Chapter Twenty-Seven
Honors Edge Investigations Office
Sam paced. She’d tried to work, but she couldn’t concentrate. She hadn’t gone to the trial today. She’d wanted to be available if Bo needed support. If something happened after his meeting with the PI.
She looked at the clock on the wall. He was supposed to be here by now. The meeting had been at ten, and it was nearly five.
Around noon, she’d driven out to the park, worried something had happened, but no one had been there. She’d used some subterfuge to find out he’d been at the hotel he was staying at, but he’d checked out.
Should she be worried about him? Should she go find him?
She picked up her phone. She’d texted him twice and left him one message. He’d read both texts. He hadn’t responded to either.
Which meant he was okay. Didn’t it? He just needed some space. Some time to deal with everything being thrown at him. Maybe he’d gone for a drive.
Maybe he was going home instead of dealing with the meeting.
She didn’t love that thought, but she felt like he’d tell her if that was the case. Not just ignore her.
Arguing with herself, she wrote one more text message.
Bo, just let me know you’re okay and I promise I’ll stop bothering you. I’m worried about you.
She stared at what she’d typed. Maybe it was too desperate. Bo might seem helpless, but he was a grown man. And she couldn’t actually stop bothering him if he didn’t explain what had gone down at his meeting.
Maybe it hadn’t gone well and he was embarrassed. That seemed like Bo. Chewing on her lip, she revamped the text.
Bo, no matter how it went, I just want to know that you’re okay. We can deal with everything else.
It still sounded desperate, but did that matter right now? Everything rested on what information Bo could get out of this PI. If there was even one tiny clue they could follow to figure out what Ben was up to…
She heard the back door open, and her heart leapt with relief, but it was short-lived. Bo would use the front door. Which meant Nate was just a little early getting home from court.
He walked in from the back. He’d already taken his tie off and it hung out of his pocket where he’d no doubt shoved it. He looked about like he always did after court. A little tired. A little irritated. But relieved the day was over.
His eyes assessed the room, her standing—no doubt he knew she’d been pacing—and he drew the obvious conclusion.
“No Bo?”
Sam shook her head. “I haven’t heard from him at all. I’m worried about him. I should go look for him again, but I didn’t want to leave in case he came here.”
Nate stood there, looking grimmer than she thought he would. Then he held out a piece of paper. “This was on your car, tucked under the windshield wiper.”
It was a folded piece of paper. Her name was on the folded over part. Parts of it were wet. It had smudged some of her name, but it was for her.
And she’d seen that handwriting before. In a notebook. Written by Bo.
She didn’t open it right away. Dread filled her. She looked at Nate.
His expression was blank, but he nodded. “Go on then.”
She took a deep, careful breath and opened it. Because what other choice was there?
Only two words were written on the inside.
Sorry.
—Bo
Sam closed her eyes against a wave of pain. She didn’t even know what he was sorry for. What he’d done or not done, but she knew this meant he was gone.
And there was no point to her text message.
She wanted to collapse in a chair, but this couldn’t … no, this couldn’t stand. She swiped her keys off her desk. “I’ll track him down.”
But Nate took her arm before she could stride past him. “What are we going to do? Force him to … what? We thought he was on our side. He’s not. We’ve got to let that go and move on.”
“If I can talk to him one-on-one … he’s scared and he’s confused and this is a lot. I’ll just talk him through whatever the PI said.”
“That note isn’t about being confused. It’s an apology. If he’s not gone, he’s not helping. That’s about all sorry can mean here. Why belabor the point?”
“But Cal said…” She swallowed down the lump that wanted to form in her throat. “He said figuring out what Ben’s lawyer is planning is our only chance. How can we just let Bo walk away?”
Nate didn’t say anything at first. He held himself very still. He was very … blank.
Because you fucked it up, Sam. She pushed that away. This wasn’t about her.
“We tried our best, but we can’t make Bo be on our side.
The prosecution rests tomorrow. Defense starts next week.
We’ve got the weekend to figure it out on our own, but Bo was a …
a shot in the dark. Bo was right last night.
He doesn’t know Dad or Mom. He’s not involved.
He’s connected by some DNA. That doesn’t require him to care. ”
“You’ve given up on him so easily.” Maybe that wasn’t a fair accusation, but it felt stark right now. How much she’d believed Bo was some kind of thread, and Nate had just been … going along. “This was your idea.”
“And it didn’t work.” Nate shrugged. “I’m not going to go begging to make it work.”
“Even to ensure your dad goes to jail?” Sam asked incredulously.
Like pride had any place here. What the hell was he talking about?
“People have to want to help, Sam. You can’t make them. I’d think you of all people would understand that by now.”
But she didn’t. At all. “You didn’t want to help at first. I dragged you here last spring after my father was arrested. You wouldn’t have come if I hadn’t begged for your help. None of this would be happening if I hadn’t gone around begging, Nate.”
He studied her, so damn unreadable. “And the people who helped wanted to, deep down. Me included. Bo doesn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Fine. You want to go after him even though I’m guessing sorry means he got the hell out of Montana?” Temper crackled, though he kept his tone even. He gestured at the door. “Have at. Christ.”
“Nate…” She didn’t know what to say to him. “Did something happen at court?”
“No. Nothing in particular. They finished up with the experts. Tomorrow, Vanderbilt will rest his case. Monday, the defense will start.” He let out a sigh. “We’re out of time, Sam.”
She didn’t want to believe that was true, but unless Bo had stuck around town—and Nate was right, the sorry combined with checking out of the hotel meant he hadn’t—there was no real chance to get through to him in time.
She looked at her phone. The begging message. Maybe it was pointless, but she hit send anyway. Then figured her only other option was putting it aside.
“You’re probably hungry.” Tomorrow would be hard. Next week would be worse. And without Bo? She just didn’t know what to do, but at least she could take care of him while she figured it out. “Let me run down to the diner and grab something for dinner.”
He didn’t agree with her. She might have gone ahead and left anyway, but there was something about the way he was holding himself, staring at his desk. His eyebrows drawn together, like he was thinking some problem through.
“I might just … go back to the rental cabin,” he said, not looking at her. “I’ve got packing to do anyway. Stuff to figure out for the house. Closing will be here before I know it.”
Sam couldn’t breathe for far too long. It was like being stabbed, she was pretty sure. The way the pain jammed hard and deep and then sent an odd dizzying numbness through her entire body.
After staying here every single night, he was going back to his rental cabin. He was leaving her alone. He was putting distance between them.
She wanted to beg him not to do that, and the idea of begging in this context terrified her. Would she never learn?
Everything crumbled in the face of the truth.
She tried to say okay. Tried to blink back the tears filling her eyes. She managed not to cry, but she couldn’t form a word. Even though she should have been prepared for this, might have if it hadn’t gone on so long.
He finally looked at her. She wanted to look away. To put on a brave face. To make it all fine. But she felt absolutely frozen. She couldn’t seem to get any messages to her limbs to move.
She’d known this was coming, and she’d let herself forget.
But Nate didn’t walk out the door. With stormy eyes and a scowl on his face he crossed the room to her. He gripped her chin, but it wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t an apology. She wasn’t sure what it was. He looked mad, but she wasn’t sure at who or what exactly. She wasn’t sure he knew.
“I need to work some stuff out on my own. In my own head, my own space. That is not a reflection of anything going on between us.”
She wanted to believe him. He wasn’t a liar. He wasn’t making up needing some alone time. But she knew what space meant.
Aunt Lisa had wanted space. Aly had wanted space way back when. Everyone wanted space, and then they realized she was always, always the problem.
“Sam.”
“I get it,” she choked out. “It’s…” She couldn’t manage to get the word fine out. “You get to have needs.”
*
Nate stared at her.
You get to have needs.
A hell of a thing to say. Did she know she cut him off at the knees, or was it all by accident? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
He just wanted space. Some alone time to rein in his temper and not take it out on her. Because damn if he didn’t want to take it out on someone, and he was getting too close to it when it came to this Bo conversation.
The kid was a coward. The end. Nate had seen it all over him this whole time. Maybe he’d hoped Bo would find some sense of strength within himself. Maybe he’d thought it was worth a shot that Bo might care about his biological parents.
But mostly he’d suggested it knowing there was a very real possibility Bo would fail.
What did that make him?
Sam was still standing so still he couldn’t even tell she was breathing. His hand was still gripping her chin.
Because he didn’t want to let go of her.
You get to have needs.