Page 7 of Hers to Hold
Kady tracked him down to a company in Springfield, but then the trail cooled. No social media presence made it difficult to confirm information—until she saw a video of Katrina Kaye on YouTube. Their physical similarities were uncanny. So, like her mentor had taught, she followed her gut and moved to Springfield.
Kady lifted her chin and marched out of Yates’s office. Nothing would make her feel better than to confront the man who practically ruined her mother’s life.
Except maybe bring down his children in the process. They had benefited from having a father in their lives where she had none. How had they influenced him to stay away from his illegitimate child? They made her carry her mother’s embarrassment just by breathing. A stigma that covered them throughout Kady’s childhood.
It didn’t matter that Katrina was her half-sister. The way Kady saw it, Kat was famous, with a husband looking to exert his corrupt influence on the people of his hometown. How far would he climb up the political ladder? To the white house? America loved veterans.
No. The Kaye’s would suffer for inflicting pain on her and her mother. It was the only way to redeem a woman who had died without justice or peace for what she had to put up with. Losing her whole family and being taken advantage of by a horny man.
So what if this was her first investigative assignment. Soon, everyone in this town would know her name as the reporter who exposed the Kaye’s for the lying, cheating, corrupt people they were.
And she’d eat one of Kat’s cupcakes to celebrate—it would probably be one the last she would ever make.
Chapter 4
Wes settled onto the firm leather couch across from the doctor’s armchair in the small, but comfortable office. After numerous starts and stops with other doctors, Wes was grateful that returning to his hometown had allowed him to meet Dr. Rafferty. Wes had been more comfortable with this therapist than any other, who kept a fairly flexible schedule that catered to his patients.
“Thank you for meeting me on such short notice, doctor.”
Dr. Rafferty shoved his black-rimmed glasses up his nose and opened his journal-sized notebook. “Think nothing of it, Wesley. When I got your message, I wanted to see you right away. Whenever you have an episode, we want to dissect it and alter any coping strategies to minimize the effects of future episodes.”
“That sounds good. Because I really want to know why I reacted this way.” A pair of brown eyes flashed before him, but he suppressed the urge to daydream about them.
“Okay.” The doctor crossed his legs and looked at Wes over the rim of his glasses. “Tell me what happened.”
Wes took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I was at the bakery, as usual, picking up an order. It was more crowded than normal, probably because of Kat’s new summer flavors. Very good bye the way.”
“Are they?”
“All of them.”
“Continue.”
“Right. Anyway, there was this new girl serving. She jumped and dropped my box.”
“A new girl?”
“Right. Um, her name was Kadynce. Never seen her before. She was holding my order and got startled.”
“Is that when the episode occurred? In reaction to her being startled or dropping your order?”
Wes shook his head. “Not exactly. I was perfectly okay. She was mortified. It was the cutest thing.” Wes smiled, remembering how apologetic Kadynce was. He couldn’t be mad at her for dropping his order; starting the job on a day with the shop that packed had to be an overwhelming experience for her. Although he’d been in firefights on the front lines of a seemingly never-ending war against terrorist factions in the Middle East, he still had empathy for Kadynce. She was untested and untrained in her own battleground. But with training and time, he was sure she could manage the chaos of Katrina’s highly popular bakery.
And the cupcakes were still amazing, even with the frosting on the top of the box.
The doctor half-frowned. “Continue.”
“Sorry. Right, so…then someone dropped a plate that shattered and…” He swallowed through his thick throat, the sharp, raw muscles straining under the constriction. Wes coughed, struggling to dam the emotions bubbling to the surface as the sound replayed in his head.
He was back in Bagram, Afghanistan during one of the worst firefights of his many deployments. After receiving word from a source that insurgents had moved on from the town, Wes’s team was tasked to confirm the information and talk to both the source and the village leader. They were after information and got a hail of bullets instead.
It was the shattering sound of dozens of Kalashnikov rifles that first startled his team. Within seconds, they were surrounded. A trap. Led to believe the town was empty of enemy combatants. Although their lying source had died that day—a casualty of collateral damage—so had members of Wes’s team. Good men he’d fought alongside in a number of battles. People he owed his life to many times over. Debts he could never repay. Wes struggled with survivor’s guilt as his life, as sweet and satisfying as one of Kat’s cupcakes, was mired by events of his past.
“It was the plate,” Wes said softly. “The noise it made when it hit the ground.”
“You said the bakery was more crowded than usual, correct?”
Wes nodded. “Right. It was packed. Wall to wall.”
