Page 64 of Come to Me

"The resort is in our blood – my blood. It's part of who I am. And I know we can make it a success if we just put our minds to it."

"We're proud of you, honey." Lori’s eyes shone with emotion. "But your father's right – you shouldn't feel obligated to stay here. There's a whole world out there waiting for you."

Micki's heart sank as she realized the implications of her parents' words. It was almost as if they were pushing her out. "You're not...you're not thinking of selling the resort, are you?"

Her father's silence was all the answer she needed.

“No.” She rose from the table. “No, I won’t let you.”

Her parents exchanged worried glances. “We haven’t decided for sure?—”

“Good. Because if I have to, I’ll get a loan and buy it from you.” She was certain she wouldn’t qualify for a loan, but she’d try. “I’m going to clean the cabins.” She left the presentation as she exited the lodge. She sucked in deep breaths. She understood how Tate felt. So much was being taken from her. She wanted to strikeout and break something too.

Micki avoided her family, distracting herself with work. She was more determined than ever to make the resort work.

But at night, lying in her bed, she felt lonely. She desperately wanted to talk to Patrick. He’d know what to say to help her navigate her feelings. He’d offer support and maybe more great ideas. But she couldn’t call him with her problems when his father was in the hospital.

How was he? Her heart went out to him at having to deal with a sick parent, but also start a life in a job he didn’t want. She wanted to support him as much as she wanted support from him.

She picked up her phone from the nightstand, staring down at the glowing screen, her fingers trembling slightly as she composed a text message. She should resist the urge to reach out to Patrick, knowing that putting distance between them was the wisest course of action. But as the hours…the days… ticked by, the need to know he was alright had become too strong to ignore.

Her thumb hovered over the "send" button, a mix of hope and dread swirling within her. What if he didn't respond? What if he did, and the conversation only served to remind her of what she couldn't have? Steeling herself, Micki took a deep breath and pressed the button, sending the message into the ether.

Just thinking about you and hoping you’re okay.

The seconds felt like an eternity as Micki waited, her heart pounding in her ears. When the familiar chime of an incoming message finally sounded, she nearly jumped, her fingers fumbling to unlock the screen.

I’m okay, all things considered. Thanks for checking in.

She studied the text, trying to decipher the tone. Was it brief because he didn’t want to talk to her? Was he in the middle of something?

She was trying to decide if she should respond, when her phone chimed with a text again.

I was thinking of you too.

Micki felt a wave of relief wash over her, followed by a pang of longing. She missed the sound of his voice, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the gentle touch of his hand on her skin.

If there’s something I can do, let me know.

There was another long pause.

Look up at the stars. I can’t see them anymore.

The message brought a mix of joy and sorrow. Oh, how she wished he was here. She pictured them lying on the dock watching the stars. For a moment she allowed her self to imagine a world where distance and circumstances didn't keep them apart. In that fantasy, she could reach out and touch him, feel the warmth of his embrace, lose herself in the depths of his gaze. But the moment passed, and she was left with the bitter reality of their situation.

But that didn’t stop her from reaching out the next night. Or the night after. Each message brought a flood of memories – the feel of his hands on her skin, the warmth of his gaze, the way his lips had felt against hers. Micki ached to be near him, to recapture that sense of connection they had shared.

Perhaps she was a sadist as she knew the contact only served to keep the wound in her heart open. She had her life here and Patrick had his own battles to fight, his own future to sort out.

CHAPTER 19

Patrick resisted the urge to throw his phone across the room. Texting with Michaela was an agony he’d never before experienced. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Watching his sister nearly kill someone ranked up there. Losing credibility in his work wasn’t great either. He couldn’t be quite sure what was worse; texting with Michaela or the dreams he had at night featuring her. Her signature effervescent smile. The bright red lipstick. The way her eyes would darken as he drove her up toward pleasure. All of it had a staring role each night as he slept. Waking to discover it wasn’t true was a new kind of torture.

He set his phone on the side table after saying goodnight to Michaela and pulled out the studies he was reading about the effectiveness of medication combined with therapy for certain mental health diagnoses. After a few days in the office, this idea had become a pet project of his. Not that the concept was new. But it hadn’t been formulated by a pharmaceutical company before.

When fatigue had him nodding off, he set the papers aside and let sleep take him. Maybe tonight Michaela wouldn’t haunt his dreams. Maybe this night he’d finally start to get over her.

The next day, Patrick entered the offices of his father’s company. The lobby bustled with activity. He crowded into the elevator, several people saying hello, but most didn’t know who he was yet. The official announcement hadn’t been made that he’d be taking over for his father. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to especially since he discovered his father had been discharged from the hospital with a case of prinzmetal angina, a spasm of the heart’s arteries that temporarily reduces blood flow. Patrick was certain his mother knew his father’s condition wasn’t as dire as she suggested on the phone. Like he’d done as a child, he’d kept his resentment over her manipulating the situation so that he’d come home, ending the happiest time in his life, to himself. But it wasn’t easy.

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