Page 8 of Almost Home
His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, like the lens of his focus zeroed in on me more thoroughly. And he said nothing.
“So, this is where I’ll sit?”
His jaw flexed—I detected that familiar movement even through his thick beard. In fact, now that I registered more than just his presence and that same somber air, he looked downright wild, like a mountain man. Maybe he’d been on leave for a while now and had let his beard grow out after retiring from the Army. I could’ve sworn Sadie had said he’d just moved from North Carolina, where his base was.
Silence stretched long and somehow loud in my ears.
So… apparently, that tendency to not speak hadn’t changed in the last twenty years. “If you’d rather I come back another day, I can go.”
Though I’d been really planning on a paycheck starting today, so that was about as far from ideal as I could muster, and paired with this being his business? Just so super.
“No.”
Horror struck then. “Or, um, you can speak with the agency and have someone else come if you don’t feel—”
“You can stay.”
Relief rushed in but not enough to cover the nerves pulsing through me. We stood all of three feet apart. Nineteen years apart with no contact, nothing, and here we stood. By ourselves.
It would’ve been the perfect moment to get it all out there, wouldn’t it? Especially if I’d be working here and seeing him daily, I should’ve taken the moment and run with it. Explained myself and apologized. Done it allright now.
But before I could open my mouth, he spoke again.
“Instructional packet’s on the desk. I’ve got to get to an appointment but will be back before lunch.”
With a nod toward said packet, he turned and left. Just like that. No farewell orsee you after my meetingorlet me know if you have questions.Nothing.
A minute or two later, while I still stood in that same spot like an idiot, I heard a door click shut and realized there must be a back exit. He’d literally just left without another word. And though I wasn’t exactly surprised, I couldn’t help the hurt that sliced through me. I had no right to it—absolutely no right to expect him to be nice or excited to see me or catch up. I’d been horrible to him, and we had garbage cans full of baggage.
But it wasn’t until this moment, left alone in the fancy front office of what I now knew was his business, that I realized how much I’d hoped maybe the passage of time had done something for us. Anything at all.
CHAPTERFOUR
Wilder
Just like every night for the last three days since she’d shown up in my office, Sarah came to me in my dreams and nightmares. Tonight was no exception, though which tone it took remained to be seen.
In this dream as in real life, she looked far better than the last time I’d seen her. Four months ago and white as the snow around her, she’d looked nothing short of horrified to see me.
Good for a man’s ego, that. Particularly when she’d been the one to leave me. But who’s counting?
“Hello.” I wouldn’t say her name. I wasn’t prepared for this encounter, even in my dreams.
She tucked a long hank of hair behind one delicate ear. “I’m sorry. Ugh. Hi. Hello. Can I come in?”
This was usually where things went one of two ways. One, I played along like I had in real life, not letting on that her proximity made my spine turn to steel and the ache in my right quad intensify. Or two, I said something awful. Hurled, more like.
That was the nightmare version, but truth be told, either way, I woke up in bad shape. Yelling at her never felt satisfying, especially since she ended up sobbing, and it felt too much like it had when we were younger and she was crying so hard she couldn’t breathe. And the welcoming version chafed because it was how I did it in real life, but in the dream, my heartbeat amplified in my ears. Instead of being slow to speak, I could hardly get a word out, and I couldn’t find a way out of it. However long it lasted felt like days or weeks, but the scene only went so far as the two of us barely speaking around the giant load of history between us.
I sat up and scrubbed the image from my eyes, relieved that at least in this dream, Wilder wasn’t yelling at a defenseless woman. I’d spoken with Dr. Corrigan about Sarah—had found it almost easier than the other crap I needed to deal with, and she’d been front and center on my mind when I walked into that second appointment on her first day of work.
But then, I’d had all these damned dreams. What was the point of them? To warn me away from screaming at her? There existed no scenario in which I’d do that—none. Maybe the point was to simply allow my brain to work out the situation since I’d never imagined her coming to work for me.
Last I’d checked, she had teaching certifications. I’d chosen not to look into her life in a long time, but years ago, in a fit of desperation just after I’d joined the unit, I’d checked in. She’d been teaching middle school for two years at the time, and it’d made my heart twist with a pleasure-pain I’d had to focus to breathe through. Her parents had always wanted her to be a teacher, and I knew she’d be good at it.
So Sarah James showing up as the long-term temp at Saint Securities? Not a scenario I’d planned for. Until I’d seen her in December, not an eventuality that had even occurred to me as possible—not even meseeingher, let alone working with her.
But did I turn her away? Did I pretend I didn’t need her, or find an excuse to request someone else from the temp agency knowing having her anywhere nearby would be a distraction I did not need?
