I’m reenlisting tomorrow.
Good-bye
Dani
He screwed the letter up and threw it against the wall.
Chapter Eighteen
The anger had drained away by the time she reached Jess’s apartment.
Jess opened the door, took one look at her face, and said nothing, just dosed her with enough whiskey to knock out an elephant and tucked her up in bed. No doubt, her best friend was feeling guilty about her part in tonight’s fiasco, but Dani felt too wrung out to even consider recriminations.
She spent the night wondering if Zach was hurting, interspersed with flashbacks of that moment when she’d realized he’d been shot. At one point, she leaped out of bed, raced for the bathroom, and threw up the whiskey. Then she huddled under the blankets, shivering and missing Zach’s arms around her. They hadn’t spent a night apart since Scotland.
Zach loved her. And she loved him. So much it hurt—even when she didn’t think he was dying.
What the hell did she do now?
She’d never thought of herself as a coward, but fear was paralyzing her, freezing her brain. And she hated that.
Love had never worked out for her. She’d thought it was something lacking in her personality. Now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe all those years ago, she’d been too young, and too damaged, to see things clearly.
Maybe it was time to face her demons.
She rose at first light, dressed, grabbed her case, and left the apartment before Jess was even awake.
By the time the train pulled into town, she was still undecided whether to phone first or to go straight to the house. In the end, she decided to head on over there. She could always call at the last minute if she lost her nerve.
Her dad was an accountant and the area she found herself in was affluent, solid middle class. That had been part of the trouble; Dani had come from a troubled background and hadn’t really fit in with their ordered existence. She’d tried hard, though, and would have succeeded eventually, if tragedy hadn’t struck and all their worlds fallen apart.
She’d dressed carefully. She didn’t really possess anything fancy except for her dress uniform, but she wore the dark pants suit she’d bought when she’d taken on the bodyguard job—standard wear Jess had told her for more formal occasions—and teamed it with a plain white shirt.
She pushed open the gate and stepped into the garden—her dad had always loved gardening, but had let theirs go to ruin after…
Just do it.
Without giving herself any more time to think, she raised her hand and rang the bell, then instinctively took a step back, her gaze searching for somewhere to hide.
Oh God, she didn’t want to do this.
Why the hell was she here?
The door opened and a strange woman stood there. Around her middle forties, still attractive, with warm blue eyes and honey blond hair, loose around her shoulders.
“Yes?”
Dani took a deep breath. “Is Mathew Sinclair here, please?”
A small frown formed between her brows. “And you are?”
Another deep breath. “I’m Dani. I’m…” What the hell did she say? Because she hadn’t felt like his daughter in a long, long time.
“You’re his daughter.” The woman took a step toward her, one hand lifting to press against her chest. “Danielle?”
So she was at the right place. This woman obviously knew who she was.
“I’m Matt’s wife. We married three years ago.” She shook her head. “You must come in. Matt’s… He’s going to be…”
Thrilled? Annoyed? Upset that I’ve come back, no doubt reminding him of a part of his life best forgotten?
“You know who I am?” she asked.
“Of course. Matt doesn’t talk about you much—guilt, I think—but there are photos and your hair hasn’t changed.” She stepped to the side and gestured for Dani to enter. “Give me a second, and I’ll go warn him.”
Dani stood staring around her. There were photos on the wall of children, but they looked too old to be her father’s. The place was bright, charming, and spotlessly clean. She’d tried her best to make a home for him after her mom left, but she’d done a poor job and he hadn’t really noticed anyway.
She chewed on her fingernails. It was probably only two minutes before the door opened, but it felt like much longer.
“Dani?”
He looked the same. Blond and blue eyed, like Sam had been. They’d so obviously been father and son. She’d been the misfit. But he seemed like a stranger. She didn’t know what she’d expected, some sense of recognition perhaps. Instead, he stood awkwardly as though he wasn’t sure what to do.
“Beth is making coffee,” he said. “Or do you prefer tea?”