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“He’s dying of cancer, Cal. He needs to come home to be with his family for his last days … and the wedding,” he said quietly. “My fiancée is worried that he’s too sick to ride commercial. And I don’t trust those guys.” He cleared his throat. “I trust you.”
Her heart clenched. This time she didn’t stop the cascade of potent memories. She’d been in the family’s position. After her dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer, she’d battled with some of the darkest days of her life. Trent had been there for the shadows that covered her even when she was in the bright sun. The family wanted this person back to take care of him and give him the dignity and attention he deserved; a string of her heart grabbed onto the mission.
Too bad Trent wasn’t as deserving of the trust he assured her she’d earned. Walking in on him and Ms. Orgasm-Could-Be-Heard-In-The-Next-County had shown his real colors, but after many months and some intense therapy, she could now admit she’d pushed him away before her dad’s passing, and maybe Trent had tried to reach out to her, but he’d given up while she was drowning in grief. And that definitely didn’t mean he had the right to find a willing vagina before discussing his decision to part ways with her. She wouldn’t let the past pull her down with its undertow. She’d moved on and released the regret, the anger, and the frustration; she wasn’t going back to that place.
“What’s her name?” She didn’t know why she’d asked the question and banged her head on the metal wall in the hangar.
“It’s … Brittney Young.”
She stilled, her head throbbing from the punishment.
Figures. Brittney, his to-be wife, was the daughter of the Quinlans’ law firm competitor. The move would probably unite the two highest-paid private attorney firms in the city.
She rubbed the spot on her forehead, which would probably have a bruise. “Trent, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Please. I know you’ll treat Sam with respect. I remember you with Mike.”
He was going low now. Seeing her father eaten by disease and knowing the effects of chemo that didn’t stop at hair loss, she’d be prepared. But was that a good thing? Her heart told her what she needed to do.
There was only one more question he needed to answer.
“Is she the one, Trent?” She wasn’t asking if his fiancée was the perfect woman for Trent.
His silence told her what she needed to know.
Trent inhaled a big breath and said, “I’m sorry, Cal. I should’ve talked to you before shit went sideways.”
Her heart stopped racing and a peace she hadn’t felt in months washed over her.
Six months, seven days, and about eighteen hours to be exact.
“Was there more than one woman?”
“There was?—”
“Wait. Don’t answer that.” She didn’t really want to know the answer even after asking the question. The answer wouldn’t help. Callie pushed her long brown hair over her shoulder and readjusted her phone. “All I want to know is if you’re cheating on Ms. Young?”
“No. Not once. I promise. I’ve changed.” His voice softened and he cleared his throat. “I love Britt. I’d do anything to bring her brother back to her so she can see him. Please, Callie. Whatever it takes.”
Her eyes watered. Trent cared about this woman. In a few ways, there was a sting of temporary hurt, but a wash of relief crisscrossed her thoughts like an unexpected thunderstorm on a hot summer’s day.
It was time to move on.
“We’ll leave in the morning, o’seven-hundred hours from Millard Airport. I’ll get the plans booked. I’ll see you then.” She’d pulled the phone away from her ear, but his deep voice still boomed out at her.
“Hey, wait! I’m not going. Brittney’s older brother, Liam, will be riding down to get their younger brother, Sam.”
A stranger? Even better. No ties. Business only. Now to figure out something special for this Liam Young.
Callie hung up. “Meg, we’ve got our first contract. Send the quadruple bill to Mr. Quinlan, please.”
2
Liam
He’d talked to Sam’s housekeeper twice in the last day. The translation wasn’t clear, but the news didn’t seem good. No one seemed to know where Sam was. They needed him back to Omaha, before the wedding in three days. The family would be together one last time, and then Sam could go on his way, following the path that was right for him, like he always had.
Sitting in the Millard Airport lounge, Liam leaned forward in the plastic chair and rubbed the back of his neck. The weather threw a little summer tantrum with a sudden thunderstorm. His patience wore thin as he sat in the closet-sized waiting room for a plane that was supposed to have landed at the small private airport outside of Omaha five minutes ago.
