Jared answers the door, squinting against the late afternoon sun. “Well, well, well, look who finally came knocking.” Jared is tall and lean, always wearing glasses that make him look like he’s thinking about something slightly more interesting than the current conversation.
“Hey,” I mutter, heat rising up my neck. “Is Becca here?”
His brows lift. “She hasn’t been here since Saturday night. You mean you don’t know where your wife’s been the past two days?”
“Thought she was here,” I admit. “I … I haven’t heard from her since Sunday morning.”
Mackenzie walks in behind him,still in her scrubs, hairpulled back tight, looking like she came straight from a twelve-hour shift and did not slow down once. “So you didn’t evencallher?”
I open my mouth. Close it.
“I’ve picked up the phone a hundred times,” I say finally, “but I didn’t know what to say.”
Mack crosses her arms. “Try starting with ‘I’m sorry I stole your future to prop up someone else's.’ Just a thought.”
Jared tries to defuse with a shrug. “Kenzie’s protective. Hell, you should’ve seen her at Reece’s soccer game. Kid on the other team shoved her and she almost went feral on the ref.”
“I get it,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “Thanks for being there for her.”
“Well, you’d better hope our next Zentrology meeting doesn’t involve Voodoo dolls.” Mack slaps Jared’s chest and disappears down the hall.
“Good luck, man,” Jared says, not unkindly, as I head back to my truck.
I pull up Wade’s number before I can talk myself out of it. He answers on the second ring.
“Sam?”
“Hey, Wade, is Becca with you?”
“She left early this morning. Wouldn’t take a sick day if the place caught fire.” He chuckles.
“Yeah. That sounds like her.” I pause, then breathe deep. “Look, Wade … I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I said some things about your family that weren’t right. That’s not the kind of man I want to be.”
There’s a long pause on the other end. I brace for impact.
“Well, Becca told us you had a fight,” he says slowly. “But she never mentioned you saying anything like that.”
I blink. “She didn’t?”
“Nope. Not a word.” A beat. Then a low chuckle. “Hell, we were over here defending you.”
My chest tightens.
“She’s a class act, my girl is,” he adds, pride threading through his voice. “Always has been.”
Silence settles between us for a second before he continues.
“That’s loyalty, son. Even when you're blowing things up, she’s still protecting you. Not dragging your name, not turning us against you. Just letting you mess it up on your own.”
Another pause.
“Make sure you deserve that kind of loyalty.”
My throat tightens. “I’m trying. I really am.”
“You may not think much of our family, but Becca grew up watching two people love each other when they had nothing. She learned to expecteverything—honesty, respect, trust. She’s not going to settle for less just because you mean well.”
“You’re right,” I say, quieter than I mean to. “She’s lucky to have you.”
