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Tears filled his father’s eyes and Bryce lost his breath. He’d never seen his old man get emotional about anything.
“Son, I’m sorry for being a cranky old coot. You tried to reach out all of those years ago, but I was too stubborn. Had to do things my way. And, well, I wanted to say that I’m sorry for ruining a relationship with you.”
He got up to leave, obviously not used to sharing such an emotional burden. Bryce reached over and grabbed the old man’s hand. “I forgive you.”
Pa’s eyes glistened, and his shoulders shook. “I don’t deserve it.”
“It’s grace. We all need it.” His throat ached from both the surgery and his emotions. But he wanted to know more. “What changed?”
His father winked. “Oh, your wife made this old curmudgeon realize that while I never throw anything away—I mean, you never know when you might need it again—I had trashed the most important thing in my life. A relationship with my son.”
Bryce smiled, although coming out of the effects of the anesthesia, he wasn’t sure his face was working properly. “Stay in touch.”
His father smiled, a sight Bryce had rarely seen. “Did Pa really find buried treasures? After all those years with the metal detector, I can’t believe he stumbled on something big.”
Bryce nodded, his head protesting the motion. “He was so close.”
“You’re just like him, Bryce. The man was tenacious but kind. You remind me of your grandpa.”
Bryce blinked back the tears forming under his drowsy eyelids. That compliment erased the years of mean things his father had said. “Thanks, Pa.”
His father dropped his hand and cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve taken too much time. There’s someone else who’s been pacing the waiting room floor wanting to see you, so I should let her in.” He moved to the door, but turned back. “Oh, and I know I’m not in the position of offering you advice, but don’t let this one go. She’s something special.” And he left.
“Oh, I’m never letting her go,” he muttered.
Another knock and Kira entered without waiting for a response. She rushed to his bedside. “I’m so glad to see you awake.” Her smile lit up the drab, sterile room. Bryce hoped she didn’t notice the uptick in beeping sounds, because his heart rate had just kicked up a notch thanks to her presence.
He motioned for her to sit, and she pulled the chair closer. Her hand grasped his through the bedrail. “Details, please,” he said. His head wanted to know everything even though his body screamed for rest.
“Sophia had surgery, and the doctors are hopeful there isn’t permanent damage from being shot in the gut. The FBI arrested Alex in connection to the art smuggling ring. He’s asking for leniency. Seems he’d been keeping copies of Davis Steadman’s books. Davis had been purchasing small and struggling art galleries—through legitimate transactions—but then running illegal auctions through his verified businesses. And Alex, as his attorney who arranged all the legal—and illegal—business ventures, had access to the proof necessary to put away Steadman for a long time.”
“What about their son?” Bryce chose as few words as possible. His throat was on fire.
Kira handed him a cup of water and helped him sip through a straw. “The FBI raided the home of Victor’s sister-in-law. She and her husband had been taking care”—she made air quotes—“of Isaac. Olivia Baranov claims her husband was in the United States to place an orphan up for adoption and didn’t know about Isaac’s abduction. Not sure anyone is buying her story. Victor’s brother seems pretty deep in the ACS affairs. And that’s about it.”
Now that the case had wrapped up, Bryce couldn’t help thinking about the future. The thought of his one-bedroom apartment—far from Kira—had no appeal.
His eyelids drooped. If only he could stay awake, have the conversation he and Kira desperately needed to have.
“What next?” he managed.
She sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Next is rest for you. Heal. We’ve got plenty of time to discuss the future.”
“Don’t leave.”
She squeezed his hand. “I’m not going anywhere, partner. We’re in this together.”
Bryce drifted off to sleep. The heaviness of the past few days melted into peace.
Two Weeks Later
Kira scanned the crowded restaurant looking for her roommates. She’d chosen the patio of her favorite Mexican restaurant, despite the cool temperatures. Where were Violet and Everly?
She checked her watch again. One fifteen. Kira had finally accepted Violet’s invitation to attend church. Now she understood why Violet attended every Sunday. The vibe and authentic community gave her a sense of connection. She’d definitely go back.
But it wasn’t like her roommates to be late to lunch. She held a four-person table while people stood in line waiting to get in. This place didn’t mess around when it came to tacos and enchiladas.
She texted Violet. No response.
