Caught Up in the Touch (31 page)

Her vocal cords were tight, and she squeezed her throat, forcing the words out. With Logan, she’d lost the ability to spin her words. Only the truth would do. “General Wethersfield … your father … pressed my father into setting you up with a good job. He’s ambitious. And so are my sister and her husband. The general wanted you tucked away.”

“You knew from the beginning.”

She answered his flat statement as if it had been a question. “No, not from the beginning. I should have told you, but”—she floundered for words, finally finishing weakly—“I was afraid you’d be upset.”

“Upset? I’m fucking furious.” He barked a laugh and checked his watch. “As much as I’d like to hang around and let you two rip at me more, I’ve got a game to coach.” His gaze flicked to her father before he spun on his heel and slammed his way into his truck.

Was this the end? She ran forward and slapped a hand on the window. He rolled it down.

“Logan, what about … us?”

He shook his head and looked into her eyes. “I’m not sure there is an ‘us.’ Or ever was an ‘us.’ I think maybe I was delusional.”

He rolled the window up, cutting off any chance of a rebuttal. Not that she was capable of one. Physical pain ripped through her body. She pressed her hands against her stomach, trying to hold herself together.

The back wheels of his truck spun on his turn into the long blacktopped drive. He disappeared into the trees. She backed up and plopped down on the steps. Burying her face in her hands, she crumpled over her knees.

Wood creaked, and she sensed her father perching on the step beside her. Keeping her eyes on the paint-crackled wood beyond her knees, she asked, “Why do you have to ruin everything that makes me happy?”

“What are you talking about? You ruined things with Michael. You quit your job.” Genuine surprise colored his voice plus a fair amount of high-handed ignorance.

“Michael did not make me happy. Montgomery Industries did not make me happy.” She turned her face toward him, keeping her arms wrapped around her legs. “Logan Wilde offered me a job, although I’m thinking it’s been retracted.”

“You’re going to quit on me?” Shock and disappointment in equal measures flashed over his face.

“I thought I already had,” she said with a definite ironic lilt.

“I’ve groomed you from birth to take over Montgomery Industries.”

Jessica stared at her father. “So your insults and lack of respect were part of the grooming process?”

Her father’s mouth tightened, and his face grew sullen but determined, like a child desperate to hang on to another child’s toy. “Business is cutthroat. Twice as bad for a woman. I needed you to be tough.”

“I needed some love and tenderness.” One of her hands splayed over her left hip as if protecting it. “You should have been my father first and then my boss. You were never so hard on Caroline.”

“Caroline is a beautiful girl, but that’s all she’ll ever be. An accessory. You are brilliant, Jessica. I didn’t want you to fall into the same traps laid for Caroline.”

The compliment spun Jessica’s head. Had she heard him correctly? “What do you mean?”

“You were as pretty as Caroline, in a showier way even. But I couldn’t allow you to waste your gifts for numbers and business on pageants and cotillions. Your instincts are honestly better than mine. Surely you realized you’d take over someday.”

“You threatened to promote Eric.”

He made a scoffing sound. “Please. You’re the only one qualified for the job. He’s an idiot who likes to kiss butt.”

“Then, why do you keep him around?”

With a hint of humor, he said, “I have a fragile ego. I need butt kissers. That’s something you’ve never done, is it?”

“This is insane,” she whispered mostly to her herself, and then a little louder, she said, “You’re insane.”

Instead of taking it as an insult, her father shrugged and offered a toothy, capped smile. “I’ve been called worse. Much worse. Now, are you coming back? You’re the only one I trust, Jessica.”

The problem was she didn’t trust her father. Even though everything he’d said hit her as the truth, she didn’t trust him. Maybe, just maybe, they could mend their father-daughter relationship, but not if she went back to work for him at Montgomery Industries. And she wanted to mend their relationship. Hearing Logan talk about his family, generations of Wildes, she knew she didn’t want to sever the ties that bound her to her past. He was her only link to her ma-maw.

“Were you embarrassed by Ma-maw?”

Her father’s face turned, the fake smile gone. He looked his age despite the Botox. “I tried to get her to move to Richmond. You mother didn’t want her there, but I put my foot down. I wouldn’t be where I am without her, but”—his laugh was incredulous—“
I
embarrassed
her.
Told me I’d forgotten my roots, lost hold of what’s real. She hated our house, the pool, the luxuries, the way we lived.”

“I loved going to see her every summer.” She picked at a fraying seam on her jeans.

“I know.” In a quiet voice, he said, “She wanted to keep you instead of letting me send you to boarding school.”

“I overheard you arguing. I thought about hitchhiking to Georgia, but then … she was gone. So quick.”

Her father reached for her hand, holding it tight. It brought back memories of when she was four or five and walking along the beach, their hands clasped and swinging, laughing with a shared sense of humor. Somewhere along the way, his ambition, and maybe hers too, had weakened the bond, but maybe hadn’t destroyed it.

“I love Logan Wilde, Father. He’s a good man. The best kind of man. I’m going to stay in Falcon with him. If he’ll forgive me.”

Her father squeezed her hand and in a sweet, very convincing voice, he said, “I want you back in Richmond, Jessica.”

“But that’s not what I want.”

Her father’s jaw set and his eyes grew harsh—his fight-to-the-death look. At one time, the look would have intimidated her, but no more.

She continued. “I’ve got more in common with Ma-maw than our crazy red hair. Falcon fits me. I’ve found peace in the woods with Logan, and I’m going to build something with him that lasts.” Deep down, doubts swirled and threatened to swamp her. But, even now, she was afraid to show that weakness to her father, afraid he would exploit it in order to manipulate her back to Richmond.

He dropped her hand, and she tucked them both under her legs. Incredulity oozed out of his words, and he gestured around them. “You’re telling me you would be happy out here? Living in a run-down farmhouse? Riding around in an old beat-up truck?”

Darcy followed the path of her father’s hand. A whisper of a breeze rustled the multihued leaves left on the trees, the fields were waist-high golden seas of grass, and the old farmhouse felt lived in and loved. Unselfishly, Logan had shared his memories and stories with her.

“I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

He pushed off the steps and staggered before he caught his balance. He turned and crossed his arms over his chest. His bravado and aggression couldn’t slow time. Her father was aging. His gut was more pronounced and the skin over his hands seemed thinner, the veins more prominent.

“You’ll end up popping out a couple of rug rats and never realize your potential.”

Children. The thought was sobering, scary, exhilarating. “I’m pretty sure if we have kids, I’ll have a really understanding boss. You know, if Caroline and Mitch lose the election, he’ll need a job.”

Her father drummed his fingers on his arms. “Mitch is not as smart as you are.”

Jessica shook her head, wondering if he was laying on the compliments out of desperation. “He’s charming and smooth. Everything we”—she waggled her finger between them—“are not. He’d make an outstanding CEO with a little training.”

Jessica could almost see the seed she planted break ground in her father’s fertile mind. “Maybe, maybe,” he said to himself, rubbing his chin. His gaze lifted to her. “What are you going to do?”

She swallowed and chafed her arms. “I’m going to ask Logan to forgive me, and officially accept his offer. First though, I’m going to a football game. Want to come?”

If her heart didn’t feel like it was being crushed like a junkyard car, she might have enjoyed watching her father navigate through Falcon society.

Miss Esmeralda quizzed him on his reading habits and put on her not-impressed face when he admitted he didn’t read on a regular basis. Surprisingly, her father followed the action on the field.

“I didn’t know you liked football.”

“I played in high school.” At the noise of surprise she emitted, he patted her on the knee and grinned. “I grew up in south Georgia, sweetheart. Everyone either played or wanted to play.”

The picture she’d held of her father for so many years distorted into something softer around the edges but as yet indistinct.

To her the game was flashes of colors and noise as the boys moved up and down the field. Her attention was on Logan. This was the most important game of the season, but instead of his usual frenetic energy on the sideline, he stood still, not showing emotion. Never once did he look over his shoulder to find her in the crowd. She missed the smile he’d always aimed at her.

Anxiety snaked through the crowd. Two minutes left and Falcon was down by ten points. Two scores. Hope leaked out of the cracking optimism that had surrounded the stadium at the start of the game.

The team marched down the field, scoring a touchdown with less than a minute to play. Everything was riding on the onside kick. The Falcons needed the ball back. Hope flared bright when the ball left the kicker’s foot but was stamped out when the other team landed on it.

Thirty seconds left on the clock. Jessica moved to the rails, her hands clasped in pseudo-prayer. Miracles happened in games all the time, otherwise there wouldn’t be so many true-life movies based on them.

An omnipotent hand didn’t fumble the ball in Falcon’s direction. The game ended with the Falcons the losers. People stood and milled. The last game of the season for the Falcons, and the mood was one of endings. Not a positive portent.

Jessica watched Logan jog ahead of the team, leading them off the field and into shadows. She jumped when Lilliana’s arm looped through hers. “You’ve been awfully quiet. How’re things with your dad?”

“We’ve actually worked through some stuff, but things with Logan”—Jessica shook her head—“I need to talk to him. Could you please put my father up for the night?”

Lilliana’s gaze narrowed, but she nodded. “I’ll put your father up for the night and try to restrain myself from poisoning him. I don’t have a car though. I walked over.”

“No worries, he has a driver.” Jessica gave her friend a hard hug and practically shoved her toward her father. “Lilliana is putting together the sweetest little bed and breakfast and needs a ride. I know you’ll love it.” She saw her father’s mouth open, but she whirled away, moving toward the streams of people flowing down the stadium steps.

Forced to slow to the mob’s pace, she rocked on her tiptoes, impatient and jittery. Finally, she exited the shoot and sprinted toward the pavilion. Another crowd awaited. Mothers, fathers, and girlfriends waited outside for the team meeting to conclude.

The players were the first to emerge. A steady stream of bodies poured out. The crowd thinned. Every time the door opened, her heart jolted.

“Hey, Jessica,” Darcy said. “Waiting on Logan?”

Jessica nodded. Alec Grayson walked out, nodded in their direction, but didn’t offer a greeting. Soon it was only Darcy and Jessica waiting.

Dalt pushed open the doors with keys in his hand. Avery bounded to Darcy, who dropped to a crouch to rub the dog and give him a kiss on top of his furry head.

“Robbie, where’s Logan?” Darcy shot a glance at Jessica.

“He took a two-minute shower and left. Didn’t even stick around for the team meeting. Hardly said a word before, during, or after the game.”

Darcy pinned Jessica with inquisitive blue eyes. Jessica took a step back, her words muffled by the hand she pressed against her mouth. “My father showed up, said some things. No, it’s my fault. I should have told him everything weeks ago, but I was afraid to trust him. I should have trusted him. What should I do?”

Darcy and Dalt locked eyes with each other, communicating without words. Finally, Dalt said, “I didn’t trust Darcy and let her go when I should have told her everything. Caused us both heartache. You should go after him. Be honest.”

She had always found Robbie Dalton to be taciturn and intimidating, but a heat flared behind his eyes whenever he looked at his wife. The man understood love and loss.

“Would you mind giving me a ride?”

Dalt jerked his head toward the parking lot and walked away. Avery trotted at his heels, snapping at low-flying moths.

Darcy offered a grimace-smile. “Come on then.”

“I love Logan.” Jessica bit the inside of her mouth.

Darcy’s smile eased. “I know. And he loves you.”

“I’m not sure he’ll forgive me.”

Darcy cocked her head. “Maybe he won’t, but you’ve got to try, don’t you?”

It was not the resounding affirmation she was seeking. She climbed in the backseat of the big black truck with Avery. The minutes it took to reach Logan’s house felt like infinity. At the first brush of the truck’s headlights, she sensed the emptiness.

Dalt pulled to a stop. He and Darcy shifted in tandem to look into the backseat. Jessica tapped a fisted hand over her mouth. Where could Logan be? Had he wandered out into the woods in the dark? No, his truck was gone.

A picture flashed in her head. The old blue and white truck backed up to the ridge, Logan spread out in the truck bed, seeking solace from the stars, the trees, the wind. Alone and lonely. “He’s up on a ridge overlooking the valley. The road comes off to the right a few miles out of town.”

“I know it.” He reversed the truck and headed back to the main road.

Bare trees and a thick carpet of leaves framed the washed-out path. Branches scraped along the side of the truck. Her stomach heaved from a combination of being carsick and nerves. She was clammy and shaking when the headlights cut over the top of the rise, highlighting a truck sitting close to the edge of the ridge.