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“I’m so sorry,” I said, silent tears escaping. “I love you so much, and I know I’m breaking my word. But I need to make my own way, Papá.”
His eyes held all the sadness and disappointment he’d never tell me in words. “I don’t approve.”
I nodded and let my gaze fall to the table, the words stinging.
“But I understand.”
I glanced up.
He reached over and brushed my tears away with a napkin. “You will always have a place to come back to if you need it. Your mother and I will never ever turn you away. I wouldn’t make that mistake again. I’ve lost one piece of my heart with Luz. I refuse to lose another.”
“Oh, Papá,” I said, a full-out weepy mess now.
“Also, you tell that boy that if he hurts you, the next time I’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”
I snorted some sort of half sob, half laugh, and took the napkin from him to wipe my nose. “Andre’s already threatened him, too. Dating me is turning out to be a very dangerous gig.”
“Is he a good man, mija? This Foster,” he asked, his serious face back in place.
“Yes,” I said, believing that down the depths of my being. “He’ll take good care of me.”
My dad smiled and got up to give me a hug. “That’s all I ask.”
I pressed my face into his shoulder, holding him tight, and let myself be that little girl again—the one who loved her father unconditionally and only saw the wonderful, spectacular parts of him.
For all his faults, my father had given me a good upbringing and a loving home. I would always love him, my family, and my hometown. They were part of the fabric of who I was. But now it was time for me to take those things and carry them forward.
Now it was my turn to live the life I wanted.
And that life started now.
THIRTY-NINE
Foster wasn’t positive when he knew for sure. Maybe it was when Bret had called so early, and his normally tell-it-like-it-is friend hadn’t been able to give him any information. Maybe it had been the guarded, too-high tone of her voice. Bu
t when she’d sent him a follow-up text telling him not to listen to news radio on his drive back to Dallas, he had no doubts left.
Either Neve’s kidnapper had been discovered or Neve had been found. And if Bret wasn’t talking, he knew that there was no happy news waiting at the end of this road. Not that he’d ever held out hope that Neve had made it through okay. Not after all this time. But he couldn’t deny that a small sliver of him had held on to the notion that maybe she’d been kidnapped by someone who’d wanted a child and that she had been cared for. It’d been a stupid, illogical hope, but it’d always been sitting there nestled deep in his mind. Now there’d be nothing there except the despair of knowing she was gone, really gone.
By the time he pulled up to the building Bret had given him directions to, he’d gone fully numb from the inside out. A news van was out front, which would explain why Bret had told him to pull around back. He parked the car, took a few breaths, and headed inside like a man on his way to his death sentence.
The fluorescent lights inside pushed against his already edgy senses, and he got the impression of walking into a morgue it was so quiet and cold. Before he could make his brain function and figure out where he was supposed to go, Bret was striding toward him, her face drawn and pale. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her without makeup. Dread so deep it took his breath moved through him, leaving icy trails in its wake.
“Hey, you,” she said gently, giving him a quick hug. “I don’t even want to know how fast you drove to get here.”
“Just tell me,” he said flatly.
In the distance, he saw an older couple huddled together on a bench in the hallway. The woman peered his way, a hollow look in her eyes. Eyes the same color as his. His mother seemed to look through him, then turned back to his father.
Bret put a hand on his shoulder. “We found the guy. We got him.”
Foster took in a ragged breath, absorbing that information. It didn’t feel nearly as good as he thought it would. He’d spent much of his life waiting to hear those words, but they didn’t offer any solace. Not when he sensed what was to follow.
“And Neve?” he asked, the question like jagged glass in his mouth.
Bret gave his shoulder a squeeze and shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, hon. She didn’t make it past the second day.”
Everything seemed to crumple around him, collapsing in until he couldn’t even see in front of him. He leaned against the wall and sank to the floor.
