Chapter 6

      Jace listened to her footsteps as she went back down the hall. He was feeling a little off balance, here in this house where he’d spent many hours as a kid. It had been a revelation to him then, that not all parents fought constantly, that in some homes, children were appreciated and encouraged by their father, not a nuisance to be rid of as often as possible.

       I didn’t mean to break it, Mr. Grant, really. Please...

      His own heartfelt plea as he stood over the shards of the flower pot he’d inadvertently shattered with the baseball he and Cory had been tossing. Cory had told him to burn it in and he had, but Cory had panicked at the last second and dodged away.

      He remembered cringing when Cory’s father had crouched before him.

       I know you didn’t, Jace. It’s all right. It was an accident. Come on in, have some lunch.

      He remembered the shock that had filled him at that moment, that not only was Mr. Grant not going to scream curses at him, but that he was still welcome in his house. Remembered even more the look in the man’s eyes, the look he hated and only later had come to recognize as pity.

      A wave of weariness swept over him, and he sat on the edge of the bed. It had been a long haul just to get here, and he was afraid Rafe might have been a bit optimistic about him being able to stay awake until he took over. He wondered what the guy was doing, suspected it had something to do with that industrial-strength laptop he’d seen in the car that looked like it could withstand a direct hit from a hand grenade.

      The urge to lie down, just for a moment, nearly swamped him. But he was afraid if he did he would be asleep before he hit the pillow.

       You’ve got first watch.

      Damn, that made it sound so real. He’d known Cassie was scared, but it hadn’t really seemed possible that she was in real danger until Rafe had said that. He was taking this very seriously, and given his demeanor and that look in his eyes, Jace guessed he knew what he was talking about.

      He stood up abruptly before that pillow could lure him in. He opened his pack and started pulling out what was there. He’d packed light, so there wasn’t much, and what there was needed washing after the long trek. Maybe he could do that here, if Cassie didn’t mind.

      It hit him then, and his head came up. He looked around the room. The walls were a neutral cream, with splashes of green and blue—the throw pillow on the chair, the vase on the dresser and the geometric pattern of the comforter on the bed. But in his mind’s eye it was a pale green, with white shelves on that wall, full of books almost to the ceiling. And that silly, droopy stuffed dog on the top shelf. He’d always thought of him as standing guard over her precious books.

      Belatedly what she had meant when she’d talked of moving into the master bedroom registered. This had been Cassie’s room. He’d only seen it a couple of times, and that had been from down the hall at Cory’s room, when the door happened to be open. And once when he’d come out and caught her peeking out into the hallway, as if to see if anyone was around. When she’d seen him, she’d gasped and darted back inside and closed the door.

      That was the first time he’d thought maybe Cory was right about Cassie having a crush on him.

      It felt odd—maybe downright weird—to be in this room now. True, it was totally different now, down to the color, but it still nagged at him.

      He caught a whiff of some luscious scent that his stomach quickly registered as food and a second later his mind labeled spaghetti sauce. It wiped all else from his mind, and he headed down the hall.

      Cassie was putting a foil-wrapped bundle in the oven. She glanced at him. “You mind garlic?”

      “Only if there’s not enough,” he said, sucking in a deep breath of the great smells.

      She laughed and shut the oven door. “In about fifteen, then.”

      “Great. Thank you.”

      She just smiled at him, and he felt an odd sort of tumble inside.

      “While I was stirring, I looked up Foxworth,” she said. “It seems they’re quite something.”

      She nodded toward the tablet that lay on the counter. He picked it up and looked at the website she had open. It was slick, streamlined, and had all the basics. Contact info for the five locations Rafe had mentioned, although no addresses. A short bio of the namesakes of the Foundation, Rafe’s boss’s parents. Some effusively grateful testimonials, clearly written by people who had been at the end of their rope.

      And not much more. In fact, it seemed to him that if you didn’t already know what they did, you’d never know what they did.

      “It doesn’t really say what they do,” she said, echoing his thought.

      “Rafe said they work mostly by word of mouth. And the dog.” She laughed again. He looked at her. “It’s good to hear you laugh.”

      “I wasn’t,” she said ruefully, “until you got here. But I feel much better now.”

      “Worth the trip, then,” he said, ignoring the fact that he wasn’t at all sure he was going to be able to help. But he was fairly sure Rafe knew what he was doing, so maybe he had helped, indirectly. Or the dog had.

      “That’s so sad, about the guy’s parents dying in that terrorist attack.”

      “What inspired the whole thing, Rafe said. They turned it into something good. Kind of like you keeping the family business going.”

      She sighed. “Not what I’d pictured myself doing, but I couldn’t just let it go.”

      He remembered what she’d told him with heartfelt earnestness when she’d been about fourteen. “You wanted to travel the country, see all the places you’d read about.”

      She looked startled. “You remember that?”

      “Sure.” I understood. I wanted to be anywhere but here.

      Then, it had only been the desire to escape. But now running off with Cassidy Grant took on an entirely different meaning.

      Whoa. He almost took a step back. This sudden awareness of her, as not his best friend’s little sister, but of the woman she was now, had him completely off-kilter.

      “I guess we don’t always get what we want,” she said, and she gave him a sideways glance.

      He had the strangest feeling she was talking about him, or at least the kid she’d once had a crush on. Then he told himself he was only thinking that because of the crazy direction his own thoughts had veered into.

      “Could I borrow your washing machine?” he asked, rather abruptly, trying to snap his weird train of thought.

      “Of course. If you need something to wear while you wash your things, Cory has some stuff in the closet in his room.” She wrinkled her nose. “If you can get to it past all the other stuff in there.”

      “I climbed two-thirds of Mount Rainier once. I’ll manage.”

      She stared at him. “You did?”

      He nodded. “When I was sixteen. Made it to Camp Muir at ten thousand feet.”

      “Wait, I remember Cory talking about that. It was a school trip, wasn’t it? I can’t remember why he didn’t go.”

      “He did, he just didn’t make the upper climb.”

      He didn’t mention that they’d had to qualify to go beyond the easier reaches, and Cory had skipped the training classes. Jace hadn’t missed one, because it got him out of the house and away from his father on the weekends.

      “I