Her sweet voice washes over me, pushing the panic aside, drawing me back to the surface to the most important thing in my life.
I want to run. Scoop Haley up and haul her to the SUV. But running won’t solve the problem, and it sure as hell won’t answer the million questions dive bombing my mind.
“You thirsty?” I throw out, because we can’t discuss this in front of Haley, she’s too smart for her own good, and I need to have a conversation with her father before anything else.
“Uhh…” his hand rubs the back of his neck, a nervous motion I’m used to seeing from the older version.
“It’s just a soda. Come inside, and we can talk.” I nod, stepping around him. My ears strain, waiting for the footsteps that fall behind me before I open the front door and push into the clubhouse.
I still have no clue where Blaze disappeared to. For all I know, he’s getting high, moping about the fact that he’s stuck here on watch while the rest of the club is off, wreaking havoc in Florida. Pierce could show up, but if I had to guess, he’s not more than twenty feet from Lexi, probably doting on her every want, trying to make her as comfortable as possible.
My heart twinges at the thought. That could have been us again in a few months. But that dream just crashed and burned like Oceanic Flight 815.
I motion to the bar dead center against the back wall, the same one from his photo. “Take a seat, I’ll be right back.” I veer off course, Haley padding behind me.
Hurrying down the hall, I strain my ears, half listening for Blaze, the other half making sure I didn’t just open the door to a thief—at least a physical one.
“Here, baby. I need you to hang out in Daddy’s office while I go have a chat with that young boy.” I pull out the little basket he keeps hidden under his desk full of coloring pages, books, and toys.
“Okay, mama. Can I have a snack? I’m getting hungry.”
Of course she is. It’s damn near time for dinner, and our quick outing to pick up a cupcake pan has morphed into a life-altering trip across town.
“I’ll bring you something in a bit. Yeah?”
“Okay!” she answers cheerfully, already ignoring my retreating form, way more interested in the princess coloring book we picked up last week.
The dark, narrow hall pushes in from every side, slowing my determined steps to get back out there. The moment I pop back into the open room, his head snaps up from the bar top. He hasn’t moved, isn’t snooping through the cabinets behind the bar, didn’t disappear, looking for something he shouldn’t have eyes on.
“Water, soda, juice?” I ask when I’m close enough.
“Soda, please. I’m not picky.”
My body makes quick work of grabbing one of the small cans from the drink fridge hidden below. The whiskey behind me calls my name, an invitation to help take the edge off. But I know better. This won’t be numbed by a shot. I’d need the whole damn bottle.
He knocks back the can, pulling gulps like a traveler lost in the desert at high noon. The desperation. His disheveled look. A comment from a mother to find a man he’s never met. It doesn’t come out of nowhere.
“Where’s your mom?”
A sadness washes over his face. One he’s not quite skilled enough to hide.
“She died,” he offers quietly, looking at me from under his light lashes, fingers crushing the aluminum in his hand.
“When?”
“Two weeks ago.”
Jesus Christ. My heart pangs immediately for what he must be going through. I don’t know his story. What his life was like with her. If he was happy and safe. For a moment, my brain forgets why he’s here. I simply want to envelop him in my arms, because he looks like he could use it.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I finally manage to choke out.
The sorrow in his eyes makes him look years younger, and the shrug in response does the same.
“So Viking…” His voice quakes, rattling against each syllable.
“He’s my husband, and he’s out of town right now.” It would make things a hell of a lot less complicated if he weren’t.
He moves in a blur, long legs eating the distance between where he was just sitting and the front door. I should let him go. I gave him his answer. What he does with that is up to him. Yet, this clawing in my chest refuses that simpler solution.