THIRTEEN
ONE THING SHE couldn’t do was let her grandfather see her mind plagued by thoughts that would distress him. Not for the same reasons they were distressing her, but if he found out the truth, he’d never let her leave again.
She’d worked at ChilConn all day, all the while trying to come up with a reason to cancel her dinner with Truman. The trouble was, he knew her like no one else. If she canceled, he’d see right through any excuse and send a SWAT team. Hence her in the back of her car on the way to the restaurant.
She’d just eat fast and excuse herself early, all the while ducking and weaving his probing questions and too knowing discernment. His questions were always probing; it wasn’t fair the man was so adept at reading her. Hmm, did that sound like teenage petulance? In other situations, his awareness had saved her ass.
When her phone rang, a spear of hope begged it was her grandfather calling to cancel. Yes, yes, yes—nope, no such luck. It wasn’t his name on the screen. Of course not. And more fool her, Truman rarely let her down.
She answered, “Roxie, is everything okay?”
“You tell me,” Roxie said. “You’ve been avoiding us.”
“Avoiding you—I have not. Why would I be avoiding you?”
“Where have you been? I miss you. What’s the gossip? Are you on a tropical vacation? Planning world domination? Because if it’s that last one you’ll need a number two and I’m available.”
Roxie Kyst. They hadn’t known each other long, relatively speaking. Yet the woman was already integral in her life. If anyone would understand her internal struggle, it would be Roxie. The words, the truth, lodged in her throat. There just wasn’t time. If she opened the floodgates, she may not be able to close them again. And she couldn’t be more than a few blocks from her waiting grandfather. Showing up agitated would provoke him to shut down the city, hunting for the man who’d hurt her, regardless of her attempts at appeasement.
“I’ve been busy with… things.”
“Things?” Her friend’s curiosity was piqued. Talk about being good at reading people, Roxie was another one with the uncanny ability to sense unsaid meaning behind words. “More. More. More. I need more. Come to the club… or I can come to you.”
“I’m having dinner with Truman tonight.” The truth. Just not the full truth. “I’ll come over soon.”
“How soon?”
How did Roxie do it? The woman had a vast network, she should be overwhelmed with her new life and experiences. Amazingly, Roxanna Kyst had slid into her role as Zairn Lomond’s better half without missing a step.
Freya had lived in this world her whole life, the world of decadence, luxury, easy living with plenty of money always backing her up. Yet it frequently overwhelmed her. Not Roxie, she was a pro, not ostentatious, she cared about people. Calling just to check in proved that. Did Roxie call all her friends to make sure they were okay? How did the woman find the time?
“I’ll answer that after I get through my dinner with Truman.”
“You in for a grilling? What does the old man know that I don’t?”
Nothing. She hoped. It would be na?ve to forget Truman had a way of finding things out. He loved her, adored her, of that she had no doubt. She adored him too; they were all each other had. Family. Blood. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for the man who’d raised her with love and care. When growing up, friends recounted horror stories of absent parents, of forgotten birthdays. Some friends suffered neglect, and yes, it was possible to be neglected even with all the money in the world.
Truman wasn’t like that. He’d been present, involved. Which was an achievement with her at an all-girls boarding school. He called every evening. Every morning. Was there for every event, never missed a parent-teacher night.
“Freya?”
“Sorry.” She’d lost herself again for a second. “I don’t want to lie to him.”
“Then don’t lie to him.” Her friend’s curiosity had become concern. “Do you want me to join you? Nothing pressing going on here. I can be there tout suite.”
“Thank you.” In that moment, she found her smile again. “Your support means everything to me.”
“You want me to come?”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
“Truman loves me!” Roxie declared. “He won’t mind me hanging out.”
“But if I bring a human shield, he’ll turn on the third degree for sure.”
“I can deflect.”
“Oh, he’ll wait until you’re in the bathroom, or until I’m home for the evening. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s shown up on my doorstep with his eyebrow crooked.”
“We can have a slumber party. Or you can spend the night here, Zairn won’t mind, there are beautiful women traipsing in and out of here all the time. He so used to it, it’s blasé.”
She laughed. “Unless I plan to live with you forever, Truman would get to me eventually.”
“What are you so worried about him finding out?”
On a sigh, her shoulders dropped. “I’ll loop you in as soon as I know.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come over here?”
“Not tonight,” she said. “But thank you for asking. Honestly, Rox, thank you for calling.”
“Okay, you know where I am. Be safe and sensible.”
“You too.”
Her friend scoffed. “How likely you think that is?”
The line quieted at the same moment the car stopped. No going back now.
The door opened and she took the hand of an usher who helped her out. Old school. Just as her grandfather liked it. Inside the gentle susurration matched the intimate lighting. Her grandfather could close the whole place or secret them somewhere private. But no, instead, he was sitting at the best table in the house. No less than she’d expect.
He stood to kiss her cheek and help her into her seat.
“Any trouble?” he asked.
“Trouble? Getting here? No.” Why would there be trouble? They’d used that restaurant dozens of times. It was one of Truman’s favorites. “Did you have trouble?” Her grandfather just smiled. No, of course he had no trouble, he was Truman Dere. “I spoke to Roxie in the car.”
Good way to get the conversation moving without hitting anything too personal. That was the idea anyway.
“Roxie’s a good girl, she knows what she wants.”
“Implying…?”
Oh, why did she ask?
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
Same crime, different accuser. She was blessed and cursed to have so many people in her life who cared.
“No,” she said. “Why would I do that?”
Discernment narrowed his eyes. “The fact you’re fighting me is proof enough. What’s wrong, pumpkin?”
He only called her that to remind her of their relationship, her young age to his elder. And he could fill the role, whether it was protection, offense, defense, Truman Dere would do whatever was necessary to help or fight for her.
Except she didn’t need that. “I’m fine,” she said, broadening her smile. “I’m not shy about asking if there’s anything I need.”
“Yes, if you identify there’s something you need. Your outlook isn’t always so sharp.”
Did she need something? Depended which body part she asked. And most of those parts? She wouldn’t want answering within earshot of her conservative grandfather. Okay, so Truman could be liberal, could bend, for her, and her only.
“As soon as I know, you’ll be my first call.”
“As your guardian, it’s my job to identify your needs before you’re aware of them.”
“I’m not a little girl anymore, Grandaddy.”
“You will always be a little girl, my little girl. Do you think I would protect you any less fiercely today than I would have when you were a child?”
No. On that he’d never wavered. Even when she didn’t agree with his methods, he only ever did what he thought was in her best interest.
“No, but you don’t have to protect me. Everything in my life is good. Trust me, Grandaddy, if I need a parachute, I’ll call.” Time to move things along. “What did Jonas tell you about the case? Was there a lot of damage?”
“No. You’re fierce in your protection of your foundation kids.”
“I learned love from you.”
“And has it served you well? Perhaps if I were more vicious, your kindness wouldn’t cost me so much.” She waited, and on cue, his lips curled. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”
“Nor I you.”
Life may not have played out the way either of them would’ve chosen, but where they were wasn’t so bad. And if it came to it, they’d have each other’s backs. Of that she was certain.