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Nick knew the best thing he could do for both of them was to give her a chance to rest and him a chance to gather his wits—and he still had to go see his father. Since he was in town for only two nights, Nick couldn’t very well bring him here and then blow him off.
Becca had gotten the door unlocked. The porch light wasn’t on and she’d had to use her phone as a flashlight.
He could’ve helped her instead of standing there with his hands in his pockets, but she was so capable, so strong—so better off without him.
He took a step back. She took a step inside. Priscilla ran around in circles as she barked a greeting. When Becca turned to look at him, hurt, anger, confusion—probably all of that and more—clouded those beautiful blue eyes.
He should hug her.
He wanted to hug her.
Why couldn’t he move toward her? What the hell was wrong with him? He had no idea, which proved that it would be best for both of them for him to clear his head before he did something irreparably stupid.
“Get some sleep,” he said.
She shook her head and closed the door, leaving him standing there in the dark.
* * *
The last time Nick had seen his dad, the two of them had exchanged words. In his junior year of high school after his mom had died, and Nick had gone to live with his father, Nick had admittedly been a little hard to handle.
Ronnie Ciotti had been a tough customer. Blue-collar from his crew cut to his work boots, Ronnie had been an electrical worker, a union man, a wiry guy with a fierce temper who played by the rules and expected no less from his smart-ass son.
After Nick’s parents had divorced, Ronnie hadn’t come around much. Back in the day, Nick had taken it personally, on behalf of himself and his mom. But now with the clarity that hindsight offered and the perspective that came from maturity, he realized the divorce must have been just as hard on his father as it had been on his mother.
Ronnie Ciotti didn’t like to lose. From this vantage point, it must’ve been damn difficult to lose his entire family the way he had.
This afternoon, Nick had glimpsed a similar feeling when for several excruciating moments he hadn’t known Becca’s condition after Kate had called him to tell him about the accident. She wouldn’t have told him the worst of it over the phone.
The sad thing was, he’d prepared himself for the bottom to fall out of everything. He’d braced himself for that sickeningly familiar feeling of having someone he loved ripped away from him, having his heart torn right out of his chest and thrown on the floor. When it didn’t happen, when he’d realized Becca and the babies were fine—and he was so grateful they were—he also realized he didn’t want to render himself so vulnerable.
He’d make a terrible father, anyway. If he kept his distance, he could provide for them without actively screwing up their lives.
Over the years, he’d managed to keep from getting involved. Now he knew why. When you opened yourself to love—especially with someone like Becca—you opened yourself to potential pain and loss. That realization made him want to retreat back into his world of emergency medicine, where he was good at what he did, where he could fix people but not have to get involved. In the emergency room he had control over most things—not all things, but he was removed from the things that were out of his control, the losses faced by other people at the cruel hands of fate.
Nick walked into the lobby of the inn and looked around for his father. He’d texted him as he was leaving Becca’s, saying he’d be there within ten minutes. It was after eight-thirty now. If the guy hadn’t gotten himself something to eat, he must be starving by now.
“Welcome to the Celebration Inn,” said a perky redhead who was manning the desk. “Are you staying with us tonight?”
“I’m meeting someone.”
Nick had no idea what he was walking into, if his dad still had the same volatile temperament, or if he’d mellowed over the years. It was just nerves on Nick’s part, he knew it. The knot in his stomach was testament to that. Besides, would the guy have come all the way from Florida to Texas just to have words with him? He could’ve done that over the phone; he could’ve hung up on him. Nick reminded himself his dad had been agreeable.
Maybe time had mellowed him.
The front desk clerk motioned toward an adjacent doorway. “You might want to check the sitting area.”
When Nick entered the room, he caught a glimpse of someone sitting in a chair in the corner reading a newspaper and sipping a cup of something that Nick assumed was coffee. The room smelled as if someone had just brewed a pot.
