Wings Over Poppies (Over #2) (11 page)

Dear West,

Well, I have another entry into the Bad Dates Hall of Fame. Seriously, it was worse than the refried beans incident, and that was pretty freaking bad. I’m about to start taping these bad boys. I could easily win a funniest video contest.

If I’m being honest, I don’t think it matters who shows up at my door anymore. It could be the perfect man, and he still wouldn’t measure up. He wouldn’t be you.

It’s been years since I’ve seen you, touched you, or heard your voice. I see pieces of you scattered throughout my day, and it still hurts as much as it did back then. When will I stop searching for you? How do I stop hoping for you? Six years is long enough. Why won’t my heart let you go?

Maybe Holly is right. Maybe I need to find you to finally close this door. Where should I look? Across the ocean? Down the road? Up to the sky? God, the mere thought of it cripples me. You can ignore me, you can discard me, you can hate me, but you cannot cease to exist. That’s just not an option.

If I find you, I hope you remember who we used to be. I hope you think of those mornings we lay under our tree, talking, laughing, and embracing the moments we were given. Remember the girl who gave you her heart, knowing you would break it.

Remember, and please be more careful this time.

Love always,

Alexandra

“
Come Home
” by One Republic

“HEY, MOMMA.” I prop the phone between my ear and shoulder as I reorganize the pencils and paintbrushes that litter my studio desk … again.

“Darling. It’s so wonderful to hear from you. I haven’t heard a word from you since you and your friend Sara came to visit weeks ago. You know your father worries.” I smile at the mention of my father. He’s the one who worries, not her.
Yeah, right!
I shake my head and chuckle to myself.

I brought my gallery-patron-turned-dear-friend, Sara, home with me a few weeks ago. Her ex-boyfriend and best friend got married that weekend, so we both thought it best to get the hell out of dodge. Sara’s had a tough road the last year or so, but she’s finally started putting herself out there again.

“I’m fine, Momma, I’ve just been busy with the gallery,” I explain as I muster up the nerve to say what I really called about. “Did you ever—have you had a chance to, you know, talk to Daddy about West? Has he looked into finding him?”

My words hang poignantly in the air as my mother releases a deep sigh. There are several Oakborne members who are high up in the military, and I know they could help locate West if they asked the right people. My mom wasn’t thrilled when I asked for her help, but she finally relented. I think deep down she knows it’s the only way for me to move on with my life.

“Alex, I mentioned it, but I don’t think it’s been a high priority for him. He’s been so busy with the club…”

“It would only be a few questions, Momma. Really, it won’t take a great deal of effort on his part. Maybe I should talk to him myself.”

“No, no I’ll talk to him.” I can sense her reluctance. “Alexandra, my sweet girl, I worry about your heart. Are you sure you’re prepared for the answer you might find?”

Deep down, I know she’s right. It’s entirely possible the truth could be more devastating than my worst fears, but at least I can deal with it and move forward. The smallest possibility of West is like a faint whisper I just can’t silence.

“I’m as prepared as I can be, Momma. I … I need this,” I whisper on a sigh and let silence fill in the empty space.

After time passes, I hear her inhale softly. “I love you, my darling. I’ll always try to protect you.”

“I love you, too, Momma. But I don’t need protection. I just need you to be there for me, whatever the outcome.”

“Always,” she says simply, and I believe her. There was a time years ago where I might’ve questioned that, but not anymore.

I believe she’ll always be there for me, but it’s her nature to try and protect her daughter from pain. Because of that, I know it’s time to take matters into my own hands.

I place my OUT TO LUNCH sign in the window and lock the front door of the gallery. With the sun warming my shoulders, and my paper sack in hand, I stroll down the street to New Horizons Outreach Center. It’s only three blocks away, so I have more than enough time to eat lunch, visit with friends, and have a quick meeting with the clinic director, Caroline.

Sara introduced me to New Horizons, and I’ve become involved with several of the clinic’s art initiatives. They handle a wide variety of things, ranging from counseling to STD testing, but I tend to work more closely with Caroline, who specializes in art therapy. I look forward to my art classes at the clinic. I’ve even started a Saturday morning class at the gallery for a few of the children who receive services from New Horizons.

The chimes hanging from the clinic’s door sing to announce my arrival, and I take a moment to appreciate all the original artwork in the lobby. It’s important to Caroline that clients feel an ownership of the clinic, and displaying their masterpieces goes a long way in achieving that goal.

“Anybody here?” I call out before I hear the laughter filtering in from the common area.

I peek my head around the corner to see Sara and Adam talking toward the back of the office. Sara is a labor and delivery nurse at the local hospital, and she recently started volunteering at New Horizons. She and Adam butted heads when she first started working, but it didn’t take either of them long to act on their mutual attraction. With his wavy dark hair and piercing blue eyes, there’s no denying Adam is sexy as hell.

They both look up and see me approaching, but not before I see them intimately talking and laughing. It’s still new, and I can feel the electricity that surrounds them. Adam holds a lock of Sara’s hair between his fingers, and she leans into him, absentmindedly twirling the edge of his T-shirt. Before I can check it, a pang of jealousy runs through me.

God, I want that…

“Hey Alex! What’s up?”

“I’m just taking a quick lunch break, and I was hoping to catch Caroline. Is she here?”

“What are we, chopped liver?” Adam tosses his hands up in mock disgust and shakes his head.

“Whatever! I’ll come visit and eat my lunch with y’all when I’m finished with Caroline,” I promise.

“Ya hear that, Sara? We get sloppy seconds.” Before the words are out of Adam’s mouth, Sara pelts him in the head with a pen as she laughs.

I knock softly on the office door, and it opens slightly from the force of my fist.

“Caroline? Do you have few minutes to talk?”

“Alex? Of course, come on in,” she says as she closes the files on her desk, preparing to give me her full attention.

Caroline is good that way. She makes time for all of the clinic volunteers, no matter how busy she is. She fills the role of second mom for most of us.

I smile lovingly at her haphazard appearance. Paintbrushes stick out of the thick bun of blonde hair, and her red cat-eye glasses sit crooked on her face. Dried paint speckles her hands and fingernails. I’ve grown accustomed to it. Caroline races from one project to the next, with little time for primping and grooming—not that she would do it even if she had the time.

“What can I do for you, sweet girl?”

I pull the piece of paper out of my purse and lay it on her desk with trembling fingers. She picks up the sheet and rights her glasses.

“West Adler?” she questions with a furrowed brow and confused eyes.

“I know you are involved with several initiatives focusing on local veterans. I’m certain you have contacts that could help me.” I take a deep breath, unable to hide the importance of my request. “I need you to find him.”

“Find him?” Her eyes revert back to the paper I handed her. It contains his name, previous address, birthday, and other pieces of information that may help with the search. “Find this … West Adler?”

“Yes. He entered the military right before I moved to New York for college. I recently tried to locate him using the usual methods: social media, past address, family, old friends, you name it. Needless to say, I came up empty. Can you help me?”

I tap my foot impatiently and wring my hands as I wait for her answer. She’s in no hurry to respond, calmly watching me crawl out of my skin. I think she’s waiting for me to elaborate, but I’ve said all I want to say right now. She leans in closer to me and clasps her hands in front of her.

“I’m not going to insult your intelligence by asking you if you’re prepared for the answer I may find.”

“Thank you,” I interject quickly, hoping to curb any further questioning.

Caroline chuckles softly and shakes her head at me. “You’re welcome. I’ll see what I can do, Alex. But I need you to make me a promise in return.”

“Anything.”

“I can take a hint. I know you don’t want to talk to me. I hope you change your mind, though, and my door is always open if you do. But you need to talk to someone, okay? I’m not a big fan of letting things fester. Nothing good comes from it. Can you do that for me?”

I nod quickly and give her a tight smile.

“All right, sweet girl. Give me a little time, okay?”

“Thank you so much, Caroline. It really means a lot to me,” I say as I pull my purse onto my shoulder and turn to the doorway.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she whispers softly, almost too low for me to hear.

Funny thing is, I’m afraid of the exact same thing.

I knock loudly on the door that’s slightly ajar and call out into the loft apartment, “Cain? You in there?”

I step hesitantly into the doorway. I met Cain through Adam and Sara, and we hit it off right from the start. We have a standing tee time together once a week, and it’s always … interesting. I’ve missed playing golf, and he mentioned his love of the game one night when we were all hanging out. I usually beat him by at least ten strokes, but he keeps coming back for more. He thinks I’m showing off, but the truth is I’m actually taking it easy on him. At six and a half feet tall, he’s got the power to drive the ball, but he lacks finesse. He reminds me of Happy Gilmore, minus the hockey stick.

“Cain?” I repeat, hearing my voice echoed back to me. Mr. Biscuit, his overly eager Jack Russell, takes off in my direction, and I bend down to scratch behind his ears.

Cain’s loft is on top of an antique store in downtown Providence. If I didn’t adore my cottage style home, I would be totally jealous of the exposed beams, brick walls, and high ceilings in his place.

“Keep your shirt on, little girl. I’m coming,” Cain says as he walks out of the bathroom shirtless and bare-footed.

I stand up immediately and hide my eyes with my hand. “Put some clothes on, man!”

His low chuckle fills the room, and I hear his footsteps approaching me.

“You can turn around, Alex, I’ve got a shirt on now.” I turn to see him shaking his head in laughter, blond curls dancing wildly around his emerald eyes. “Jeez, you’d think you caught me rockin’ out with my cock out.”

My head jerks back in shock. “Rockin’ with your … what the hell does that mean?”