Page 70 of Wait for Me


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“Stop!” Sawyer’s voice is loud at my side. “Leon, get off him!”

He grabs his brother around the arms, pulling him away from me.

“Let me go, Sawyer. I’m going to wipe the ground with his sorry ass.”

“I said stop!” Sawyer turns, shoving Leon in the opposite direction from me. “Go back to the house and cool off.”

We’re all breathing hard, and Leon shouts at his brother. “You’re going to let him come back here after what he did?”

I’m holding my side, leaning my back against the tree, trying to breathe through the pain.

“You don’t know the whole story, Leon.” Sawyer stands between us, blocking my view.

“I know enough. I know what he did to Noel.”

“There’s more to it than that. A lot more. Things I hope you never have to understand… or experience.” Sawyer’s voice is grave, but Leon makes a disgusted noise before turning and stomping down the hill.

Dropping my face, I rub my forehead with my fingers. “He’s right. I shouldn’t have come back here.”

“I’ll talk to him.” Sawyer steps over and takes my arm. “You okay?”

“I will be.”

“You were right to come here. You need to know your daughter. She needs to know her dad.”

“You don’t want to kick my ass, too?” I’m only partly joking.

The fury coming off Leon was powerful, confirming my worst fears. Everything I remember about that last night with Noel is true. I was so fucked up. I hurt her so badly.

“The demons we fought were strong. Almost too strong.” Our eyes meet, and he gives my shoulder a squeeze. “But you were tougher than them. You beat them, and you’re here.”

“I lost what matters most.”

“Maybe not.”

We slowly start down the hill for the house, the pain in my back beginning to ease, but I have a slight limp. “I’d give anything for you to be right.”

He pauses, looking up the road ahead. “Everybody deserves a second chance.”

Dove is still in the kitchen when I return to the house. She’s standing in a chair, leaning over the table coloring with a brown, stuffed mouse in a green dress beside her. For a minute I watch her so focused on her project.

Her brow is furrowed, and her nose turns up right at the end. I can’t get over her blonde hair. She’s perfect.

I step closer, and the floor creaks. She sits down in the chair and studies me.

“Mamma says if you see somebody who needs a smile, you should give ‘em one of yours.” She smiles at me, and a little dimple appears just below her mouth—just like her mother’s.

And just that fast, she steals my heart. “Do I need a smile?”

“You did.” She’s still grinning, her little-girl teeth showing. “What’s your name?”

“Taron.”

“That’s like my name.” She stands in the chair and starts coloring again. “Do you like to color?”

“Sure.” I sit beside her and pick up the blue crayon and start on the coat of a mouse wearing glasses. “What’s your name?”

“Tara Dove Noel LaGrange.” She says it like she’s reading a script, nodding her chin at every word.

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