Page 104 of Meant to Be
Mitch had met Sydney’s parents only a couple of times when he was in college. His impression of her father was that he was quiet, letting his wife take charge. Was this some sort of test of his merit to be Sydney’s suitor?
“Yes, sir.”
“Goodness.” Mrs. Preston leaned closer, studying the scars on Mitch’s cheek and neck. “The things you must have seen and experienced.”
How much of his story had Sydney told them? He took a calming breath and nodded to her.
“Too many young men losing their lives.” Mr. Preston shook his head.
“Yes, sir.”
Mrs. Preston pursed her lips. “You don’t talk much, do you?”
Mitch nearly laughed. Talking was what usually got him in trouble, especially with authority figures. “No, ma’am.”
“Sydney needs time to think.”
He wanted to ask what they’d talked about. After all, if there was something to think about, that meant there was hope.
“Are you staying in town?”
“I’m staying at my sister and brother-in-law’s place. Drake Carmichael.”
“So, it was your sister who stole Drake Carmichael’s heart.” The tone didn’t sound condescending, as he would have expected.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Drake had a reputation for being a coldhearted bastard and a southern woman turned him around.”
“Lexie has that effect on people.” It was a skill he didn’t have. Not anymore.
“You did too, if I remember correctly.” Mrs. Preston’s gaze assessed him. He fought the urge to squirm.
“War changes people,” Mr. Preston said.
You’re broken. “Thank you for your time.” Mitch turned to leave.
“Are you going to find out who is trying to hurt my Sydney?” Mrs. Preston’s voice, once cool and aloof toward him, was now imploring.
“Yes, ma’am.” He had no control over what the future held for him and Sydney, but he would make sure whoever was trying to hurt her would pay.
He walked down the steps to the sidewalk. Drake’s driver jumped from the car and opened the back door. Had Lexie gotten used to such service? At least it hadn’t gone to her head.
“Where to, Mr. McKenna?”
Mitch sat, wondering what to tell his driver. Sydney was off thinking in a city with eight million people and probably just as many places to think. Where should he start? And then it came to him.
“Can you take me to the Balto statue at Central Park?”
“I can get you close.”
Close would have to be good enough.
