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After that, they returned to the motel and their separate rooms. Before turning in, she wrote in her gratitude journal.Thankful for the ability to enjoy life and make the best of any situation.
It wasn’t meant to be a dig at Noah. She wasn’t judging him. She actually felt sorry for him. Cruising through life with a chip on your shoulder must be a real drag. Maybe she could change his outlook. He could be her guinea pig—her first attempt at life coaching.
That was where she wanted to steer her social media channel. Why not get some practice? He’d be the perfect specimen to start on. As long as he didn’t find out about it.
CHAPTER NINE
Noah woke in a cold sweat, his heart racing, after having the same nightmare that had haunted him on and off for the last year. He called it a nightmare, but the more accurate term would be a memory. A horrible, all-too-real, life-altering memory. Sometimes, he’d go a month without it, but it always found its way back. Usually, just as he thought he might be moving on. The nightmare was a relentless reminder that he would never get over the pain. A persistent punishment for his poor decision.
Dispatch had sent him and his partner, Tucker, to a possible drug deal. They’d arrived at a vacant warehouse on the water and interrupted the exchange. They immediately called for backup, but everything went south before anyone else showed up.
Noah and Tucker confronted the dealer, who promptly pulled a gun as his business associate disappeared into the black night. Noah drew his weapon too but made the mistake of trying to reason with the suspect. As Noah shouted commands to surrender, the dealer fired and hit Tucker, who went down hard. Strongly worded demands were no match for a bullet.
Noah shot and killed the bastard, but the damage was done. He fell to his knees next to Tucker and called for an ambulance, using the portable radio clipped to his shoulder.
While they waited for aid to arrive, Tucker complained he couldn’t feel his legs. Noah watched helplessly as the paramedics carefully loaded Tucker onto a gurney and into the ambulance. He followed them to the hospital and stayed all night while surgeons operated and did their best to fix what Noah had broken. He wasn’t surprised when the doctors announced Tucker would never walk again.
Noah blamed himself, and the enormity and gravity of his mistake became a millstone around his neck. Guilt and shame were unshakable companions that ruled his life and affected all his decisions.
Having lost the edge, he’d quit the force and started the business. At least now, he wouldn’t end up in a life-or-death situation again.
He sat up to catch his breath. When he opened his eyes, he was disoriented. It took him a second to remember he was at a dumpy motel in the backwoods of nowhere, and that he’d spent the last two exhausting days with a crazy person named Daisy. He woke from one nightmare only to realize he remained smack dab in the middle of another—the road trip from hell.
It wasn’t quite dawn, but since he was awake, he laced up his running shoes and took off, heading west. That way, maybe he’d catch the sunrise coming back. Sure enough, on his return trip, the sky caught fire—red, orange, and pink clouds glowed over the town’s low skyline. He slowed to a walk. It was beautiful, but the moment was lost on him. The minute he started to enjoy it, the always-close-at-hand guilt crept in. He shook his head, wishing that would throw off the burden, but of course, that was too much to hope for.
He showered and packed his duffel. Not hearing any movement from the room next door, he walked down the street and returned with two coffees and some pastries. Daisy didn’t answer his knock right away, and he began to worry something had happened. Or that she’d ditched him again. “Daisy!” He pounded on the door.
When she finally answered, his mouth fell open. She wore only a towel and a look of alarm. Drops of water fell from her hair to the floor. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing.” He swallowed hard. “I got worried when you didn’t answer.”
“I was in the shower,” she said, walking back toward the bathroom, where the water was still running.
“I see that,” he said, ignoring the same unprofessional and unsettling thoughts he’d had last night while they danced. He set the food and coffee on the tiny table near the bed.
“I’ll be out in a sec,” she called, shutting the door behind her.
After a minute, he heard singing. Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline,” if he wasn’t mistaken. Of course she sang in the shower. He would expect nothing less. The water turned off, and after a few minutes, she came out wearing a baggy T-shirt.
“Well, this won’t do,” he said, more to himself than her. “Be right back.” He stalked next door, fished a pair of clean running shorts out of his bag, returned to her room, and threw them at her. “Put those on.”
“Ah, yes.” She laughed. “Wouldn’t want to make you cry,” she teased, clearly enjoying the impact she was having on him.
“Maybe I’ll just take my apple fritters and go,” he said, picking up the pastry bag.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said, snatching the bag. “As a wise woman once said, never get between a Parker and a pastry.”
“Who said that?”
“Me.” She smiled and rifled through the bag.
“Your car’s already at the station. I’ll walk over and grab your suitcase if you want.”
“That would be great,” she said around a mouthful of fritter. “Did you talk to anyone about when it’ll be fixed?”
“No, but I will when I get your stuff.”
After they ate, she put on yesterday’s sundress and walked over with him.
