Chapter Seventeen #2
If he’d threatened me or demanded something. Told me I had no idea what I’d gotten myself into. Instead, he looked like a tired father who had made a long string of increasingly stupid decisions because he’d been terrified of losing his kid.
I understood doing things you never thought you’d do because somebody you loved was in danger.
“What happened to the money?” I asked.
“I put it back.”
I frowned. “All of it?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Sold my boat. Sold my camper. Took out a personal loan for the rest.”
“You sold that stupid boat?”
His eyebrows lifted. “You hated my boat?”
“Everyone hated your boat. You started it at six in the morning.”
For the first time, Wade laughed. “I loved that boat.” Wade’s smile disappeared. “The books are clean now.”
“You mean you covered what you stole.”
“Yes.”
“And you came all this way to make sure I don’t report you.”
His gaze met mine. “Yes.”
At least he wasn’t lying.
“Were you ever going to hurt me?”
“No.” The answer came immediately.
“Then why search my RV?”
“I thought you’d copied the records.”
“I did.”
His face went pale.
Bob made a low sound beside me.
I held up my hand. “I don’t have them anymore.”
Wade stared at me. “You don’t?”
“No.”
That wasn’t entirely true.
I’d deleted what I’d copied after I’d left Iowa because I hadn’t known what the hell I was going to do with it and having it had started to feel like carrying around a target. I’d never sent it anywhere. Never reported him.
I’d just wanted out.
Wade rubbed his hands over his face. “Jesus Christ.”
“You could’ve asked me.”
“I tried,” he sighed.
“No. You followed me.”
“I know.”
“You messed with my tire.”
“I know.”
“You went through my home.”
“I know,” he stressed.
I glared at him. “Also saying ‘I know’ like that’s going to fix it.”
He nodded.
Bob stepped closer to me. “What happens if she reports you?”
Wade looked at him. “I don’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
“I could lose the campground. Could go to jail. Depends what they charge me with.”
“And your daughter?”
Wade’s face tightened. “Her mom would take care of her.”
“But?”
His jaw worked. “But I’m her dad.”
I looked at Anchor. He hadn’t said much. Neither had Skull.
They were letting me handle it, and I appreciated that more than I could say.
Anchor caught my eye. “This is your call.”
Wade looked between us.
Bob didn’t say anything.
That surprised me.
I turned to him.
His eyes were on me.
“You have an opinion,” I stated.
“Got a lot of them,” he shrugged.
“I know.”
His mouth twitched. “But it’s your call, doll.”
Bob would’ve had every reason to tell Wade to go fuck himself. To tell me we were going straight to the cops. To decide what was safest and drag me along with him.
Instead, he stood beside me.
I looked at Wade. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“I know.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Sorry.”
“Better.”
His shoulders dropped. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You could’ve started by not stealing.”
“Yeah.”
“And after that, you could’ve tried talking to me.”
“I thought you’d already decided what you were going to do.” He threw his hands in the air. “You said you were going to the cops.”
“I lied.”
He frowned. “What?”
“I hadn’t decided anything. I confronted you because the numbers didn’t make sense, and I wanted to know why. Then you lost your mind.”
“I panicked.”
“Clearly,” I muttered.
“I thought you were going to turn me in.”
“I might have.”
He nodded slowly.
“And then you started following me and breaking into my RV, which really didn’t help your case.”
“No.”
“You made yourself look a hell of a lot more dangerous than you actually are.”
Skull muttered, “That happens a lot.”
Anchor glanced at him. “What?”
“Idiots creating bigger problems trying to cover smaller ones.”
Anchor looked at Wade. “Also got a point.”
Wade sighed. “I know.”
I stared at him.
He immediately lifted his hands. “Sorry.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. This whole thing was ridiculous.
I’d driven across state lines. I’d slept with a knife within reach. I’d watched every vehicle behind me. I’d landed on Skull Island with barely three hundred dollars to my name and a dying RV because I’d convinced myself Wade Mercer was eventually going to do something terrible to me.
And he’d apparently been losing his fucking mind because he thought I had a spreadsheet that could send him to jail.
That didn’t erase what he’d done. It didn’t make following me okay. It didn’t make breaking into my home okay. And the fact he’d been trying to save his daughter didn’t give him permission to terrify me, but it did make him human.
Annoyingly human.
“Wade.”
He straightened.
“If I ever see that truck behind me again, we’re going to have a problem.”
“You won’t.”
“If you ever touch my RV again—”
“I won’t.”
“If you ever come looking for me again without calling first—”
“I won’t,” he promised.
“Fair.” I folded my arms. “You’re going back to Iowa.”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to stay there.”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to keep the books clean,” I stressed.
“Yes.”
“And you’re never going to steal another fucking dime.”
Wade looked at me and then he nodded. “I won’t.”
I studied his face. I could tell he was scared, but I think that was more about worrying that Bob, Anchor, and Skull were going to kick his ass.
“What if Ellie gets sick again?”
His face changed. Wade looked down at the ground. “I ask for help.”
I waited.
He lifted his eyes to mine.
“I sell the campground. I sell my fucking house. I start a fundraiser. I beg. I borrow money legally.” His mouth twisted. “I do anything except what I did.”
That was the answer I needed.
I nodded.
Wade looked at me for a long moment. “So?”
“So what?”
“Are you going to report me?”
I didn’t answer right away. I’d spent weeks thinking I needed to decide.
All I’d wanted was distance and peace, knowing that Wade wasn’t coming after me.
Now Wade had put the money back, his daughter was in remission, and he’d driven all this way because he was terrified of losing whatever life he had left.
“I’m not going to report you.”
Wade closed his eyes. His shoulders sagged so hard it looked like somebody had cut strings holding him upright. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
His eyes opened.
“I’m not doing this because what you did was okay.”
“I know.”
“I’m doing it because I want this over.”
He nodded.
“So it’s over,” I said.
“It’s over,” he repeated.
I stepped closer.
Bob came with me.
Of course he did.
Wade looked at him.
“I am sorry.”
Bob stared at him.
“For stealing?”
“For all of it.”
“Don’t apologize to me.”
Wade looked at me.
“I am sorry, Ramona.”
This time, I believed him.
“Take care of Ellie.”
His eyes softened.
“I will.”
“And Wade?”
“Yeah?”
“If I ever hear that you stole money again, I will personally drive back to Iowa and turn your ass in.”
He nodded. “Understood.”
Bob leaned toward him. “And if you ever scare her again, she won’t have to drive anywhere.”
“Bob,” I whispered.
“What?” he growled.
“You were doing so well,” I sighed.
“I didn’t threaten him.”
Wade looked at me. “He definitely threatened me.”
“Didn’t say what I’d do.”
“That somehow makes it worse,” I muttered.
Skull laughed.
Actually laughed.
Anchor shook his head. “Get the fuck off my island, Wade.”
Wade didn’t need to be told twice.
He walked around the front of his truck, opened the driver’s door, and stopped. He looked back at me. “Ramona?”
“What?” I called.
“I’m glad you figured it out.”
I frowned.
“The books,” he explained. “I kept telling myself I’d fix it before anybody noticed. Every month I’d move shit around and swear it was the last time. Then you started asking questions.”
“I’m annoying like that.”
“You are.” Wade climbed into the truck.
A few seconds later, the engine started, and we stood there while he turned around and headed toward the bridge.
Nobody spoke until the truck disappeared.
Bob wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me against him. I slid mine around his waist and sighed.
Wade was gone.
The money wasn’t my problem. The campground wasn’t my problem. The dark truck wasn’t going to show up behind me again.
For the first time since I’d left Iowa, there wasn’t anything chasing me.
The thought should’ve made me think about my RV. About the open road. About where I could go next.
Instead, I looked up at Bob.
He was already looking down at me. “Come on, doll.”
I slid my hand into his, and we headed back toward the clubhouse.
For once, I wasn’t thinking about leaving. I wasn’t thinking about where I was going next, and I wasn’t looking over my shoulder.
I didn’t need to.
I was exactly where I wanted to be.