Page 19 of Just One Summer with the Grumpy

I hurried to block their escape, but to my surprise, Chase was already there.

“Kamia is no longer your fiancée,” Chase said. “Remove your hand, or I’ll have you arrested for assault.”

“She’s hung over, Everett. Spouting nonsense. Go do your job and get the wedding stuff ready so you can get paid. I’ll handle her.” His hand tightened on Kamia’s arm, making her gasp in pain.

In a split second, Chase had Marcus doubled over, his arm twisted in a hold behind his back that had the older man sputtering. Marcus finally released Kamia and flailed his free arm about, trying to free himself.

“Daphne,” Chase said calmly, not budging an inch. “Accompany Kamia to her room to gather her belongings. I’ll have a car waiting out front to take her to the airport. In the meantime, Marcus and I will have a little chat with security.”

“You aren’t getting a cent from me, Everett,” Marcus managed, wriggling in Chase’s grip like a helpless worm. “How dare you touch me? I’ll sue you for everything you have.”

I pulled Kamia toward the hotel, and we trotted away at a run, leaving the men to face each other down. When we reached her room and locked the door behind us, Kamia’s expression looked utterly transformed—joy and relief. No more fear.

“Did that just happen?” she asked breathlessly. “I know I was there, but . . . I can’t believe Chase did that.”

“Neither can I,” I said, still a bit in shock. I’d expected him to fire me for this, not join me in her emancipation.

But the thing that startled me the most about everything was Chase’s reaction to Marcus confronting me. Instant protectiveness. No, more than that. He’d looked positively enraged, like he’d wanted to pummel my accuser rather than simply subdue him.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Kamia packed faster than I thought possible, and then a waiting security team escorted us to the lobby and a waiting car. As the driver took her bags and loaded them into the back, I spotted more bodyguards filling the remainder of the seats. Kamia would be better protected than the president today.

Kamia threw herself at me, squeezing tight. “Thank you,” she whispered into my ear.

Then she was gone.

TEN

The momentI walked in through the garage door, my suspicions were confirmed. No less than four casseroles sat on the countertop, all covered with tin foil and waiting to be put into a fridge that hadn’t been cleaned out in weeks. The low murmur of conversation hummed from the living room. Several visitors, all women from what I could hear. My mom’s voice was among them.

I skipped the living room and took the back hallway to my parents’ bedroom. Opening the door slowly so the hinges wouldn’t creak, I tiptoed quietly to the bed, blinking to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. The room smelled stale with the sharp twang of antiseptic—very different from the vanilla-lavender spray Mom constantly used. I hated it immediately.

Dad lay awake, staring at nothing. When I reached him, his eyes focused on me.

I folded my arms, feeling more uncomfortable than I ever had in my life, but knowing I had to get this out. “It’s cancer, isn’t it?”

Dad tried to talk and coughed instead. I stood there awkwardly, ready to pound on his back if it came to that, but he finally sat back with a deep sigh.

“Who told you?” he managed.

My hands curled into fists. Rather than answering the question, he wanted to know how I knew? “Nobody.” My voice shook. With anger or fear, I couldn’t tell. “But a girl suspects things when she walks through town and people think she’s a terrible daughter for being there and not here, not to mention the casseroles and well-wishers in the living room. It feels like a funeral in here.”

“I’m not dying. This thing won’t lick me yet.”

I pounded the bed with one fist. “How dare you keep this from me?” My voice wobbled again, but I didn’t care. “You and Mom both. I feel like a stranger in my own home!”

His gaze turned back to me, and I saw a glint of anger there. “I wouldn’t let her tell you. My decision, Daphne. I’ll lick this thing and send it right back to where it came from. Soon everyone will forget it ever happened.”

“Forget? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No use in everyone getting worked up.”

“Worked up?” My voice sounded shrill, loud. Not me at all. “So you let Mom tell everyone else in town but not me? Do you know have any idea that feels?”

“We planned to tell you, just not right away.”

“A secret.” I put my hands on my hips. “You really thought you could keep this a secret from your own daughter, and everything would be okay.”

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