Chapter 33
KATE
“You should eat the broccoli, Dad. It has antioxidants.”
I hate talking to him like a child, but after the stressful week I’ve had, it’s nice to have a mundane, normal conversation with my father even if it’s not a stereotypical one between a parent and adult child. He doesn’t touch the tray placed in front of us on a rolling cart.
At least he recognizes me today.
“So, how is your new job going, honey?”
I freeze at his inquisition, slowly dragging my eyes up to his. “Who told you I have a new job?”
He smiles, his familiar eyes twinkling. “Stephen came by. He told me you’d broken up with him and that you quit your job.” The hurt in his tone is unmistakable.
My gut twinges with guilt. Should I have told him? Why the hell was Stephen here?
“I didn’t quit actually. I was let go.”
He doesn’t know what day it is half the time, but he’s still my dad. He should’ve found out from me.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t want you to worry.”
I swallow down the discomfort in my throat, praying he forgives me. His mood swings from his Alzheimer’s can be dramatic and unpredictable.
He smiles kindly, patting my arm. We’re sitting outside on a bench in the gardens of his nursing home. It’s warm out even though it’s barely nine a.m.
“Kate, I will always worry about you, but that’s my job.”
I nod, dipping my head to rest on his shoulder. I’m grateful for his clear mind today. I needed this.
“I won’t anymore. I’m sorry. Why was Stephen here?”
His hand pats my knee. “He asked if he could borrow some money,” he says.
I shoot up from my reclined position, eyes lasering in on my father’s face. “What? I cannot believe that asshole would do that! What the actual hell? We broke up, and he came crawling to you for money instead of getting a real job? Pathetic.” My nostrils flare as I exhale the frustration.
He smiles, shaking his head. “Oh, sweet pea, he’s not getting any wool over my eyes. It’s not your dad’s first rodeo.”
I form a weak smile, resting my head back down on his shoulder. “Well, it was still completely out of line for him to ask.”
“So, if you lost the job at the design firm, where are you working now?”
“I’m a personal assistant.”
“Hmmph.”
We enjoy the scene in front of us—a smooth pond with ducks swimming and frogs hopping around on lily pads.
He doesn’t say anything else about the job, and after another ten minutes of idle chatter, Luke appears on the pebbled path in my peripheral vision.
He’s been close but out of sight for the whole visit.
I guess it’s time to go. I knew we didn’t have a lot of time to spare.
“I love you, Dad. I’ll come back and visit soon, okay?”
He smiles, leaning forward to peck me on the cheek. I look up as Luke approaches, wary of him getting closer and causing my dad to wonder who he is. He doesn’t stop, even as my eyes widen. In the next ten seconds, he’s standing in front of us, stretching out his hand.
“Hello, Mr. Dawson. My name is Luke Bradshaw.”
My dad looks up at him, the smile on his face dropping as he stands. “Ah, so can you tell me why my daughter has bandages on her wrists?”
Luke doesn’t break eye contact. My dad reaches for my hand.
“She was taken yesterday by Russian mercenaries who were trying to use her as bait to extract information from me.”
I gulp at his blatant honesty, eyes jumping to my dad’s face. He surveys Luke for another moment, still gripping my hand.
“Are you going to keep her safe from now on then?”
Luke nods, the posture of a soldier in his stance. “Yes, sir. Until my dying breath.”
My dad’s eyes begin to water. “I’m not able to . . . anymore. I’m glad she has you now, Luke.”
Another nod from Luke seems to end the exchange, and I wrap my dad in a tight hug.
“I love you so much.”
“You know what you’re doing, Katie. I love you most.”
The nurse standing by nods at me to indicate he’s going to take my father inside when he’s ready. Luke and I make our way out to the parking lot through a side gate with an exit code.
I’m not sure what to say to him about the conversation that occurred between him and my dad. It felt strangely intimate for being their first meeting. With my dad’s mental capacity decreasing daily, his very real and vulnerable moment with Luke felt . . . monumental somehow.
But what did it mean to Luke?
Yesterday was terrifying and overwhelming. Being taken and threatened and nearly dying isn’t something I ever want to experience again. Apparently, action and adventure are not for me.
We’re in his sports car, and he’s quiet as he drives through the Saturday traffic.
“Thank you for that. I . . . I don’t often get to see the side of him that’s familiar.”
He turns to me as we pull up to a red light, green eyes studying my face. “I meant what I said. I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you safe from now on. As long as I’m alive, you will never go through what you did at the office yesterday again.”
I swallow, blinking at the intensity of his gaze. “I believe you.”
He faces the windshield, eyes on the road. I take a moment to admire his handsome profile before looking forward. The silence stretches between us until we’re in his parking garage.
I have questions about what happened yesterday, but somehow, I know that asking them before he’s ready to explain would be pointless.
I trust him to keep me safe, and I believe his lack of explanation is a part of that plan.
Our steps echo through the cement building, his hand on my lower back guiding me.
We’re in the elevator when he crowds me into the corner, invading my personal bubble. His hands find my waist as my butt presses against the metal handrail. There’s no reason to speak, and as soon as the metal doors close, his lips are on mine, hungry.