Repaired Page 22

  Parker had come barging into my life when I least expected it, and when I was afraid he’d break it into a thousand tiny pieces, I was shocked to find he’d actually repaired it, glued it all back together with his confidence and his power. He made me whole and complete. And for those reasons, and so many more for which the words didn’t yet exist, I whispered, “I love you, too.”

  Those words shocked him into silence, his eyes widening in surprise. “You do?”

  “Of course.” Wrapping my arms around his neck, I squeezed him with every ounce of my strength. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone. It’s strange and unnamable, but I know I can’t go on without it. I know I can’t go on without you. So if that’s not love, then I’d be scared out of my mind to find out what is.”

  His chest vibrated in a warm, soft chuckle. “That’s how I feel, too.” Softly, his lips took mine in a kiss that spoke all the words we couldn’t find.

  “Now what do we do?” Parker asked, his lips still moving against mine.

  “Clean up. Get dressed. Order dinner. Hire a professional painter.” My suggestions were met with light laughter.

  “In that order?” he joked.

  “Well, unless you want to paint naked and hungry, I can’t think of a better order.”

  “Hmm,” Parker growled. “I could eat while watching you paint naked.”

  “Maybe another night.” We sat up, used some of the spare cloths to clean, and dressed quickly.

  When I looked down at my watch, I realized it was still early enough to catch the usual crowd down at Murray’s. Parker’s face lit up at the suggestion, probably because the thought of a pool game and a few beers was a hell of a lot more appealing than being schooled in painting.

  When we pulled into the parking lot, I saw Gabe’s car parked in its usual spot. Tipping my head at the black sedan, I said, “Windows are all steamed up. Wonder who he’s got in there.” Parker looked to where Gabe was parked and laughed.

  “It’s Zan,” he said with an odd air of certainty.

  “How do you know?” Twisting in my seat, I unclicked the belt. “You can’t possibly see in there.”

  “The blue car is his. Besides, I may have thrown them together the night I went looking for you.”

  As we walked to the entrance, the car doors swung open. Gabe exited first, busied with tucking his shirt back in. We stopped just in time to catch Zan stepping out the other door, refastening his jeans. “Well, well, well,” I joked. “Looks like someone was having a little fun.”

  Gabe slammed his door and walked to the other side where Zan stood, shocked into silence. He reached down and took Zan’s hand in his own. “Yeah, and based on the smug-ass look on your faces, I’d say you two were having fun not all that long ago.”

  “You think we can stop talking about our collective sex lives long enough to grab a beer?” Zan butted in, desperate to change the conversation.

  Once inside, we set up a game of pool and laughed over a few pitchers of beers. Sitting to the side of the game, I watched as Gabe and Parker laughed together, ribbing on each other pretty good. It was impossible not to be happy for Gabe when I caught him stealing casual touches from Zan. Whatever it was that was brewing between the two of them, it looked good on them.

  “I think I’m done handling big sticks for the night,” Parker declared jokingly as he placed his pool cue on the table. “Until later of course.” The drinks had made his lips a touch looser and out came the joker. It was times like this when the parts of Parker’s character, which he’d tried to hide for so long, came out to play.

  Waggling an eyebrow at me, he bumped my shoulder with his, nearly toppling me over. “Hit your limits already?” Keeping my voice low, I whispered my question to Parker as we walked over to a table. Zan and Gabe looked as if they were lost in a similar private conversation as they walked over to the bar to order another round of drinks.

  Shrugging, his answer was of the simplest kind. “Just celebrating I guess.” Before we slid into our seats, he promised he’d slow down, not wanting to be a burden on me.

  Grabbing his shoulders, I made sure to look deep into his sapphire blue eyes. “I’m never burdened by you. Ever. If anything, I’m better because of you.”

  “Thank you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “And I want to be better for you.”

  By the time we broke away from our kiss, Gabe and Zan returned with another round of beers and a round of waters. “So, Zan told me you resigned.” Part of me felt a twinge of guilt knowing that Gabe had learned something important, like Parker’s resignation, from Zan rather than me, but it was also mixed with happiness for their newfound closeness.

  “Actually just finished moving into my new office. The painters will be there this week.” The inside joke wasn’t lost on me. The paint he rolled across my chest was still splattered there, a temporary mark resting over the permanent one he’d left on my heart.

  “And you’re not worried about the income? You must be taking a huge pay cut,” Zan blurted out of nowhere. But it must have been a trait with which Parker was familiar, because he paid it no mind.

  Gulping down half of his water, Parker shrugged. “I’ve got a decent amount saved and I’m sure I’ll land a few clients soon enough. And,” he said as he put his water back on the table, “I was thinking of downsizing a bit.”

  “Really?” I gasped in shock.

  “Sure. I mean, why not. I don’t need that huge house. Never did. And as soon as we’re done with the Mustang, I can ditch the BMW.” Parker’s hand found my thigh under the table and he squeezed it gently as he said, “Besides, I’ve recently discovered there are some things in life you can’t buy.”

  Covering his hand with mine, I couldn’t believe we were here. After the rockiest of starts, it seemed as if we had nothing but a clear path laid out before us. Of course that couldn’t be true. It never was, but if relaxing with good friends and laughing about nothing in particular was as good as it ever got, then I’d be happy.

  I was still getting used to having my own office, but it was an adjustment I was all too willing to make. In the two weeks since Liam and I had finished moving in, after the painters were done, I’d been able to unpack everything and even get started on a new client. When I left, the only thing my father said to me was that he’d sue me if I took any of my clients with me. The funny thing was, even if they had wanted to come with me, I wouldn’t have wanted them. There was not one single part of me that wanted any ties to my father. And, since I hadn’t heard a word from either him or my mother since I left, I could tell they didn’t want any ties to me either. My walking away had been the irreparable crack in whatever flimsy relationship we’d ever had as a family.

  Yet, rather than devastating me, I could have kicked myself for not leaving my father and his firm years ago.

  Maybe in the future we’d patch things up, but I knew in my heart we wouldn’t. They didn’t feel the need to and I didn’t feel the desire to. The very real truth was I was happier now than I’d ever been. I had a practice of my own and building it quite literally from the ground up was more rewarding than anything I’d ever done.

  When the Maxwell case was settled, I thought I’d hear from my father. But then again, I knew he would never admit that it was my work that led to its settlement. Of course it made the headlines. I was thrilled not to see Ashton’s name mentioned again. He’d become an afterthought in a money-driven media. I was certain my father had used some of his media contacts to minimalize the mention of Ashton and the molestation charges. In fact, it was played up that the police and Child Protective Services did a superb job at investigating and closing the case. My name was only mentioned briefly in the current news reports. I had a feeling that Harvey had something to do with that. Though I’d never heard from him again either, I was elated to know I’d helped put an end to Avery’s conniving ways.

  I couldn’t be happier the case was settled and in the past. It allowed me to move on and focus on ever
ything I had laid out before me.

  And I had Liam. God, Liam. We rarely went more than a day or two without seeing each other. He’d worked himself into my life and I loved having him there. He made me very aware of how much he loved having me in his life, as well.

  I’d never loved anyone else before and, just as I was proud of the professional life I was building, I was more than fulfilled with the personal life I was building with Liam. Oddly enough, I found myself feeling more at home in his home than in my own and that was where we spent most of our time. Glancing down at my watch, I realized I was running late, as usual. My phone buzzed on the desk.

  “Hey.” Even saying hello to him made me smile.

  “Hi,” Liam’s soft voice crooned into the line. “You still coming over after work? Should I order some take out?”

  “I’ll pick something up on my way home.”

  Home.

  “Since you’re running late, I guess I’ll have to shower on my own.” He was luring me out of work—his hot, wet, naked body was often his temptation of choice and it was a trick I fell for time and time again.

  “Leaving now,” I answered immediately, my voice thick and heavy with need.

  His laughter unfurled even more desire low in my gut. “Calm down. I’ll wait for you.”

  “No, really. I was done anyway. I’m walking out the door now.”

  When he said, “Oh, and one more thing.” I stopped dead in my tracks. “Fuck dinner. Get home now. I want you.” Then he hung up, leaving me a mess right there at the door of my office.

  After I calmed myself down enough to think straight, I slid my phone into my pocket and locked the door. Focused solely on getting home to Liam, I nearly broke into a sprint to get to my car faster.

  But as I stepped out into the early evening sunlight, I felt as if a boulder had been lifted from my back. Everything was coming together and between making my peace with the way my father felt about me, and feeling more than elated with the new path I was taking, I took a deep breath, feeling like a completely different person.

  Distracted by my recent sense of freedom, I didn’t hear the quiet voice of a young boy calling my name as he ran up behind me in the parking lot.

  “Excuse me,” he called out.

  Turning to him, I saw a kid who couldn’t possibly be more than thirteen or fourteen years old. His voice still sounded more like that of a child than a man, but there was a hint of desperation there that made me stop. “It’s you,” he gasped when I faced him. “You’re the lawyer, right? Parker Ryan?”

  “Yes,” I answered, more than a little concerned with why a teenage boy was looking for me. “Who are you?” Since he seemed a touch skittish, I spoke softly, careful not to scare him away.

  “I went to the other building, but they said you didn’t work there anymore. That was a day ago. I was beginning to think I wouldn’t find you at all.” His words came out in such a rush he was actually gasping for air.

  A day ago? Taking stock of his appearance, I realized the kid was a mess. “Do your parents know where you are?”

  “Uh . . . yeah . . . of course . . .” he stammered, fear taking over his words. I knew he was lying, but I didn’t want to push it.

  “Okay, so then what can I do for you?” Though I played it off as if there was nothing wrong with a kid randomly approaching me next to my car, my brain was racing through the whole scene. His parents, if he had any, clearly didn’t know where he was. The kid looked like he hadn’t showered in days and there were bags under his eyes.

  But there was something in his eyes that was eerily familiar. Before I could identify it, he began rambling again, so quickly it was difficult to keep up with him. “You helped Ashton Maxwell. I saw you on the news and in the papers. You’re famous.”

  A teenage groupie? That couldn’t possibly be it. I was losing my patience. “No, I didn’t. That wasn’t my case.”

  “But I saw you. You did help him. And I was hoping you could help me.” He kept his eyes glued to pavement as he quietly added, “For a friend I mean.”

  That was a lie, too, yet I still asked, “And what’s your friend’s name?”

  “No, I can’t tell you. I promised him I wouldn’t.” He turned to walk away from me, mumbling under his breath, “Forget it. It’s not worth it.” The quick change in attitude had me worried that he’d run before I found out anything meaningful.

  The kid recoiled as I dropped a hand to his shoulder. Letting his frailty get the best of me, I offered, “Why don’t you tell me your friend’s name and give me his phone number so I can call him.”

  “Okay,” he grunted his agreement as he handed me a crumpled piece of paper.

  “Are you sure you can’t tell me at least a little about what your friend needs help with? It’ll help me if I at least know a little something before I call.” Treading the fine line, I was hoping he would give me something.

  “It’s the same thing as Ashton. Except no one believes him.” The sadness pervading every single one of his words confirmed how serious this situation was.

  He took the moment I needed to register what he’d just said to sprint away from me. Dropping my briefcase and the piece of paper he’d given me, I ran after him, but the kid was faster than I was.

  Winded within a few hundred feet, I had to stop, letting him get farther and farther away from me. As I walked back to my car, I knew I’d have to call the police and let them know about the incident. Maybe someone had filed a missing person report.

  Before calling the police, I sent Liam a text.

  Looks like I’ll have to take a raincheck on that shower. Something just came up. I’ll call in a bit.

  I wasn’t being purposefully evasive in not telling Liam exactly what happened. It was just that I didn’t really know enough about it. The fact that he’d alluded to it being about abuse did cause me to hold back a little, especially considering Liam’s initial reaction to the Maxwell case.

  My phone buzzed in my hand as his response came through.

  Hope everything’s okay. I’ll definitely be thinking of you in the shower. Talk to you later. X

  The smile that pulled at my lips while reading Liam’s text was completely erased as I unfolded the note from the boy. Chilling words were written in a sloppy teenager’s handwriting.

  There was a phone number written under the words, but my eyes burned with so much rage I barely saw it. As all the pieces came into focus, I grew angry with myself for the way I handled the situation. This kid obviously sought me out because he thought I could help him like he thought I’d helped Ashton.

  And I did nothing except let him get away.

  Dialing the number he’d written there, I prayed he’d answer. But as luck would have it, all that greeted me was an automated voicemail recording. Out of frustration, I hung up before leaving a message. Then, the adult in me kicked in. I called back and left a short message with my name and phone number, saying that I had just met a boy who’d given me Brendan’s name and number. I explained how his friend had asked me for help. I told him he could call me at any time, day or night. My gut told me there was no friend, but I played along with the game in the hopes that he’d call me back. I saved the number he’d given me into my phone and assigned it a specific ringtone so I would be able to tell who it was without even having to look at the screen.

  An hour later, the police were pulling away from my office, my statement in hand. I wished there was more I could tell them, but really all I was working with was pure conjecture. He really could have been coming to me for a friend. Brendan could have been a made up name for all I knew. I’d hazard a guess that the number could probably be a dummy line to a phone that didn’t even work.

  Exhaustion washed over me as I rested my elbows on my desk. The police likely wouldn’t find much. They ran his name while they were here and nothing came up. No one had reported him missing, so unless he came back to me, or went directly to the police, there was no way to track him down. Though the office
rs said they’d put out a search for him, I knew that a kid who wanted to stay hidden would more than likely stay hidden.

  Letting my curiosity get the better of me, I opened my laptop and decided to Google the name he’d given me. He said he’d been looking for me for a day, which means if someone noticed he was gone, they would have filed a report within the twenty-four hours. Without a report, the police had no leads. Who knows whether they would do more than wait, but I knew enough about social media to know that if a friend was looking for the kid, then there might be something on Twitter or Facebook. Maybe his name would come up on something other than a missing person search.

  But all of this operated under the assumption that someone was looking for him.

  Just because his name didn’t come up in police reports, didn’t make the Internet obsolete as a tool.

  I typed Missing Davidson boy in the search bar and my stomach flipped at the first report. With a shaking hand, I clicked on the decade-old article headlined, William Davidson Missing for a Month.

  The picture accompanying the article turned my blood to ice. In every way, the boy in the picture looked exactly like the kid I’d encountered in the parking lot. Shaggy brown hair, freckles sprawled across the nose. But the single feature that stood out the most was the eyes.

  Brown with flecks of red. Fiery edges surrounding the dark amber-brown centers.

  I’d seen those eyes before, so many times. They were the eyes into which I let myself get lost. The eyes from which I gathered so much strength and felt so much love.

  They were Liam’s eyes.

  They were the eyes of the boy I’d just met in the parking lot.

  My stomach roiled at the possibilities, at the implications. The chances were unfathomable, yet here I was staring at what seemed like a wrinkle in the fabric of time right in the red-brown eyes.