Chapter 13 Kick #2
“I’ve known her, her entire life.” He rose from his chair and moved to the sideboard, his movements deliberate and unhurried.
He poured himself two fingers of whiskey without offering me any, then turned to face me, glass in hand.
“I’ve watched her sabotage every opportunity, every relationship, and every chance at happiness.
” He took a sip and studied me. “And now, she’s pregnant. With your child, I assume.”
I went still. “I expected you’d find out.”
“Did you think you could keep it a secret?” His smile held no warmth. “The question is, what do you intend to do about it?”
“What do I intend to do?” I stepped closer to his desk, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “I intend to raise my child with the woman I love. I intend to give that baby everything Isabel never had—stability, acceptance, and a father who loves her.”
Baron set his glass down with a soft click against the polished wood.
“Romantic but ridiculously naive.” He moved around the desk, closing the distance between us until I could smell the whiskey on his breath.
His eyes were hard and assessing. “Isabel is not even able to take care of herself. She’s fragile and overreacts—”
“She’s none of those things. You just never bothered to get to know her.”
“I know her better than anyone. I always have,” he snapped, and for the first time, I saw something crack in his composure.
“Like every other time she’s needed saving, it’s up to me to do it.
She’s incapable of raising a child. You know it.
I know it. The best thing for everyone would be for that child to be raised by people actually equipped to handle the responsibility. ”
My vision narrowed, and for a moment, the only thing I could see was Baron’s smug, dismissive face. My hands shook with the effort of keeping them at my sides.
“You want her to give up our baby.”
“I want what’s best for everyone involved. Including the child.”
“You don’t get to decide what’s best.” My voice shook with the effort of keeping it level.
“You lost that right a long time ago. Isabel is going to be an incredible mother. And I’m going to be there every step of the way.
You don’t get a say in this. You spent her entire life making her feel worthless. ”
I turned and strode toward the door.
“She’s not here now,” Baron called after me. “But when she realizes what a mistake she’s made, she’ll come back. She always does.”
I didn’t respond. I was already tearing through the hallways, checking rooms, calling Isabel’s name.
The staff watched with wide eyes as I searched the first floor, then the second.
I checked the guest rooms with their perfectly made beds and untouched surfaces, the library with its walls of leather-bound books, the sunroom with its wicker furniture and potted palms, and the kitchen with its gleaming appliances.
Every door I opened revealed the same thing—expensive emptiness.
Isabel wasn’t here. Baron had been telling the truth about that much, at least.
Back outside, I stood beside Snapper’s truck, my chest heaving and my hands still shaking.
“She’s not here,” I said.
“I figured.” Snapper studied my face. “What happened?”
“Baron knows about the baby. He thinks Isabel should give it up for adoption.” The words tasted like poison. “He said she’s not fit to raise a child.”
Snapper’s expression darkened. “That sonuvabitch.”
“I searched the whole house. He didn’t try to stop me.” I took out my phone and called Bas. He picked up on the second ring.
“Kick. What’s going on?”
“Have you heard from Isabel?”
“Not since before you two left for Paso Robles. What’s wrong?”
“She’s gone. I thought she might’ve come home, but I’m here, and there’s no sign of her.”
“I don’t know what to say.” He paused. “But whatever I can do, I will.”
“I appreciate it. I’ll update you when I know more. Hey, maybe try to call her. If she picks up, ask her to call me as soon as she can.”
“Will do, Kick.”
I hung up and stared at the phone in my hand. No missed calls. No texts. No sign that Isabel was anywhere at all.
“While you were talking to Baron, I asked Bit to check with Vader about any accidents. There haven’t been any.”
“That’s good, at least. But if not here, where the fuck would she go?”
“I have no idea. I don’t really know her. To be honest, I don’t know anyone who does.”
“What about Saffron?”
“One step ahead of you. I also called her while I was waiting, and she said she couldn’t think of anywhere.”
I had no idea where to search. Isabel could be anywhere—driving aimlessly along the coast, parked somewhere crying, heading back to Whitmore.
“Take me to Moonstone Beach,” I said after we got in his truck. If there was anywhere someone would go and think, it made the most sense.
Snapper didn’t question it. He just started the engine and drove.
Moonstone Beach sat at the edge of the world, where the land crumbled into tide pools and the Pacific stretched toward the horizon.
The wind coming off the water was biting, carrying the smell of salt and kelp.
I climbed out of the truck and made my way to one of the large boulders that overlooked the sand below.
While I didn’t see my truck parked anywhere, maybe if I waited, Isabel would eventually come here too.
It was the kind of place she’d be drawn to—beautiful and isolated, a place where she could disappear into herself without anyone watching.
A place where the vastness of the ocean made human problems feel small.
I sat down on the damp stone and rested my forearms on my knees as I stared at the water. The waves rolled in, white-capped and relentless, crashing against the rocks below with a sound like distant thunder. Seabirds wheeled overhead, their cries sharp against the rush of the wind.
Isabel was out there somewhere. In my truck, driving God knew where, fleeing from the very thing she wanted most.
What Baron had said haunted my thoughts. She’s incapable of raising a child.
He was wrong. I knew he was wrong with every fiber of my being. But sitting here, alone, with no idea where the woman I loved had gone, doubt threatened to creep in.
What if all my promises to stay, all my assurances that I’d be there no matter what, couldn’t compete with a lifetime of damage? What if Isabel was too afraid to believe that anyone could love her the way she deserved to be loved?
The spray from the waves misted my face. I closed my eyes and breathed in the salt air, trying to steady myself.
I thought about finding her at Whitmore, sunburned and exhausted, with dirt under her fingernails and fire in her eyes.
I thought about when she’d told me about the baby, when I’d held her hand and promised I wasn’t going anywhere.
I thought about last night—the fireplace, her whispered confession, how she trembled.
She did love me. I knew that. Whatever fear had driven her away today, it wasn’t because she didn’t. It was because she did—and that terrified her more than anything.
I got out my phone, tried her number again, and got the same result.
“Isabel.” My voice cracked on her name. “I don’t know where you are, but I need you to know something. I’m not giving up. I don’t care how many times you run. I don’t care how scared you get. I’m going to keep showing up until you believe me when I say I love you.”
I paused, watching the waves crash against the rocks below. The sun was sinking lower now, casting long shadows across the sand. A pelican dove into the water and came up empty.
“I let you walk away once, and it was the biggest mistake of my life. I’m not doing it again. So wherever you are, please just…come back to me. Or tell me where you are, and I’ll come to you. Just don’t disappear. Not now. Not when we’re so close to having everything.”
I hung up and sat there as the light faded over the water.
Isabel was out there. I didn’t know where, but I would find her. But I wouldn’t quit searching. I loved her more than I’d ever known was possible.
I pushed myself off the boulder and walked back toward Snapper’s truck. He stood near the hood, arms crossed, waiting with the patience that had always defined him.
“Ready?” he asked.
I looked back at the ocean, at the endless expanse of water and sky. “Yeah, let’s go.”
We climbed into the truck. As Snapper started the engine, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I yanked it out, heart pounding.
“Yeah?” I said, answering the call from a number I didn’t recognize.
“Is this Rascon Avila?”
“It is.”
“I’m calling about Isabel Van Orr.”