Chapter 9
Taylor
He’s not home.
He’s not at work.
He’s not at Dean’s.
He’s not with Nick or Bennet or anyone else I can think of.
I’m worried. It’s been three days and I’m about ready to call a search party for Conner.
This morning I’m at my dad’s office helping with invoices and scheduling to keep myself semi-distracted.
My dad’s got a wonky way of organizing paperwork.
He still prints most of it out and separates it in ways that I don’t understand.
I’ve been trying to talk him into going paperless and having spreadsheets and databases and invoicing online, but he refuses.
“Hey, honey,” he says, entering the trailer. “What are you doing here this early?”
“Just getting these invoices accounted for so we know who’s behind.”
I haven’t told dad Conner disappeared. I don’t want him worrying. Dad’s stress levels have been getting worse lately and the less he has to do, the better.
Which is probably why Conner’s been busting his ass doing all the work so my dad can just shove papers around and schedule jobs in the A/C.
With Conner not here though, how is everything going to get done?
I didn’t realize how much my family relies on him and it makes me angry that we’ve unknowingly taken advantage of his big heart. He’d never tell my father no.
“Dad, did the McNair’s pay for the roses?” I search through the printouts looking for the invoice when I come across…
“Yeah, it’s in the paid pile, sweetheart. I’ve got it all covered. Quit fussing over my piles, you’ll mess them up.”
His words become muffled in my ears when I pull out something with Conner’s signature. It’s a resignation letter. My knees buckle and I half-fall into the chair. “What is this?”
Dad leans against the door jamb and crosses his arms. I can’t see his face because my eyes are too blurry. “What is this, dad?”
“It’s nothing.”
Doesn’t look like nothing. Doesn’t feel like nothing.
Blinking hard, tears fall down my cheeks as I read the first two sentences.
“He quit?” I swear the floor opens up under my feet.
“He quit?” I’m going to throw up. Pass out.
Have a stroke. Something. My heart pounds heavily and my throat closes up.
“Why didn’t you tell me? When did he give you this? ”
Dad’s unreadable. Unemotional. So typical.
“Dad!” I slam my hands on his desk. “When did he give you this?”
“The date’s on it.”
I’m too freaked out to be logical and look at things like dates. But there it is at the top. “Three days ago.”
He gave this to my father the day he turned his location off and left his house.
“And you didn’t think it was important to tell me?”
“No.”
All the air whooshes out of me. Dizziness has my head spinning. “Dad,” my voice cracks.
“No point in making a mountain out of a mole hill, honey. I didn’t accept his resignation. He ain’t going nowhere.”
That’s just like my father. If he says something, he just figures that’s the end of it. No one argues back with him except Conner. “Dad. If he wants to leave us, he can.”
“He doesn’t want to leave, honey. He’s just gotta get his head on straight. I told him that.”
No, he probably told him that he’ll see him on Monday and that he wasn’t taking no for an answer. My dad’s a bulldozer.
“He’s been gone three days.”
“I told him to take all the time he needs.” He strolls over to the mini coffee machine and makes a cup. “All paid leave. Not even making him use his PTO.”
So Dad just thinks if he gives Conner money and time that he’ll come around eventually and be alright? “He beat the shit out of Austin the other day.”
“Oh I know. Your mother and aunt were talking about it.”
“He’s not okay.”
“Austin’s a tough guy. I’m sure he’s fine.”
“No. Conner. Conner is not okay.”
“I know. That’s why I gave him paid time off.”
Why doesn’t my father ever take things seriously enough? “He needs therapy and a swift kick in the ass.”
Dad chuckles and takes a sip of his coffee. “Or a good woman.”
The suggestion makes my blood turn to ice. “Not funny.”
“I’m serious. It worked for me. I was a wild man before your mother came into my life. Now look at me. I’m perfect.”
He’s far from it.
Dad takes another sip of his coffee, and the sound irritates the shit out of me. “Maybe he should look into one of those dating sites,” he says. “Find himself a good woman in the next town over. You can help him make a profile online, can’t you? Or maybe Nick can help.”
I shove away from the desk and leave before I explode. The rage and jealousy and ache in my heart is taking over all my logic.
I’ve got to get out of here.