Jamming her keys into the ignition, Patti turned the engine and backed out of her spot as quickly and as carefully as she could. She was mad at Jon, but she was angrier with herself for letting herself believe the best in him. Every man she had ever been with had chosen someone like the woman back there over her. Why had she ever thought he’d be any different?

She didn’t speed, she didn’t cut in and out of traffic, or otherwise do anything that would put her or her child in harm’s way as she drove toward the only place that could give her any solace from her broken heart. To the only person who had ever really understood and accepted her.

Her dad.

* * *

Jon walked through the door and dropped a bag of take-out on the kitchen counter. “Breakfast!”

He dug in, setting out food containers and inhaling the aroma of freshly cooked sausage and eggs. It was basic, fatty sustenance that he could have made for them himself, but sometimes it just felt nice to have someone else do it. He’d probably have a heart attack by the time he hit forty, but carpe diem and all that.

Thoughts of Patricia swirled around in his head. He wondered when, exactly, she would show up. If she would show up. He’d hate to sit around all day waiting, only to end up alone at the end of the night. They had some issues they needed to go over and some things they needed to squash before they could put it all behind them and move forward.

That was the part he was most looking forward to—moving ahead.

Patricia was his future, and he knew that now. The truth rang in him like a church bell, loud, musical, and beautiful in a way that tugged at his heartstrings. She was ‘The One’. It was crazy to even think it, but ever since Casey had put that thought into his head, he couldn’t deny the truth of it. For so long it seemed impossible, and now it was a reality, and it was within his reach. All he had to do was stretch out his hand and take it.

This amazing woman had snuck in and stolen his heart before he even realized that he had let down his guard, and he couldn’t be happier about it. If not for her, he would still be wallowing in self-pity, committing himself to a life of loneliness and self-hatred and a long line of nameless, faceless women who didn’t care for him any more than he cared for them.

She gave meaning to his life. How could he ever repay her?

He could love her, that’s how. He could spend the rest of his life loving her and caring for her, letting her know every day, in every way, that she was the very air he breathed. He could live without her, but he didn’t want to, and he didn’t want to waste any more time on what should have or could have been. The past was the past and he was ready to leave it there. Screw what anyone else thought he should do with his life, and screw what they thought about him, because he refused to be their whipping boy any longer. He’d suffered, too, damn it, and the time had come to stop. The time had come to surrender to the past, to the future, to the woman whom he’d turned his heart over to, and the time had come to surrender to love.

Reaching into his pants pocket, Jon dialed Patricia’s number as he called out, “Breakfast is getting cold, sis! Move it or lose it!”

He shoveled a bite of eggs into his mouth and pressed the phone to his ear as he chewed. He frowned when the call turned over to voice mail. “Hey, it’s me. Just wondering when you planned to come over. Call me back.” He paused, wondering if he should tack on those three little words that seemed ready to leap from his throat, but in the end, he thought better of it, and ended the call. He didn’t want to scare her away.

Just as he was about to set his phone down, Jon noticed that he had a message waiting for him. A niggling of something he couldn’t quite identify began to work its way into his gut as he played the message.

“Hey, Jon, it’s me.” There was a pregnant pause in which Jon’s heart began to beat a little faster. “Um, you said to come by when I was ready. I’m ready. I’m in front of your place, but I don’t see your car. Call me when you get this message.”

Okay, she hadn’t said anything bad. She was only calling to tell him that she was there, waiting for him. Jon smiled as he set down his phone. His smile vanished when he realized that he hadn’t seen her car when he’d pulled up.

“Casey,” he shouted. He walked out of the kitchen and made his way down the hall toward the guest bedroom she was staying in. “Casey,” he called through the door, rapping his knuckles against it.

“Come in.”

Her voice sounded off, and as Jon twisted the knob and pushed his way inside, he glimpsed her reflection in the mirror. She sat on the edge of the bed, her head hanging low. “Hey, what’s up? Are you okay?” As he approached her, she lifted her head and he could see by her bloodshot eyes that she had been crying. Fear gripped him. “Are Mom and Dad okay?”

Christ, if anything had happened to either of them, he’d lose his shit.

Casey waved away his question. “They’re fine,” she croaked.

Jon breathed a sigh of relief and lowered himself down beside her. He draped an arm around her shoulders and asked, “Then what’s wrong? Does this have anything to do with Mike? I can break his kneecaps if you want me to.” That earned him a small smile.

“Mike and I are fine. Mom and Dad are fine.” She sniffled.

“Then what’s going on?” Just like when they were kids, Jon turned on his big brother charm and gave her a little noogie.

“Damn it, Jon,” Casey laughed, pushing him away. She smoothed her damp hair and her shoulders slumped again.

“Come on, C, talk to me. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what needs fixing.” Jon couldn’t help but to glance at the clock sitting on the nightstand. He did a mental calculation. Patricia had called almost twenty minutes ago. He was fighting with everything in him not to run and call her back. Right now, Casey needed him.

“If I tell you,” Casey said, her big, round blue eyes lifting to meet his, “promise you won’t kill me?”

Jon bumped his shoulder against hers. “I promise not to kill you, unless you deleted my games from the DVR. Then all bets are off.”

He didn’t get the reaction out of her he was looking for. Casey dropped her head and hunched her shoulders again. Sucking in a deep breath, she lifted her hand from her lap and held it out to him.

Glancing down at it, Jon realized that it wasn’t her hand she was offering him, but what was in it. He took the small box from her outstretched palm. “What’s this? You got me a present?”

Casey shook her head and her voice trembled as she said, “A woman stopped by while you were gone.”

Dawning washed over him and Jon nodded. “Yeah, that was probably Patricia, the woman I told you about. ‘The One.’” He grinned, his eyes glued to the box now resting on his thigh. “She called to tell me she was here. Why didn’t you let her in?”

Casey met his questioning gaze and looked positively shameful. “She was here. I did ask her to come in, but, Jon…” Her voice drifted off and Jon froze, his eyes fixed on her as dread began to seep into his veins. “I think she got the wrong impression.”

“How did she get the wrong impression?” he asked, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. He looked down at the box again, and his hands trembled as he touched the lid. What was inside?

Casey pressed her fingers to her lips and tears shed down her pale cheeks. “I was in the shower—”

“Oh Jesus.” Jon jumped off the bed and began pacing the room. Behind him, Casey spouted frantic words at him. He captured bits and pieces. She answered the door in a towel. She didn’t know who she was. Something about the box. Then she’d left, looking really upset.

“Ya think, Casey?” he shouted, throwing his hands in the air as he rounded on her. “She comes to my house and a woman she’s never met answers my door in a fucking towel, and you think she might have been upset?”

Jon stormed from the room. Casey continued sobbing and apologizing to his retreating form, but he didn’t give a damn about her apologies or hurt feelings at the moment. All Jon knew was that his woman had come for him and now she was gone. He grabbed his keys and his phone on the way out the door.

25

“I’ve tried calling her, but her phone is turned off. Please, Jules, if you know where she is, tell me.” Jon pleaded with Patricia’s best friend, desperate to find her. He’d already called her phone a hundred times over. The fact that they hadn’t been together long was finally setting in, as was the knowledge that he really didn’t know anything about her.

He knew her father was dead, but he’d never met her mother. He knew of her friends, had met them briefly, but he didn’t know where to find them or how to get a hold of any of them. Then he’d had an epiphany. He knew Tate, he knew Felix, and both men had women who were in tight with Patricia and her group. They were her friends.

Since he and Tate had been friends since childhood, and since they had recently reconnected after a falling out, he contacted him first, and it had paid off. Tate didn’t know where to look for Patricia, but his wife did.

She gave him the number for her friend, Jules, who he remembered as the woman he’d met at their baby shower. He called her immediately, but she was proving difficult.

“Well, Jon,” she said smartly, “if her phone is off, then I’m guessing she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“I get that,” Jon responded, being as calm as he could manage when he was hanging over the edge of the proverbial cliff by his fingernails. “But it’s a misunderstanding. I need to talk to her so we can clear it up. Just tell me where she is.”