Page 37 of Stone Rules

But before I reach him, he runs a hand down the back of his head, grabbing his neck as he mumbles, “But it won’t be the same as being with you.”

I freeze. And he enters the men’s locker room without realizing what I just heard.

Yeah, like I said—messing with my head.

Chapter Seventeen

I was dying to hear how poker night went, but when I asked the guys, all I got out of them was that they invited him back because they liked taking his money. And apparently poker night is akin to fight club, because none of the girls could extract information either.

And my only contact with Ethan this week was the texts he sent me telling me he’d been called out of town on a case and wouldn’t be back until Friday, so would I mind keeping Mrs. B company at the pool. He also asked about my ankle.

Now, I know I’m not an expert on relationships, but him texting me twice about personal stuff—does that not constitute one? Maybe he’s just considerate that way and would have texted anyone who he swims with on a regular basis.

I wonder if he would text Gretchen to ask aboutherswollen ankle.

By the time Friday rolls around, I find myself missing him way more than I’d like to admit.

I’ve tried to become more attentive to other men. I’ve flirted with them. Engaged in witty banter. I even went so far as to give one of them my telephone number. But when he called me, all I felt was disappointment that it wasn’t a certain private investigator.

“Charlie, someone is asking for you at table eight,” Mindy tells me at the drink station.

“Thanks,” I say, whirling around, happy to have a distraction from my thoughts. That is until I see who the occupant of table eight is.

Every bad thing I ever thought about this man comes rushing back in one large wave that almost knocks me on my ass. I spin around and duck into the kitchen, sinking against the wall as I hunch over and support myself with my hands on my knees. I try to keep myself from hyperventilating. I take deep, deliberate breaths as flashbacks from the past play out in my mind.

“Charlie, what’s wrong?” Skylar asks, running over to me. “Are you okay?”

I can’t yet speak so I shake my head from side to side.

She rubs my back in long, soothing strokes until my breathing settles enough for me to get out a few words. “Dad. Table eight.”

She gasps. She knows good and well how wrecked I was when my father left me at the age of twelve. I think she was the one who even offered to shareherfather with me. It was then that I started spending more and more time with the Mitchells. My dad—who was the only parent who loved me, cared for me, and made sure I was fed and clothed—completely abandoned me without a word. Without so much as a goodbye.

Skylar walks over to the doorway and peeks around it into the dining room and then comes back to rest against the wall next to me. “I can call the police and have him escorted out. We could say he was harassing you.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to cause a scene, Skylar.”

She looks around the kitchen thoughtfully. “Okay, we’ll simply shut down the restaurant. Claim a kitchen fire or something—anything to get everyone out of here quickly.”

I look over at her, amazed she would even consider such a thing. Closing the restaurant. Losing thousands of dollars in revenue just so I don’t have to face my father. And she didn’t even hesitate. She is more family to me than the man sitting at table eight with whom I share DNA.

“No,” I tell her. “I won’t have you do that for me. Plus, he’ll only come back some other time.”

“So what are you going to do? Do you want to slip out the back? Hide in the kitchen? Whatever you want to do is fine. I’ll cover your tables for the rest of your shift.”

I stand up straight, wipe my sweaty palms on my apron, and gather all the strength I can muster. “I’m going out there. I won’t cause a scene, I promise. I’ll just hear him out and let him be on his way.”

“Oh, Charlie, are you sure you want to do that?” She looks at me with the sympathetic eyes of a woman who never knew anything but a kind, loving father who would do anything to protect his daughter.

“No, I’m not sure. But I think it might be the only way to make him disappear.”

Before I can talk myself out of it, I walk out into the dining room with purpose. He notices me right away. Our eyes meet. His are full of emotion. Mine are full of rage. I don’t look away. I don’t want him to see me back down. I want him to know I don’t need him. I don’t need a father who put himself before his own child. Who pretended to love a daughter and then destroyed her with his selfishness. Who left me at the most vulnerable time in my life.

Who I wish was dead and buried alongside my mother.

I scoot into his booth, sitting on the bench across from him.

He lets out a sigh, like he was holding his breath while waiting to see if I would come over. “Charlie,” he says.

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