Page 104 of Long Shot

I wasn’t hungry, but I made myself a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner, washing it down with a glass of milk. My plate with an uneaten crust and the empty glass sit on the coffee table. Usually Jack would be whining over that crust, and the place feels empty without him.

I listen to the current song . . . “Blue Christmas,” that old Elvis tune, sung by The Lumineers.

Sweet baby Jesus in the manger, this is a sad song. But very fitting for my current mood. I pick up the small remote that can skip to the next track, but lower my hand and torture myself by listening to the entire song.

The next one is much more upbeat, and I bop a bit to the opening rhythm of Wham’s “Last Christmas.” Then the vocals start.

Damn. This one is no better. I sigh.

I really need to get my shit together. I have a fantastic career opportunity I’m embarking on. Los Angeles is an exciting city. Opening a fabulous new restaurant is going to be amazing. I should be happy.

Right.

So many things replay through my head. Cade telling me not to make decisions based on fear. Am I afraid to take that job in L.A.?

My experience have made me strong. Resilient. Assertive. But the time I had to be the strongest, I couldn’t stop a tragedy. I always swore I would defend my team, and then I couldn’t, when it mattered most of all.

But I remember Cade’s story about blaming the real enemy. I wasn’t the one responsible for the shooting. Iknowthat, even though I’ll never really get over feeling regret for what happened.

I can do that job in Graham’s new restaurant.

But then I remember Carrie’s words.Whydo I want to do that job? Am I trying to prove something? Am I trying to show that I’m strong enough, that I’m over what happened? Is that a good reason to do it?

I’m happy here. I have friends. I love the ocean. Conquistadors is small, but I love being a part of it, making it better. I love Jack.

And I love Cade.

I feel like there’s a weight on my chest, a huge, crushing weight.

Bing-bing.

The unexpected noise of my doorbell startles me so much I nearly fall off the couch. What the . . . who’s here?

My heart lurches into a rapid rhythm. Should I ignore it? I push up off the couch and pad in bare feet over to the door. The outside light is on and I peer out the small window.

Oh, my God.

My eyes pop open wide as I take in the dog on my front step with a big red bow around his neck.

“Jack!” I twist the dead bolt and fling open the door. “Jack! What are you doing here?”

As if the dog can answer me. But I always talked that way to him.

Has he run away from his new home? Somehow managed to find his way back here?

Jack bounds at me, tail flailing madly, tongue lolling, and I crouch and catch him in my arms, tears stinging my eyes. “Oh, my God. Jack. I miss you already. What is going on? How did you get here?”

I look around, and then I see the man standing to the side, in the shadows watching us.

Cade.

22

REESE

Reese

“Merry Christmas.” Cade moves into the light. He’s wearing a jacket against the chill of the night, hands in the pockets.

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