When Fall Fades (The Girl Next Door Series Book 1) (24 page)

Chapter 24

Archer Hayes

T
he five hours to rural Kansas flew by. Given the purpose of the trip, Archer felt a little guilty for so thoroughly enjoying himself. Sadie was incredibly easy to be with. She had this uncanny ability to put everything in perspective without being the least bit smug. For the first time in his life he felt … centered. Like he’d stumbled into someone else’s home by mistake but instantly felt like he belonged. A place of simple comfort, honesty, genuine happiness—everything his home had lacked, and it was all wrapped up in her presence.

Equally foreign was feeling his rock-solid discipline spiraling off course, leaving his emotions behind the wheel. Emotions were unreliable and far too easy to give in to with a muse like Sadie.

She was a beautiful distraction. But that was all she could be. At some point, someone would pay for it. And if history had taught him anything, the cost would be a life.

Having strayed so far out of his element, he wasn’t sure how to navigate. He prided himself for his rigid ability to compartmentalize and regulate every situation. After living through a war where you had no control, it became his lifeline. The key to his success, and his survival. The emotionally weak-willed would bend and break, but he proved to himself that if he stayed detached he could do his job well and never have to deal with hurt.

But what about regret?
A familiar voice sounded in his head. If he continued to keep everyone at arm’s length, would he live to regret it? He tightened his grip on the wheel and forced his eyes to stay trained on the road.

Up until this point there hadn’t been anyone he’d considered breaking his own rules for. What made Sadie so different? And if he closed the door to her, would he be able to go back to who he was before she made him feel this way? Or would he always wonder about the one he’d let slip away?

Then again, what did he really know about her?

The discussion of Charlie’s will leapt to the forefront of his mind, arousing suspicions he had laid to rest. Was it possible she was involved in this somehow? Could she really have worked him over, seduced him with her beauty and her charm? Had his desire for her overwhelmed his instincts?

After pulling in to the small hospital parking lot just after one o’clock in the morning, he looked over at the woman in question. She’d fallen asleep about an hour ago, turned just so in her seat that he could appreciate every little detail. One look and the apprehension in his chest eased.

He was good at his job. Probably the best. It just wasn’t possible he could be blindsided by a pretty face.

And oh, what a pretty face, indeed.

He knew he needed to get inside, but he stalled just a moment longer to drink in the view. Soft wisps of luminous blonde hair had fallen across her forehead. Giving in to the need to touch her, he gently brushed them away, letting his fingertips skim the smoothness of her cheek. Long lashes came to rest on the high arch of her cheekbones as she slept. The supple flesh of her rosy lips tempting him to taste what had been unimaginably sweet only days ago. Tearing his eyes away from her mouth to avoid an impromptu sampling, he noticed a small beauty mark near the corner of her bottom lip, the faintest dusting of freckles over her pert little nose.

And although he wasn’t one to objectify, he let his gaze travel down over her svelte form, lingering a moment as her chest rose and fell with each breath. She was fine-boned but curvy in all the right places. Soft and feminine.

A rush of heat choked out his air supply. He needed to escape this hotbox of torture. But he also needed to wake her, preferably before she woke up and found him ogling her. Or before he dragged her over the center console and—

Nope. None of that.

Clearing his throat, he whispered. “Sadie … Sadie, wake up.” He reached out and rubbed her upper arm, shaking her gently. “Sadie.”

Stirring and stretching, she batted heavy eyelids, slowly exposing the brilliance beneath. She spoke sleepily through a small yawn. “Are we here?”

He smiled because, well, even though he was in the last place he wanted to be, he was with Sadie. And that was something to smile about. “Yeah, we are. You could probably stay out here and sleep a bit more if you lock up. There was a motel a few miles back, but it was pretty dark. I’d rather you not go by yourself.” He grated at the scratch in his throat. “Or you can always come in with me?”

“Yeah, I’ll find a waiting room. Let you have some time alone with your dad.”

“That part I’m not looking forward to.”

Sadie perked up, holding his gaze boldly but worrying her bottom lip. “Listen, I don’t want to overstep, but …”

“Don’t hold back on me now, Sherlock.”

“Thing is, I know based on what little you said about your childhood that you don’t owe the man anything. But …” She reached out and placed her small hand over his heart. “You have to forgive him, Archer. And not just for him. For you.”

His heart hammered against her palm. How had he not thought about this before now? He was completely unprepared to see his dad and he’d just driven for five hours without giving their confrontation a single thought. What was he going to say?

He knew Sadie was right and she was trying to help, but he struggled again with the concept of giving in. He huffed out his frustration, trying to ease the pressure roiling beneath the surface. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

“I know. I’ll be praying.”

They made their way into the hospital building. With each step the gravity of the situation shoved his heart further down into his stomach. His breathing labored, a vice of haunted memories seeming to squeeze the air from his lungs.

As if sensing his panic, the soft pads of Sadie’s fingers brushed his palm before she grabbed hold. A mysterious calm invaded his hand, sent a chain reaction up his arm and through his chest, eradicating the panic attack and leaving only the faintest nervous flutter in his gut.

And when Sadie attempted to break off at the waiting room, Archer noticed he was clinging to her hand like a life raft, desperate for her magic touch to keep him afloat. He managed a small smile, lifted and pressed a kiss into her palm, and reluctantly walked alone to his father’s room.

Just before his knuckle struck the door, his mom rounded the corner. “Oh, Archer, you made it.” His little pint-sized mama flung her arms around his neck and held him tight.

It took him a moment to respond, but he hunched down and hugged her back, realizing just how much he’d missed her. Breathing in the familiar powdery fragrance of her Shalimar perfume, he nearly choked on the knot of regret rising in his throat for his prolonged absence. “Hey, Ma.”

Pulling back, she held his face, no doubt analyzing the subtle changes the years bring. “It’s so good to see you.” Fresh tears filled her mossy green eyes.

“I missed you too, Mom.” His smile faded as he nodded toward the door. “How is he?”

She shook her head, her blonde-streaked tawny brown curls firmly sprayed as usual. She looked the same as always, right down to the tear tracks smeared over her delicate features. But the heartbreak in her eyes … something about that wasn’t quite the same. “I don’t think he’s sleeping. You should go in. He’s a little groggy, but he keeps asking for you.”

He nodded once, accepting that he had no choice. It was, after all, why he’d come.

When he started to open the door, his mom touched his arm. “Give him a chance, Arch. He’s a different man now.”

It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light. An oppressive presence of death hovered in the room, and when his sights settled on the drawn face of his father, he knew why.

Roy’s sunken eyes fluttered open. All oxygen kicked free from Archer’s lungs at the sight of his sick and defeated reflection.

He’d almost forgotten how much he resembled his dad. Maybe that was his problem. He didn’t want to be anything like him, but every time he looked at Roy’s face, Archer felt as if he couldn’t escape the man he might someday become.

“Archer.” His voice emerged thin and gravelly, foreign. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Archer nodded, reminding himself to breathe. “How are you feeling?”
Dumb question, Ace, the man is dying.

The frail line of his shoulders were heavy with defeat, not resembling the proud tank of a man who had once been his father. “Not so good, son. And not just for the reasons you think.” He motioned for Archer to sit.

Dragging a chair bedside, the shrill scraping of the legs on the glassy, terrazzo floor grated at his taut nerves. He folded stiffly onto the chair and held his breath again.

“I’ve messed things up so bad I don’t know where to start.” Roy took a moment to close his eyes. Then he spoke again. “I just keep praying for the right words.”

Archer bit back a snarky comment about when his father took to praying about anything, much less curbing his preference for cutting words. He breathed out his impatience.
Keep it together, man.
“Why don’t you just tell me what’s on your mind, Dad?”

“I can do that,” he said aloud, and then he whispered to himself under his breath, “You can do this.”

Archer wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but what came next was the last thing he’d have guessed would come out of Roy’s mouth.

“I found God earlier this year, and in doing so I’ve come to grips with a lot of the ways I failed you as a father.” The sharp peak of Roy’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, his eyes misting with emotion. “All the ways I’ve failed at everything actually—with your mother, and you and your sister. And as much as I’ve prayed that I could take it all back and do things differently, well … I know I can’t make up for what I must’ve put you through, Archer. I took you for granted. And I don’t blame you for hating me. But something happened.”

Archer witnessed something he had never seen on his father’s face. It looked like … redemption.

“It was like living in the dark your whole life and then waking to a glorious sunrise. Your mother was faithful and prayed for me all these years. She helped reel me in before it was too late. I kept searching for something to fill the void, never realizing it was all right there all along. What a damn fool I was.” He shook his head, drawing and releasing a fragile breath. “I wish I would have figured it out sooner, maybe things could have been better between us. I wish I would’ve been the father you deserve.”

Archer looked down, clenched his fists until his nails dug into his hardened palm.

“Son, before I miss another opportunity, I want to tell you how proud I am and have always been of the man you are.” A tear trickled down the grooves of Roy’s pale cheek. His voice broke. “And how I wish I would have told you how much I love you, before now. But, even more importantly, how much God still loves you, no matter what you’ve done. You can’t earn forgiveness, Archer. Lord knows I never could have. But at some point you’ve gotta stop running.”

Any semblance of a response clogged in Archer’s throat, his eyes burning with unshed tears. Everything he’d wanted to hear, only years too late.

“I have a lot of regrets, son, but what I would regret more than anything is if my failures destroyed your ability to love.”

Archer wanted to be mad. He wanted to have someone else to blame for the condition of his heart. But for reasons he couldn’t explain, his anger slipped through his fists. The pain and disappointment from a lifetime of neglect sifted like sand from his grasp.

When he looked up at his old man, his first tear in over seven years broke free, releasing the heavy weight of rejection he’d carried all his life.

He reached out and clenched his father’s hand, unable to swallow the words that poured from his lips. “I forgive you.” The rest of his burden escaped on a jailbreak of tears, and he buried his face in the bed by their hands. There was no rational explanation why a few pretty words could amend years of abuse. It didn’t seem fair. Where was the justice of it? But somehow, forgiveness was more powerful than the pain, the anger, and all that resentment.

Roy placed his weak hand on Archer’s head—a man on his deathbed, embracing the first and last time he’d ever spend with his son.

A hasty hour passed while Archer and Roy experienced a miracle in the form of a real conversation. It was amazing that in his thirty-three years, this was the first time Archer felt like he was just a kid, spending time with his dad—regaling him with the stories of his time overseas, and his life now in St. Louis. “Oh, and there’s someone responsible for getting me here tonight. I’d like you to meet her, if you’re feeling up to it.”

Roy smiled, still clinging to a tiny spark of life. “I’d be honored, son.”

Making his way back down the hall, Archer poked his head into the waiting room to find Sadie pacing back and forth. “What are you doing?” He grinned at her curiously.

“I’ve been praying,” she said, like it was so obvious. “What? I knew how important this was and I didn’t want to fall asleep.”