41. Garrett
GARRETT
The campfire crackles and pops in front of us as we devour the tasty dinner Troy and Lucas prepared after a day of canoeing and hiking.
Now, the group of fourteen men—including my brothers and myself—are relaxing at the secluded campsite and enjoying the camaraderie that comes with these trips.
“Do any of you have kids?” Jake asks my brothers and me, after the rest of the group has shown off photos of their children.
“My wife and I are fostering two young girls,” Lucas tells the other men, a wistful smile on his face. He misses Kylie and Zoe. I can tell.
I feel the same way about Peony. It’s the strong tugging in my heart, the empty void twisting in my chest. A jigsaw puzzle missing an important piece.
I honestly don’t know how Dad so easily walked away every time he was deployed for months at a time—leaving behind his wife and three young boys. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s the reason he retired from the Marines earlier than he had planned—it hadn’t been easy for him either.
Two days. That’s all I’ll be gone for. Surely I can handle that.
Lucas taps on his phone and passes it to Jake .
“Cute kids.” The phone is passed around the circle and eventually stops at me. The two girls and Simone are grinning at the camera. Jasper is sitting with them, a grin also on his face.
I pass the phone to Kellan, who’s sitting next to me on the downed tree trunk. He glances at it, and one of his rare smiles crosses his face. A smile usually reserved for kids who mean a lot to him—like the kids on the hockey team he coaches.
“What ’bout you three?” Jake’s gaze shifts from Troy, to me, and then Kellan.
“Happily single and kid free,” Kellan replies, his mouth not bothering with a smile this time.
“I’m happily taken but no kids. Yet.” Troy doesn’t show the group a photo of Jess. After what she went through last year, when the media tracked her down, he’s even more protective of his girlfriend’s privacy than he would have been with anyone else’s.
The men’s attention moves to me.
“I have a daughter.” I figure it’s safe enough to tell them that.
It’s not something I can keep quiet for much longer.
So far, not many people have seen us together.
But that will change once I’ve sent the book to my editor.
Then I’ll be able to spend a lot more time with Peony, which means people will see us together as we frequently venture out in public.
“You have any pictures of her?”
“Of course.” I remove my phone from my pants pocket and scroll to the photo I took last week of her playing with her peas.
Jake studies the picture. “Damn, she’s quite the cutie. Any photos of your wife or girlfriend?” Respectful of my privacy, he doesn’t flip through the photos to check for himself.
“Nope. Her mother died a few months ago.”
“Sorry for your loss.” He passes the phone to Paul as the rest of the group echo his condolences.
“Thanks. It’s not public info—about me being a father—so if you could keep it to yourselves, I’d appreciate it.”
The men all nod.
Paul looks at the photo, and a fleeting look of recognition crosses his face. I brush it off as nothing more than my imagination. It’s hardly likely he’s seen her before. He’s confusing her for someone else. He’s from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and not from North Carolina.
“Who’s looking after your daughter while you’re here?” He passes the phone to the next person.
“Her nanny and my parents.”
Technically, for now, it’s just Athena and Mom. But once Peony is no longer scared of my father, he’ll be happy to jump in and spend time with her. To take her places. To show her how to fish. To be the grandfather I know he’s eager to be—even if he hasn’t been as vocal about it as Mom.
The phone makes its way back to me, and I sneak a quick glance at Peony’s grinning face. Then I go to the folder with one of my favorite photos of Zara.
It’s not the photo of her in a black bikini, with gold paint smeared on her body, but this photo is equally hot.
She’s standing in the lake, her purple and gold one-piece showing off her curves.
I’m not a great photographer, not even close to one, but somehow I captured this photo, with the sun hitting her from behind, the angle just right. Her skin glows like that of a bejeweled goddess. Like a water nymph sparkling in the rays of the setting sun.
It’s the photo no one knows about.
“Is that Zara?” The surprised, murmured voice comes from next to me. Kellan.
I shove my phone into my pocket, putting a halt to that conversation. I can’t let my brother know I have…I have what for her? Sexy feelings? Deep, caring feelings beyond our friendship?
I shake my head. All I know is I can’t wait to see her again.
The following Thursday, I place the Advanced Reader Copy of Unfallen on my desk. I add a map of New York City and a leather journal to the setup and shoot a couple of photos for social media. The midmorning sunlight through the window gives the pictures the perfect, mysterious vibe.
Next, I record a video, but this time I’m holding the book open and I smile for the camera.
“The Advanced Reader Copies of Unfallen are now in reviewers’ hands.
Just three more months and four days till the book is out in the world.
Can’t wait for you to read this gripping thriller.
What are you looking forward to seeing in the book?
Comment below…” I point down and tap on the Stop button.
I create several posts, upload them to my socials, and head to the kitchen for a glass of water. Peony and Athena are playing with the wooden blocks on the coffee table in the living room. Poppy is sitting next to the small tower.
I wave at Peony. She waves back and flashes me a toothy grin, then chats animatedly to Poppy.
Athena pushes to her feet and walks to the kitchen, her expression solemn. “Peony’s sick. Maybe you should cancel her therapy appointment.”
I walk over to the coffee table and crouch next to Peony. “Hey, little flower. Athena said you might be sick.”
Her grin returning, Peony straightens and throws herself at me. Her arms go around my waist, and I return her hug. I might be new to parenting, but she seems fine to me. She doesn’t even have a hint of a cold.
I place the back of my hand on her forehead. She doesn’t feel hot. “She seems fine. And I have no intention of canceling the appointment.” It would be different if Peony really was ill—ill beyond a mild cold. “Jada Biles is highly recognized for her work with young kids who’ve experienced trauma.”
Displeasure presses Athena’s lips into a flat line, but she doesn’t say anything more on the topic. Her glare says it all.
“We’ll leave around one thirty,” I remind her. “I’m assuming you’re still coming.” From the way she’s trying to get me to change my mind, though, maybe it would be better if Athena stays home.
Why the hell is she so against Peony seeing a therapist?
“I’m still coming.” Athena heaves out a disgruntled breath and picks up a block from the floor .
“You sure? You don’t seem all that excited about going.”
“I doubt playing with toys will make a difference.” She huffs. “She already does that here.” Athena waves to the blocks on the coffee table. “Play therapy sounds like a waste of time, if you ask me.”
I ignore the comment and blow a raspberry on Peony’s cheek.
Peony giggles. “Daddy has to work a little longer. Then after lunch, we’ll drive to Portland to visit a special lady.
” Who can hopefully get to the root of why Peony becomes scared around men.
And hopefully Jada will have some suggestions as to how I can help my daughter with that and the nightmares.
The little princess is fast asleep when we arrive at the professional building. I pull into an empty spot on the street in front of an older single-story house. The lawn is slightly sloped, the grass recently mowed.
Athena jumps out of the passenger seat as I kill the engine. She races to Peony’s side of the SUV and opens the door. “Hey, baby girl, we’re here.”
Her reaction is odd given her opinion about Peony seeing a therapist. I doubt she’s in that much of a rush to get to Jada’s office.
In the elevator, Athena gently bounces Peony in her arms as if to soothe her. But Peony doesn’t seem nervous. If anything, she looks curious as she glances around the elevator, her eyes sweetly rounded. The only person who is clearly nervous is Athena.
“She’ll be fine,” I tell her, barely resisting the urge to take Peony from Athena, in case Peony starts to think there is a reason to be nervous.
We easily find the clinic and walk into the brightly lit waiting room. The comfy chairs scattered in the space are neutral colored, topped with aquamarine cushions. Light-green trees add a painted splash of color to the beige walls.
No one else is in the room. On the desk is a sign that reads, “Please take a seat. Jada Biles will be with you shortly.”
Peony points at the large aquarium along one wall and squirms in Athena’s arms. Tropical fish swim through the water and dart between the aquatic plants.
Athena lowers her to the floor and looks around the room. Annoyance squints her eyes, flattens her lips. Even her body is tense. Tension rolls off her and tries to get under my skin.
Peony toddles to the aquarium, but she’s too short to see inside it. She turns to me and lifts her arms. “Up.”
I hoist her onto my hip. While we wait for Jada, I point out the different fish, including a clown fish that swims past. “Look, there’s Nemo.”
“Are you Garrett and Peony Carson?” a woman asks behind us.
I turn to find the person whose photo is on the clinic’s website. Jada Biles is a tall, curvy woman with smooth mahogany skin and platinum-blond hair trimmed close to her scalp. Her black pants and light-pink T-shirt loosely skim her body.
“Yes, that would be us,” I reply. “And this is Athena. Peony’s nanny.”
I’ve already explained on the phone how Peony came to live with me and that I only recently found out that I had a daughter. I also told her Athena has known Peony since birth.
“I’m glad you could both come.” Jada’s eyes shimmer with kindness directed at my daughter. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Peony. I’m looking forward to playing some games with you. Do you like sand?”
Peony tilts her head to the side but doesn’t respond. She aims a shy smile at Jada and rests her head on my chest.
“You love playing in the sandbox at Granny’s and Grandpa’s house, don’t you?” I say to Peony.
She lifts Poppy for me to see, as if that answers Jada’s question. And the curve of her lips widens into a grabs-me-by-the-heart grin.
“Why don’t we go into the playroom and get to know each other a little better?” Jada suggests.
I nod. Athena makes a soft noise that sounds like a grunt. I barely refrain from frowning at her, wordlessly telling her to get over whatever her issue is with Jada. For Peony’s sake, she needs to give Jada a chance before she dismisses this as a waste of time.
We follow Jada into another room, which is decorated much like the waiting room.
“I thought while your daddy and Athena tell me about your days, we can play with the sandbox.” Jada leads us to the square sandbox on the floor.
A bunch of plastic toys lie scattered on the sand, including a dog, a dinosaur, a policeman, a man, and a car.
Some of them look realistic—like the dog and the dinosaur.
The others are bright colors and cartoonish.
“Today is just about me getting to know Peony and vice versa,” Jada explains to Athena and me. She had told me this on the phone when I spoke with her a few weeks ago. It’s to help Peony to learn to trust Jada.
Peony picks up the dog and plays with it on the sand. While Peony plays, Jada asks us about Peony’s daily routines. Jada’s attention remains on Peony. Some of her questions are also directed at my daughter.
Peony doesn’t reply to any of them. She picks up the car and pushes it through the sand.
“Did she have nightmares before she lost her mother?” Jada asks Athena.
“No,” Athena responds after a long beat. “They started soon after her mother died.”
Peony grabs the plastic man and dumps him on the sand face up. Her lips press into what looks like concentration, and she picks up the toy shovel. She scoops sand onto the man and keeps going until he is buried deep under it. Her face scrunches, and she pounds the wide mound with the shovel.
The toy policeman meets the same fate, buried under another pile of sand.
Icy prickles crawl up my spine, and I look at Jada, hoping she knows what Peony’s actions mean. Jada’s watchful expression doesn’t give away what she’s thinking, but she leans forward like she’s mentally taking notes.
And I can’t help but wonder if Peony is just afraid of the man…or if it’s also his uniform she fears. Or does she fear something deeper, something darker?