Rockies Retreat: Destination: Desire, Book 5 (13 page)

“Laurel told you,” she said dully, her entire body seeming to slump.

His gut clenched. “No, she didn’t. I talked to her after you flounced out of here—not the first time in the last few weeks—and told her I was worried. I wasn’t sure if this was just a growing pain I should let slide, if it was about your mom, if it was about me and Laurel, if it was something else entirely. All she said was that she suspected it wasn’t a growing pain. I asked why she’d think that and she refused to tell me anything else. She said I’d have to speak to you.” He patted the seat cushion beside him. “So. Why don’t you come tell me why you don’t want to go home?”

“It’s not my home!” The words exploded out of her with a ragged sob, as if a building volcano had finally erupted. “You don’t even understand!”

“I’d like to.” He kept his tone encouraging, leaning forward so she knew he listened.

The story came out in fits and starts, and he let her tell it without interruption. She paced back and forth in front of him and then flopped onto the couch, tears rolling down her cheeks. He snagged a box of tissues from the side table and handed it over. By the end, she was curled up against his side, blubbering all over his shirt while he held her tight and rocked her. A hundred emotions ricocheted through him as she spoke, rage at her asshole English teacher, self-loathing that he’d missed the signs that pointed to a major problem, pain for everything his baby girl had suffered this year. Especially when some of it was to protect him from worrying or being more stressed.

Laurel had been right. Saying yes to every opportunity meant he’d failed his daughter. He should have scaled back the moment she came to live with him, instead of trying to juggle everything. He’d dropped the most important ball, and he hadn’t even noticed. It was his job to protect her, not the other way around.

The yes-game stopped now. As soon as he was back to the land of connectivity, he’d be having some serious discussions with his agent. He’d hire an assistant if he had to.

Once Vi subsided to the occasion sniffle, he said, “We don’t have to go back to LA, you know.”

She leaned away from him, her gaze searching his face, hope and disbelief warring in her expression. “We…we don’t?”

“We can live anywhere in the US we want.” Then he held up a hand. “Okay, anywhere that has decent internet and cell reception, so this area is out.”

“You’re serious?” She all but quivered in excitement. “We don’t have to go back. Oh my God. I can’t even—”

She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a stranglehold. He choked a little, and she backed off with a laugh, though tears glistened in her eyes.

“Do you want to move back to Maine? You know I didn’t sell the house.” It was the house that Cara and he had bought when they’d gotten their first major book advances. It was the house Cara had continued to raise their daughter in after the divorce. He had no intention of selling the place. It was Violet’s inheritance—she could decide what to do with the property when she was old enough.

He’d asked her if she wanted to keep living there after her mother died, and she’d said no. Maybe she’d changed her mind. If she’d rather live in Maine, he’d uproot his life in California and move back to his home state. She’d spent a year being bullied by an adult who should have looked out for her best interest, helped her to grow her writing talents. At the moment, Neil would have lived on the moon if it was what she wanted.

She pressed her lips together and slowly shook her head, appearing uncertain. “I think…there’d still be too many memories of Mom. Maybe I could go back someday, but not yet.”

“But you don’t want to live in LA,” he prompted.

“No!” That was definitive, at least. Her hair flew out wildly as she shook her head.

“Okay.” He smoothed her curls back. “Where in the world sounds good to you, baby girl?”

She was quiet for a long time. “I want us to live wherever Laurel lives.”

That hit him like a kick in the gut. Living with Laurel…God, yes. Tangling her up in the madness of his life…hell no. “I think she moves around a lot, Vi. That wouldn’t work with your schooling.”

“She might stay put if, like, she knew we wanted her to. We could ask her to move in with us.” Her tone was so matter-of-fact, as if she couldn’t believe he hadn’t figured this out for himself already.

“Violet.” He shook his head.

“Think about it.” She tugged on his shirt sleeve. “It’d be awesome.”

It would be.

“You love her. I love her. It’s simple. Why do grown-ups have to make everything all complicated?” She arched her brows. “She’s never going to replace Mom, but she’s awesome step-mom material. If you know what I mean.”

Yeah, because that hint was so subtle.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, and he would think about it, but he already knew his answer would be no. Even though he wanted it to be yes.

“Can I take all my rocks with me?” She widened her eyes appealingly. “We can just ship them instead of lugging them along in the suitcases. And this way they’re already packed for the move. It’s perfect!”

“All right.” He gave in gracefully. “You can keep the rocks.”

A wide smile flashed across her face. “Thanks for letting me win that one.”

“You’re welcome.” He ruffled her hair, and she squawked, leaping to her feet.

“Can I get my hair streaked like Lau—”

“No, and you can’t have a pony either.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t push your luck, kid.”

“It was worth a try,” she countered, totally unrepentant.

“We should probably get ready for bed. Do you want to shower first?” He pushed to his feet, but staggered when she plowed into him, giving him another hug before she pulled away to dance toward her bedroom.

“No more LA, no more stupid kids, no more jerkwad teachers.” She twirled in a circle. “Yeeeeeeeeeeessssss!”

“I’ll assume that means you want the bathroom first,” he replied drily, though her enthusiasm stabbed at his soul. How had he not seen that her misery the past year wasn’t all about losing Cara? Why had he never pressed when she hadn’t talked about her school much? He’d known she hadn’t made many close friends, but hadn’t realized she’d felt quite so ostracized.

He felt like the worst parent on the planet. Self-disgust curdled in his belly, and he dropped his head back against the couch, closing his eyes. He’d never wanted to crawl into a hole more in his entire life. At least when he’d lost his unborn son, there was nothing he could have done. This, he should have prevented. He could have, if he weren’t an overextended, cluelessly pathetic excuse for a father.

“Hey, Dad?”

He straightened to look at her. “Yes, baby?”

She propped one foot on top of the other, her pajamas clutched in a bundle under her arm. “I really would like to keep Laurel.”

“I know.” His voice sounded like gravel in a blender. God, he’d love to have Laurel near now, but she didn’t deserve to constantly be burdened with his problems. She’d helped him shoulder the load this summer, but no one wanted to clean up someone else’s shit forever. Which was what would happen to her if he tried to convince her to stick around.

“I think she’d like to keep us too.” Vi gave him an encouraging smile.

He nodded, but made no other reply.

She looked like she was going to say more, but just walked over and kissed his cheek before going to shower. Which left him alone with his thoughts. A dangerous thing in the frame of mind he was in, surfing down an ugly shame spiral.

If anything, he was even less willing to try to drag Laurel deeper into his mess. He’d been cocksure going into his first marriage—his last real relationship—and look how well that had turned out. He was older and hopefully a little wiser now, and he could see how badly he could screw up a second try. He’d screwed up the first time, he was screwing up single parenthood, he was only barely managing to finish his writing projects—hell, he was just a gigantic screw up right now.

Saddling Laurel with someone like him would be a crime.

It didn’t matter how desperately he loved her; he needed to end this thing they had, for her own good.

He was sure she’d keep in touch with Vi when summer ended, and while the father in him was grateful, the man in him knew it was going to burn like hellfire to see her and hear about her and not have her in his arms.

Ever again.

Chapter Ten

Neil had been strangely quiet for most of the week, burying himself in work, and it was becoming seriously worrisome. The day after tomorrow was the last day in Colorado. Less than forty-eight hours left. Laurel saw him at meals and during kitchen duty like usual, but that was it. She hadn’t spent the night—or even gotten in a quickie—since he’d quarreled with Violet. He seemed to be brooding. She didn’t have to think very hard to know what he was dwelling on. She’d tried to give him breathing room, but the time they had left was ticking down to nothing. Maybe it was time to talk.

But she’d hesitated to do so because it also seemed that he might be avoiding her. He’d gone into Denver for a few days to meet with the TV station rep about the possible show, and he hadn’t invited her. In fact, she hadn’t even known he’d gone until Mimi mentioned something casually. Hadn’t that been embarrassing? Because it had been painfully obvious to the other woman after about three sentences that Laurel knew nothing about the trip.

She stepped out of her cabin into afternoon sunshine and hurried toward the lodge for lunch. She needed caffeine something fierce today. It had been difficult to sleep lately, both because she’d gotten so used to Neil holding her in the night, and because she was plagued by questions that wouldn’t stop.

Was the avoidance a sign that he was upset Violet had talked to her and not him about being bullied? Was he trying to put distance between her and his daughter? As far as she knew, he hadn’t limited Vi’s contact with Laurel, just his own.

Which meant she was mostly just baffled and hurt.

And deep down, she wondered if this meant he’d decided to end their affair, but hadn’t found a non-awkward way to tell her it was over. So he was just keeping himself occupied until the summer was over and he could walk away. She really didn’t want that to be the case, but she had to acknowledge the possibility.

She entered the lodge and followed the crowd to the buffet. Loading up on coffee, soup, fruit, and a sandwich, she turned to scan the room for an empty table. She wasn’t really interested in company.

“Laurel!” Violet waved from a spot near the window, her curls bouncing with the vigor of her movements.

Shit. For the first time, she didn’t want to sit with them. She didn’t think she could endure Neil’s silent treatment, but there seemed no graceful way out of it. Hurting Vi’s feelings wasn’t an option.

Vi dominated the conversation during the meal, with Laurel and Neil only needing to respond to direct questions. When his daughter got up for another serving of sliced cantaloupe, Laurel took a breath and tried for some small talk.

“I heard you finished your screenplay.” And it had stung to have to hear that from Vi instead of Neil, but Laurel kept that small pain to herself.

“A draft of it, yes.” He flicked a glance at her, but refocused on his lunch too fast for her to read his expression. “I’m nowhere near done.”

Arching a brow, she asked, “Didn’t you promise to have a draft done by the end of the program?”

He hunched a shoulder. “Yes.”

The lack of eye contact became unsettling. “So you fulfilled your obligations for the summer. Congrats.”

His snort was derisive, his tone condescending. “The work never stops.”

It took serious effort not to snap, and her teeth ground together. “No one’s work ever stops, Neil, but it’s okay to take a break and celebrate when you reach an important goal. Which you’ve done, and under tremendous pressure.”

“Yeah.”

That was all. But it was enough to make her frustration boiled over.

“What’s this about, Neil? Is it Violet getting bullied?”

He flinched a bit. “It’s nothing, Laurel.”

“You’re beating yourself up, aren’t you?” She leaned toward him. “You’re not a failure as a father, Neil. Don’t think that.”

He cut a blistering glance at her, but said nothing.

She sighed. “She takes too much on herself…a lot like her dad.”

“I don’t want to discuss this.” He stabbed at a piece of melon on his plate, his brows drawn together in a scowl.

“She’s growing up, Neil. She’s going to stumble and make mistakes. She’s going to want to be more independent, to try to handle things on her own. That’s part of becoming an adult. When she needs you, she’ll come to you.”

His blue gaze was darker than a stormy sea. “She came to you first.”

“She considers me a friend.” She threw up her hands. “Friends are who you tell secrets to. Dads are who you go to when you need rescuing.”

“She never used to keep things from me before. Especially nothing that important.”

“It’s really that shocking?” She sniffed in disdain. “Isn’t this around the age you started keeping things from your parents too? Sneaking out late with the guys, kissing girls—”

He didn’t refute her, just doggedly stuck to his guns. “I should have been paying better attention. The bottom line is, I fucked up. I should have asked more questions about her school.”

“But her grades didn’t slip, right?” She pressed her point. “And she didn’t complain about anything, so of course your focus was on this huge loss she’d suffered. Why would you assume otherwise?”

“Leave it alone, Laurel. I don’t want to talk about it.” His voice cracked like a whip.

She leaned back, a quiver of unease and fear passing through her. Swallowing, she said carefully, “You don’t want to talk about it at all, or you just don’t want to talk to
me
about it?”

“Does it matter?” His tone went cool.

She nodded slowly. “Yes, I think the distinction is an important one.”

“You can take it however you want. I have work to do. I’m too busy to quibble with you over semantics.” With that, he rose and walked away, ripping her heart out in the process.

She pressed a hand to her chest, stunned by the blow she hadn’t seen coming. His words were so like something her father would say to her that she felt small and stupid, just as she had her entire childhood. As if she wasn’t good enough, as if she wasn’t worth his time, and no matter what she did to get attention, it was never going to be enough. With her parents, she’d learned to accept that she just wasn’t the type of daughter they wanted—too artsy, not serious enough, too different from the people they associated with. That wasn’t her fault.

Neil knew that, and he was still treating her the same way. It was a betrayal that was almost crippling in the agony it caused her. It was her worst fears wrapped up in one terrifying package. She loved him. Desperately. He was every bit the workaholic her father was, and she was his last priority. Worse, she simply wasn’t a priority. Remembering his cold, distant expression, it was difficult to convince herself he even cared at all.

Dropping her gaze to her plate, she refused to watch him walk away. There was no way to force someone to give a damn about you, to love you. He couldn’t have made it any clearer that he was done with her, with them, with whatever they’d had together this summer. That maybe there was never a them to begin with.

He was just one more man she loved who’d decided she was an unnecessary, bothersome mistake he wanted to put behind him. Bile coated her tongue and she wanted to vomit.

Violet walked up, concern on her face. She glanced from Neil’s retreating back to Laurel. “Are you and Dad fighting?”

Agony and impending loss squeezed her insides. “No, we’re not.”

They weren’t fighting, they weren’t fucking, they weren’t talking, they weren’t…anything. But that wasn’t something she cared to discuss with Violet.

The girl parked herself next to Laurel. “Ruth and me are meeting up to play pool after lunch. We’re also going to set up her Instagram account and follow each other. Since she turned thirteen, her parents say she can join.”

“When does Ruth go back to Seattle?” Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Laurel dragged herself from her misery to focus on the girl she adored.

“Her parents are coming to get her a few days after everyone leaves. Too bad I don’t get to meet them.” Vi waggled her eyebrows. “I bet they’re as cray-cray as Gloria.”

“No one’s as cray-cray as Gloria.”

She giggled. “True story.”

Laurel gave the teen a one-armed hug. She was going to miss her so damn much, despite how her dad had just ditched Laurel. “How’s your book going?”

“Pretty good.” Violet leaned into the embrace. “I didn’t finish the first draft like I planned, but I didn’t think there’d be anyone here to hang out with. Or babysit.”

“The best things in life are often the ones we don’t expect.”

Vi nodded. “Like you and Dad getting together.”

Oh God. Laurel snatched up her cold coffee and took a deep swig. She would not cry, she would
not
cry. Not in public and not in front of Vi. She’d save that for when she got back to her cabin. “You know we might not stay together when we leave. Not every good thing in life is for keeps. But you and I can stay friends, even if your dad and I don’t. We can email or Facebook or whatever social network you prefer. I get down to LA for gallery showings a few times a year. I’m sure your dad wouldn’t mind us doing lunch or shopping or hanging out at the beach.”

“We won’t be in LA though. We’re moving.” Expectation shone in Vi’s gaze, as if Laurel should know something that she didn’t.

But shock was rippling through her. One more thing to prove Neil was over her and moving on, literally and figuratively. When her voice emerged, it sounded almost normal. “Oh, yeah? Talked to your dad about hating it there, huh?”

“Thanks to you. I’m glad you didn’t tell him everything.”

“I promised you I wouldn’t. I’d never break a promise to you…unless I really thought you were a danger to yourself or others.” She gave the teen a look. “We were pretty close this time.”

Heaving a deep sigh, Violet wrinkled her nose. “Yeah.”

“So, where to, if not LA?” Laurel dropped a kiss on the girl’s crown and then tidied her tray. She really needed some alone time to bawl her eyes out. “I have a suitcase and a passport. I can travel anywhere if we need a visit.”

“I don’t know yet. Dad and I are talking. We’ll need to go back to pack our stuff and house hunt in other places.” Something calculating flashed in Vi’s gaze. “Where would you go if you could live anywhere?”

Wasn’t that a thought Laurel had had more than once lately? “I’m thinking about buying a place close to my brother in Half Moon Bay. Maybe be there more for my nephew growing up.”

Where else did she have to go? She’d hoped, way down deep where she didn’t have to admit it to anyone, that she might be spending more time with Neil after the program ended. That maybe she might find the place she belonged—not a location but a person. The right person—the right sort of man. The one who, no matter where they were on Earth, as long as she was with him, she was home.

But she’d been wrong.

Neil felt like shit. Complete, utter, unmitigated shit. He’d watched the hurt and confusion reflect in Laurel’s gaze, saw when he’d landed a killing emotional blow, and hated himself when he’d left her sitting alone. For the millionth time, he ran through the reasons why it was the best thing for her, why she deserved better, but it didn’t help. He still just felt like shit. She was determined enough that if he hadn’t pushed her away, and pushed hard, that she might have tried to talk him into continuing their relationship.

And he didn’t have the willpower to say no. So he’d acted like an asshole.

He worked the rest of the afternoon on his script, had dinner with Vi and Ruth—who decided to continue teaching themselves to play pool—then went back to the cabin and did some packing, then read through Helen’s new pages. She was progressing well and had added several particularly gruesome plot twists. It was great stuff, and he had to admit it was one of the few things he felt good about these days.

In the distance, he heard a screen door slam, and he glanced out the open window to see Laurel leaving her cabin. It took every ounce of self-control not to call out to her. He wanted her near, missed her so much it was a physical ache inside him.

How the hell was he going to make it through the rest of the trip without her? For that matter, what about the rest of his life? It fucking sucked to take the high road sometimes, to put the person you loved above yourself and your needs.

The sound of footsteps on gravel made his heart leap, and he was on his feet before his brain could catch up. “Lau—oh, hey, Helen.”

“Hey, boss.” His protégé stood at the bottom of the steps, the fading sunlight playing off her jet-black hair. “I came to see if the revisions I did were working for you.”

Well, this was a first. She usually scheduled meetings with him so she could coordinate toddler duty with her husband or babysitters. He held open the screen door. “Yeah, they’re great. I think this should be the final round and then you’re ready to start thinking seriously about publishing.”

“Awesome.” She didn’t come in. “Care to join me for a walk? I’m supposed to be home soon. It’s best not to leave Pedro outnumbered for long. He can be a little too laid back about what the kids get into, you know?”

Curiouser and curiouser. “Sure, let me grab a sweatshirt. It’s going to get chilly tonight.”

“It’s the elevation. It’d still be roasting and muggy in Texas all night long.”

“Yeah.” As he shrugged into his hoodie, he tried not to recall the day he’d forgotten it and Laurel had returned it. The first time they’d made love. It felt like just yesterday, but he also felt like a different man from the one who’d arrived here.

He stepped out and they set off down the road. Helen was remarkably quiet, but he could feel her gaze on him as she kept glancing his way. Clearly, she wanted to talk about something, but he decided to wait her out rather than asking. His mentee wasn’t the type to remain silent long. Quite the opposite, actually.

Finally, she heaved a small sigh. “You want to talk about it?”

“About what?” With her, the options were pretty limitless.

Her face scrunched. “There are few enough of us here that if you have a little tiff over lunch, people are going to notice.”

“And gossip, apparently.” Fuck. The last thing he wanted people speculating about was Laurel and him. They’d been a popular topic when they’d first begun dating, but this was different.