Catch a Falling Star (11 page)

Kendall watched the teen's relaxed posture stiffen. He moved toward his brother, putting space between him and the other boys.

“Griffin. What are you doing here?”

“I'm your ride home, remember? I told you to wait here until I came to get you.”

“Uh, yeah . . . I got that. The guys and me . . . we went out for dinner. No big deal.”

“You said you were going to be at Jeff's working on your science project.”

“I was. We did. Then we got hungry. Like I said, no big deal. I'm here now.” Ian walked past his brother but stopped short of Kendall's Jeep. “Where's your Jeep?”

“It broke down, so obviously I'm not driving it. Dr. Haynes saw me on the side of the rode and offered me—us—a ride home.”

“Dr. Kendall? Cool! Let me go get my stuff.” A few minutes later, Ian clambered into the back next to Sully, shoving a gray backpack in the corner. “Great dog. What's his name?”

“Sully.” Kendall started up the Jeep, ready to get some heat circulating again. “You buckled in, Ian?”

“Yeah, I'm good.”

Kendall waited while Griffin settled into the front seat, twisting around to focus on his brother.

“Well, let's get you home.” Kendall backed up, then stopped. “Um, directions?”

Griffin seemed oblivious to her presence, all of his attention on his brother. “So where were you, Ian?”

“I told you.” Ian rubbed Sully's ears, causing the dog to settle half in his lap, half on the backseat. “We went to dinner.”

“That's it?”

“Sure.”

“Because you smell like cigarettes.”

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Kendall saw Ian freeze. Caught.

“Um, yeah. That's because . . . because Jeff's dad smokes.” Instead of looking at his older brother, Ian watched Sully. “And so his car smells like cigarette smoke.”

“Jeff drives his dad's car?”

“No. I mean, yeah. And his house smells like cigarettes, too.”

Was Griffin buying his brother's story? This was not the time for her Dr. Kendall act. Not the time for her to lecture him on the dangers of cigarette smoke, either firsthand or secondary, especially when she didn't know his full medical history. How else might Ian be compromising his health?

“Gentlemen, I'd love to sit here all night and listen to you two chat.” Kendall tapped her gloved fingers on the steering column. “But then one of you will be taking Sully for a walk around this neighborhood. Which way is home?”

As she drove toward the east side of the Springs, Kendall chatted with Ian about his science project. Griffin resumed his silent act. The address he entered in the GPS had her pulling up in front of a fairly new townhome. So this was where the Walker men lived. Snow covered the front yard, as well as the driveway and the path to the door. No lights welcomed them home.

“Ya wanna come in, Dr. Kendall?” Ian sat with a snoozing Sully's head in his lap.

“Not tonight, Ian—” Griffin was already halfway out of the Jeep.

“It's not that late.” His brother continued to sit in the back.

Kendall faced the teen. “I don't think your brother cares for doctors. Or maybe it's just me.”

Ian's grin offered an apology. “It's a pilot thing.”

Griffin peered back in the car. “Ian. Out of the Jeep. Now.”

After his brother exited her Jeep, Griffin leaned back inside. “Thanks for your help tonight.”

“From one Jeep lover to another, no problem.” The next words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Let me know what happens with your CJ7. And maybe Ian could come over for dinner sometime soon. I'd be glad to help him with his science project. And you're welcome, too, of course.”

He stepped back, his eyes hidden from view. “Sure. Maybe. I'll, um, get back to you on that. Thanks again. G'night.”

She watched Griffin follow his brother into the house, barely noticing when Sully clambered into the front seat. Why had she suggested Ian come over for dinner sometime? Griffin Walker would rather starve than sit down at a table and share a meal with her.

“And those are the Walker brothers, Sully. I don't expect you'll be seeing them again.”

She drove home, careful to keep a good distance from other cars as the road got more and more slippery with the increasing snowstorm. She needed to give Evie a call and see what the overnight forecast was and decide whether to rearrange the first appointments for tomorrow. Living right above her office, she'd have no problem getting to work, but oftentimes patients canceled due to weather.

While she allowed Sully a quick walk around the side yard, next to the combo office building/home sweet home, her phone pinged, signaling a text message. Heath Parker, perhaps? Probably not. They had dinner plans later in the week, so there was no reason for him to contact her. But you couldn't blame a girl for wishing.

As she walked upstairs to her loft, she glanced at the text. Tanner.

Hey Ken

Happy B day

Yes I'm late

Forgive your little brother, 'k?

Love you

Kendall tapped a quick reply. Only two people got away with calling her “Ken”—her brother and her dad. And since her father's death, only her brother used that nickname.

You did a good job, Ken-girl. I'm proud of you.

Even all these years later, the faint whisper of her father's voice still carried the tang of both sweet and bitter. In some ways, everything she did was so she could hear the echo of her father telling her that he was proud of her. Even though it reminded her that she couldn't see her dad, couldn't talk things out with him, ask for his guidance.

Sully's soft whine inviting her to snuggle with him on the bed pulled Kendall back to reality. Along with the most basic commands, the dog had never learned “Stay off my bed.”

“Sorry. I don't feel sleepy anymore.” Kendall slipped on her robe. “I think I'll wander downstairs and catch up on paperwork. Wanna join me?”

As she headed down the dimly lit hallway to her office, Sully trailing behind her, a prayer slipped past her lips. “Oh, God. I know even back then you had a plan.” The words came swiftly. It was always the same. “And I trust you. But I don't understand why you took Dad from me. I just . . . don't.”

I
f anyone told Griffin he'd be driving back to Kendall Haynes's office within two weeks of their first disastrous appointment, he'd have told them they were certifiable.

But here he was, pulling into a parking lot out front and stopping near the huge stone sign with the words
THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN FAMILY PRACTICE CLINIC
carved in it. As much as Griffin didn't care for the woman, Ian insisted it was Dr. Kendall or nobody. Griffin finally gave in, willing to concede this battle to his brother. He just wasn't sure if Ian wanted to see her because he liked going to Dr. Kendall or if he liked irritating his brother.

Ian didn't even wait for him to turn off the engine before climbing out of the passenger seat and heading down the sidewalk.

The lot looked fairly empty. A good sign. Now if only the waiting room was empty, too. Maybe they'd get in there, see the doctor, and get home. He could feel his heart rate elevating the
closer he got to the front door, the name of the practice etched across the glass against the outline of a mountain range.

The same tall receptionist with the welcoming smile staffed the front desk. Today dancing thermometers adorned her scrub top.

“Colonel Walker, it's nice to see you and Ian again.” She handed him a neon purple clipboard containing several pieces of paper. “I'm sorry Dr. Kendall didn't have a morning appointment. The good news is, she's running ahead of schedule today.”

“Terrific. Excuse me, um—” He glanced at her name tag, adorned with the outline of Pikes Peak. “—Evie, didn't we fill this out the last time?”

“Yes.” As the phone rang, she adjusted the mouthpiece of her headset. “Just double-check to make sure everything's correct and then have Ian give it back to me.”

Griffin walked over to where Ian slouched in a chair, dropping the paperwork in his lap.

“Hey!” The teen looked up. “What's this?”

“Your medical paperwork. Make sure everything's right.” Griffin settled himself in next to his brother, ready to check his emails on his iPhone.

“Why aren't you doing this?”

“Your information. Your responsibility.”

“But Mom always did this kind of stuff.”

Griffin held up his hand, blocking Ian's attempt to hand back the clipboard. “I'm not Mom.”

“No kidding.” Ian shifted away from him.

Enough already.

“Ian.” He waited, staring at the back of his brother's head. “Look at me when I'm talking to you.”

“Going all hard-core guardian on me?”

“Just asking for a little respect—and a little eye contact.”
He pulled the boy's orange-and-blue Florida Gators cap off his head, ignoring the teen's protest and tossing it on the table beside him. “I understand it's hard for you without Mom and Dad.”

“Sure you do.”

“They're my parents, too.”

“I get it. They're your real parents—not mine.”

Griffin lowered his voice. “That is not what I said at all. We both miss them.”

“As if.”

Ian's hazel eyes glinted with unshed tears before he dashed them away with a balled-up fist. Where was all this emotion coming from?

“You never talk about them. Never. Forget about it.” Ian stood and walked across the room, settling into another chair and training his eyes on the papers.

What was his brother doing, lobbing a verbal grenade like that? What did Ian want him to do, sit around and mope? His parents were dead. And he was Ian's guardian—and as far as he could tell, he was doing a lousy job at it. When it was just him, Griffin didn't care if the fridge was mostly empty. He'd swing by Whole Foods, stroll through the hot food section, and grab a quick dinner. Or drive through Chick-fil-A and order a value meal. Apparently that kind of lifestyle wasn't keeping Ian happy. Well, he was sorry about that, but he hadn't cooked a meal in . . . well, he didn't cook.

And laundry? If his mom were alive, he'd call her and thank her for every pair of socks, every pair of jeans, every single T-shirt she ever washed, folded, and put in his dresser drawers. He was lucky if he got Ian's clothes moved from the washer to the dryer.

He was flunking this whole guardian gig.

“Ian Walker?”

One of the medical assistants stood at the door that led to the exam rooms. Ian bolted from his chair, not looking at Griffin.

Should he follow? Stay in the waiting room?

Kendall Haynes's words came back to taunt him:
Just be the guy Ian needs you to be.

Staying was not an option.

He followed the MA down the hall, standing outside the room while she took Ian's blood pressure and temperature. Once she left the room, he sat in a chair. Silence shrouded the room.

“Ian.”

The teen stared at the wall. What was he doing, memorizing the words on one of Kendall Haynes's framed certificates?

“Ian, I'm . . . sorry.”

He was rusty at saying those words. It felt as if he was coughing up boulders. Griffin swiped a hand across his face, stared up at the ceiling. What more should he say? “I miss them. Mom and Dad.” He shook his head, the familiar sense of unreality filling his mind. “I still expect a phone call, you know?”

“Yeah.” His brother's reply was choked. Guttural.

“I didn't get home often. But I always knew . . . they were there.” He huffed out a breath.

A knock rapped against the door. As it opened a few seconds later, Griffin thanked God, knowing he was too much of a coward to continue the conversation.

What had she walked into?