“I called the hotel. Talked to Mateo. He checked in a couple with the last name Ward last night.”
My hands fisted. “They didn’t leave.”
“Nope.”
“Well . . . shit.”
“Pretty much,” he muttered.
Of course they’d be at The Eloise, polluting what was mine. There were a few motels in the area but none were as nice.
What were my parents doing here? Why the phone calls? Why the private investigator? They’d turned their backs on me when I’d needed them most, yet now they showed. Now? Maybe I could believe there wasn’t some ulterior motive if only Mom had visited. It had been her calling for months. But for Dad to make the trip to Montana, there was something else going on.
There’d been desperation in his voice yesterday. Urgency.
“I need to talk to them,” I grumbled.
“Give me ten to shower. Then we’ll go.”
“Wait.” I held up a hand before he could take off his shirt. “I’d better talk to them alone.”
“No.”
“Knox—”
“No, Memphis.”
I stepped closer, fitting my hands to his ribs, feeling the tension in his body beneath the long-sleeved thermal he’d pulled on this morning after rolling out of bed. “I love that you’re ready to follow me into battle. But I know my parents. I know my father. If you’re there, he won’t tell me the truth. He’ll be on the defense.”
Knox dragged in a breath, his nostrils flaring. Then his frame relaxed and he wrapped me in his arms. “I don’t like this.”
“Me neither.”
“I’m not staying here. We’ll go in together. Drake and I will hang at the restaurant.”
I nodded, burying my face in his chest, drawing from his strength. “Okay.”
He kissed my forehead, then we both flew into action, me blow-drying my hair while he showered.
He’d taken seven trips to the loft yesterday, each time under the ruse of getting something for Drake. He’d leave with my empty laundry basket and return with it overflowing.
My shampoo and conditioner were in the shower. My other toiletries were in a drawer beneath one of the double sinks. My clothes were hung in his closet. My panties, socks and bras were in the dresser. And nearly everything of Drake’s was in the guest bedroom.
In a single day, he’d practically moved us in.
We were moving at the speed of light, and even though my brain screamed for me to slow him down, my heart refused to put up a fight. Instead, I’d just helped him organize.
If we fell apart—God, I hoped we didn’t fall apart—I’d be moving into town. So what was the difference between moving out of his place or the loft?
While I changed Drake out of his pajamas and into an outfit, Knox reloaded the diaper bag. When I stepped outside, ready to head for the Volvo, Knox’s truck was running, the cab warm, and the base for Drake’s car seat was secured in the back.
The drive to town was silent. This was the first time I’d been a passenger in ages, and seeing Quincy from this angle was different. Or maybe today as we drove, I saw it for what it had become.
Home.
The town council was already gearing up for the holidays. Pine-bow garlands twined around each of the lampposts that lined Main Street. Quincy Farm and Feed had fenced off a quarter of their parking lot for Christmas trees. The movie theater featured the latest blockbuster along with Dr. Seuss’s The Grinch.
I hadn’t been to the theater yet but when Drake was older, we’d be weekend regulars. A chalkboard sign for free apple cider had been placed in the window of the Wooden Spoon. Another store I hadn’t been in yet but maybe I’d swing in and get Knox a kitchen gadget. I knew the storefronts but not their interiors. I hadn’t made exploring Quincy a priority, but that was about to change.
Since I’d left the city, I’d been telling myself not to give up. But did I need the daily reminders anymore? Maybe not.
I wasn’t giving Quincy up.
Or Knox.
“Hey.” He stretched an arm across the truck’s cab and captured my hand. “Change your mind about me coming along?”
I squared my shoulders. “No. I’ll handle them.”
“There she is.” He shot me a grin. “There’s my girl.”
Yes, I was his. And I could do this.
As we drew closer to The Eloise, I spotted the SUV my parents had been driving yesterday. My heart rate spiked as we eased into the alley behind the hotel. I swallowed my nerves and focused on getting Drake out of the truck.
“I’ll carry him,” I told Knox when he reached for the car seat’s handle. I needed the weight to keep my hands from trembling.
We walked inside and headed straight toward the front desk, where Mateo was drinking a to-go cup of coffee from Lyla’s shop.
“Hey.” Knox jerked up his chin.
“Hey.” Mateo hopped off his stool and rounded the corner of the counter, coming to stand beside his brother.
With a dusting of stubble on his jaw, Mateo looked more like Knox than ever. He had the same broad frame, but he hadn’t built up as much muscle yet.
Mateo and Knox shared a look, then he nudged my elbow with his. “How’s it going, Memphis?”
“It’s all right.”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “They’re in room 307.”
“Okay.” I set the car seat on the floor and bent to touch my son’s nose. “Be good, baby.”
The smile he gave me was all the incentive I needed to stand up to my parents. They weren’t going to take this life from us.
Knox pulled me into his side when I stood. “We’ll be here.”
“Thanks.”
He brushed a kiss to my mouth, then gave me a sure nod as I headed for the elevators. My footsteps were steady, a contrast to my racing heart, as I walked down the hallway on the third floor. I took one fortifying breath outside the room, then raised my hand to knock.
My father answered the door wearing another Italian suit. If he was surprised to see me, he didn’t let it show as he waved me inside. “Memphis.”
“Dad.”
This was one of the larger rooms, a corner room with enough space for a small table by the window. Mom was seated, her back as stiff and straight as my own. Except it wasn’t determination fueling her forward. She’d sat stiffly her entire life, on constant edge because of my father.
Her eyes dragged over my hoodie and jeans. Her lip curled, barely, but I caught it. Mom had never liked jeans. She lived her life in tailored slacks and silk blouses. Today’s were both a matching ecru. Diamonds decorated her ears.
“Sit,” Dad ordered, taking a chair of his own.
It grated on me to obey, but there’d be plenty of time to fight. I chose the seat across from his so I could hold his gaze for this conversation.
He looked exactly the same as he had months ago. Blond hair with white streaks at the temples. Hazel eyes that would have been colorful if not for their constant cold glare. Thank God we didn’t look alike. My sister and brother both resembled Dad, but I’d taken my features from Mom.
Houston and Raleigh hadn’t bothered calling, so I didn’t waste time asking about their well-being. They certainly hadn’t given a shit about mine.