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Suspicion tumbled through his mind, an ember rolling away from cheerful fire. Was this her diplomatic way of letting him down easy? The shards in his throat made his voice thick. “Babe, I’ve been falling ever since they pulled you out of the cistern. If you don’t catch me, I’ll splatter.”
Vi’s weary half-smile severed any newfound optimism about their future. What he feared had come to pass. His marred physical appearance disgusted her.
Adding to his consternation, she brushed a kiss on his forehead and left.
It felt like goodbye.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
At the lake, an agitated screeching noise split the air. Vi held her hands to her forehead, peering at the boardwalk. Children on the bridge? Too far away to judge size or age. Cyrus looked at her, ears pricked. He barked, then loped ahead, looking back, as if to ask, Are you coming? Clambering off the picnic table, she followed the dog. On the bridge, kids were throwing rocks into the water. They’d scream, pointing at the muddy bank, then scamper off and return, throwing more rocks. Vi stumped along as fast as the walking boot would allow. Harry’s honk had become a noise of distress instead of his usual cadence.
Cyrus’s bark brimmed with menace, and the children dashed into the scrub brush.
When Vi reached the boardwalk, her eyes scanned the area. On the bank, Harry frantically beat his feathers, but a large rock had pinned one webbed foot to the ground. Amid Cyrus’s frenzied barking, she picked her way through mud patches down to the bank.
“I’m here to help, Harry.” Vi’s best soothing voice did little to assuage the hysterical bird. He flapped his wings and arched his long neck, attempting to dislodge his foot.
Glancing around for a stout stick to leverage the stone, Vi found nothing. If she could free him, a peck or two would be worth it. Cautiously, she closed the distance and tried to reposition the rock, but it was too heavy. Harry struggled harder.
“Cyrus, hush!” The dog’s commiseration with the goose made a huge racket. She fought to think clearly. Lord, I can’t move it by myself.
Her fingers curled under the rock, then her hands, and she lifted. Miraculously, the exposed space was enough for Harry to slide his foot out. The goose stumbled and dragged his orange foot to the water’s edge. He honked and swam toward the middle of the lake, not looking back.
Vi grabbed clumps of weeds and pulled her way back to the path. As soon as she freed the goose, Cyrus stopped barking. He sat on his haunches, eyes the color of maple syrup, and watched her. All her ruminations clicked into a sad, dreary place.
Since the massage, thoughts of Rory had consumed her. Images of her fingers kneading the thick scar tissue covering his legs. Her palms palpating softness back into the nub. Her hands plying the tension out of his muscular shoulders. She’d wanted to do it forever. And now, through massage, at long last, she’d grasped Rory’s character—the person who hid behind an easy grin and flirty behavior. A living, breathing champion. Brave. Determined.
And so unbearably gentle, Vi had lost her heart.
She now understood many things. Rory didn’t need her. Not one whit. By his own admission, he was slow to figure out peoples’ true natures. When he eventually realized her wretched state, he would swim away, taking those beautiful scars with him. She’d always have the gift of having helped him, but her newly awakened love wouldn’t matter at all.
Resigned, she rose and called Cyrus. With the kids around, she didn’t want him wandering. They were trespassing, but she needed to keep the dog contained. He would scare them, and they’d already shown a mean streak. This latest prank might have turned deadly if she’d not been here. Tavo should know about this.
The squatters were becoming more and more of a problem.
Rory sipped his coffee as he waited for his weekly meeting with Dad. A gray tinge pressed through Dad’s ruddy complexion as he paced behind his office desk, talking on the phone. Yet he seemed his persistent self. He told the person on the other end to get back with him ASAP. Pressing a button on his phone, he grimaced.
“What’s got you riled, Dad?”
The older man stamped around the desk. “My contractor needs to do things on my timeline, not his.” He poured himself a cup of brew from the carafe.
Rory squinted, slightly mystified. “You’re talking about Howell? He’s good about timelines, isn’t he?”
“No, you’d think it’s his first rodeo.” The older man threw his hands in the air. “Can’t find our agenda. Okay if we wing it?”
“We don’t do a written agenda.” A faint alarm sounded in Rory’s spirit.
“Well, must be why I can’t find one.” Bafflement streaked across Dad’s ashy complexion.
They discussed the subdivision, then Rory shared how he and Jesse wanted to expand Peeps with the tract Dad had recently brokered the deal on. All subject to change at this early stage, but Dad seemed slow to make connections. Rory shook off the dismaying thought.
Despite lingering confusion, Dad pressed on. “As for new business, I’ve started negotiations on the second, larger tract of land you and Jess want for the gym. The realtor is working on the preliminaries for an offer. You guys ready to ante up again?”
They had talked of expansion since day one of their gym ownership. For weeks, Jesse had Brenna crunch the numbers for every scenario. Now on the verge of fruition, Rory felt a strange detachment from their dream. “Keep me informed, Dad. We’re all in.”
Rory gulped the last of his coffee and rose. “Gotta run, Dad. Need to sit in on powerlifting practice.” As they walked to the door, Rory hugged him, surprised when the older man took his time disengaging.
His father’s red-rimmed eyes swam with emotion. “Son, you got one of your mom’s endearing qualities. She gave the best hugs in the world. You’re a close second.” He made shooing motions toward the door. “Out. The world waits for no man.”
