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I shift uncomfortably. “I would never say anything. And a lot of folks at the Ranch understand the need for privacy. How’s he doing?”
“I don’t know.” The words come out in a soft wail. “He won’t let me in.”
“But you have his car.” I wave toward the front of the house.
“Yeah.” She hunches a shoulder. “He came down a few days ago. I flew in today—took a QuikTrip from the airport. Not our old friend Peter.”
“Paul. Paul Turner.” The microwave dings, and I slide on an oven mitt to grab the dish. Peanut-scented steam rolls out as I pull the cover off the dish and set it in front of Nica. “Hold on.” I grab a bag of chopped peanuts and sprinkle some on top, then hand her a fork. “Bon appetit.”
She leans forward and breathes deeply. “This smells fantastic. Did you make it?”
“One of my signature dishes.” I smirk. “You should try my chicken alfredo.”
She scoops up a tiny forkful. “Maybe I should.” She takes a bite and chews. “This is really good.”
I make a theatrical bow. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’m a man of many talents.”
Nodding, she eats a few more bites while I put the containers back in the fridge and wipe the counter.
After clearing half the plate, she puts the fork down and sips her water. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was. I haven’t eaten since—I don’t remember when. Maybe yesterday?”
I pull out the chair next to her and perch on it. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
She scoops up another forkful, then puts it down without eating. “I’ve been filming in Georgia. A movie with Hugh Harper and Ryan Davis. My big break, I hope—a chance to move to the big screen.”
“I remember.”
“We were mostly finished—doing a few pick-up shots over the last week—when I got a call from the hospital. Dad and Destiny were in Seattle for something, and he collapsed. She dithered around, then finally called the hotel concierge, and they called 911. Destiny is not good with emergencies.” She says this in a flat tone that doesn’t hide her disgust. “The hospital staff told her it was a stroke—that he’d likely be paralyzed on one side. I guess that really freaked her out. I flew to Seattle, and she was already gone.”
“She left your dad?” I had gotten the impression Destiny was immature and self-absorbed, but I had no idea it was that bad.
“Yes and no. She refused to go to the hospital. She stayed at the hotel and got everything second-hand. That’s why the hospital staff called me. She wouldn’t meet with the doctors, and I’m still listed as an emergency contact in his medical records.” She sips some water. “I got there last Saturday—a week and a half ago. It wasn’t as bad as they thought, but he’s lost a lot of mobility. I stayed for a couple of days but had to go back to Atlanta. I arranged for a car to bring him down here and someone to help him get settled in. While I was gone, Destiny showed up. And when I arrived today, she wouldn’t let me in! I demanded to borrow the car—told her I’d camp out on the deck if she didn’t give it to me.” She lowers her voice. “I didn’t tell her about Peter.”
I raise my eyebrows in question.
She smirks. “The QuikTrip guy. She thinks there’s no service out here.”
“Paul.”
“Right, Paul. Destiny arranged for a private nurse. Some guy called Justin. Destiny brought him in, told him some story about how I’m not to be trusted. Then she left.” She stops, staring off into the distance.
“How do you know all this? Were you still on the deck?”
She grimaces. “She told me Justin would take care of Dad while she was gone. She didn’t say where she was going or when, so I parked down the road and watched. She didn’t even notice me when she drove by. How do you not notice that?” She waves a hand toward the front of the house. “A yellow 911 is not exactly stealthy. I expected her to stop and pick a fight, but she just zoomed by—at a zillion miles per hour. I hope she got pulled over.”
“Maybe she was going to the store?” I wince a little as I offer this suggestion. I don’t want to upset Nica, but I try to be fair.
She shakes her head, her blue eyes sparking. “No. I went to the house. Justin wouldn’t let me in.” She says the name as if she believes it’s an alias. “But he did tell me Destiny was headed back to LA. Dad will be furious if she leaves his Porsche in the airport parking lot.”
“Did you call your dad?”
Her eyes close and her hands clench. “I tried. Justin answered the phone. Said I wasn’t allowed to speak to him. I told him I’m Dad’s emergency contact, but he said not anymore. That Dad doesn’t want to see me.” Tears pool in her eyes. “He’s always been… mercurial, but I was just with him. I was there, in the hospital! I got him home! Why wouldn’t he want to see me?” The tears spill over, and she puts her hands over her face.
I jump off my chair and wrap my arms around her. She slides hers around my waist, pressing her face to my chest as she cries, her body heaving. I hold her tight, stroking her back and letting her get it all out. Her unfamiliar red hair feels oddly stiff against my fingers but smells just like I remember. Funny how scents stick with you over long periods of time. I’d recognize Nica with my eyes closed.
After a long time, she gives my ribs a little squeeze and pulls away, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry. I just—I might have some daddy issues I’m trying to work through, and now this… Rejection always gets me.” She pats her chest, right over her heart. “But from him, it’s so much worse.”
I step back. “That makes sense. But it sounds to me like Justin is the one doing the rejecting. That Destiny told him to push you away, not that your dad did.”
