Chapter Thirty-Three
Vanessa spent the rest of the summer trying not to obsess over Paul.
Between her father’s health issues, Bennett’s funeral, and her physical therapist exams, she managed to stay busy, if not happy.
The aftermath of the shooting had been chaotic.
Paul and Kyle McPherson had left Lost Lake in a cloud of dust. Kyle hadn’t endeared himself to the local authorities, and no one except Vanessa was sorry to see them go.
Wade Hendricks had sat down with Vanessa to share the details about Bennett’s death.
She’d listened in shock as Wade recited the story.
The assailant was still at large and that was a problem.
According to Paul, Aiden Mendez had shown an interest in Vanessa.
He’d watched her from a distance, complimented her appearance, and said he might try to “steal her.”
The involvement of the Mendez family in Bennett’s shooting had been kept under tight wraps by the Lost Lake Sheriff’s Department. The story circulated by the media was one of an unnamed outdoor enthusiast who’d misfired.
To Vanessa’s surprise, her father had taken the situation in stride.
He’d applauded Paul’s actions and condemned Bennett’s.
After being released from the hospital, he’d followed doctor’s orders to rest. He hadn’t insisted on leading the investigation or joining the search for Mendez.
He’d seemed content to stand on the sidelines.
Jackson hadn’t been as sanguine as her father. He’d appointed himself Vanessa’s bodyguard and insisted on accompanying her whenever she left the house. He spent a lot of time looking out the windows, scanning for threats.
Vanessa had read the transcript of Paul’s statement. She wasn’t worried about retaliation by Aiden Mendez, who’d taunted Paul in a way that was sort of twisted, and sort of sweet.
If you don’t commit to making her happy, I’ll come for you.
Despite his promise, Paul had done nothing to make Vanessa happy. He’d left town with his brother and disappeared into the ether. He hadn’t called or written. She assumed he was in a secure location, unable to communicate with the outside world.
Bennett’s funeral had taken place in Sedona, where Bennett’s parents lived.
Jackson had accompanied Vanessa and Emily to the service, so they’d appeared as a united front.
Vanessa hadn’t told Emily the full story of Bennett’s passing.
The little girl thought her father had expired in a tragic boating accident.
Penelope, who’d died from a broken heart, had been placed in the coffin alongside him.
Emily had insisted on it. That evening, Emily had cried her eyes out—for the lost doll.
Vanessa couldn’t rescue Penelope this time, so she’d purchased a replacement.
Libby, a dark-haired vixen, was even more of a troublemaker than Penelope.
She was plastic, indestructible, and enjoyed long bubble baths.
Life moved on.
Emily had recovered quickly from her grief.
She’d asked about Paul more than she mentioned Bennett.
Vanessa had passed her PT exams and accepted an offer to start at a local clinic in the fall.
Her father had returned to work and claimed he felt stronger than ever.
Jackson had brooded almost as much as Vanessa.
There were no “consequences” to her final encounter with Paul.
She’d considered calling Kyle to relay the message, but decided against it.
What could she say? Hey, it’s the bunny from Lost Lake, please tell your brother I got my period?
The topic was too personal to discuss with a near-stranger.
She also didn’t feel obligated to put Paul’s mind at ease.
He’d upended her entire life and walked away.
Summer drifted into fall without any word from Paul.
It was almost as if their love affair had been a fever dream, brought on by heightened danger and a rollercoaster of emotions.
She replayed their final conversation over and over again.
She’d told Paul she wouldn’t wait for him. Maybe he’d taken those words to heart.
She’d come to Lost Lake to start over, so she committed herself to that task.
She had a lot of feelings to process. She’d been prepared to mourn the end of her marriage, not the death of her husband.
Even so, it was Paul she missed. She’d fallen in love with a man who’d ghosted her, and she didn’t know how to move on.
Two months after Bennett’s death, she decided to leave her father’s house.
She couldn’t live in a protective cocoon any longer.
She needed her own space. She found a small apartment in a quiet neighborhood near the clinic.
Her new job came with a signing bonus, which she used to pay the first and last month’s rent.
On moving day, her father stayed home with Emily while Jackson helped Vanessa with the heavy lifting.
He loaded all of her belongings in his truck, and insisted on carrying most of it himself.
After he brought the last box inside her apartment, he watched her unpack with his brow furrowed.
“Dad’s neighborhood is safer,” Jackson said.
Vanessa dumped silverware into a drawer with a satisfying crash. “Is that what you’re worried about? The neighborhood?”
“You know it’s not.”
She left the kitchen and tossed an empty box aside. “I can’t live with you and Dad forever. I need to stand on my own two feet.”
He followed her into the living room. “Have you heard from Paul?”
Vanessa whirled to face him. Jackson hadn’t brought up Paul since the day at the lake. “No. Have you?”
Jackson sat down on a love seat her father had donated.
It was navy blue, and far from new, but a perfect size for the small living room.
He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together.
He seemed to be wrestling with some inner conflict.
She opened another box and waited for him to speak.
“Mendez got arrested,” he said.
“Which one?”
“The father. They brought him in on conspiracy charges and there’s a lot of evidence. He’s going to do serious time.”
“What about the son?”
“No word on him.”
“This is good news, right? This is good for Paul.”
Jackson nodded. “I thought you’d like to know.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, studying him. Her brother didn’t approve of Paul. He hadn’t said it outright, but Vanessa could read between the lines. His opinion mattered to her. “Are you giving your blessing now?”
He raised his palms. “I’m giving you information. Do with it what you will.”
“What are you not telling me?”
Jackson hesitated for a couple of seconds. Then he said, “I warned him to stay away from you.”
She gaped at him, incredulous. “When?”
“The day of the shooting. I told him to leave town and lose your number.”
Vanessa busied herself by opening another box. She didn’t appreciate her brother’s meddling any more than she appreciated her father’s, but Paul wasn’t easily intimidated. He hadn’t stayed away because Jackson had told him to. He’d stayed away for her own good. “When did Mendez get arrested?”
“A few days ago.”
She continued unpacking, troubled by Jackson’s comments.
Surely Paul knew about the arrest. Did he still care about her?
He’d promised to wait for her forever. He’d said she’d ruined him for other women.
He’d sounded sincere, but she didn’t trust romantic declarations.
The men in her life hadn’t been faithful to the women they claimed to love.
She’d learned to judge them on actions, rather than words.
Jackson left a few minutes later, after Vanessa insisted she didn’t need more help.
She picked up her phone, sat down on the love seat, and scrolled through her list of contacts.
Paul might have been keeping his distance out of caution.
He might have been waiting on her. Had he expected her to call him?
Taking a deep breath, she called Paul’s number.
It was no longer in service.
She stared at the screen, frowning. Of course he hadn’t kept the phone number he’d used as Paul Murphy. Paul Murphy didn’t exist.
Irritated with herself, she tucked her phone into her pocket and kept working.
She didn’t need to track Paul down. If he was really in love with her, like he claimed, he would come to her.
She retreated to the bedroom, feeling melancholy.
As she made the bed, she thought of the sheets Paul had bought for her, and the way he’d touched her.
Making a sound of frustration, she punched the pillow and left the room.
The kitchen should have been safe, because it offered fewer reminders of Paul, but now he was in her head.
Memories of their interactions flooded her.
She couldn’t sniff a lemon, or a eucalyptus leaf, without thinking of him. He was in her blood.
A knock on the front door snapped her out of her reverie. She assumed it was Jackson with one last box. She glanced through the living room window to check.
It was Paul.
Her heart lodged in her throat. She lifted a hand to her messy ponytail. She was dressed for comfort in cut-off shorts, an old T-shirt and scuffed tennis shoes. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.
He seemed startled by her appearance, as if she was the one who’d showed up unannounced instead of him. His gray-blue gaze swept over her from head to toe. She didn’t get the impression that he found her lacking. If anything, his eyes looked hungry. Tortured, uncertain, and hungry.
His clothes were a cut above the usual. He wore a pale blue Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His hair glinted with bronze highlights, neat and trimmed, and he smelled like aftershave, rather than pain-relief patches. She’d never seen him look so well put-together.
“Hello,” he said.
She moistened her lips, unsure how to respond. “Hi.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” she said, stepping aside. “I was just unpacking.”