Page 142 of Happily Never After

“No, Claire, there isn’t. We didn’t want to tip them off that we were here. We could have had him. Weshouldhave had him. If you hadn’t attacked those men, he’d be in custody right now. Fuck.” His voice cut like a knife. There was a hardness in his eyes that she hadn’t seen since she was a child.

She recoiled, a memory creeping back in. A cold-eyed Jack shaking his finger and shouting at Claire in kindergarten for forgetting her sweater at school. Her toes curled in her massive shoes, and she took a step back. She fought for words. Was heblamingher?

At another point in her life, she would have stood down. Accepted responsibility and put together an apology basket. But so much had changed since she was a six-year-old girl.

“No.” The word escaped from her like the bark of a chihuahua.

Jack turned to her, eyebrows raised. His knuckles were white where he clutched the walkie talkie.

She took a deep breath. A river of words threatened to escape. If this exact interaction had happened two weeks ago, she would have slid into a full-blown panic attack. But now she was Medicated Claire. She was Cognitive-Behavioral-Therapy Claire. And Medicated, Cognitive-Behavioral-Therapy Claire was pissed.

Even though her insides squirmed, she made firm eye contact and stood her ground. Maybe it was the fake mustache and men’s clothing, but she was raging with confidence.

“I know you’re frustrated, Jack. But you don’t get to blame me for this failure. They had Luke. He is always going to be more important to me than catching these idiots. I will choose him every time. If they had Tanya, you would have done the same thing I did, no matter the cost to your ‘operation,’” she said, throwing up finger quotes.

Jack opened his mouth, but she cut him off.

“In fact, you wouldn’t even know he was in California if it wasn’t for me. I am a goddamnproposal planner. I shouldn’t be better at tracking down serial killers than the FBI. Every day that he’s out there—that they’re out there”—she pointed to the street as if expecting to see a pile of them wielding machetes in a Hummer limo—“every woman is in danger. You need to do better. This isn’t my fault. Good day.”

She turned on her heel and ran smack into Luke. He was still wet from their fight in the bathroom, but there weren’t any visible gaping wounds or lacerations. Relief flooded her. He was safe.

“Let’s go home,” she barked at him and strode off in the direction of the car. The oversized shoes nearly tripped her, butshe kept walking. Anything to put distance between her and Jack. Her insides were tangled up like yarn. So much for her dream of a united family. Howdarehe blame her?

They rounded a street corner. The hotel was hidden from view. Her shoulders relaxed by a centimeter.

Luke, who was almost jogging to keep up with Claire’s rage-induced stride, grabbed her wrist.

“What?”

“You just yelled at your dad.”

“No, I yelled at Jack.” Jack may have saved her life the previous summer, but it didn’t make up for two decades of silence. Roy was her father.

Luke raised one eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay.” She resumed stomping back to the car, then stopped. “I mean, he tried to blame me for blowing his operation.” She waved one hand back at the hotel. “Of all the shitty things that man has done in his life—which is a long list—that’s one of the worst.”

“I heard.” His voice was soft, his lagoon-green eyes more relaxed than they should be after nearly dying at the hand of half a dozen madmen. “I also heard you say you’d pick me.”

She drew herself up to her full height. “If you’re about to make fun of me for having feelings, I need to warn you that I am pumped full of fake masculine energy and I will dropkick you straight back into ESA custody.”

He cupped the back of her head with one hand and drew her roughly to him. Fireworks exploded behind her eyes when he crushed his mouth to hers. Her toes curled in her shoes, and warmth ran like lightning through her body straight to her crotch.

After a beat, he broke apart. “I’d pick you too. Let’s go. I’m sure the cops need to talk to us, and then we have to pack.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

To Do:

- Keep eyes open for William Hickory

- Contact manager of ice skating rink for D proposal

- Meet up with Nicole

West Haven greetedClaire and Luke like old friends when they touched down on the tarmac and climbed into their car. Beyond the grid of the city, rolling green farm hills on either side stretched as far as the eye could see, dotted with wildflowers. Not even the redeye they had taken to West Haven International Airport could dull Claire’s enthusiasm for her hometown.

She pressed herself to the window. Maybe it was Tanya’s influence, but she needed to feel that grass under her bare feet.

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