The Last Letter(20)

Checking the time on my phone and cursing, I raced down the porch steps, nearly missing the last one. I grabbed ahold of the wooden railing, my momentum sending me spinning around the base of the steps and straight into a very tall, very solid figure.

One with massive arms that not only caught me, but also saved Maisie’s binder and my phone from landing in the mud.

“Whoa.” Beckett steadied me and then stepped back.

I blinked up at him for a moment. The guy’s reflexes were insane. He’s special operations, moron.

“I’m late.” What? Why the heck had those words come out instead of thank you, or something else that could even pass as social?

“Apparently.” There was a slight turn to his lips, but I wouldn’t call it a full-out smile. More like mild amusement. He handed over the binder and my phone, and I took them in what felt like the most awkward exchange in the history of awkwardness. Then again, the guy was literally saving me when I’d just said I didn’t need saving.

“Was there something you needed?” I hugged the binder to my chest. Maybe he’d taken my words to heart and was getting out of Telluride, or at least off my property.

“I think there’s a key I’m missing. The gate to the dock?” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“I guess that means you’re not leaving.”

“Nope. Like I said, I made the promise to—”

“Ryan. I got it. Well, feel free to…” I waved my arm out toward the wilderness, like the end of the sentence would magically appear through the aspens. “Do…whatever it is you’re going to do.”

“Will do.” His mouth did that quasi-smile thing again, and there was a definite sparkle in his eyes. Not the response I was going for. “So, you’re late?”

Shit. I flipped my phone over. “Yes. I have an appointment for my daughter, and I have to go. Now.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Holy crap, he looked sincere. I was torn between bewilderment that he’d really shown up here to ask questions just like that and annoyed as hell that a stranger automatically assumed I couldn’t handle my life.

The fact that I really couldn’t definitely wasn’t on the table for consideration.

Clearly, annoyance won out.

“No. Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for this. Ask Hailey for the gate key, she’s at—”

“The front desk. No problem.”

And he’d noticed who Hailey was…perfect. That’s exactly what I needed, a lovesick receptionist who would inevitably get her heart broken when he left.

“I so don’t have time for this,” I muttered.

“So you keep saying.” Beckett stepped to the side.

Shaking my head at my own inability to stay focused, I walked past him, opened the door to my Tahoe, and tossed the binder onto the passenger seat. I started the engine, plugged my phone into the jack to charge, and then put the car into gear.

Then I slammed the brakes.

Being annoyed was one thing. Being an all-out bitch? That was quite another.

I rolled down the window as Beckett reached the front door.

“Mr. Gentry?”

He turned, and so did Havoc, who felt more like a shadow, more an extension of Beckett than a separate entity.

“Thank you…for the steps. Catching me. The binder. Phone. You know. Thanks.”

“You don’t ever have to thank me.” His lips pressed in a firm line, and with an indefinable look and a nod, he disappeared into the main house.

An emotion I couldn’t name passed through me, racing along my nerve endings. Like an electric shock, but warm. What was it? Maybe I’d simply lost the ability to define emotions when I’d turned them off a few months ago.

Whatever it was, I didn’t have time to focus on it.

Ten minutes later, I pulled up in front of the elementary school and parked in the “school bus only” lane. Sue me, the buses weren’t due for another three hours, and I needed every minute I had to get to her appointment on time.

I opened the doors to the school and scrawled my name on the clipboard at the window, signing Maisie out.

“Hey, Ella,” Jennifer, the receptionist, said as she smacked her gum. She was a little older than I was, having graduated with Ryan’s class. “Maisie’s back here; I’ll buzz you through.”

The double doors buzzed, the universal sign of acceptance for entry, and I pushed through, finding Maisie sitting on a bench in the hallway with Colt next to her and the principal, Mr. Halsen, on her other side.

“Ms. MacKenzie.” He stood, adjusting his Easter-print tie.

“Mr. Halsen.” I nodded, then turned my attention to my oldest by three minutes. “Colton, what are you doing here?”

“Going with you.” He hopped off the bench and tugged at the straps of his Colorado Avalanche backpack.

My heart crumpled a little more. Heck, the thing had been so battered over the last few months I wasn’t even sure what normal felt like anymore. “Honey, you can’t. Not today.”

Today was scan day.

His face took on the stubborn set I was all too used to. “I’m going.”

“You’re not, and I don’t have time to argue, Colt.”

The twins shared a meaningful look, one that spoke volumes in a language I could never hope to speak or even interpret.