Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25
FORD
If you ever loved me at all.
As if she doubted I ever had.
God, those words made me bleed. I’d wanted to stay and argue, but I knew that would only make Bree dig in deeper. So despite every instinct screaming at me to stay, I’d done as she asked and walked away.
Though I absolutely needed to get to my own work, I hadn’t made it further than my sofa.
I’d known for years that I’d fucked up. I’d known I’d hurt her. But somehow I’d never realized that she’d felt so excluded. In my memories, she’d been with me almost as much as the rest of my brothers. I’d thought we’d included her, but maybe she’d just felt like a tagalong. An afterthought.
How the hell had I never noticed?
Probably because I’d never had to fight for my place in the world, in any group. I just accepted I had a right to be there. But Bree had never felt as if she belonged. I’d known that from the beginning, and I’d foolishly assumed that we’d done enough to overcome all that childhood trauma.
More fool me.
Of course she’d felt like I chose my brothers over her when I joined the Navy. To some extent, it was true. That decision had belonged to all of us, and I hadn’t consulted her. I hadn’t consulted anyone outside the Wayward Sons. Once it was done, I hadn’t planned to keep it from her, but I’d been working my way up to finding the right way to tell her. I’d known she’d be upset, but I’d thought it would be like when I’d left for college.
I hadn’t planned to sleep with her. Not ever. She was my best friend, and I hadn’t wanted to fuck that up, despite the stirrings of attraction I’d been fighting off since my first break with Emily. I’d been afraid it was just some weird rebound thing, and I wasn’t about to use Bree like that.
But she’d been so devastated after the fire. I’d wanted to distract her. To comfort her. There’d been alcohol and an unexpected kiss that rocked me to my core. Because it had finally stripped off the blinders I’d been wearing for years. I wasn’t just attracted, and it wasn’t some reaction to being free of the toxic ties to Emily. I was in love with Bree. Had been for years. And I’d been too fucking stupid to realize. I should have stopped there. Should have immediately admitted that I’d enlisted. But she’d kissed me again, and it had set us both on fire. From there, things had just… gotten out of hand. Gone too far.
You were my first. Did you know that?
Christ, I hadn’t known. Somehow that compounded my fuckup to an infinite degree.
And now… now I didn’t know what to do. The apology I’d been hanging onto for years hadn’t been enough. It hadn’t changed anything. As she’d said, it didn’t undo the damage I’d done. Nothing could.
The knowledge of that absolutely killed me. I wanted to make things better. I wanted to prove to her she was a priority for me. But I wasn’t even sure she wanted to be a priority for me anymore, and I had no idea what to do with that.
I’d told myself I’d be satisfied if I could earn back her friendship, but facing her down today, I had to admit the truth, even if only to myself.
I was still in love with her.
Bree was the unfinished business I’d left behind. The specter that cast a pall over every relationship I’d attempted since.
I wished I had it all to do over again. That I’d hadn’t been blind to the extent of my feelings for her. I would never have enlisted, and maybe we would have finally become exactly what she’d imagined with those castles in the sand she’d talked about. Because, damn it, we were good together. Not just physically—although holy hell, yes—but as friends. We understood each other. And we could have—should have—been each other’s everything.
Instead, I’d taken her for granted. I’d been a damned fool. And now I might have lost her for good.
The ringing of my phone dragged me out of my rumination. I didn’t recognize the number and almost let it go to voicemail. I wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone. But on the off chance that it was something to do with work, I answered anyway. “Hello?”
“Lieutenant Commander Donoghue?”
The use of my rank had me shoving my emotional turmoil aside. Probably was something related to my new assignment or maybe we’d missed something in connection with my transition. “Speaking.”
“This is Special Agent Langston.”
Everything in me went on high alert. “What do you want?”
“First off, to apologize. I didn’t agree with how we were asked to handle things with you and your daughter. You were right that we weren’t being forthcoming about why we came to see you.”
Oh fuck. What now? “Has that changed?”
Langston paused. “Officially, no. In fact, my superior would be pissed as hell to know I was talking to you.”
I shoved up from the sofa and began to pace. “And yet, here you are.”
“Here I am. Against direct orders, because I think you’re a man who can handle himself. Out of an abundance of caution, I’m sharing some of the details of our investigation with you. I need a promise of your discretion.”
“I’m not sure who you think I’d be sharing with. What’s going on, Langston?”
“Casey Walsh was helping us investigate the company she worked for.”
“So she wasn’t under investigation herself.”
“No, no. She came to us, actually, after finding some… inconsistencies in paperwork. It was enough for us to verify that something was going on, but not sufficient to be actionable. She was gathering additional intel.”
My brain spun with the implications. So Casey had realized something shady was going on at work, and instead of searching for a new job, she’d gone to the authorities. Then stayed in when they’d asked for more.
“Are you suggesting that someone found out? Is that why she’s dead? Was Casey’s death something other than natural?” The idea of it turned my stomach. Had she died because she’d tried to do the right thing?
“We have no reason to believe her death was anything but a natural tragedy. But the information she was gathering for us has disappeared. We don’t have it, and according to our sources, neither does the company.”
“That’s why you were asking Peyton all those questions. You thought Casey brought it home.”
“We don’t know what she did with it. The fact is, neither does anyone else. I’m concerned there is a slim possibility Peyton could be a target because of it.”
“Then why in the hell did y’all wait three months to talk to her?” I fought the urge to plow my fist into the nearest wall. If they’d thought she was a target and done nothing all this time…
“As I said, the possibility is remote, and if no one else had thought of it, we didn’t want to draw attention to her unnecessarily. We had been monitoring her through her foster family. But when she disappeared, we feared the worst.”
That mollified me somewhat. They hadn’t completely hung Peyton out to dry. “So when we contacted social services about her being here, y’all were notified.”
“We were. At that point, it seemed prudent to try to talk to her, just in case.”
“So, what’s changed? Why are you concerned enough to be violating direct orders to warn me?”
“Nothing overt. Our meeting just didn’t sit well with me. Based on what she said, Peyton probably doesn’t know anything. But we simply don’t know for sure, and I felt it necessary and reasonable to give you at least this much so that you can effectively protect your daughter.”
Appreciation mingled with frustration. “You expect me to be able to protect her when I have insufficient intel on who these people are? I have no idea what I should even be on the lookout for.” I could just imagine how well Peyton would react to a full protection detail. As if her classmates needed any further reason to gossip about her.
“I’ll be coordinating with local law enforcement, apprising them of the potential threat and the known actors of the organization. It doesn’t rule out that they could hire someone, but that’s the best I can offer for now.”
His best was a long damned way from actually being useful. What good did it do to know there might be a threat if I didn’t have any indiction at all about what it might look like? “What the hell am I even supposed to do with this information?”
“Be vigilant. In all probability, this is an overreaction on my part. There’s no legitimate reason for anyone to come after Peyton. They had ample time to try while she was still in Oregon. In the weeks and months after Casey’s death, no one broke into the storage unit where her mother’s things had been stored, which would have been the next logical move if they truly thought she had something.”
I stopped pacing. “I had all of Casey and Peyton’s things from Oregon packed up and shipped. The truck with the container on it was stolen yesterday.”
Langston’s voice went sharp. “From where?”
“I don’t actually know. A truck stop along the route. I can send you the name and number for the manager of the shipping company. He said a police report was filed and an insurance claim made. Do you think this has something to do with your case?”
He went quiet for several long moments, thinking. “It feels too fucking coincidental for my taste. But the good news is that if it is connected, they went after the things, not your daughter. They may not even know where Peyton is, now that she’s all the way out there with you.”
“That’s not nearly the comfort I think you want it to be.”
“I’m sorry for that. Send me the contact info for the shipping company. I’ll follow up. If we find out anything else relevant to you, I’ll be sure to reach out again.”
“And if anything happens here?”
“You can reach me at this number.”
I supposed that was the best I was going to get. “Langston?”
“Yeah?”
“Do us a favor and catch these assholes. I’d like a chance to just get to know my daughter in peace.”
“We’re doing our best.”
But as I hung up the phone, I wondered if their best would be good enough. On the chance that it wasn’t, I had to be at my best, and that meant circling the wagons and bringing everyone in my circle up to speed so we could make a plan.