At the bottom of the stairs, now confused, hurt, disillusioned, and still scared, she paused near Zane.
“Did you get it?” he asked.
“Yeah. What’s wrong at home?”
“My dad. Somewhere between the time I picked him up from Harlan’s and put him back to bed so he could sleep until Gram got there to do their regular morning routine, Dad figured out how to get past the locks and went on a walkabout—right into the construction zone three blocks away.”
For God’s sake. Avery was about to blow a gasket. “Is he okay? What happened?”
“Luckily—I don’t know how, but luckily—he came out of it with minor injuries. He’s at the ER waiting on X-rays and stitches, and Gram has a really important echocardiogram she needs to get to, so she can’t stay with him. After all you’ve already been through with our family, I hate to ask, but I’m in a real bind.”
“What do you need?”
“Would you mind going to the ER and sitting with him? Not only is he the biggest baby on the planet, but stress seems to make his memory worse. He’s going to need someone to hold his hand and remind him of what’s happening and why. I need to stay here and make sure everything stays kosher for Trace. Get him an attorney if he ends up needing one. But someone needs to be with Dad.”
All the tasks on her to-do list went to hell, and a terrifying sense of impending failure tightened her chest. At this stage of her business there were two priorities—quality and follow-through. If either of those faltered, she’d lose current customers and damage the possibility of potential customers. And when she’d spent every penny she had and was counting every dollar she earned, every customer’s opinion of her business was vital.
“Of course. Can you have Pearl come relieve me after her appointment? I’ve got a full day on my plate.”
“Absolutely.” Zane squeezed her shoulder. “Thank you so much.”
She glanced at the café, and a million nerve endings sizzled. “Would you mind getting my keys? They’re under the counter on a shelf in the kitchen. And my boots would be nice. If I go in there again, I might claw Austin’s eyes out.”
Zane broke into a grin, nodded, and headed inside.
Now, standing alone in the parking lot, barefoot, commando, and watching cops swarm her café, powerless to help Trace, her guts churned with stress and fear. And made Avery realize just how much of her heart was wrapped up in there—in both the business and the man.
A man who evidently hadn’t wanted to be pinned down as her lover. All his talk about being willing to keep their affair secret the night before to benefit her now looked more like a twisted way of pushing it under the rug for him.
Which begged the questi
on: Why was she settling for someone who didn’t want her?
Again.
Trace might have been sitting in the café, but he may as well have been back in prison. That’s where he was headed. He had no doubts. Between all these prowling cops and JT’s accusations, drugs would show up somewhere. Drugs that would put Trace back in prison.
Pearl and Zane would have to juggle responsibility for Dad until Medicare came through. If Medicare came through. And another disruption in his dad’s life would only make the dementia worse.
Trace kept focusing on those issues because he couldn’t face the repercussions of how this would affect Avery. Of how it would taint everything she’d worked so hard to achieve.
Trace curled his fingers into fists and pressed them against eyes burning with tears. Tears of fury, self-hate, regret . . .
“All right, Mr. Hutton.” Deputy Potter’s voice crawled down Trace’s spine. A numb barrier of protection expanded in his gut, preparing to be sucked into the prison system again. And this time, as a second offender, who knew for how long? He certainly couldn’t afford a decent lawyer. “You’re free to go. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
Free to go?
Trace didn’t respond. He didn’t even understand.
“If you’ve touched something in here,” Potter called to no one in particular, “it had better be exactly, and I mean exactly, where you found it. The Harts are family friends, and my wife is especially fond of Avery, so unless you want every one of your mamas hearing from Alice, you’d best all double-check your work. Now wrap it up and hit the streets.”
Trace floated in a cautious state of disbelief, but within five minutes, the last of the deputies filed out the door, including Austin, and all the cruisers vanished from the parking lot. All but one.
Trace pushed to his feet, went to the stairs, and called a hopeful, “Avery?”
“She’s not here.”
He turned to his brother’s voice, feeling shaky and uncertain. “Where is she? And what the fuck just happened here? You know as well as I do that I should be in handcuffs right now.”