The Second Chance Café (Hope Springs, #1) (33 page)

“Because I’ve kept it from you too long, Kaylie,” he said, his chest ripping open, his heart bleeding all over him as if he’d been shivved. “I should’ve told you the first day I came to ask about the job. I wasn’t really there about the job. I just wanted to see you. To see if it really was you. I’d stopped looking for you several years ago. I couldn’t take it anymore, coming up with nothing. But I’d been looking for Kaylie Bridges all that time.”

“I changed my name when I was eighteen. I didn’t want to have the same name as that woman,” she said, and her sob rent through him, and tears welled in his eyes, blinding him.

He swiped them away, but he still couldn’t see as he made the turn onto Chances Avenue. “I’m sorry. About everything. Today. The last month. That I left you with your mother in the first place. That I couldn’t find you the nearly twenty years I looked.”

He pulled into her driveway, turned off the truck, then turned to her to ask for forgiveness. But it was too late. She sat stiffly, staring straight ahead. “I’m sorry, too,
Mitch
, but I don’t think I can have you working at Two Owls.”

She pushed open her door, jumped from the cab, and ran to meet Magoo, who exited the house in front of Ten Keller. She knelt in front of her dog, buried her face in his ruff, and threw her arms around him. Then, shoulders still shaking, she stood and headed for the house.

Mitch watched beside his open door. Ten watched from the driveway, waiting until the screen slammed behind her before moving. Mitch wasn’t in the mood, so he headed to the bed of his truck, untying the knots of the ropes holding Kaylie’s things in place.

Keller spoke first. “I guess that didn’t go so well.”

“It doesn’t matter how it went. It’s done.”

“Yeah.” Ten slapped his palm against the truck bed and turned back to the house.

Mitch reached out, bringing his hand down on the other man’s shoulder. “Leave her alone. Let her work through it. Help me get her things inside, and do not ask me anything. Not about what I said. Not about what she said. I’m done talking about this.”

Twenty minutes later, his truck was unloaded and Ten was gone and Mitch was sitting behind the wheel. He started the engine and shifted into reverse, then back into park before moving. Reaching across the cab, he opened the glove box, pulling out the stack of letters bound by the chain of his dog tags.

He held them, his hand tight, the words pouring over him as if he’d written them this morning and not twenty-three years ago, twenty years ago, fifteen years ago, when he was all out of ideas on how to hunt her down.

Before he could change his mind, he walked to the house, into the kitchen, left the bundle there in the center of the island, and then he walked out on his daughter, leaving her to fend for herself for the second time in his life.

Kaylie was buried beneath her afghan in the wingback chair when Ten found her there in the second floor’s living room, where she’d moved it. “How long have you known?” she asked before he could say anything.

He stood in front of her, shoved his hands in his pockets, and shrugged. “Since Wednesday.”

At least he didn’t deny knowing, though she’d only guessed that he had. “And you kept it to yourself.”

“They promised to tell you.”

“They?” Her mind raced. “You mean Luna.”

“Yeah.”

Kaylie closed her eyes and let her head fall back. She was tired. So unbelievably tired. “That’s why she gave me the scarf.”

“What?” Ten asked, but her answer was more for herself.

“I thought it was a gesture of friendship. But it was an apology. Knowing about Mitch and bringing him into my life without telling me who he was. I can’t believe she would do that. What kind of friend does that? And you,” she said, her eyes flying open. “You’re no better. You knew and said nothing.”

“Wait a minute.” He held up a hand and backed away. “I hadn’t said anything
yet
. And only because I was giving Mitch a chance to come clean. That’s why I had him drive you to Austin. To give him the time to say what needed to be said.”

“And that makes things okay? The fact that you arranged this…kidnapping? This forced confession?” She was being ridiculous, a harping fishwife, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. “I want you to leave.”

“Not like this. I’ll sleep in my truck, but I’m staying.”

She pulled her afghan up to her chin, tucked it beneath her toes. “I don’t need you here.”

“I need to be here.”

Why did he have to have such a hard head? “Ten, please. Don’t do this.”

He made a sound that was half laugh and half snort. “Don’t care about you? Don’t worry about you? Don’t want to make things up to you?”

“Don’t…smother me.”

“Oh,” he huffed out. “So now I’m smothering you?”

“I didn’t mean that. I just…” She was so lost, her thoughts everywhere, racing. “It’s not fair, you know. Life. Keeping us apart. Making me think…oh, the things I’ve thought about him, the reasons I made up for why he left us.”

“You didn’t drive him away,” he said, his voice firm but soft.

“I know that now. And I probably always knew it at some level. But that doesn’t help when I remember the horrible things—”

“Kaylie, stop,” he said, hunkering down in front of her, his hand on her socked foot where she hid it beneath the afghan. “You couldn’t have known. You only had a small piece of the picture. And for a lot of that time, you were a child.”

“I haven’t been a child for a while, Ten. And I’ve still had those thoughts.”

“So, put ’em away,” he said, as if it were nothing, easy. Nothing.

She would. But she couldn’t do it with him here. “I need you to go. I need to think. And to sleep. And I need to be alone.”

“If you’re sure.”

She could hear the hurt in his voice, but she couldn’t look up. “Just for tonight. I just…need time. To process all of this. I just…” She stopped, as what felt like a knife blade pierced from her stomach all the way to her spine, nearly doubling her over.

“Kaylie,” Ten said, surging forward to catch her.

“I’m fine.” Oh, what a lie that was. “I think I may have an ulcer, but I’m fine.”

“Do you need a doctor? Something to drink?”

She needed him to let her take care of herself. “No. I just need you to go.”

“I don’t like leaving you like this.”

“I promise I’ll call you if it gets worse. But I need to be alone now. Please. Don’t make me ask you again.”

K
aylie hadn’t been asleep for more than an hour when Magoo woke her with intent. He wasn’t growling at the window as he had when Ten stopped by, or whimpering to be let out for a trip to the yard. This was purposeful, his nudging at her shoulder, at her collarbone, her face. Exhausted, she pushed him away, pushed a second time when he insisted.

It was when he nipped at her cheek that she jumped, angry. And then she smelled smoke. Not the smoke of something burning in the kitchen. Neither she nor Dolly had cooked in the house today. And Mitch hadn’t been by since their trip two days ago to Austin. But this wasn’t the smell of food anyway. It had a harsh metallic tang. The smell of a cord burned through.

She jumped out of bed, scrambled into her pants, and grabbed her boots, her laptop, her phone and her knife, her keys and her tiny wallet. Barefoot, she ran down the stairs, one flight and then another with Magoo practically nipping at her heels. Her heart pounded in her chest even louder than her feet did on the new flooring as she crossed the kitchen, Magoo’s nails scrabbling behind her.

Ten never left any of his tools plugged in. Neither did Will. The appliances in the kitchen were all new and shouldn’t be
shorting out or sparking. The renovations hadn’t required much in the way of new wiring, and every single connection and outlet had been tested within an inch of its life.

Dear God, what was burning? Where was the smoke coming from? She punched 9-1-1 on her phone as she ran out the kitchen door to her Jeep. Magoo jumped in first, and she tossed everything but her keys into the backseat, starting the engine and backing down the drive.

“Nine-one-one,” said a gruff male voice. “What is your emergency?”

“My house. I smell smoke. I think it’s on fire. At the corner of Second and Chances. My name is Kaylie Flynn. Hurry.”

Once the dispatcher assured her help was on the way, Kaylie dialed Ten. And it was just as he answered that she saw the first flame licking at the glass in the third-story window.

“Kaylie? Baby? Is it the nightmare?”

It was, but oh, this was so much worse. “My house is on fire!”

“What?” He yelled the word into the phone, and she heard him knock something over, cursing in the distance, coming back to her seconds later. “Where are you? Do you have Magoo?”

“We’re both in my Jeep. I pulled out onto Chances.”

“You need to get out of there.”

“Okay,” she said, but she wasn’t going anywhere. “Magoo woke me up. He smelled the smoke. If not for him—” A sob grabbed the rest of her words.

“Kaylie, I’m coming, baby. It’ll be fifteen minutes, but I’ll be there.”

As he said the last, the wail of sirens reached her. “I’ll let you go. I hear the fire truck.”

“Okay. Hang on.” He paused, then added, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, and that was it. The emotion tearing through her spilled in buckets.

Hot tears streaked down her cheeks, blurring her vision, wetting her neck, her pajama top. Magoo stepped across the console onto the edge of her seat, and she wrapped her arms around him, buried her face in his ruff. He smelled smoky and doggy and was so solid, his breath warm as he panted against her neck.

“Oh, Goo,” she said, straightening, swiping her sleeve over her snotty nose. “What’re we going to do if we lose our house?”

He gave a single bark, then began to growl as the fire engine and police cruiser both pulled to the curb on Second. “It’s okay, Goo. They’re the good guys.” She found her boots in the back and slipped them on, then gave Magoo his visual command, followed by a verbal “Stay.”

She climbed down from the Jeep, circling it to lean against the hood, waiting as the team of volunteer firemen got busy hooking up their gear. It wasn’t long before the man in charge approached, crossing the yard at a rapid clip.

“Miss Flynn? Kaylie? Are you all right? Is there anyone inside?”

Wade Parker. Carolyn’s husband. She’d met him during Two Owls’ trial run. “I’m okay. I was the only one inside besides my dog. He woke me or I don’t think either one of us would’ve gotten out.”

He gave her a nod. “Do you have any idea what we’re looking at? I know the place has been under construction.”

“It has, and I think I smelled something like wiring, but not from the first floor.”

“What I’m hearing is that it’s on the third. We’ll see if we can keep it from spreading. But I’d like you to move your Jeep a little farther down the street to be safe.”

“Okay,” she said, climbing behind the wheel and backing down the road, stopping when a set of headlights appeared in her rearview mirror, and a truck she could tell was Ten’s slid to a stop behind.

He was out and running toward her before she could do more than shift into park. As she turned off the engine, he jerked open her door, and she fell into his arms, holding him, her tears already shed.

“God, Kaylie. Did I do this?”

She stayed glued to him, shook her head against his chest. “No. I saw flames on the third floor. I think it was electrical. Something in the way the smoke tasted.”

He brought up a hand to cup the back of her head. “I’m so sorry. Is Wade here? Have you talked to him?”

“I just told him what I knew. I guess now all we do is wait,” she said, and hearing Magoo whining behind her, she reached back. Ten kept his hand on hers as she held the dog’s head to her shoulder. Beneath her cheek, Ten’s heart raced as fast as hers, and she wondered if tomorrow she’d find bruises there.

“I cannot believe this is happening. I should’ve checked all the connections upstairs. You’re living there, for chrissakes. I should’ve checked everything.”

This wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. The house had fallen into disrepair, and she’d rushed the renovations. Nothing had turned up in the original inspection to lead her
to believe she was living in a tinderbox, but she should’ve been more diligent, more thorough. She shouldn’t have been so desperate to get the renovations started.

She shouldn’t have used the house as an excuse to avoid the search for her parents.

A man moved into her peripheral vision, smeared as it was by her tears. He wore a T-shirt and jeans and, she thought, sandals. Mitch. Her father. The man she’d so cruelly assumed had never wanted her and walked out. The man who’d spent his life looking for her, giving up only when he’d run out of places to look.

She’d hated him for so long, hated him without knowing him at all. She’d imagined the worst possible reasons for his abandoning her, and every imagining had been so far from the truth it hurt. She’d thought more than once since she’d met him how cruel Mitch’s family had been to leave him. And here she was, that very family who’d left.