Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
PAIGE
“Are we going to bring both soccer balls?” August asked. His blond brows furrowed in weighty contemplation as he studied the bin in the garage that held athletic equipment.
“I think so,” I said, considering the situation just as seriously.
August, seven years old and halfway through second grade, had discovered soccer that fall.
Now, with the season over for the year, he was determined to practice every day until he was the best player on the team.
I hadn’t been a soccer player when I was in school, but I knew enough to help out.
I had baby Stella strapped to my chest, still sleepy after Hope had handed her over post-nap and feeding.
She snuggled into my chest, a cozy little armful, her knitted cap pulled down over her blonde curls.
I’d learned that December in the mountains could be gorgeous, but it could also be cold.
Today it was both, the sky electric blue and the air icy as it cut through my scarf.
I squatted down to refasten the zipper on August’s jacket.
“Why don’t you each take one?” I said to August and Nicky. “Nicky can play keeper, and Stella and I will ref from the sidelines while August practices shots on goal.”
“I’m the best keeper,” Nicky said, grabbing one of the soccer balls out of the bin.
“You’re not bad, kiddo,” I said, ruffling his dark hair.
At six, and in first grade, Nicky didn’t have the height to cover ninety percent of the soccer goal Tenn had set up in the side yard, but he had the enthusiasm to make up for his small size.
Some days, Thatcher joined us for soccer practice, though today he was down on the lower level with his mom, Scarlett, in her glass workshop while she helped him make an ornament for the winter carnival at school.
The garage door rolled up, startling me. “Back up, boys,” I said, reaching out to corral the kids, making sure they were out of the way of the giant SUV rolling in.
The vehicle parked, and the driver’s door opened. I caught Griffen saying, “I’ll call Hawk. We’ll get Cooper on the line. Get to work on a strategy.” He shut the door as his gaze swept over the scene in front of him, and a grin broke out across his face. “Getting in some more soccer practice?”
“Yeah,” August said, holding the ball above his head.
“Looks good.” Griffen closed the distance between us and reached up to run his knuckles across his daughter’s soft cheek. “She looks like she just woke up.”
“She did,” I said fondly. “Hope handed her off a few minutes ago.”
The warmth in his eyes as he looked at Stella brought tears to mine. A sheepish smile on his face, he looked at me with a half-shrug. “I want to steal her from you and take her back to the office, but…”
“You and Hope have a call,” I said. “I know. She didn’t want to hand Stella over either. But if you text when your call is over, I’ll bring her back.”
“Thanks, Paige,” he said with a smile.
“That’s what I’m here for.”
I snuck a glance across the hood of the SUV to see Ford watching us, pensive.
I risked a tiny smile, and a light flashed through his eyes.
I looked away, not wanting Griffen to see the flush I felt rising to my cheeks just from looking at Ford.
I couldn’t help remembering the way I’d left him, a faint smile on his face, the covers pushed down to his waist, his lean, bare chest begging me to touch.
“Let’s go, Nicky,” August said, breaking the spell.
“I’d better get moving or these two will take off without me,” I said, smiling at Griffen and flashing a last look at Ford, wishing I could say something—anything.
But as far as Griffen knew, Ford and I had never spoken to each other.
Why would we? Anything other than a polite nod would draw attention I didn’t want.
I forced my attention back to Griffen. “Just give a shout when you guys are done. I’ll bring her back. ”
I resisted the urge to look at Ford again. He drew my gaze, my body, my attention like a magnet. For just a moment, I regretted saying that this thing between us had to be a secret. I let out a sigh as I followed the boys across the lawn to the area designated for soccer.
I was deluding myself into thinking that it would be as simple as telling everyone Ford and I were together.
First of all, I didn’t know that we were.
We’d had sex. Amazing sex. I wanted to have a lot more of it.
But it wasn’t only sex—not for me, and I was reasonably certain not for him either. But what did that even mean?
Was I ready to risk my job for a relationship this new?
That would be idiotic. And on top of that, I’d come here for a reason—to find my father.
I’d had zero success on that front, but if I got myself fired, I’d give up the only lead I had.
I supposed I could hire a private investigator.
But why blow my savings when I could hang around here, maybe find out what had happened to him, and get paid for a job I loved while I was at it?
I shook my head. Such a weak excuse, Paige. I was full of excuses lately.
Focus, Paige, I told myself.
August took a shot. Nicky leapt to block it, and both boys looked at me for a response.
“Nice shot, August,” I said. “I didn’t know you could jump that high, Nicky. Try it again.”
I wasn’t here to moon over my boss’s brother.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I had the whole family in my contacts, though I rarely texted most of them. I pulled up Ford’s number.
My room after dinner?
I hit send before I could think twice and stuffed my phone back in my pocket.
I was here to watch the kids. And not just watch them, but engage, teach, and guide. I couldn’t do that if I had my face in my phone and my mind on Ford. Dinner wasn’t that far away—I’d survive.
The hours dragged. I dropped Stella off with Griffen and Hope for a while, then picked her back up when they both had other calls. Normally, I loved being with the kids, but I was distracted.
Stella was fussy after dinner, her teething pain back with a vengeance.
I couldn’t keep up with the way it ebbed and flowed.
One day, she was screaming bloody murder, and the next, she was her normal peaceful self.
We were all looking forward to the rest of her teeth coming in. Her pained cries were so hard to hear.
I finally made it upstairs, well after the family had finished eating.
As I rounded the corner from the main stairs and entered the guest wing, a chill sent goose bumps over my skin.
I shouldn’t be surprised that the heat in the guest wing was struggling, considering how cold it had been all day.
Along with the dodgy electricity and the questionable plumbing, the heat worked when it decided to.
We had electric blankets for when it didn’t, though they didn’t do much good if the electricity also went out.
The heat had been fairly reliable over the last few weeks, but maybe the cold temperatures outside had taxed the aging system too hard.
I shivered, then thought of Ford. Under the covers, we’d keep each other warm.
I reached the end of the hall. His door was closed—no light showing beneath—but mine was cracked a few inches, the glow of the light spilling out. I pushed open the door, a welcoming smile on my face. “Hey, sorry I took so—” I cut off as he turned.
My heart fell as my eyes met his, the sea-green ice-cold, his face without expression. In his hand was the picture of Sarah Sawyer I’d found with the letters in my father’s trunk.
I closed the door behind me.
“What are you doing with a picture of my mother, Paige?” he asked, his voice like stone.
“Where did you find that?” I asked. It was a stupid question. I knew exactly where he’d found it. My bedside drawer was open. “Why were you going through my things?”
I crossed the room, ignoring him, to look in the drawer.
A strip of condoms sat on top of the manila envelope that held the letters and the picture of Sarah.
I recognized the brand from Ford’s room the night before and instantly understood.
My heart twisted. He was being responsible, doing the right thing, and I’d been an idiot not to hide the evidence better.
But I hadn’t thought about anyone going through my drawers.
I should have, but I’d been here for months and no one had—until now.
“Paige. Answer me,” he demanded, his voice as cold as the air in the room, sending a chill all the way to my bones.
I pulled the envelope out of the drawer. “Is that all you saw? The picture of Sarah?”
His eyes focused on the envelope in my hand. “What else is there?”
“I…” I couldn’t think of how to explain. “Sarah Sawyer’s your mother?” I asked, though I knew the answer already.
He glared. “You know she is. Why do you have her picture? I don’t even have her picture.”
That sidetracked me. “Why not?” Stupid question, I realized. I didn’t have a picture of my father beyond what I’d found in the trunk.
“My father took them all,” he said.
I nodded, my eyes locked on the black-and-white photograph in his hand. “I didn’t have any pictures of my dad either,” I said. “Not until I found the trunk that picture was in.”
I looked at the envelope in my hand, then at Ford standing there with his mother’s picture, so angry because I’d lied, and the guilt hit me.
He’d been through so much. I wanted to yell at him for invading my privacy, for confronting me, for being angry.
But where did I get off being pissed that he’d caught me?
Yeah, he went in my drawer, but— I glanced back down at the open drawer.
He hadn’t been invading my privacy. No—that was me, investigating his family while I was working for them.
It hadn’t seemed like that much of a betrayal until now.
I sank down to sit on the side of my bed, looking at the envelope in my hands. I’d done enough damage with lies. For this, I needed the truth.
“When I was cleaning out my mother’s house after she died, I found a whole trunk of my father’s things.
I never knew him. He took off before I was born.
My mother always said there was another woman, that he left us for her, and he never came back to contradict her story.
I didn’t know anything. Going through the trunk, I learned he’d been in the army.
And I learned that he’d been involved with a woman named Sarah who loved him.
She wrote letters.” I held the envelope out to Ford.
He took a step in my direction, only close enough to lean forward and snatch the manila envelope from my hands.
When he looked at me, I felt ice skate down my spine, and a grief I hadn’t expected wrapped my heart.
We’d slept together once—this wasn’t a great love affair—but the distance between us, the idea that this was over, left me gutted.
I wanted to be in bed with Ford, under the covers, wrapped up in each other.
I wanted to see him smile. And I’d fucked all that up.
He reached into the envelope and pulled out a letter.
As he scanned it, I said, “I looked up her name, realized she was a Sawyer. I wasn’t going to do anything about it, but then my former nanny family had a connection to Hope.
They knew she and Griffen were looking for someone, and I was between jobs, ready to move on—it seemed like fate.
I needed a job, a change, and I wanted to find my father. So, I came here.”
“And lied to everyone about who you are.” Ford’s eyes were fixed on the letter in his hand, but the fury in his tone sent a shiver through me.
“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell the whole truth. I passed the background checks because I am who I say I am.”
“Who is your father?” he demanded.
“Paul Williams,” I said, the name still unfamiliar.
How had I not even known his real name until I found that trunk?
And why had I risked so much to find a man who’d never bothered to meet me?
If only I could go back— I hadn’t known how much I would have to lose.
I hadn’t seen Ford Sawyer coming, and now it was over.
I could almost feel my heart cracking.
“Paul Williams,” Ford said slowly, lifting his gaze to stare at the ceiling. “The name doesn’t mean anything to me.”
I forced myself to stay in the moment, to listen to him. “I’m not surprised. I haven’t done much investigating, but no one seems to recognize his name or know what happened to Sarah—to your mother.”
“My mother ran off with some guy and left us. I’m assuming the guy is your father.”
“That’s my guess,” I said.
“And what did you want out of all of this? Some kind of compensation?”
“No. No.” I shot off the bed to pace the room, wrapping my arms around myself, rubbing my hands up and down my biceps to warm up.
Could I see my breath? It was so cold. Everything was cold: the room, Ford, my frozen heart.
I hated this. “No, I don’t. I don’t want anything except to know where he is, where they went, and why he never came back. Did you ever hear from her again?”
“No,” Ford said shortly. “Postcards once a year to me and Griffen, but those ended a while ago.” Ford slipped the letter back into the envelope, followed by the picture of his mother. “He never called? Sent you a birthday present?”
“No,” I said. “Not that I—” I stopped, tucking my fingertips into my armpits, watching my breath bloom in icy clouds. God, it was fucking cold in here. “I don’t know,” I realized, speaking aloud. “My mother…”
I shook my head, trying to drive off the memory of her talking about my father. It didn’t happen often, but the venom, the bitterness, tainted every memory of those conversations.
“She hated him,” I said softly. “And I think she hated me. She said I looked like him, acted like him. She never forgave him for leaving. She said she never heard from him again, but…” I gave a helpless shrug, wrapping my arms tighter around myself, too cold to let my body heat escape.
“I can’t believe the heat is out again,” Ford muttered.
I shook my head. I had bigger problems than frozen toes and fingers.
“But maybe he did,” I whispered. “I wouldn’t have put it past her to lie about it.
Maybe he sent me postcards.” Hearing the wistfulness in my own voice, I sighed heavily.
“This whole thing is stupid. It’s a stupid wild goose chase.
Nobody here knows anything about Sarah or my father. ”
“I’m taking these,” Ford said abruptly, turning for the door.
“You can’t!” I said sharply, moving toward him. “Those are mine. They were my father’s! You can’t—”