Page 96 of Tell Me Again
“I thought you were ignoring what she’d done for your daughter, but you really are clueless up here. Although that doesn’t excuse it. Sam resigned as head of Bryce Hollow. She’s putting the money to fund the camp into a trust and the board is going to hire a new director to run it and continue with the campaign to solicit new donors without her. She didn’t want her negative press to affect the kids who need Bryce Hollow.”
“But the camp is her whole life. She’s completely dedicated to it.”
“Not as dedicated as she is to Grace. Now you know. When you come back to reality, you owe my friend a thank-you and an apology.” She took a step away from him before turning back around. “I have a son, so I get the instinct to protect. Cooper’s father has never been a part of his life, yet my biggest fear is that he’ll come back and try to take my kid from me. The enemy you create in your head is sometimes the most powerful. But you know Sam. Or at least I thought you did. That gooey center comment wasn’t a joke. She’d do anything for the people she loves. The funny thing is I thought she’d be the one to mess up what the two of you had. But she put her heart on the line, and it was a bonehead move to turn her away.” She flashed a humorless smile. “Trust me, I’m an expert on stupidity.”
As soon as Jenny climbed back into the SUV, Trevor turned and pushed through the front door. “Grace,” he shouted. “Let’s go. Now.”
She appeared almost immediately. “I thought we had to clean the cabin before we left?”
“I’ll come back later.”
“What did Jenny want?” She followed him into his bedroom, where he shoved clothes into a duffel bag as fast as he could. “Is Sam ok?”
“She’s done something,” he said, zipping the bag and hefting it onto his shoulder. “Something about pictures of her in exchange for the image of you. We need to get down the mountain to where we have cell phone coverage.”
“So the photo of me...”
“Somehow she made sure no one cared.”
She gasped and whispered, “Sam saved me. But how? I thought—”
“I don’t know, but hiding away up here was wrong.” He moved to where she stood in the doorway. “I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
“You need to say that to Sam,” she said, but allowed him to wrap his arms around her.
“I will, Gracie. If she’ll give me a chance, I’m going to find a way to make this right.”
After a moment she returned his hug and he felt everything in his world settle. The doubts and fears he’d harbored for so long faded as a hope he barely recognized made its way into the light. His heart stuttered and tripped. Christ, he’d been a fool. But no more.
He locked up the cabin and drove toward the city as fast as his truck would take the winding mountain roads. Just as they pulled onto I-70 heading east into Denver, his phone began to beep incessantly with the voice mails and texts he’d missed while out of coverage range. He reached for it, but Grace grabbed it first.
“No cell phone while driving,” she said and swiped her finger across the home screen.
“Those messages are private,” he said, holding out his hand. “Give me the phone.”
“I don’t want to listen to your—” She sucked in breath. “Daddy, pull over.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Pull over.”
Traffic was light on the interstate in the afternoon, so he quickly signaled and pulled off onto a wide swath of the gravel shoulder.
“Look at these,” Grace said, shoving the phone toward him.
Trevor raised his sunglasses onto the top of his head, squinting at the images on the small screen. “What did she do?” he muttered as his heart thumped hard against his ribs.
“Those are old photos,” Grace said, her voice shaky. “That’s not who Sam is anymore. She did that for me. You can’t punish her for it.” She gripped his arm. “You can’t make me not see her now. I have to apologize. I let my friends see those other photos. I was bragging and then Page sent them and—”
He tossed the phone down on the center console and pressed his fingers to his eyes. Acid filled his gut. Although he understood why Sam had done it, the fact that those pictures were public and that his daughter had seen them burned a hole in his gut. The implication and the media frenzy surrounding them would have been fierce and overwhelming. And he’d taken Grace and run away, leaving Sam to suffer through it alone.
She’d told him she loved him, and he’d walked away.
He was an idiot and a coward and a jackass and... the self-recrimination flowed through him until it filled his veins, burning him from the inside out.
“We’ll find a way make it better,” he said, reaching out and running a hand through his daughter’s thick hair. “I love her and I’m going to—”
“You love her?” Grace sniffed and wiped a sleeve across her nose. “Like you’rein lovewith Sam?”
