Damn Wright (The Wrights 2)

He cut a look at Gypsy. His expression must have been harsher than he realized, because her smile vanished.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s not you.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “Give me a few days to acclimate. I just came from a place where bullets were flying literally everywhere, and all kinds of people were taking all kinds of bullets they didn’t deserve.”

“I’m so glad you’re home.” She refocused on the road. “I meant that Miranda and I have had long talks about Mom and what happened with us. There’s a lot about her childhood we never knew, but we’ve really worked through most of the mess. I don’t think you’re going to have any trouble reconnecting with her. She’s so mature and so damn together. I want to be Miranda when I grow up.” She shook her head and sighed. “And her fiancé, Jack, has been so good for her. He’s softened all her rough edges. This was a good time to come home.”

“I’m glad you came here and patched things up with Miranda. I hated the idea of you staying behind when your dad moved to Switzerland with his family.”

“And I’ve always hated knowing you were alone after your dad died. Hated not being able to reach you. I worried, Dylan. I worried about you every minute between the times you sent postcards. That’s a pretty miserable way to live.”

He stared at her, processing those words. In Dylan’s world, no one worried about him but Amir. Dylan chose to go to war zones. His employers salivated every time he reported from the front lines. The greater the danger, the greater the story. Dylan spent his time risking his life to tell the story of another’s. His whole career had been designed around getting the real story out to the world in hopes of making whatever small difference the truth could make. He’d assumed Gypsy had her hands full with college. Knew that Emma had to hate his guts. He’d never stopped to think that anyone worried about him.

“I’m sorry,” he told her. “I’ll do better.”

She gave him one of her megawatt smiles. “That’s all I can ask.”

Cooper whined, and Gypsy glanced back at him. “Someone’s tired.”

Dylan turned in his seat and reached back to pat the baby’s belly. “You and me both, kid.”

“He looks a lot like you in baby pictures,” Gypsy said. “Mom may not have followed through on much, but it seems her genes have.”

The baby quieted, and Dylan faced front again. A large, well-lit building caught his attention. His gaze zeroed in on the blue square with an H in the center, then darted in search of the name. “What hospital—”

“Cumberland Memorial,” Gypsy answered before he finished. Her gaze turned quizzical. “I assume you already know that’s where Emma works.”

His insides took a full quarter twist. So close. She was so close. The idea of seeing her again made his breath catch. He couldn’t stop looking at the hospital until Gypsy took a turn and the building disappeared.

“She stops by the bar once in a while.”

Dylan’s attention laser focused on Gypsy. “She does?” His heart dipped a little. “With her fiancé?”

“Fiancé?” One of Gypsy’s dark brows winged upward. “I’ve never seen a ring on her finger. How do you know she has a fiancé?”

He didn’t know how Gypsy could have missed a ring like the one Parnell had given Emma. Liam Parnell was a doctor. A surgeon. Everything Dylan had wanted for Emma when he’d pushed her away.

“Sometimes she meets a girlfriend, like she did a few nights ago,” Gypsy said. “But she usually stops by alone. Has one drink and reads at a corner table. Always leaves before the concert crush. Sometimes I catch her watching me. It’s…interesting. We do look alike, you know, you and me.”

Hope sparked in his heart. A sensation so foreign, he almost didn’t recognize it.

“But she introduced herself as an old friend of yours,” Gypsy said, “not your wife. Or should I say ex-wife?”

“Ex—” He couldn’t get out the “wife” that should accompany that ex. He’d taken her last note out of his wallet and read it over and over during the flight.

I never thought I’d be writing this letter. I believed with all my heart we’d be together forever. But when the going got tough, you dropped out. I’ve given you two previous chances to own your decision and sign divorce papers, but you couldn’t even do that.

Our life together has been over for years, and it’s time for me to move on. If I don’t receive these papers back within two months, I’ll go through with the divorce without them, as allowed by Tennessee law.

I wish you well. Stay safe.

Emma.

He’d read it so many times over the years, he’d memorized it. He hated the words, but loved the sight of her handwriting. Even after all this time, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to throw the note away.

He hadn’t been able to return the papers either. He’d tried. He really had. He’d automatically destroyed the first set. Had started to sign the second set, but only managed to get his first name down. Had actually fully signed the thir

d set and carried them with him, intending to mail them back, but ultimately burned them over a sink in a hotel room.