Page 116 of The Fixer

His head involuntarily jerked backward. “Come again?”

“I’m not Sid and Helene’s daughter, Charlie,” she choked, breaking free of his hold and facing him. “The letters you found were written by Helene to her brother, my uncle. There are journal pages in her handwriting too. The whole story is there.”

Once she started talking, she didn’t stop. “My parents and my sister lived in Topeka. My father—or the guy I thought was my father—found me wandering on the side of a highway somewhere near Wichita when I was two, and he brought me home. This was in July, and they figured I’d been outdoors for a while because I was hungry and sunburned and covered in bites and bruises. He did some investigating but couldn’t figure out where I’d come from or who I belonged to. There were no reports of missing children who fit my description, and he didn’t want to put the word out there in case whoever had abandoned me wanted to do more harm. In his mind, he was saving my life.

“He stopped checking. He had already made up his mind that he and Helene would make a home for me, so we moved to Nebraska to get awayfrom people asking questions. He insisted they keep it a secret so I didn’t wind up in the foster system. They fought over it. A lot. When we settled in our new town, they passed me off as their biological daughter, but Helene was always afraid of the consequences if the authorities found out. She also worried someone would claim me and take me away. That might explain why she and I never bonded. She didn’t want to get attached.”

She released a shuddering exhale. “Charlie, I don’t belong toanybody.”

You belong to me.

Her lower lip wobbled, and her eyes brimmed. She blinked furiously to hold back the tears. That look, plus the quaver in her voice, gutted him. His strong, vibrant woman was shaken to the core, her tough facade in ruins.

He had no idea what to say or how to take away the pain. “Are you sure they’re legit? Why would Helene have lettersshewrote?”

“She asked my uncle to return them because she was worried I might come across them.” She took an angry swipe at her cheek. “The letters lay it all out. I have no idea why she walled them up instead of destroying them.”

He moved around her, took her hands in his, and dropped onto the edge of the mattress, where he pulled her into his lap. She folded like a limp doll in his arms, and he tucked her head under his chin and held her tight while he rocked her. If he willed it, he could become her shield and protect her. He could—

A splash hissed in the kitchen, and he reluctantly scooted her off his lap. “Hang on. I need to turn off the nectar.”

She raised her head and squinted. “The what?”

“Nectar. For the hummingbirds.” He tapped the end of her upturned nose, going for a casualness that was total counterfeit. “Who do you think fills the feeders?”

She blinked.“Youdo?”

“I do.” He planted a kiss on her crown and returned to the kitchen to take the boiling mixture off the burner. The simple, routine chore gave him space to breathe.

Back in the bedroom, Joy had folded a few items and was rearranging her bag. The letters peeked out from beneath the silky white top she’d worn the first day he’d met her. It seemed like years ago. And oddly, he felt as if he’d known her half his life rather than one short month.

She glanced up at him. “I’ve never met a man who makes nectar for hummingbirds.” Her voice was flat. “You’re a good man, Charlie Hunnicutt, and I’m going to miss you.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa!“That sounds like a good-bye speech.” A good-bye for which he was wholly unprepared.

She sniffled. “I have to be at Silver Summit in an hour to meet with my client, and then I’ll leave straight from there to fly back to Chicago.”

“What about your car?” he sputtered. It was all his lame ass could come up with.

What about me? About us?

“I’ve made arrangements for it to be picked up at the resort.”

“How are you getting to the airport?” If he could drive her there, it would give him five hours to convince her that—

“My client has a private jet and offered for me to ride with him.”

Charlie’s caveman woke up from its daze, silently demanding to know who this client was and what he meant to Joy.

“And before you get any ideas, he’s in his seventies, and his daughter is coming with him. She lives in Joliet, so he’s going to Chicago anyway. It’s all handled, Charlie. There’s nothing for you to do.”

But I want to do something!He couldn’t just stand there staring at the best thing in his life as she walked out the door. When had he fallen so completely for her?

He was in love with this woman. Wholly. Unequivocally.

She picked up a stuffed plastic bag. “You could do me one huge favor, though.”

“What?” he practically barked. If the ask in any way kept her there, he was on board. Hell, if she asked him to go with her, he’d do it. But she didn’t.

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