Chapter 21

Chapter

Twenty-One

Ben Cannon looks exactly as I imagine Paul will in thirty years, with salt and pepper hair and a thicker middle. They have the same kind eyes and easy smiles. I'm struck as I watch them. The happiness they feel at seeing each other radiates. They genuinely care. I notice them whispering and can only imagine it's about Nancy's death as Ben checks in on how his son's handling things.

"Papa!" Diana runs, arms wide, toward Ben. Her legs kick in anticipation of being lifted off the ground. He gives her a little twirl.

I feel a twinge. I miss my grandfather.

I have to look away. My eyes fall onto a restaurant boasting the best barbeque in Kansas City. The smell of cooking meat permeates the air from a smoker somewhere outback, overtaking the scent of the city. The bright red and white paint mimics the colors of the local football team. A beefy, hairy gentleman in flannel standing at the window looking out at us makes me think this place would make a perfect beacon for werewolves. Something about his large hands reminds me of the fist trying to hand me a sweaty handkerchief at the funeral.

"How was the trip?" Ben asks.

Paul says something polite and non-alarming in return.

Even though we're in a city, it doesn't feel like New York. No place feels like New York City. It's hard to explain. The vibe is gentler here. Strangers make more eye contact.

Or possibly they're making contact because I'm staring first.

"How's mom?" Paul asks.

"Doing better," Ben answers. "She hated not being there for you."

"I know," Paul says. "But I'm glad you didn't have her make the trip. Is she feeling better?"

"She gets tired easily." Ben forces a smile to hide his worry. I've seen Paul do that exact same thing. "But knowing a certain little girl is going to pay a visit has put a pep in her step."

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Dad, this is our friend, Tamara," Paul says, forcing me to turn my attention back to them.

I'm aware of how messy I look, and I give a nervous nod. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Cannon."

"Oh, Ben, please," he automatically corrects. "So, what brings you to Missouri?"

"I thought we were in Kansas," I answer in surprise.

"Almost," Ben laughs. "Common misconception being as it's called Kansas City. The state line is a short drive that way, which cuts the city in two. So what brings you to almost Kansas?"

"Oh, um." I glance at Paul for help. "I'm just passing through. Paul was considerate enough to give me a ride."

"Me, too," Diana says as her papa lets her slide to the ground.

"Right, Diana, too. She was nice enough to let me tag along." I absently work the tip of my finger against a jagged thumbnail, picking at it.

"So, how do you all know each other?" Ben smiles as if he is well-versed in the art of polite conversation. The question is meant to break the ice, but there is a natural undercurrent to it that is hard to ignore. His eyes have no judgment when he looks at me, and I'm grateful for that.

I wonder how much Paul has told his parents about his situation with Nancy. Technically, Paul was still married up until a few weeks ago. Even without the added complexity of the paranormal reality, my being with them could appear unseemly.

"It's a long story. I'll tell you about it later," Paul answers.

"Her parents and brother died," Diana pipes up matter-of-factly. "Their funeral was by my mom's."

The unexpected answer catches Ben by surprise, and I see him struggling to find the right words to respond. The instant concern in his expression reflects his sincerity as he clears his throat and says, "I'm sorry for your loss."

I nod. "Thank you."

He doesn't pry for details, and I'm thankful for that.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, motioning toward the restaurant.

Paul gives a small laugh. "What would Mom say if she found out you were crashing your diet?"

Ben gives a playful frown and waves his hand. "Who wants to live forever if all you get to eat is salmon and salad? Besides, what she doesn't know…"

"I'll tell her," Diana inserts. "And you'll be in trouuu-ble!"

"Oh, you'll tell on me, will you?" Ben feigns disappointment as he reaches for her, but it's clear from the twinkle in his eye that he has something mischievous planned. He tickles her, and her childish laughter echoes through the empty parking lot, filling the air with her infectious joy. It warms my heart to hear her playfulness. Anything is better than crying and clinging to my arm in the car, begging me not to leave her.

I don't belong here. Wanting something and getting to have it are two completely different things. I hug my arms to my waist and wait. I want this moment to be over, like ripping duct tape off your skin. The ripping off a band-aid metaphor doesn't do my heartache justice.

Paul's eyes meet mine, and he glances toward the car as if silently telling me we're going to leave soon. I nod once.

"Speaking of diets, Grandma's kitchen is currently covered in cookies," Ben tells Diana. "I have it on good authority if I bring back a certain little girl, and if that little girl asks nicely, she'll let me have some."

"You get fish!" Diana teases.

Ben recoils. "Fine. Then you distract her, and I'll steal some anyway."

Diana lets out an impish laugh and nods in agreement at his plan. She hunches her shoulders and holds out her fingers like grabby claws to show how she'll sneak for the cookies. "Like ninjas!"

"Cookie ninjas," Ben agrees. "I bet I can eat more than you."

"Nuh-uh," Diana counters.

"Ugh-huh," Ben banters.

"Dad." Paul grimaces and shakes his head with parental concern. "Try to throw a vegetable in there, would you?"

"And ruin the sugar rush?" Ben teases. "Sorry, Dad, but grandparents don't have to do vegetables. Our whole job is to spoil. I retired from vegetable duty when you moved out of the house."

"Yeah," Diana mimics, "sorry, Dad!"

Ben affectionately slaps his son's back. Paul drops his head forward in mock defeat and shakes his head.

The familial scene only makes the ache inside me worse. What would it have been like to have a life like this one? They're so effortless in their affections.

"Say your goodbyes, kiddo," Ben instructs. "Your grandma is going to have my head if I don't take you to her."

Diana's cheerful demeanor suddenly shifts as she looks at me. Her smile fades, and I see sadness creeping in. Before I can say anything, she rushes toward me and tightly wraps her arms around my waist. For a moment, it's like she's holding on for dear life.

I get it. Her world has been shaken, and she doesn't want to lose more.

"Dad, let me talk to you for a moment." Paul motions his father away from us and starts talking in a low tone. Ben glances in our direction with concern.

I pet Diana's hair. "I want you to remember a couple of things for me."

She looks up at me.

"First, fairy sprinkles taste better after they float."

She nods as if it's the most logical advice in the world.

"Second, do you remember the magic spell?"

"I'm Devine protectus," she answers.

"Good job. It'll keep you safe." I cup her cheek. "If anything scary like those men from the motel bothers you, you yell that at them as loud as you can to make them go away."

I hope and pray it's true.

"Come give me a hug." Paul crouches to be at her level.

Diana leaves me to give him his hug.

"Let's go, squirt," Ben says.

"I'll be by later tonight," Paul says. "Call if you need me."

Ben offers his hand to Diana and walks with her to his pickup truck. "Nice to meet you, Tamara."

"Nice to meet you too," I call after them. I watch Diana.

"Ready?" Paul pulls out his keys.

I nod even though I don't want to leave. It's not lost on me that I wanted this moment over seconds before, but maybe the metaphorical duct tape can restrain me a little longer before I tear it off.

He comes to stand beside me as we watch them climb into the truck. Tears threaten as I think of never seeing Diana again. I want to take back all those moments of irritation I felt on this trip with her.

"Did you warn him to be careful?" I ask.

Paul nods. "I had to say something. Diana will surely mention seeing the fires."

Worry etches his features, and he tries to hide it behind a smile. Even though he doesn't look directly at me, his hand reaches for mine, squeezing it.

"He'll keep her safe," he says, almost to himself more than me.

"You should go with them." I pull my hand from his. "I'll be all right on my own."

"No. We need to have a conversation," Paul says.

The burly man in flannel watches us from the restaurant window. Logic says he's probably checking to see if we're customers, but I don't like the attention. It would make sense, though, if a werewolf opened a barbeque joint. They do have ravenous appetites.

"You're right. I owe you at least that much." I get into the SUV and glance into the empty back seat.

I've had moments alone with Paul, but Diana was always nearby like a mini chaperone. Now, we are totally alone, and I find myself nervous.

My gaze moves to watch his strong hands as he starts the car. "Where to?"

"Bus station," I answer. Yes, Conrad has an airplane ticket waiting for me and flying might be faster, but I don't want to be stuck at thirty thousand plus feet in the air with supernaturals after me. At least with a bus, there is a chance of escape.

Paul grabs his phone as the SUV idles in the parking lot.

Assuming he's looking for directions, I lean my head against the window and stare out at the restaurant. Mr. Flannel is no longer at his post, and Diana and Ben are gone.

"The bus to California doesn't leave until eleven thirty tonight." Paul places his phone on his lap and puts the SUV into gear. "We have time before I have to drop you off."

I watch him navigate into the city traffic. The car hums softly with the gentle vibration of the engine. He seems to know the area.

Paul had mentioned earlier that he wanted to talk, but now he's silent. He seems lost in thought, staring ahead at the busy street in front of us. The view is a mix of opposites. Public spaces filled with trees are nestled between blocks of cement structures.

Watching him drive, I'm mesmerized by the movements of his hands as they guide the steering wheel. I remember what they felt like holding me when we kissed behind this very vehicle at the motel. The memory brings with it a flood of sensations. My lips tingle, and I long for his mouth, soft and warm against mine. I want the heat of his body pressing close as his hands roam with a passion that leaves me breathless.

But he might as well be a million miles away.

The ache of wanting something so bad and knowing I can't have it is worse than any punishment I've ever endured.

We pass by a hotel, and I reach for his arm.

"Stop here," I whisper.

He looks over in surprise. I don't blame him. I surprise myself.

Paul enters the small parking lot and finds a spot before turning off the car.

The red brick hotel looks like the kind of place you don't want to be caught after dark. I see a bony figure sleeping in the shadows next to the building. She's wearing shorts and a tank top, and I detect red scabs on her skin. There's a sadness to the fa?ade evident in a century of dirt and mold staining the once proud exterior. I can imagine all kinds of human tragedies emanating from inside its walls. Why not add my heartache to the mix?

The one thing the hotel has going for it is that it's here. I'm tired of being in the car, staring at Paul's hands, mile after mile. I'm tired of the annoyingly persistent ache inside my body. I'm tired of feeling alone, scared, and on the run. I want to be somewhere no one will think to look for me, and this forsaken place in the middle of Kansas City is it.

I don't dwell on the fact that no one should have been looking for me at the last two locations.

Nor do I let myself think about how self-centered I am by dragging Paul once more into my vortex. I'm greedy and selfish. I want at least one moment to carry with me after I say goodbye.

"Diana seems like she's going to be all right," I say, more for myself than for him. I remember Paul mentioning that his dad had been a firefighter. Somehow, that knowledge makes me feel better.

"She loves hanging out with my parents. They spoil her rotten and hardly ever say no." Paul gives a small laugh. "It'll be good for her to be around family."

I'm going to miss that little duckling. Our parting was not the dramatic goodbye I thought it would be. In the end, she just drove off with her grandfather. No tear-stained eyes pressed against the glass as they faded into the distance, like the turning point in some movie.

But life isn't a movie. This nightmare is all real.