Chasing Carly (Holiday Cove 3)

“Sounds good. Thanks again, man.”

He tipped his chin and I slid out of the Jeep and headed to my truck.

Inside the cab, I let out a long sigh and laid my head back, staring at the roof for a long moment before starting the engine and heading home to an empty house.

26

Carly

* * *

“You need any help packing?”

Alesha looked up from her place on the floor of her room. She had her suitcases open and what looked like half of her expansive wardrobe packed away already. She’d barely wore any of her designer duds after the first few days and I couldn’t figure out why they were scattered in piles on the bed and the floor around her. She’d started packing right after dinner, but it didn’t look like she’d made much progress from the last time I’d checked on her.

“I’m good. Thanks,” she answered, her tone deflated.

I sighed and stepped into the room. “Girl, cheer up. I hate that you’re so sad all the time. You’re going home, it’s not like Dad’s shipping you off to the circus or something.”

“The circus sounds like more fun,” she grumbled.

“I doubt that.” I smiled and took a seat in the overstuffed chair on the opposite side of the room. “You’re only a couple of hours away. So when Dad really starts to drive you batty, I can fly out and see you and the baby. We’ll go shopping or something.”

Alesha smiled. “I’d like that.”

I was reminded how long it had been since my last visit to Phoenix. Over the last few years, I’d only been out for holidays, like Thanksgiving and Christmas. I always told myself it was because I had to take care of the business, but it was actually just an excuse. The handful of times I’d visited home, Dad and Kelli had been too busy to spend much time with me, and Alesha had a full life with her friends and school activities. It served as a reminder of how different things were, now that we all had our own lives. The growing distance between all of us.

“Well you’ll hardly be able to get rid of me then,” I said, hoping to offer her some comfort.

She leaned back against the bed and smoothed a hand over her barely there baby bump. “If you can ever get away from The Siren,” she said, not meeting my eyes.

“I’ll find a way.” I pulled my legs up into the chair and tucked them underneath me. “Nick thinks I should hire someone to help me.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me. Are you going to listen to him?” Alesha asked, her brows furrowed.

“You say that like I never take anyone’s advice!”

She gave me a pointed look. “Well…”

“I’m thinking about it. Okay?” I wasn’t in the mood to continue the debate Nick had started.

“I hope you do, Carly. I don’t see how you’re going to be able to visit if you don’t and I’m going to need you.”

Her words were like a punch in the gut. It was a simple enough sentiment, but coming from Alesha, it meant a lot more. “I will, Leash. I’ll find someone to help me.”

She nodded and dropped her hands to her lap and wrung her fingers. “Dad will be here tomorrow.”

“And Kelli.”

Alesha wrinkled her nose. “I’m sure she’ll be delighted to see me.”

“It’ll be fine.” I pushed out of the chair. “Come on. Let’s go out and get some ice cream or something. You have all weekend to pack.”

Alesha smiled and offered me her hands. I helped her up from the floor and led the way downstairs. We drove over to the ice cream parlor in the next town and after getting two scoops of rocky road—our childhood favorite—we went outside and took them down to the beach. The sun was starting to set so we stuck to the boardwalk and didn’t go down to the sand.

“Have you heard from Brian?” I asked, my tone gentle. I knew it was a delicate subject.

Alesha nodded. “He called me last night.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, mostly wanted to know how I’m feeling.”

“Well that’s nice. A start…at least.”

Alesha nodded. “He apologized for saying that he didn’t want to have anything to do with the baby and me. I don’t know what’ll happen.”

“Do you love him?”

“I thought I did. Yeah.”

“What’s he like? You haven’t really told me much about him. Do you have a picture?”

Alesha nodded and pulled her phone from her back pocket. With a couple of flicks, she pulled up a picture and handed the phone to me. The guy in the picture looked closer to twenty-five, like an overgrown version of the stereotypical high school hunk cast in teeny bopper movies. Handsome, with a chiseled jaw, tousled sandy brown hair, and a perfect, just had the braces taken off smile.

“He’s cute,” I said, handing it back to her. “Your baby will be ridiculously cute.”