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“God,” I shook my head. “Seems like it's trouble season for us.”
“Let’s hope not,” Hunter muttered. “I can’t stand to see Ava worry.”
I shook my head. “It’s not a good feeling, is it, not to be able to step in and take all the problems away. As much as we try, protecting them from everything is impossible, and the pain lingers. When my wife grew sick, I wanted to take her place or rip her illness away…but I couldn’t, and it ripped some of me away.”
“I’m taking it that she passed?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Eight years ago. But I have two daughters who keep a part of her alive for me.”
“I hope Liam pulls through this,” Hunter said.
“You love him.” I surmised.
“Him and his mother,” Hunter grunted. “We’re working on the paperwork for me to adopt him and get his bastard father to give up his rights.”
“Bastard, father?” I asked. “What's the story there?”
“It’s a long one,” Hunter said, rubbing his face. “I’ll tell you sometime, but not today.”
Respecting his wishes, we talked business instead until we got to his home. He took me to his vast state-of-the-art cryogenics deep freezers, and I admired his setup. “I cannot dare put my hand into beef production,” I mentioned. “I’ll stick to my small ranch, thanks. You must have headaches every day.”
“That’s why he has an army of aids and assistants,” a warm female voice said from the doorway.
The look on Hunter’s face when he turned to his wife, reminded me of when I worried for Emily. The pure love and worry stamped on his face made me regret what happened between me and Rayna at the fair. I needed to go back and talk to her, explain my flimsy “explanation,” and own up to my bullshit.
I turned away as they spoke, but I heard her reassure him about her—their kid. “He’s going to be fine. It’s not a relapse.”
“Oh, thank fuck,” Hunter sighed. “Are you all right, baby? Go get some rest.”
“Good idea,” she kissed his cheek. “See you later on.”
When she left, I took a last look. “Looks like you have everything handled. I should head out if you don’t mind?”
“Stay for dinner,” Hunter replied. “Please, it’s the least we can do.”
“Well, when you put it that way.” I laughed. “Lead on.”
As we got to his house, I excused myself, “I need to make a call.”
“Sure,” he replied, then headed in.
I stepped onto the long, wraparound porch and finally made the call to Rayna—but she didn’t answer. I tried again and again, but nothing. Maybe she was busy. Deciding to call later, I went to join Hunter.
* * *
That night, after a warm shower in my hotel, I tried to call Rayna again, but it rang out to voicemail. After three more tries and nothing, I was getting worried. This didn’t feel right, and I wondered if I could get home by tonight to check on her.
“It’s already ten o’clock,” I sighed while checking the time. “Bennie is already asleep. I can bloody wait until tomorrow.”
Tossing in bed until well past three, I was thinking of Rayna and what we’d done together. Replaying our first meeting—her tired look at the coffee shop—all the way to her final look at me at the fair was etched in my memory forever; her confused expression was a stake in my heart.
Was I so hard-headed that I could not admit my true feelings?
It was a pitiful sleep, and when I woke, ready to head home, I was met with a storm warning and a tornado watch. Rian was splattering on the windows, and as much as I wanted to leave, I knew I could not. FLA would have grounded every flight by now.
The city would be shut down for the day and probably for the next few days. Damn it to hell. I wouldn’t be getting home. I grabbed my phone and called Ben before my service was cut off.
“Ben,” I said the moment the call connected. “Ben, is it raining there?”
