“Dad.” She had to find a way to explain it all to him, why she couldn’t do this, why she couldn’t stay, how she never meant to hurt him, but she had to do this for herself. “Dad, I—”
He covered her hand with his, and when she looked up and met his gaze, his eyes were full of something she hadn’t expected.
Understanding. “It’s okay, Jade,” he said. “Whatever it is, just tell me.”
“You always said I could do whatever I wanted,” she said softly, and her voice caught. Dammit. Dammit, she was already too close to tears.
“Yes,” he said. “Whatever suited you.”
“The thing is, I never really knew what that was.”
He ran a thumb over her knuckles. “Now, see, I was under the impression you did.”
“I wanted to make you happy,” she said.
“Oh, Jade.” He closed his eyes, then opened them, a world of emotion there. “You’ve always made me happy.”
“Because I lived here and ran your medical center. I was your Jade.”
“You’re still my Jade.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m—”
“You’re also your own version of Jade. That’s new,” he said, his voice carrying a tremor, too, she realized.
Her eyes filled. “Yes. Dad, I’m not . . . I can’t . . .”
“You aren’t staying,” he said.
God. God, this was hard. “No, I’m not staying. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, honey. Don’t ever be sorry for being who you are. Most of us go our whole lives not really getting it right, just settling.” He tugged a strand of her hair. “Do you have any idea the strength it takes to not settle? To keep pushing and seeking for what works?”
It was like a huge weight lifted off her chest. She could breathe again, and when her dad was gone, Jade looked for Beans.
Who was once again beneath the bed. “We’re going back,” she told the cat, bending low to look into her eyes. “Home.”
Beans just stared at her.
“To Sunshine.”
Beans paused, just long enough to make it clear that this was Beans’s decision and no one else’s, and then she walked out from beneath the bed, head high.
They were going back. Not running from something this time. But running to . . .
An hour later, Jade was staring at her spreadsheets. She was leaving tomorrow and she’d made a list of lists to keep organized. She had a things-to-do-before-selling-the-condo list. And a buy-for-the-trip list. A who-to-call list. And she was working on a places-not-to-stop-at list, which would include that rest stop in Nebraska that never had toilet paper. Her tummy rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since . . . She couldn’t remember. She scoured the kitchen and came up with a box of graham crackers, a candy bar, and a bag of marshmallows.
S’mores supplies from two years ago when she’d had a party. She eyeballed Beans. “Dinner’s on me tonight.” She stepped onto her front porch and looked at the small little hibachi barbecue that also hadn’t been used in far too long. There was frost on it.
She went back inside and searched for something for kindling. The only thing she could come up with was her business cards. She put on a wool coat, hat and gloves, and using her business cards, built a very nice little bonfire, if she said so herself.
She figured she had maybe half an hour before someone reported her to the association and they complained. They could all take a flying leap, she was out of here in the morning.
She was putting the finishing touches on her first s’more when a car drove up. Damn, that was fast. She peeked, then went still, certain her eyes were deceiving her.
Because it was a cab, and she recognized the dark silhouette getting out of it. Dell, with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
Her mouth fell open.
It stayed open as he paid the cab and headed up the walk toward her.
His eyes tracked to hers and locked on, and she felt a surge of warmth spread through her. God, he was a sight for sore eyes in jeans and a down jacket, hair tousled, eyes tired—though they sparked at the sight of her.
She sparked, too. In her good parts, certainly, but most of all in her heart.
He’d come here.
All the way here.
Why?
He took the steps two at a time with his long legs, and then he was standing right in front of her. “Hey.”
She tilted her head back and tried for cool but couldn’t access any cool. “Hey,” she whispered.
He dropped the duffel bag and hunkered at her side. “You did say we could have the occasional weekend. Too soon?”
The lump in her throat was back, but she swallowed it and smiled, so damn happy to see him she could hardly put words together. “So you flew out here to go on a date?”