One of the boards on the back porch creaked. My heart just about jumped out of my chest and my mouth went dry. I flattened back against the refrigerator and reached for the cooking pot that was always sitting on the stove top. I wrapped my fingers around the wooden handle, my knuckles just about white as I listened to the whisper-soft footsteps moving toward the door.
“Destiny?” Trae said softly.
I blew out a breath, twin surges of relief and anger flying through me. Anger won. “What the hell are you doing here? You promised to leave.”
He stepped into the room somewhat cautiously. He glanced at the pot still clenched in my hand, and amusement briefly touched his lips. “I did leave.”
“But you weren’t supposed to come back. You were supposed to be returning the ring to your father so you could find your sister.” I slammed the pot back on the stove. “You know, the one that’s in trouble? Remember?”
Annoyance flared in his eyes. “Of course I remember.”
“So why are you standing here instead?”
“Damn it, how can I leave when Egan is dead, and you came so close to death?” His voice rose slightly, anger, frustration, and worry all evident in the rich depths. “Those bastards are still out there, and they still have a means of tracking you. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. I couldn’t live without you.”
Warmth flared through my heart, through my soul, and my feet wanted to do a happy little dance, even though I knew that this was wrong, that he should be more worried about his sister than me. She was family. I wasn’t. Not yet.
“But what if something happens to your sister when you’re here helping me? Could you live with that?”
“No.” He thrust a hand through his hair, and blew out a breath. “I rang my mother and asked her what she was feeling about Mercy. She still feels she’s in trouble, but it’s not life or death type trouble. I’m trusting her instinct. It’s all I can do.”
“But—”
“No,” he said forcefully. “This is my decision, my right, my choice. If something does happen, I’ll deal with it. But I can’t leave you to handle this situation alone. I won’t.”
I studied him for a moment, then stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him close. Listening to his breathing, feeling the rapid beating of his heart.
He sighed and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer still as his lips brushed the top of my head.
“If something happens to her, then I’m going to have to live with it, too,” I said softly, my words getting lost against the wool of his sweater.
“If something does happen, it will not be your fault, just as Egan’s death was not your fault. You cannot take the blame for other people’s decisions, Des. That’s not fair to them.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t agree, and no amount of words would ever take away the guilt that lingered deep inside, but there was no point in going on about it. It was just something we were never going to agree on.
And I just hoped that his sister’s trouble wasn’t anything too big or life-threatening.
“Where’s your dad?” he said, after a while.
I pulled away from the warmth of his arms. “Not here. He hasn’t been here for a few weeks, by the look of it.”
I walked past him into the dust-covered living room and then up the stairs that led to the bedrooms. Dad’s was the closest to the landing, mine up at the far end. A bathroom and a study separated the two rooms, and a quick glance inside the study revealed the usual array of books and papers surrounding Dad’s computer. He might have lost one of his arms, but he’d never lost his love for reading and writing. As I looked at all the piles of paper scattered about, I wondered if he’d achieved his dream of being published in the eleven years I’d been gone. I hoped so. It just wouldn’t be fair to have all his dreams amount to nothing.
Tears stung my eyes again, but I blinked them back. Find him first, I thought. Cry later. Trae briefly touched my shoulder, but it was a touch so light it would have been easy to believe I was imagining it. Except for the fact that warmth spread like wildfire through my body, filling me with strength and momentarily washing away the sadness.
“We’ll find him,” he said softly.
“I know.” I pushed Dad’s bedroom door open. The bed was unmade, the patchwork comforter I’d made for his eightieth birthday trailing on the floor. A dragon’s life span was usually at least double that of a human, but we’d both known the diabetes would snatch him from this world well before he ever reached those sort of illustrious years. But I’d always expected him to at least hit a hundred and ten.
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My eyes went to the bedside table. The phone was on the hook, but the address book was open. I walked across. Doc Macy’s number stood out starkly on the page. I picked up the phone and dialed.
“Lubec Medical Center. How may I help you?”
My mouth suddenly felt dry again, and I had to swallow before I could speak. “I’d like to speak to Doc Macy, please.”
“One moment, please.”