Jim pointed his finger. “See? That type of protectiveness is growing. Do you know how many times you looked at each other during dinner? My daughter is glowing, yet she just broke up with her fiancé. She’s seeing you in a new light, and I can’t let that happen.”
Shame filled him. Was he so bad that her father hated the idea of him being in her life? Inside, a dangerous battle raged, but he swallowed the emotions back and kept his face impassive. “Is it the piercings? The tat? What has you so worried?”
Jim shook his head. “Of course I don’t like them, but that’s not it. You see, Wolfe, you’re just like me. One man recognizes the other. And I can’t allow Gen to fall in love with someone who’s eventually going to destroy her.”
Wolfe jerked back. He respected Jim MacKenzie. He’d failed his family, followed the lure of alcohol, but managed to battle through and help others. Managed to heal his family. “I don’t understand. You’re a good husband. Father. You made amends for your mistakes.”
Jim’s eyes burned with purpose. “I’m an alcoholic. I grew up with demons chasing my every step. I thought Maria could save me, and she did for a while, but they found me and dragged me into the pit. I destroyed everything good. My wife. My kids. I brought pain and heartache, and I always knew it was there, waiting on the edges for the time when I was weak. Yes, I finally won. I got counseling, went to AA, dedicated my life to helping others and making sure my family never suffered again. I got lucky. They forgave me. But I look at you, and I see the same demons in your eyes. You run, you fight, but they’ll get you, and you’ll take Genevieve with you. I won’t allow that. Not again. She’s been through too much, and she deserves a good life. A career in medicine, and not a partner who’s damaged.”
The words floated, fell, and buried deep into his soul. Like a cigarette burn, it seared, then became dull. Lifeless. But Wolfe knew there would be a scar forever. Damaged. Jim knew it whenever he looked at him. As if he knew what happened on that night so long ago.
The years spent building himself back up and surrounding himself with the support of Sawyer and Julietta blew away in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly he was back where he had started. Penniless, empty, living on the streets with nothing. Wanting to die but being sentenced to live.
Her father was right.
Gen deserved more.
Amazingly, his voice sounded steady. “You’re right, of course. And I understand.”
Jim looked startled, peering at him with suspicion. He studied him for a long time before slowly nodding.
The door opened.
Izzy and Gen came out, arms linked. “What are you guys doing out here?” Gen asked.
Jim laughed. “Just guy talk. Is dessert ready?”
“Almost.” Gen smiled at him, her eyes lit with a hidden joy from being with her sister. It was also part of her nature. She was light, happiness, life. She was . . . everything.
He forced himself to smile back. “Sounds good. The mosquitoes are biting tonight. I’ll meet you inside.”
He turned and went inside, knowing once again everything had changed.
Twenty-five
I’M GOING TO Italy. I’ll be gone for a while.”
Gen studied his profile. Something had happened. His usual ease and humor was gone. In its place was a stiff, reserved man who spoke to her politely, smiled in the right places, and was completely numb.
“Oh. To see Sawyer and Julietta?”
“Yes. He wants me to come out for a while. I forgot to tell you about it. I’ll be leaving in a day or two.”
She backtracked and tried to keep up. Why did he sound funny? As if he was reciting a speech? Gen flipped through the past twenty-four hours. Nope, the sex had been amazing. The drive and dinner at her parents’ tonight were fine. He’d joked, relaxed, and treated her normally. Then she’d found him on the deck with her father and—
Her father.
Yes. During dessert he refused to participate in conversation. Acted like a robot. Something had transpired between them and it wasn’t good. Uneasiness skittered through her. She was going to murder her father for getting involved.
Gen kept calm. “Sounds wonderful. I know you’ve missed them.”
“Yes.”
“What did you and my father talk about?”
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel in a death grip. Bingo.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
His brows snapped together. They pulled into Verily and crawled down Main Street. “It was nothing. Football.”
“He doesn’t talk about football.”
“Baseball, then. The Mets, of course.”
“It was bad, wasn’t it?”
He didn’t answer. She dragged in a breath and got ready to dig her heels in and attack the problem head-on.
Until she saw her house.
Wolfe eased to the curb. The bright yellow bungalow with white shutters suddenly seemed menacing and evil. In bloodred spray paint, the word whore was scrawled across the front of the house.
Wolfe cut the engine and muttered a curse. He flew out of the car, immediately scanning the scene for lingering intruders. She climbed out, mouth gaping at the dirty, hateful word destroying her safe haven. Why? Why would someone do this?
David.
He’d brought her stuff back. Was leaving the hospital. Or so he said. Was this just another angle to control and break her mentally?
“Stay here. I’m gonna check the house.”
She watched him walk around the property and disappear inside. After a while he came back out, flipping open his phone and hitting three numbers. “I don’t see anyone around. I’m calling the police. It’s going to be all right.”