Chapter 27 #2
When we released each other, she shot a glance at Dash and Draven.
“I have an escort. Sorry. Dash is a little overprotective at the moment.”
Her face, if surprised or irritated, gave nothing away. She leveled them with a cool, apprehensive look, like she was bracing herself to be hurt.
I wished I could promise her that Draven wouldn’t hurt her. But I wouldn’t.
“Ignore them.” I took her hand in mine. “This is about you.”
Genevieve nodded and we walked onto the grass, dodging tombstones until we came to a granite slab situated under a towering cottonwood tree. A vase of yellow roses had been placed by the tombstone.
“This is a pretty spot,” I said.
Genevieve simply nodded, wiping at her eyes before the tears could fall. “She shouldn’t be here. She should be smiling with a friend, laughing at a movie or talking to me on the phone. She should be in her kitchen, making Chrissy’s cookies.”
“Chrissy’s cookies?” As in Chrissy Slater?
“Yeah.” She wiped another tear away. “Those chocolate chip cookies I made the day you came to Denver. That’s what Mom always called them. Chrissy’s cookies. I guess she got the recipe from a friend named Chrissy once. I didn’t know the friend but the cookies are good. Doesn’t matter now.”
So Amina had used Chrissy’s cookie recipe. Maybe someday, those cookies would be something Dash and Genevieve could bond over, something to bridge the gap. Or would it drive them apart? For now, I’d keep the origins of that recipe to myself.
I squeezed her hand. “They are good cookies. The best. And I bet once we publish the recipe with your mom’s memorial, the whole town will love them too.”
“I hope so,” she whispered.
We stood there, staring at the tombstone and Amina’s name written in the white-and-gray-swirled rock, until a flash of movement caught my eye. Draven was hovering about twenty feet away. When he met my gaze, he held up a hand.
The movement got Genevieve’s attention too and her frame tightened. The grip on my hand turned punishing.
I leaned in close. “You have to meet him eventually.”
“Do I?”
“Do you believe what I told you? That he didn’t kill your mother? That he’s your father?”
“Honestly?” She thought about it for a long moment. “Yes. But I wish I didn’t.”
“I’ll leave you two alone.” Stepping away, I retreated toward Dash waiting on his bike. Draven stepped up to Genevieve, giving her an awkward wave before tucking his hand in a pocket.
“I almost feel bad for him,” Dash said when I reached his side.
“Will you ever forgive him?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe Nick was right. He’s off his pedestal now. Might give me a chance to see him as he is.”
“He’s trying to right his wrongs,” I said, watching as Draven and Genevieve stood apart. They faced one another but she had her arms crossed over her chest, clearly indicating he was close enough. “Let’s leave them be.”
Dash nodded, driving us back to the garage after a quick detour at McDonald’s to pick up some burgers and fries for the crew. We crossed the parking lot, each carrying paper bags dotted with grease.
“I almost asked Presley if she’d let me borrow her car so I could sneak away to meet Genevieve,” I confessed. “But I thought you might have an aneurism.”
He chuckled. “I would have. Do me a favor? Don’t give me a heart attack before I get a chance to meet my kid.”
I smiled. “I’ll try.”
“Fuck, but you make me crazy.” He stopped walking and pulled me into his arms. “If anything happened to you, I—”
“It won’t.” I leaned back and cupped his cheek with my free hand. “I’ll be careful. Promise.”
Dash dropped a kiss on my lips, his touch firm but gentle.
My stomach growled, forcing us apart. We were almost at the office, more than ready to eat, when a familiar gray sedan pulled in behind us.
“Is that—”
“Genevieve?” I finished.
She parked by the office, directly in front of the staircase that led to Isaiah’s apartment. Had Draven invited her here? He was nowhere in sight.
“What’s she doing here?” Dash muttered.
“Maybe she wanted to meet you?”
He frowned. “Well, I don’t much care to meet her.”
I elbowed him in the side. “Be nice.”
Genevieve got out of the car, her eyes glancing up the staircase before she moved in our direction. “Hey, again.”
“Hi.” I smiled. “Um, Genevieve, this is Dash. My boyfriend and your—”
“Half brother. Right.”
Dash stood there, not saying a word. The silence grew thicker and thicker, until finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and I elbowed him in the ribs. Again.
He frowned, shuffling paper bags to free a hand and extend it. “Hi.”
As quickly as they touched, the shake was over. Dash jerked his chin to the garage and marched away, taking my french fries with him. “Got work to do.”
At least I had the bags with all the burgers.
“Sorry,” I told Genevieve.
“Two weeks ago, I was alone, trying to cope with losing Mom. Then I get kidnapped, find out I have a father in Montana who didn’t know I existed and a half brother who hates me. I’m numb to it all at this point.”
I opened my mouth to tell her she actually had brothers, plural, but decided it could wait for another day. “Dash doesn’t hate you. He just hasn’t had much time to wrap his head around it.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She hung her head. “Nothing matters.”
Before I could say anything, a pair of footsteps came down the stairs.
My eyes widened. “Isaiah? Where have you been? We thought you left.”
“I did. Now I’m back.”
He’d been gone a week, ever since the day of the mountain rescue. No note. No call. He’d just . . . disappeared. Did Dash know he was back?
Isaiah reached the bottom stair and looked at Genevieve. “Hey.”
“Hi.” She lifted her hand like she was going to shake his but then changed her mind and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Um, how was the trip?” Isaiah asked.
“Long.”
The Colorado plates. I hadn’t put it together at the cemetery, assuming she’d just rented a car, but this must be hers. Why would she drive to Montana? That had to be at least eight hours. Maybe more.
“I’ll help haul up your stuff.” Isaiah walked toward her car.
Stuff? Genevieve followed, her chin down, as Isaiah opened the back seat. It was filled with boxes and suitcases. Inside the trunk was more of the same.
“Are you staying?” I asked her.
Genevieve and Isaiah shared a look, one full of secrets. She nodded and Isaiah hefted out a suitcase and backpack, taking them up his stairs. She followed with a box.
Neither of them answered my question.
“What’s goin’ on?” Dash asked, coming to my side. “Was that Isaiah?”
“Yes. And I have no idea.” Genevieve and Isaiah disappeared up the stairs. “But if I had to guess, I’d say Genevieve is moving into Isaiah’s apartment.”
He looked down at me, as confused as I was. “What the fuck happened on that mountain?”