Chasing River (Burying Water #3)(101)

Whatever I’m imagining his opinion of me is, in reality, it’s probably worse.

He walks over to open the refrigerator, his fingers strumming against the door as he surveys its contents. “How’s the leg?”

“Sore, but I’ll be fine.”

He nods, pulling out some sliced ham and bread. “Amber mentioned your brother being in pretty bad shape.”

“He’ll pull through. He’s strong.”

“And your other brother?” There’s no missing the contempt in his voice. The “other brother” who nearly killed his daughter.

“He’ll have plenty of time to heal in prison.”

“I gathered that.”

I watch Gabe as he quietly fixes himself a sandwich, until I have to assume the conversation is over. “Have a good night.”

His gruff voice stops my feet. “You know . . . my stomach was in knots the entire flight over. I didn’t sleep at all, not since Alex woke me up yesterday to tell me that Amber was in trouble.” He frowns. “Or was it the day before yesterday . . .? Anyway, as exhausted as I was, I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow tonight. But my mind didn’t stop spinning. I saw Amber in handcuffs, in prison . . . lying in the debris at that bar of yours . . . all these horrible, awful things that could have happened to my daughter while she was here. With you.”

I hold my breath, preparing myself for the condemnation. The “stay the hell away from Amber or I’ll kill you” warning. I wonder if he’ll give it to me straight up or veil it somehow, to sound more civilized.

“A week ago, when she ran through that park, she would have been hurt, or worse. Not could have. Would have, had it not been for you. I think my brain finally picked up on that critical part because suddenly I woke up.” He stares out the kitchen window, simply holding the sandwich in one hand, not eating it. “Thank you. For what you did that day. I’ll always owe you for that.”

I nod. And then realize that he can’t hear that, so I add, “I’m just glad I was there.”

“So am I.” He takes a bite of his sandwich. “Get some rest.”

“You too.” I make a move to head back upstairs.

“And River?”

“Yeah?”

Gabe finally turns and meets my eyes. “You’ll never be good enough for my daughter.”

I don’t know if he’s saying that to discourage me or to hurt me. Or challenge me. Or maybe he’s just stating the obvious. He’s right, though, and I’m glad he sees it, because it means he’s good enough to be her father.

I smile. “But I’ll never stop trying to be.”

He pauses, something unreadable flickering across his face before it smooths over. “Good night.”

THIRTY-SIX

Amber

“You sure you don’t want to stay a few more days?” I shut River’s trunk—every time he calls it his boot, I giggle—and watch my dad sling his duffel bag over his shoulder.

“Your mother says she needs me back home.”

“Is that what you heard? Because I swear I heard something completely different. How peaceful the house is and how clean the kitchen is . . .”

“Alright, alright.” He hooks an arm around my neck and pulls me into his side. “Besides, the longer I stay here, the longer you’ll stay here.” His gaze drifts over to River, who’s standing quietly by his car in the airport drop-off lane. He drops his voice. “Don’t forget what I said, okay?”

I force my smile. Get on a plane and leave River behind. “I haven’t forgotten, believe me.”

“If it’s meant to work out, then it will.” He plants a kiss on my forehead. “Thanks for sacrificing a few days for your ol’ dad. I had fun.” Nothing about his tone suggests that’s true, but that’s just him. We spent more time together in the last four days than we have since Jesse and I were nine and we went camping for a week. Aside from the odd bickering—River can’t believe how similar the two of us sound sometimes—I found myself laughing a lot more than I usually do with him. Something’s changed between my father and me, a subtle shift in how I see him, and maybe in how he sees me. I’m guessing the last two weeks and the revelations they’ve brought has played a big role in that.

“Thanks for going easy on him.” River gave us our space, spending most of his time with Rowen and his parents, but he did venture out for a few pints.

Dad grunts in response, though I can tell he’s warmed up to River. Not to the idea of me and River, but . . .

“So, when will you be home, again? Beginning of September?”

The realistic answer to that would be “yes,” but saying it now feels like I’m promising him that I will be. And I’m not entirely sure anymore. “Go on, you’re going to miss your plane.”

He sighs. “Right.” Strolling over to River, they clasp hands. “Keep her out of any more trouble while she’s here.”

“Definitely,” River promises somberly, standing tall. “It was a pleasure to meet you.” Unless my dad finds himself back in Ireland, he’s not likely to ever see River again.

Dad presses his lips together and then nods. “Take care of yourself, and your family. Tell your mother that she makes a mean stew.”