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“He is,” Grace answered fiercely.
Another knock sounded and Betty Jo poked her head inside. She looked worried and sad and worn out. “Everything all right?”
Eden got to her feet and held her hand out for her mother. “I’m going to Arizona.”
“Grace, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t really care what you think, Betty. I’m going. I have to.”
A heartbeat passed.
“Okay.” Betty sighed. “I’m coming with you.”
28
Matt was able to book a flight out of Toronto and he touched down in Phoenix at just after nine o’clock, Arizona time. The airport was dead—not surprising considering it was Thanksgiving day, and most people were slumped in lazy boys, knee deep in turkey comas surrounded by their families.
He hadn’t eaten in hours, but with no appetite to speak of, he didn’t much care.
Matt had no baggage to claim and, after securing a rental, was on the road. He’d texted Delilah from Toronto and advised her he’d be at the hospice by ten. He’d asked if there was any news of Justin. She replied with a long rambling message, the gist of it being that, no, as of yet she had no idea where her son was at. But that he’d texted her and appeared to be okay.
The whole thing sounded off, but Matt was too preoccupied to sort it out. He’d do that later.
He pulled into the parking lot of Compassionate Care just shortly after the top of the hour, and checked his phone. But there were no new messages, and nothing from Grace. Not surprising, considering he’d been such a bastard.
He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his fingers cramped, and then slid from the truck, slamming the door so hard that the vehicle shook. Of course it did nothing to alleviate his anger. How could it? He was cornered and this time there was nowhere to run. This time his past wouldn’t let go.
But maybe that was okay. Maybe it was finally time for him to deal with it once and for all.
He strode across the parking lot and entered a brightly lit foyer. The front desk was manned by a young woman who immediately straightened up when she spied him. She smoothed her bleach blond hair, and licked her glossy lips while tugging her top down a bit. Large blue eyes looked up at him as he approached and she smiled.
Matt wasn’t in the mood to s
ocialize or make small talk. He couldn’t even crack an answering smile. “I need to know where Benjamin Hawkins is.”
Her smile faltered a bit and she glanced at her computer. “Of course. Are you family?” She snapped her gum and blew a bubble. “I’m sorry I have to ask.”
Family? What the hell was family.
“Yeah,” he replied gruffly. “I am.”
“Okay, let me check the list to see if you’re on it. What’s your name?”
“Matt Hawkins.”
A middle aged woman came from nowhere, sobbing uncontrollably into her tissue. Her grief was loud and messy and real and Matt kept his focus on the girl at the desk. He just wanted to get this over.
“Okay. Your dad is in room 211. That’s up the stairs.” She pointed to her right. “And then turn left.”
He nodded and headed up to the second floor. Less than thirty seconds later, he found himself standing in front of 211. How long stood there staring at the damn door was anyone’s guess. He probably would have stood there all night if it hadn’t swung open on its own.
Delilah hesitated, her eyes puffy and red. “Oh.” She sniffled. “You’re here.”
She closed the door behind herself and began to cry. Big, huge, teardrops that made unattractive tracks down her face. “I’m so glad you came,” she managed to say between sniffles and whimpers.
He felt nothing for her, not a damn thing. He’d seen her crocodile tears before and had no interest in knowing if these ones were the real deal or an act.
“I don’t want you in there with me.”
