Catch a Falling Star (25 page)

Was she looking for a serious relationship?

Yes, yes, she was.

And she wasn't going to finish filling out an online dating questionnaire, was she? Hadn't she decided Heath was the
obvious answer to her
Where is he, God?
question? Did she really think she'd find a better match by marking the appropriate boxes on this questionnaire? Griffin was perfect for her.

Wait. She meant
Heath.

Heath
was perfect for her.

Aaaargh.

Griffin-with-the-tattoo-and-the-I-used-to-be-a-bad-boy-but-now-I'm-not smile was a distraction.

Heath was perfect.

She just had to keep the two straight.

A quick staccato rapping on the back door to her loft interrupted her tearing the application in half, preparing to toss it in the trash can. She crossed the room, placing a hand on the doorknob, ensuring it was locked.

“Who is it?”

“It's me—Ian Walker.” The boy's words were muted by the barrier of the door.

Ian? Was something wrong with Griffin again? Why hadn't Ian called?

She unlocked the door and yanked it open. Why was Ian at her house? It was after nine. His shoulders were hunched underneath his T-shirt, his hands balled into fists.

“Ian, are you okay? Is Griffin still sick?”

The boy's lower lip quivered, his eyes wide and red-rimmed. “Yeah, my brother's fine. But I-I . . .” He seemed unable to get the rest of the words past his lips.

“Ian, are you hurt?”

“No, but I wish I was.”

What in the world?

“Ian, tell me what's going on right now.”

“Dr. Kendall, I wrecked your Jeep.”

T
en thirty.

Griffin stared at the display on his cell phone. Where was his brother?

Patience gave way to anxiety an hour ago. When he tried to call Ian, his brother's cell phone rang—upstairs. Griffin found it lying on his brother's desk under a pile of homework papers. His call to Jeff led to a dead end when the other teen said Ian wasn't there—and that he hadn't talked to Ian all day.

Griffin could do nothing but wait for Ian to walk through the door and explain where he'd been. Now Griffin knew what his parents experienced every single time he decided to ignore curfew back when he'd been in high school. Then, it was no big deal to walk in an hour or two late. On this side of the experience, he understood why his mother paced the living room while his father waited to hold court in the family room.

Ten forty. He was done with waiting. Time for some kind of
action. Griffin shrugged back into his coat, grabbed his keys off the kitchen bar, and headed for his Jeep. If he had to drive up and down every street in Colorado Springs, so be it. He would track down his brother.

As he turned south on Academy, his cell phone rang. He clicked on his Bluetooth earpiece, praying he'd hear his brother's voice.

“Griffin Walker.”

“Griffin, it's Kendall. I need to talk fast. Can you hear me?”

“Kendall? Why are you whispering?” This was not the time for the woman to play games. “Look, I can't talk now. I'm trying to find Ian—”

“I
know
that. Be quiet for a minute.”

Did the woman just shush him? Then he heard her muffled voice, as if she'd covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “Swimsuit . . . go ahead down . . . in a minute.”

What in the world was going on?

Kendall's voice came back on the line, still whispering. “Are you there?”

“Of course I'm here, but I'm about to hang up.”

“Don't hang up. Ian's here. He's been here for almost two hours.”

With a quick yank on the steering wheel, Griffin pulled over to the side of the road, an overload of adrenaline chased with relief coursing through his body. “Why didn't you call me sooner?”

“Oh, good grief. Back down, will you? I'm on your side. I couldn't call you. I wanted your brother to
stay here.
If I'd even mentioned calling you, he would have bolted. So I've been playing Wii Sports Resort with him and letting him talk.”

“I'm coming over.”

“Stop. Will you listen to me first?”

“Only if you stop whispering.”

“Oh, right. I don't have to do that anymore, do I?” The next time Kendall spoke she didn't sound like a CIA operative reporting in to headquarters. “Before you go ballistic on Ian, I want to tell you what happened. And while you drive over here, I want you to think about what you're going to say and what you're
not
going to say. Got it?”

The wind buffeted the soft sides of the CJ7. “What? Are you planning on scripting the conversation for me?”

“Don't get smart, Walker.” He heard Kendall take a deep breath. “The first thing you need to know is that Ian wrecked my Jeep—”

“What?” Griffin's shout ricocheted off the Jeep's ceiling. Of all the things Kendall Haynes could have said, he hadn't expected to hear that his brother wrecked her Jeep. “Why did you let Ian drive your Jeep?”

“I didn't. My Jeep was parked behind my building, minding its own business. Stop interrupting and let me tell the story.”

Griffin gripped the steering wheel. “Fine. Tell the story.”

“Ian was driving too fast. When he came around the back of my building, he hit a patch of gravel and spun out—and into my Jeep. I've got some front fender damage. Ian's Cherokee is going to need a new radiator.”

“Great. The kid's had the Jeep how long—”

“He's upset, Griffin. He wanted to talk to me—he said you're sending him back to Florida. No matter how much I tried to convince him that wasn't true, I couldn't.”

Griffin ignored Kendall's unasked question. “Where's Ian now?”

“He's downstairs swimming in my endless pool—”

“Your what?”

“My endless pool. I've got a small indoor pool in the back area of my office. I use it to exercise. Oh, never mind. It doesn't matter.”

“It's almost eleven. Why is Ian going for a swim?” Griffin pulled back onto the road, heading for Kendall's. “I know he didn't leave here with a pair of swim trunks.”

“I usually have some swimsuits and trunks around the office—”

“Oh, really? What do you do, throw impromptu pool parties for your friends?”

“No. I let some of my patients use the pool, you idiot.”

Griffin imagined Kendall stamping her foot in frustration. Rolling her eyes. That's one of the things they did best: annoy each other.

“I'm almost to your office.”

“Don't come around the back. Ian will see you.” Kendall's voice dropped to a whisper again. “I'll meet you at the front door of the clinic. Text me when you get here.”

Kendall signed off without saying good-bye, leaving Griffin to wonder how many times the woman was going to save his neck. Wasn't the guy supposed to save the gal? At least that's how he heard it went in romance novels. Not that his relationship with Kendall was romantic. Friends is what they were, friends is what they'd stay.

Griffin came barreling up the front walk to her office like a soldier charging the beach on D-Day. Kendall had half a mind to keep the door locked until he calmed down, but barricading him outside the building would only upset him more.

As soon as he stood in front of the double glass doors, she pushed one open, grabbed his hand, and pulled him inside. Then she went on tiptoe, fisted the collar of his jacket in both hands, and forced him to stand still.

“Stop, Griffin.”

“Are you crazy, woman? Let go of my coat. I need to talk to my brother.”

Kendall hung on to Griffin's jean jacket, trusting his innate manners would not allow him to drag her down the hallway. “
Stop.
I need to say a few things.”

He covered her hands with his, distracting her. She had the overwhelming urge to turn her hands over and clasp his hands to hers—to somehow connect with this man who infuriated her. Challenged her. And appealed to her. This close up, she could see the tiny scar on his chin. How did that happen? The intensity of his emotions simmered in the depths of his blue eyes.

Griffin spoke through clenched teeth. “Kendall? Are you just going to hang on my coat all night long?”

“If I have to. Are you going to listen to me?”

When he tried to cross his arms over his chest, Kendall took that as a yes. She eased her hands off his collar. Went down off her tiptoes. Took a step back.

The two of them squared off in the dimly lit hallway. Griffin spoke first. “What did you want to say?”

Kendall took another step backward, just for good measure. “Ian's upset.”

“I know that.”

“And not just about wrecking my Jeep.” She waited, but Griffin stood silent. “He said you've asked another family to be his guardians.”

By the way Griffin's shoulders stiffened, even as he continued to lock eyes with her, Kendall knew it was true. “Why?”

“He's unhappy here. All of his friends are back in Florida, where he grew up. Ian needs to be with people he knows. He should graduate next year with his classmates.”

“He should be with his
family.
Obviously your parents wanted that or they wouldn't have made you his guardian in the event of their deaths.”

“I can't offer Ian a family, Kendall.”

Kendall paced toward him. “I can't believe you said that. Just because Ian's adopted—”

“I don't care that Ian's adopted. That's not what I meant. You should know me better than that by now.”

“Then what do you mean?”

Griffin strode past her up the hallway, disappearing into the dark, then turned, and came back. “Look at me, Kendall.” He raised his arms out from his body a few inches, feet planted wide apart. “I'm single. In the air force. Hoping to fly again as soon as the medical board okays it.”

“Your point is?”

“Single. Military. Pilot. That is no kind of family for Ian. He deserves better.”

“You won't always be—”

“Nothing's going to change, Kendall.” Griffin's inflexible stance mirrored his words. “Nothing.”

“What? You've been divorced, so no more marriage? Yes, I've heard you say that, but it's ridiculous, Griffin.”

“I'm not discussing this with you.”

Kendall caught his arm as he stalked off, as if she could stop six feet of angry from going anywhere. “What's the real reason you're doing this?” She shook his arm. “He's your brother. He needs you. Family sticks together when things go wrong.”

He rounded on her. “You once told me to be the guy Ian needed. I'm not that guy, Kendall. I'm not that guy.”

“You could be . . .”

“No, I can't be. I'm the guy who wrecked a plane and ruined his best friend's career.”

“What?” She stepped back. What had Griffin just said? He wrecked a plane?

Kendall watched Griffin slump to the ground, his back pressed up against the wall in the middle of the darkened hallway. She knelt beside him, touched the rough denim covering his shoulder, then the side of his face, which was turned away from her.

“What did you say?”

“I'm the last guy who should be Ian's guardian.” Griffin stared straight ahead, his eyes trained on the opposite wall. “The summer between my junior and senior years at the Academy, I went flying with my buddy David. We took a couple of girls we knew in the Springs. We were flying low, just for fun. I got careless.” He covered his eyes with his hand, as if shielding himself from seeing the memory replaying in his mind. “I was the pilot . . . and I wasn't paying attention . . . showing off . . . I didn't notice the fuel switch was on
LEFT
, and the left tank ran out of gas. The engine quit and I switched the fuel over to both, but it was too late. We didn't have the altitude to restart the engine . . . so we crashed.”