Last Chance At The Someday Café. Angel Smits
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angrier.
“It wasn’t your choice. Any of you.” She let her gaze move around the room, meeting everyone’s stare until landing on Jason’s. “I asked for your advice as a lawyer. That’s all.”
“And I gave it,” he reminded her. “It’s a good deal,” he told the rest of them. “She got a bargain and the interest rate on the loan was excellent.”
“Loan?” Wyatt snapped.
“Yes, loan.” Tara knew Wyatt’s philosophy on debt. Combine his overprotectiveness with his experience seeing his colleagues in the ranching industry fall under debt, and she knew she’d hit a nerve. “I used my inheritance for most of it, but it wasn’t enough.” She glared at Jason. They didn’t need to know the details. That’s why she hadn’t told them in the first place.
“You let her go into debt for this?” Wyatt snatched one of Addie’s fresh cookies and bit into it, hard. “What were you thinking?”
“She can handle it. It’s a solid deal.”
She didn’t need Jason to defend her, and Wyatt needed to back off. “Hellooo...” She waved her hands. “I’m still here.”
Addie put the second batch into the oven, then turned to lean against the counter, arms crossed in front of her. Her frown said more than Tara wanted to hear. She looked so much like Mom when she did that. Tara’s heart hurt.
But Mom would have supported her. She wouldn’t have gotten upset about this. Oh, Mom. I miss you, she mentally whispered. Mom had always encouraged her to follow her dreams, like she had for all of them.
And Tara was not giving up on this dream.
DJ must have seen her stubbornness on her face. “We aren’t angry with you. Do you really think you’re ready for this?”
Tara knew she was ready, but damn it, they were making her doubt herself. As the youngest, she had always felt the weight of her siblings’ shadows. She slowly looked around the room full of people she loved. Their frowns said it all.
Addie and Wyatt shared a glance. An all-too-familiar glance that spoke volumes. Tara’s emotions bubbled to the surface. “You don’t believe in me!”
They both actually had the nerve to look surprised. “We didn’t say that,” Addie said.
“You don’t have to say it.” Tara threw up her hands. “It’s all in that look.”
Tara marched to the door, wishing and praying someone would stop her and deny all her fears, reassure her that she’d misunderstood, that she was wrong, that they did have total faith in her.
No one spoke. The only sound was each of her steps through the empty rooms and finally the smack of the front door banging against its frame.
She kept walking across the yard. “Do not cry,” she repeated half a dozen times before she reached her bright red Jeep and climbed in. She slammed the door and rammed her foot on the gas before tearing out of the drive.
“I’ll show you,” she said to the rearview mirror. “I’ll show you all,” she repeated to the dust cloud that rose up behind her as she headed toward the highway.
* * *
SILENCE SUDDENLY FILLED the room, telling Morgan Thane he wasn’t alone. The driving rock beat had swiftly faded away as his younger brother, Jack, turned down the volume on the stereo.
The weights in Morgan’s fists still moved rhythmically, the soft clink of metal on metal now the only sound left.
“Do you even know what silence sounds like?” Jack asked, pulling his own earbuds free.
“You’re listening to your own tunes.” Morgan pointed at the earbuds Jack never went anywhere without.
“This is white noise to drown out your racket. That stuff gives me hives.”
“Stuff?” Morgan tried to look insulted. “Stuff? College-educated guy like yourself can’t come up with a better word than stuff?”
“Nope.” Jack stepped farther into the room, leaving his phone on the table while he went to the fridge.
Morgan watched Jack move across the apartment. It wasn’t big, so it didn’t take him long. He knew his brother. He knew that body language. Trouble. Something was wrong. “You going to tell me what’s up, or am I supposed to guess?”
Jack yanked open the refrigerator. “You got any more of those energy drinks?”
“Yeah. Back of the second shelf.” Morgan knew where every single item he owned was located. He’d always been that way, and after having so little as a kid—and with his soon-to-be-ex, Sylvie, taking off with everything else—he’d become a bit obsessed about it.
Jack reached in for a can, then popped the top. After he’d downed half the drink, he walked over to the computer to boot it up. He set down the drink, then settled in the old kitchen chair that doubled as a desk chair. He didn’t say a word.
Morgan didn’t stop. He was only three quarters of the way through his workout. So, the only sounds that broke the apartment’s quiet were the hum of the computer fan and the easy rhythm of the weights against the bar as Morgan worked on curls.
Finally done, Morgan set down the weights. “Okay, spit it out.” He grabbed the towel and his water bottle, letting himself cool down before diving into whatever Jack was working on.
“I’m looking for a load for you so this trip won’t be a complete waste.”
That quieted Morgan’s next comments. Their company had several over-the-road hauling contracts. But what Jack was best at, and what had made them successful, was his brokering skills. The rest of the crew worked on everyday loads. But Morgan had a mission that had nothing to do with their regular customers, and if Jack could get him one-time loads, it paid well. As long as you weren’t picky about what was riding behind you.
And Morgan wasn’t. Morgan was freestyling as he hunted for his ex, who’d taken off with their daughter before the divorce and custody agreement had been finalized.
Nearly a year had passed since Morgan had seen his daughter, Brooke. She was supposed to start school this fall, and Morgan refused to think about her doing so anywhere but home, refused to even entertain the idea that she might actually not start school at all. Sylvie wasn’t that organized or dedicated to anything.
Despite finishing his workout, Morgan nearly started lifting the weights again. Frustrated energy was the worst to burn off.
“So where you headed next?” Jack asked, without looking up from the computer screen.
When Sylvie had first disappeared, and Morgan had decided to hunt for her and Brooke, Jack had bought him a map of the entire United States that dominated one wall.
They both knew Sylvie well enough to know she wasn’t going to take Brooke out of the States, but there were forty-eight of them and he’d driven through most of them trying to find her.
That US map had eventually been covered up by a new one of just the western states. It had taken only a couple months to narrow down where she’d gone. The network of truckers Morgan and his crew knew had provided a lot of the early information. Following the trail of credit cards had also helped—until Sylvie apparently realized she was leaving a trail. Now it was a map of just Texas. At least she’d stayed in the same state.
“Here.” Morgan swept his hand over the western part of the state, waving his hand over the area west of Austin. “There was a charge on one of her old cards last week.”
“It could have been stolen,” Jack suggested.
“Yeah. Or she could be just passing through.” But he couldn’t ignore even the smallest clue. The small bedroom communities he was heading to were kitschy tourist towns with streets lined with old junkshops, eclectic restaurants and run-down motels. Sylvie territory.