Stef Ann Holm by Lucy Back (books to read in your 30s TXT) 📗

an answer and replied with the truth. “Sure.” A little lingering tie to her was not quite severed, and he still wanted her in his life. She knew things about him that he’d never told anyone else, and he knew she’d keep his confidences, even in a breakup. Jacquie did have integrity, and if she gave him her word, she meant it.

Her gaze locked onto his, dark skepticism filtering through the brown depths of her eyes. “Do you really want to remain friends or are you just saying that?”

“I really do, Jacquie. We had some good times.”

“Okay. I appreciate it.” Her shoulders trembled and she was having a hard time keeping herself together.

“No problem.”

She sniffed. “Is there anything else you want to say?”

He had lots to say. But none of it mattered. “No.”

“Well…all right then.”

Without another word, he got up and left the house. Jacquie didn’t come after him. He sucked in deep gulps of air, blinked in the bright rays of sunshine and tried to remember if he’d left his sunglasses in the Hummer.

He was barely out the front door when his cell rang again. Only this time he didn’t bother to answer it.

Drew Tolman didn’t feel like talking to anyone.

Journal of Mackenzie Taylor

I shouldn’t have called him.

Ten

Drew swore.

He hit Redial for the number that showed up on his missed call list, waited for someone to pick up. Lynette answered.

“Did you call me earlier today?” he asked, knowing in his gut before he asked that she hadn’t. Lynette always left him a message.

“No, Drew. I didn’t.”

He ran a hand through his hair, then rested his wrist on the steering wheel. He’d taken a drive to Burnt Mountain after leaving Jacquie’s. That had been three hours ago. Now that he had call service again, being closer to Timberline, his phone had beeped to remind him he’d missed a call. As soon as he’d checked the ID log, he was pushing Redial.

“Mackenzie called me,” Drew said, exhaling the tight breath in his chest. “Is she there?”

“Yes, Drew. She’s out back with some friends.”

“Get her for me, Lynette. She phoned.”

Lynette’s sigh was wispy. “Well, for heaven’s sake. Yes, I’ll get her. Hold on.” The receiver was plunked down and Drew waited.

A tense silence enveloped the inside of the Hummer, the big motor idling softly.

For a moment, he thought Mackenzie wouldn’t talk to him. But then a girl’s voice carried over the line. “Hello?”

“Mackenzie, it’s Drew.”

“I know. Aunt Lynette said.”

Drew’s pulse quickened into sharp beats. He hadn’t spoken to her in four months, had been waiting for the day she would call. Now that he had her attention, he found reason draining from his thought process. He had too much to say, and felt unable to round it up into something coherent.

Seventeen years was a long time for a girl not to have her real dad in her life. Drew couldn’t say the wrong things and mess up their relationship further.

A crazy mixture of hope and fear collided in his chest.

When he’d brought her to the February spring training game, she’d hardly said anything to him, so he’d taken her lead and hadn’t pushed. But now he felt like maybe she was ready to give them a chance—that maybe that was why she’d called. Only he didn’t know how to talk to her, what to say without making her retreat.

Sitting stiffly, Drew forced himself to speak slowly. “How did your graduation go, sugar?” The Southern endearment slipped out and sluiced across his tongue like honey. He instantly regretted his use of it on his daughter. He’d spoken the word casually for years. He sensed Mackenzie knew where it came from.

“Good.” The monosyllable word hovered.

“I wish I could have been there.” But he and Lynette had talked about it and decided Mackenzie wouldn’t have wanted him to come. He hadn’t wanted to ruin that milestone for her. He’d done enough damage already.

Mackenzie needed time to get used to his acceptance of her, even though it had been two years since he’d apologized to her and to Caroline. He hadn’t gone into details as to why he’d behaved the way he had so many years ago. Once he gained her trust, he could tell her what had happened.

The scars of truth ran deep, were thick. Drew never discussed it with anyone. Only Jacquie.

The line was quiet. He could hear his daughter’s soft breathing, almost smell the way her skin was perfumed with that fruity spray she wore. He’d never once given her a hug. Never told her to her face that he loved her. She wouldn’t believe him if he did, and if he touched her, she’d bolt. Not even at Caroline’s funeral had he come close enough to make her feel threatened. He’d waited. He would bide his time.

“I called…” she said, stopping herself as if to lick her lips or to think about what she wanted to say “…to thank you for the diary.”

Relief hit Drew, warming his muscles, relaxing him. He’d guessed right. He knew Caroline wrote stuff down and he took a chance that Mackenzie would be like her mother.

“You’re welcome.”

“My old one was getting full.”

Damn him, but he needed the reassurances, no matter how nonpersonal, so he asked, “So you like the new one?”

“I do.”

But once more, a cold static carried from Florida to Idaho. The only sounds were the soft rasps of breathing.

Drew couldn’t stand it. He had a resolve of steel, but when it came to Mackenzie, he wanted nothing more than to have the chance of being her father. “Mackenzie, have you thought any more about coming to stay with me for the summer?”

He tensed. Waited. Long minutes.

“I don’t know.”

It was the first time she hadn’t flat out said hell no. Drew went on quickly. “You’d have your own room and I’d show you around town. There’s lots to do. We could go out on my boat and I have four-wheelers at my cabin. You’d like it.”

Silence. Then she murmured, “I don’t know.”

Disappointment