A Chance at Love (A Ferry Creek Novel): (a billionaire romance novel) (31 page)

"Any bad guys out there
today?" Katey asked.

"Nah, not in Ferry Creek. Just
making my rounds. I always end up here."

"I like it here," Katey
said. "It's normally quiet."

Tyler looked over his shoulder.
"Guys at the counter too loud?"

"No," Katey said.
"Someone came over and broke my train of thought."

"Oh, sorry about that,
Katey."

"I'm only playing. I could use
the company for a minute or two."

"Happy to help," Tyler
said. "Can I get you a coffee?"

"That would be nice."

Tyler went to the front of the
diner. He nodded to Bobby and patted Murphy on the back. "How's Murphy
doing today?"

"I'm great," Murphy said.
"Thought I was taking a heart attack last night."

"Get out of here,"
someone yelled, bringing a round of laughter.

"Wait a second," Tyler
said. "A heart attack? You okay, Murphy?"

"Good now," Murphy said.

"You hear this, Bobby?"
Tyler asked.

"I heard it three times
already," Bobby said. "I don't need to hear it again."

"Murphy, why didn't you call
an ambulance?" Tyler asked. "Or at least call me."

"Eh, my phone was
downstairs," Murphy said. "I just waited it out and fell back
asleep."

"Tough man," Tyler said.

The food bell dinged and Bobby
grabbed a plate of bacon and eggs. He turned and placed the plate on the
counter in front of Murphy. Murphy grabbed the plate and his eyes lit up with
excitement.

"That yours?" Tyler
asked.

"That's right," Murphy
said.

"No way," Tyler said. He
took the plate and slid it away. "You can't eat that. Not with a weak
heart." Everyone chuckled. "Bobby, do me a favor. Let's get Murphy
some whole wheat toast, no butter. Oh, and some fresh fruit."

"Good idea," Bobby said.

Tyler slapped Murphy on the back
and laughed.

"Come on, guys," Murphy
said. "It wasn
’
t that
bad. Just a little pain."

"Maybe gas?" Bobby asked.

Murphy scowled.

"How about that coffee?"

Tyler spun and saw Katey standing
right behind him. She had her hands on her hips and a smile on her face. The
intentions of her body language were enough to steal all of Tyler's thoughts
and functions for a second.

"On it," Tyler finally
said. He turned and asked Bobby for two cups of coffee. He looked at the plate
of food and smiled. "Hey, Katey... you wouldn't like some bacon and eggs,
would you?"

"I wouldn't mind that at all.
I could eat."

Katey reached for the plate and
Murphy turned. "That's, uh, my plate, ma'am."

"Actually," Katey said as
she lifted the plate, "it's my plate. If you have a problem with that,
talk to my friend, the cop."

The counter broke out in a series
of
oooohhh's
and claps. Murphy's mouth hung open and Tyler shrugged his
shoulders.

"You heard her," Tyler
said. "Have a good day, gentlemen. Murphy."

"Good luck with that
one," Murphy said as Tyler walked away.

Tyler smiled. Yeah, luck. He would
certainly need plenty of luck dealing with Katey. A determined, beautiful woman
who wrote books and took control of anything she wanted. Not to mention
recently divorced and probably looking for nothing resembling a relationship.
In fact, Tyler considered himself lucky that she was even willing to talk to
him because he was a man. Katey hadn
’
t
said much about her marriage, but the bits and pieces he picked up on weren't
very good.

Tyler put the coffee mugs down as
Katey made room for the plate of food.

"Eat up," she said.

"No, I'm good."

"No you're not. You're a guy.
And a cop. Eat with me."

Tyler couldn't argue that. He
noticed the single fork on the table, but he didn't say a word. Katey took the
fork and scooped up some eggs and then handed Tyler the fork. He wasn't sure
why but the gesture was... sexy. Tyler ate the eggs and Katey took the fork
back. They shared the plate of Murphy's food, smiling and casually talking
about anything Tyler could muster up. They talked about the weather and how the
days were already starting to feel cooler. He talked about the high school
football team and other sports. He mentioned the local rivals. The creek where
kids went to party. The trees that Jack Hauthe cut down to prevent power line damage.
He felt like he was rambling but Katey never stopped him. Her eyes were locked
to his and she absorbed everything.

Finally, after his coffee mug was
empty, Tyler stopped and said, "I've talked your ears off, haven't
I?"

"Actually, you've given me enough
to write for months," Katey replied.

"Oh?" He admired her
honesty. It made her even more beautiful.

"I like to hear about people
and situations. I like to go out in public sometimes just to sit and watch. I
observe to understand. Then I write about it."

"Well, I've got plenty of
stories for you," Tyler said. "Trust me. Ferry Creek may not be
littered with crime and murder, but I've had enough calls and dealt with enough
people to keep a writer happy for the rest of her life."

"Aw, you're going to keep me
happy for the rest of my life?"

"Oh. I, uh..."

Katey just laughed.

Tyler continued to stammer.

He was saved a few seconds later
when Jess came to the table.

"Refills?" she asked.

She looked at Tyler with wide,
warning eyes. He smiled up at Jess, knowing exactly what she was thinking. He
understood what Katey had gone through and what she was probably still going
through. It wasn't his place to speed anything up, but that didn't mean he
couldn't have coffee with her. Or share a plate of Murphy's food with her, or
talk about the joys of Ferry Creek.

Right?

"I'm doing okay," Tyler
said. "I need to get back out there."

"I need to get back to work
myself," Katey said.

"Hey, Jess, where's Sullivan?
I didn't see him at the counter today."

Jess swallowed. "He's gone
today."

"Gone?" Tyler asked.
"What do you mean gone? Did he leave Ferry Creek?"

"He went to the hospital,
Tyler."

"Oh."

Everyone was quiet. They all knew
that Bob had been hanging on for Sullivan, so it was only a matter of time now
that Sullivan was on his way there.

 Sullivan stood outside the
hospital room knowing his father was right inside the room and awake. The
emotions were too great to manage. He was pissed off that the man in the room
was his father but never raised him. At the same time he was almost happy that
everything happened the way it did. Without the set of circumstances in front
of him, Sullivan would have never come to Ferry Creek at the time he did which
meant he may not have met Jess.

She was all he could think about.
If Sullivan really wanted he could have been back in Alexandria in his
expensive office or in his big, fake condo doing nothing. He could have sent
some flowers when his father eventually died and then made sure everything was
left to Bobby. That would have been the easy thing to do, but the best things
in life, including the truth, weren't always the easiest.

The door opened and a woman came
from the room. She was tall, skinny, and looked tired. She smiled at Sullivan
and then eyed him up and down.

"You're Bobby's brother,"
she said.

"That I am."

"My name is Leslie. I've been
taking care of your... of Bob."

"Yes, Bobby has mentioned you
more than once."

Leslie smiled and touched her hair.
Sullivan could sense that there was a connection with Bobby. It was a nice thing
to see because Bobby had been hung up on his ex-wife ever since she came with
the kids and left in the same day. Bobby needed a close friend. Bobby needed a
woman.

"You're more than welcome to
go in," Leslie said. "He's awake."

"Will you be in there?"

Leslie shook her head. "I'll
respect your privacy, Sullivan. But I'll be close by in case you need
something. Or something happens."

Or something happens.

The subtle yet harsh reminder of his
father's fate.

"Thank you," Sullivan
said. "Can I have a minute here?"

"Sure," Leslie said. She
hesitated and then touched Sullivan's shoulder. "It's not my business and
I know that, but just know that he is a good man. He saved my life and did more
for me than anyone else. For the record, I've never seen Bobby so settled
before until you came here. He needed a brother, his brother, and you're here
and you stayed."

"Thank you, Leslie,"
Sullivan said. "That means a lot to me."

They smiled at each other and
Leslie excused herself and slipped away.

The hallway was silent and Sullivan
knew he couldn't wait any longer. He'd come to Ferry Creek for answers and so
far everything he'd found was great. The diner. His brother. Jess. The people
of Ferry Creek.

Sullivan closed his eyes and opened
the door.

When he opened his eyes, he saw his
father awake for the first time. His father stared out the window, sitting up
in bed. The look of his arms and skin told a story right away of a man who had
once been strong.

Sullivan kept a small distance and
stood with his hands at his sides. His palms were sweating and he wasn't sure
where to start, if at all. A part of him considered just turning and leaving.
He'd come. He'd seen. He could leave.

"I never feared opening my
mail," Bob said with his gaze still at the window.

Sullivan listened and wasn't sure
if his father was talking seriously or losing his mind.

"I never did," he said.
"I was never late on a bill. Never missed a payment on the bank loan or
the mortgage on the house. I would collect the mail, the bills, keep everything
organized, and then pay it well before it was due. That's how I ran my life,
with a sense of honesty. Everyone always came to me for help and advice. I
rarely gave any, but I listened. The power of listening can fix almost
everything."

Bob turned his head finally and
looked at Sullivan.

The man was old and very weak. But
his eyes were like looking into a mirror. It took Sullivan back and he almost
caught himself ready to cry.

"Do you get that?" Bob
asked.

"Conversation is good,"
Sullivan said.

"What I'm saying is that most
of what we want to know we already know. We want to hear it, but not from our
own mouths... unless we're talking to the right person. I'll be damned if I
know why I became the right person for so many people, but I did."

Bob adjusted in the bed and winced
in pain. Sullivan stepped and put a hand out to help.

"I'm good," Bob, his
father, said. "Then came the day I got something new in the mail. I was
whistling when the mailman came in with a fresh stack of bills and junk mail
for me. However, right on top was an envelope. Handwritten. To me. No return
address. I figured it was a political donation request or maybe just a thank
you card from someone who had come through town. I got those a few times. It
wasn't that at all. It was a letter from a woman named Sandy. The name didn't
hit me at first until she told the story of... well, us. She and I together. At
the end of the envelope she had a picture of a little boy, four years old.
Standing next to an Easter basket, smiling wide. That was you, Sullivan. That's
when I found out I had another son."

Sullivan swallowed and processed
it. Bob certainly didn't want to waste any time and Sullivan respected that
quite a bit.

"I was four," Sullivan
said, more to himself.
“
I
had a father, or I thought I did. The man who raised me is dead though."

"Goddamn," his father
said. "I'm sorry, son."

"Me too. I'd like to ask him
some questions, but maybe there are answers I'm better off not knowing right
now then."

"You can ask me anything,
Sullivan. I fought death to be here right now. I couldn't go to my grave
without meeting you. Without telling Bobby about you."

"There were other
letters," Sullivan said. "Letters and pictures."

"Just pictures, right?"

"What happened to the
letters?"

"I burned them," his
father said. "It hurt me to read them. I never wrote back either... and
then they stopped. I knew why they stopped or, at least I think I do. That hurt
real bad, Sullivan."

"Then tell me about it,"
Sullivan said. "You knew you had a son and you did nothing about it. You
received letters and pictures from my mother and... you did nothing. You read
the letters. You looked at the pictures. Then what? Just let it all go?"

"You were happy," his
father said. "You were a happy kid in those pictures. And that's what your
mother told me in the letters. You were happy."

"Why do you think the letters
and pictures stopped?" Sullivan asked.

It still hadn't sunk in all the way
that he was facing his biological father right then. The mood had eased a
little but the questions, the pain, anger, and hope were still very present.

"I figured because I didn't
respond," Bob said. "You were happy, and I didn
’
t want to interfere."

Sullivan made fists. "They
stopped because she left. She woke up one day and decided she was done being a
wife and mother."

Bob hung his head and touched his
face. "I feared that."

"You feared that?"

"She could never stay put,
Sullivan. Ever. That's why it never worked between us."

"Well, that's good to know now
I guess," Sullivan said. "So she left and the man who raised me - the
man who is my father - took care of me right up until the day he died. He was
there for everything. He was there when I started my company. When I made the
biggest deals of my life. Everything. He never missed a beat... until his heart
did and he died."