyone. I’ll process all of this and grieve after the killer is behind bars.”

  “Okay.” Riley said goodbye a minute later and tossed the phone on the passenger seat as she drove.

  When her last appointment ended early, she left the office and drove around town, circling it like a lost traveler.

  Her wheels slowed as she neared the old high school baseball field.

  What she hadn’t expected was to see Ben standing on the pitcher’s mound, kicking up dirt behind him.

  She was pretty sure it was him and not a mirage, and when she pulled into a parking spot and saw his rental SUV, she knew he was real.

  He tugged on the brim of his hat, squared his shoulders, then wound back his arm and threw toward home plate, even though he was alone.

  His free hand immediately darted to his shoulder, and although he was quite a distance away, she could have sworn she saw him grimace. The man was in pain, but he must not have cared because a moment later he reached down for another ball. But as he stood, he shifted her direction.

  She was caught.

  Shit.

  He shook his head, clearly pissed at seeing her. He gathered a couple balls off the field and headed her way.

  She leaned against her truck and waited for him, practically holding her breath as he strode her way like a vision from the past.

  She could see the sixteen-year-old Ben again, the boy who didn’t have a care in the world.

  “What are you doing here?” His voice was rough, but the sound tickled her skin in a strange way, sending a flow of heat down into her abdomen.

  He opened the door to the back seat of his rental and tossed the bag and glove inside.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.” She shoved off the truck and waited for him to face her again.

  Ben closed the door, pressed both palms to the side of the SUV, and dropped his head. “Thought I’d throw a few for old time’s sake before I came and picked you up.” There was pain in his voice as if his words had been dragged through the muck.

  Her heart squeezed in her chest, and she stood behind him, tenderly pressing her hand to his injured shoulder. “Still hurt?”

  “Nah, I’m okay.” He pivoted to face her, so she retracted her arm.

  “You were never a good liar.” She gulped because the look in his eyes had turned dark, almost grim.

  He lifted his hat and swiped a hand through his dark locks. “Is this your truck?” With his cap back on, he sidestepped her and approached the vehicle.

  She crossed her arms and watched him circle it. He smoothed a hand over the hood as if it were a horse. “Yeah, why?”

  “Figured you’d be driving some flashy Mercedes or something.” He smiled, and his white teeth blinked in the sunlight.

  “You know how much I love the bed of a truck.”

  She’d surprised herself when buying the truck last year, trading in her Mercedes—good call on Ben’s part—for the Ford. She had worried the purchase would be a painful reminder of her past, but she considered it to be part of her own personal therapeutic journey to move on. To move forward in life.

  It hadn’t worked, though.

  She rarely drove it, and mostly walked everywhere. She’d told herself the town was small and walking was good exercise, but in her heart, she knew the truth. The past still had a claim on her soul, and it wouldn’t let go.

  “Good choice. Great engine.”

  “I know.” She smiled, but it was an uncomfortable smile. She was nervous. And it had nothing to do with the shit day she’d had and everything to do with the man standing in front of her like a ghost from her past. Baseball hat and all.

  “I dropped you off at work. How’d you get your truck?” He crossed his arms.

  “My parents brought it to my office. I had wanted to pay Daniel a visit, and I didn’t want to bug you. I figured you’d be busy. I was planning on letting you know I wouldn’t need a ride home.”

  “Mm. And did you speak with your ex?”

  She glanced at her watch. “No, he’s still in surgery, but I left him a half a dozen messages to call me as soon as he gets out.”

  He nodded. “Good. I want a word with him, too.”

  “He won’t talk to you,” she quickly said. “But he’ll talk to me.”

  “I don’t want you alone with him in case—”

  “He’s not a killer.” She turned her back and opened her truck door.

  Ben positioned himself in the passenger seat next to her when she started the engine. “What are you doing?”

  He shot her a lopsided smile. “Either you’re riding with me, or I’m riding with you.”

  “You’re frustrating.”

  “I know.” He strapped on his belt. “But it looks like we have some time to kill before your ex gets out of work, so—”

  “If we spend time together, that doesn’t mean we’re okay.” Her cheeks warmed, and she hated herself for allowing years of conflicting emotions to gather like a storm inside of her so damn fast, especially at a time like this.

  He took off his hat and rested it in his lap. His forehead was slightly sweaty, and his dark hair out of place . . . but he looked sexy, like always.

  “Where to, then?” he asked as his blue eyes met hers.

  “How about Swayze Park?” she suggested, regretting her words the moment they left her mouth.

  He cleared his throat, scratched his chin, and looked away from her. His large, muscled chest lifted with a deep breath.

  Was she asking for trouble?

  “You want to go to a park with a killer out there?”

  She knew his reservations about the park had nothing to do with the killer, and everything to do with their past.

  Swayze Park was where they used to hang out.

  So, why in the world had she suggested such a thing?

&nbs
p; “It won’t be dark for a few hours.”

  “Fine, but we should grab some food,” he said. “I barely ate today, and I gotta maintain this body, you know.” He flashed her a wickedly sexy grin. “This town manage to get a drive-through in the years I’ve been gone?”

  She smiled. “A couple. But I’m not much of a fast-food eater, and you shouldn’t be, either. You know the crap they put in that stuff? If you eat that garbage, I don’t know how you stay in such good shape.”

  “So you noticed, huh?” He jokingly flexed his bicep, and she chuckled.

  She couldn’t believe the man had her laughing right now.

  “Well, what do you suggest, then?” he asked.

  She thought about going back to her apartment and packing some sandwiches. Would that create a more romantic vibe, though?

  “Okay. I’ll eat processed meat”—she held up an index finger—“just this one time.”

  “Thank you for your sacrifice, ma’am.”

  * * *

  “Admit it. It’s better than kale, isn’t it?” His eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled.

  “Never.” She chewed on her fry, and she hated that he was right. The food was damn good.

  They were sitting on a blanket in the back of her truck, her long legs stretched out in front of her. And it was as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

  “I’m bringing in help,” he said after polishing off the rest of his burger.

  “What kind of help?” She cleaned her hands with a napkin and tossed it in one of the grease-soaked brown bags.

  “Aiden’s a friend of mine. He’s flying in tomorrow, and he’s bringing his fiancée, Ava. I actually need her more than him.”

  “Oh, really? And why is that?”

  He pushed the trash off to the side and scooted closer to her. He was sitting opposite of her, and his fingers wrapped around her slim ankle. She’d already kicked off her heels, but she had her legs crossed to try and keep Ben from getting a view up her skirt.

  He edged closer, on his knees now, and slid his large hand up her calf muscle.

  She bit back a groan at the gentle caress of this thumbs rubbing circles on each side of the tender area by her knee. “Ava used to work for the government as a biochemist, but it’s her computer skills I’m interested in.”

  He kept his eyes on her leg, focused on the massage, so she stared down at his long, dark lashes before her eyes swept up to his scar.

  “Is she the one who helped you get the case files?”

  He nodded.

  “What was it like?” she asked in a soft voice. “Being in the military, I mean. How are you handling being out? I’ve worked with soldiers who have PTSD.”

  He stopped touching her and lifted his hands for a second, and her pulse made a panicky climb. She wanted his hands back on her.

  “Uh.” He kept his gaze downcast. “I’m fine. The military was good for me. It helped tame me.”

  She chuckled. “I highly doubt anything could tame you.”

  He gifted her with his blue eyes, and her heart sang at the contact. “Well, I met a lot of great people, and they’ve become close friends.”

  “Like Aiden?” She hated there was a throb of jealousy inside of her. She had once been his best friend, and he’d replaced her.

  “Yeah. There’s a group of us who got out of the Marines about the same time. Some of us have struggled with civilian life more than others.”

  “Have you ever seen a therapist?” she spat out without thinking through her question first. “It could be helpful.” She didn’t mean to prod, but she couldn’t help but worry about him. “I spend a couple of weeks a year in the D.C. area working with veterans. It’s what I’m most passionate about.”

  His mouth twisted for the briefest of moments. “I’ve talked to someone a couple of times, but not regularly. I don’t know. I’m fine. One of my buddies, Michael, still struggles with PTSD, a lot more than the rest of us. The guy is so damn smart. Never able to turn his brain off, and it’s hard for him to stop thinking about what happened overseas.”

  “Do you always do that?”

  He looked up again and slid his hand further up her thigh. “Do what?”

  “Deflection. Instead of talking about yourself, you quickly switched to your friend.”

  “My friends matter to me,” he said, his voice gruffer this time. She wondered if there was a hidden meaning, too—like he was referring to her. But maybe she was reaching.

  “You really do carry the weight of everyone on your shoulders, don’t you?”

  He didn’t answer. He shifted on top of her and straddled her lower legs, and she instinctively pressed a hand to the hem of her skirt, her knuckles brushing against his crotch in the process.

  “What are you doing?” she asked when his hand settled on her leg.

  “I’m trying to help you, but my shoulder is sore. Bending over to massage you from the side is—”

  “I knew you were lying about your shoulder.” Her brows darted together with concern, and she reached out for him, but he shook his head.

  “I’m good. I should’ve known better than to throw a ball. I can scale a building and throw a mean left hook, but pitching is off-limits.”

  His thumbs stroked her leg. He kept the weight of his body off of her, but she worried his knees would start to hurt from kneeling on the bed of the truck. The plaid blanket beneath them wasn’t exactly thick.

  “You don’t need to do this.”

  “I want to.”

  “I know it was your dream to play professionally,” she said after a minute. “It was a tough break about your arm.”

  He gave her a too-quick smile. It was one of his fake ones. She remembered seeing it when he’d congratulated her and Nate on becoming a couple.

  “Hey, I played for two years. Dream fulfilled.” He lifted his shoulders. “Besides, in hindsight, my years as a Marine were more meaningful than baseball. I should’ve stayed in the service.”

  “Can you go back?” She wasn’t sure if that was how things worked, though.

  “I have my business now, but . . .” He stopped massaging her, and she stifled a groan, wishing his hands were back on her, and it had nothing to do with the slight pain in her leg, and everything to do with the wetness at her center.

  “But?”

  “A couple of my friends have formed an international spec ops group.” He shifted and sat alongside her.

  She crossed her ankles again and tugged at her skirt, pulling the material as far down as possible. “Spec ops?”

  He tipped his chin in the direction of the setting sun that blazed like a ball of fire about to explode above the trees. “Rescue missions, government assists with taking down terrorists, and such.”

  Her mouth rounded in surprise. “And are you thinking of joining them? What about your business?”

  “I miss the chase, the action. Vegas isn’t all that exciting anymore. I miss making a difference. Plus, it’d be nice to work with my friends again.” He sighed. “I’m probably just talking.”

  “Well, it sounds dangerous, but you were never very good at staying inside the box. I always liked that about you.”

  “Really? I thought it was my rugged good looks and six-pack.”

  She chuckled and elbowed him in the side. “Well, obviously.”

  A knuckled fist brushed over her cheek, catching her off guard, and she glanced his way, but he settled his hand back in his lap.

  “Well, I, um, would love to meet Aiden and Ava when they arrive. I’d like to thank them for their help,” she said when a few awkward minutes had passed between them.

  “Of course.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye as she twisted to the side to better face him.

  His eyes shifted to the hem of her skirt, and he slowly dragged his attention up and back to her face.

  Warmth spread through every limb in her body. “What are you thinking about?” she asked, noting his shoulders tense.

  “Jus
t going through the facts about the investigation in my head.”

  Sure. At the moment, the case was the last thing on her mind, and she’d bet his, too. “And?”

  “Well, uh, can you think of any reason why the police would be questioning that patient of yours? What was his name again?”

  The heat quickly dispersed from her body. “His name is Jeremy, and I assume the sheriff asked to speak to him because of his record.”

  “His record? We talking batting averages or time served?”

  “I guess I can tell you this since it’s public knowledge. He got out of prison not too long ago.”

  “What was he in for?”

  “Attempted murder. He stabbed some guy in the chest and threatened to slit his . . .”

  Ben straightened, his shoulder blades pinching back.

  “Shit. You think . . .?” Riley knew Jeremy was dangerous; she could feel it in her bones, but why would he target Ralph and Lydia? Had she missed something during their sessions?

  “I’ll have Ava look into him, but for now, you need to keep your distance.” Ben stood and jumped out of the truck bed.

  “I have an appointment with him in the morning. I can’t miss it. It’d be unethical for me to bail on my responsibilities, especially if he’s in crisis.”

  “No,” he said as she slipped back on her heels. “A hell no, just so we’re clear.” He helped her out of the truck. “You’re not going to be alone with that son of a bitch.”

  “Innocent until proven guilty.” But what if Ben was right? She saw the way Jeremy looked earlier. He was coming undone at the seams. What if he snapped and killed her in her office tomorrow? “I have a panic button beneath my desk. If I get scared, I could press it,” she added.

  “And why do you have that?”

  “A patient tried to strangle me, and so I had it installed.”

  He cursed, let go of her, and spun away. “Jesus, Ri.”

  “What?” She circled him.

  “I’m thinking maybe we ought to also take a look at your patient files.” His forehead tightened, his expression wry. “You think any of your clients are capable of murder?”

  Her thoughts raced as patient faces appeared in her mind. “I-I don’t know. But I doubt any of them know Ralph. Lydia—no idea, but not Ralph.”