Chapter 45

forty-five

LIAM

I lifted my suitcase off the luggage carousel and followed a stream of people out of O'Hare Airport. My flight from Boulder had been uneventful. Given the overnight storm that had covered Chicago in two feet of snow, I was grateful the plane was able to land.

In between dodging more than one tired traveler, I admired the glass and steel canopy above me. Whoever had designed the building deserved an award. Even in the middle of winter, light shone through the glass and bounced off the black and white tiled floor. If you didn't look outside, you'd swear it was the middle of summer.

"Liam!"

I looked to my right. With the agility of someone half his age, my dad rushed across the terminal. I changed direction and raised my arm to let him know I'd heard him. The only disadvantage to the glass, steel, and tile floor was the way noise echoed off the hard surfaces.

To prove my point, a group of carolers burst into a rousing rendition of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen .

Hearing anything above their singing was impossible .

James Nelson slowed and gave the carolers a wide berth. My dad had never been the type of person who joined in with any musical group. Even the shopping mall sound systems couldn't wriggle one chorus of a catchy tune out of him. He was a typical, introverted history professor, except when it came to his family. He used to be more open and willing to listen to everyone's point of view. I didn't know what my dad was anymore, but I wanted to find out.

My dad stood in front of me, hardly out of breath. "Your flight was early."

Four years ago, our relationship was so bad that I would have bristled at his tone. But that was then, and today was a new beginning. "The pilot said we had a tailwind. I was going to text you as soon as I reached the main entrance."

James nodded. "Let's get out of here. The carolers are giving me a headache."

I followed my dad. He was already five steps ahead of me, plowing through a large group of people standing like lost souls in the middle of the concourse.

I remembered another airport, a different group of tourists who were caught in the middle of Paul's attempted kidnapping. I moved closer to my dad.

His sharp gaze swung toward me. "Nothing's going to happen. You can relax."

I shrugged. I hadn't relaxed in years, and I wasn't about to start now.

"Suit yourself," James muttered.

I intended to.

My dad turned away from the main walkway. "I need to speak to you. The airline only uses these gates during peak times. It's the quietest place in the terminal."

My suitcase rumbled over the tiles. There must have been another ten or fifteen gates in this part of the building. Because no one was using the facilities, we almost had the entire area to ourselves.

I studied a cleaner pushing a cart full of bathroom supplies.

My dad frowned. "If he's got a bomb in the cart, I'll eat my hat. The FBI has made you cynical."

Pointing out that the FBI's influence was minor compared to what had happened six years ago wouldn't help anyone. Instead, I moved my attention to a woman pushing a stroller. "Occupational hazard. Wouldn't it have been better to head to the parking lot?"

James looked uncertainly at me. "This can't wait." He stood in front of a window overlooking one of the runways. "Before your mom died, she told me to look after you. I haven't done a very good job, and I'm sorry. I know you weren't to blame for Lacey's death, but I took my anger out on you."

My grip tightened on the handle of my suitcase. "We both made mistakes."

"I'm your father. I should have known better." My dad's eyes filled with tears. "I let you down. I let Lacey down. She would have wanted her grandpa to be there for you."

My dad had never been the hugging type of person. He kept his feelings close to his chest and rarely let anyone close. But today, in the middle of an almost empty terminal, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around my shoulders.

"I missed four years of your life," James said quietly. "I don't want to miss another day."

Breathing deeply, I held onto my dad. Tears filled my eyes when I thought of the nights I'd stayed awake, reliving the accident over and over again, trying to change what had happened. If I'd let Victor leave Chicago, if I'd driven another way home, if I'd left the railway station ten minutes later, Lacey would still be alive.

But there was nothing I could do about the night of the accident, the aftermath that had destroyed me. All I could do was hold my dad and pray Lacey was happy. That somewhere in the universe, she'd found peace and didn't blame me for the tragedy that had taken her life.