Pamela Hearon - Out of the Depths

Kyndal shook her head. “I can’t afford it, Jaci. I have to keep an eye on everything I spend right now. I’m sure Mom’s going to want to leave this new jerk she’s with, and she’ll need gas money or bus fare to get home from wherever.”

Jaci had tired years ago of this person Kyndal called “mom” who was no mother at all, but always referred to herself as Mrs. Rawlings no matter who she was married to “to keep a strong connection to my baby girl.” Pffft! The only connection that woman cared about was the one that provided her public aid…and now Kyndal’s banking account, which was dwindling because of her.

“We’re not gonna argue about this, and we’re not gonna talk about your mom right now. Tonight’s my treat.” She turned to face Kyndal squarely, leaning against the driver’s

door. “What we are gonna talk about is this job you’re letting pass. You need this job, Kyn, and you need those pictures of the cave.”

She snatched Chance’s business card from the cup holder in the console and waved it in front of Kyndal’s face. “Meeting up with Chance again hurt your pride, I know, but the worst part’s over. It’s happened for a reason, and maybe that reason is to get you this job.” She laid the card on Kyndal’s lap where it nestled among the wadded mass of used tissues. “An opportunity has landed right in your lap. Call him.”

CHAPTER FOUR

CHANCERUBBEDHISTHUMBSacross his brow, noticing the tenderness underneath. Sinus pressure? Tension? Maybe both.

Saturday night. Eight thirty-seven. He’d hoped to be done with work by now. A normal day would’ve found him finished an hour or two ago. But this was no normal day. Kyndal Rawlings stepped back into his life for less than an hour, and he’d been unable to concentrate on anything else since.

“Dad, you were so right,” he mumbled to himself. “Tree hugger or not, that woman drives me to distraction.”

But, man! She’d looked good. A little on the thin side even for her tiny frame, but the tight thermal top and jeans she’d worn showed she still had curves in all the right places.

Her green, catlike eyes had been alarmed when she first recognized him. What was that about?

Fear wasn’t an emotion he associated with Kyn. She’d always shown so much spunk. Taking care of herself when her mother would leave and stay gone for days. Never missing school. Graduating as valedictorian. Kyndal was a fighter and a survivor.

He’d only seen her truly afraid twice. Once when Amos Turner showed up with his gun to run them away from the cave. And the day he’d broken up with her. The terror of losing him had radiated from her eyes. God, he could still feel her arms around him in that death grip as she pleaded for him to change his mind. These nine years later, the guilt and regret still ate at him. Guilt that he couldn’t make what they had gel with what he needed. Regret that he had to end it the way he did because he’d had no other option.

“Damn it! I’m doing it again.”

This was crazy. Yes, for a couple of years, he and Kyndal spent every possible minute together, but that finished long ago. They went their separate ways, became different people, grew up, grew apart. End of story.

He snatched up the notes he’d made on the Farley case, determined to divert his attention. It was clear why his dad had passed the case to him. The Farleys’ son, Morton, had been killed in a car accident so similar to Hank’s it made him nauseous to read.

College kids on summer vacation. Drinking to excess. Driving too fast. Crossing the center line and meeting a semi head-on.

No civil suit would ever bring their son back. Couldn’t they see that? Their lives would never be the same. But if they didn’t let go of the grief eating them alive, they’d soon be consumed by it, and it would destroy anything they’d ever had together.

The judge who’d presided over his family’s case had been a showboat, working hard toward reelection. He hadn’t demonstrated a true sense of right and wrong, or given a damn about fairness. He’d turned the whole fiasco into a venue to generate publicity with no regard of the pain he caused. That the idiot ruled in their favor against the tired truck driver was a travesty of justice.

Not a day went by that Chance didn’t remind himself how Hank’s civil suit ripped apart the last vestiges of family life for them and brought only heartache instead of closure. And it left him with a relentless drive to become a judge who would treat people with fairness and dignity no matter what their circumstances.

He stood and walked away from the desk, trying to leave behind the haunting image of his parents as they’d been since his brother’s death.

To this day, they’d never really dealt with Hank’s death. Never let their grief out like he had the day of the funeral with Kyndal. Thank God, he’d had somebody like her back then.

Damn it! Back to Kyndal. This round-robin thinking was getting him nowhere and getting nothing taken care of…but he couldn’t get her off his mind.

He sat back down and typed Kyndal Rawlings into the search engine on his computer and clicked on the first link that appeared—an interesting and eye-opening account of a lawsuit that shut down the True Tennessee website. She hadn’t mentioned any of that during their short visit. Not that he blamed her. The article indicated quite a scandal.

If it had been anybody but Kyndal, he would’ve thought it served her right. But it was Kyn, and damn liberal or not, she deserved better. She would survive, though. She always had.

His stomach growled as he closed his laptop, reminding him he’d skipped lunch. Only a wood-fired oven pizza and a cold beer from Max’s Café would satisfy the craving.

* * *

MAX’SWASCROWDED, but that was expected. Everybody came to Max’s. Getting a seat would take at least an hour, even as a single, but Chance thought he could hold off starvation with a couple of beers. Axel put his name on the list and said he’d find him in the bar when something opened up.

Tripp, the bartender, saw him making his way through the throng and had a cold one waiting for him by the time he got to the bar.

“You look like you need this.” Tripp handed him the frosted mug.

“Tripp, have I ever told you you’re my favorite person?” Chance swigged the beer, relishing the biting chill on his tongue and down his throat. “Wanna marry me? Have one of these waiting for me when I get home, and I’ll never ask any more of you.”

“Never knew you swung that way, Chance.” The high-pitched voice by his shoulder could only belong to one person.

“Jaci.” Chance turned toward her with a shake of his head. “Are you stalking me today?”

“Nope, but I thought maybe you were stalking Kyndal.” Jaci tilted her head toward the door.

Through the opening, he could see the fire pit blazing in the middle of the beer garden. Kyndal sat close enough for the fire to lend a rosy glow to her skin.

Her head fell back as she and Bart laughed together, unaware they were being watched. The firelight sparkled on her silky, black hair cascading down her back. Relaxed and carefree, she looked even better than she had earlier in the day.

Chance’s mouth went dry. He took another gulp and shook his head in answer to Jaci’s remark. “She told me she was going back to Tennessee this afternoon.”

Jaci wrinkled her nose as she smiled. “We talked her into staying the night. Why don’t you join us—unless you’re waiting for someone?”

Much as he’d like to visit some more with Kyndal—maybe on a friendlier note this time—she hadn’t seemed to share those sentiments this morning. She’d been shaken at first, then she’d almost seemed pissed. He shook his head. “I’d better not. I don’t want to make Kyn uncomfortable.” He leaned his elbow on the bar and set his beer down.