But maybe, truthfully, there was more to it. Maybe, down deep where the shadows of his past lurked, there was still a piece of him that was scared of another mistake. Scared something with Bridgewell might go wrong and he’d fail again and she and anyone else he told would know.
Maybe that’s why he’d called Flagg so many times last week. Why, even now, he knew he had to make this thing with Noah Johansson work. Because he had to return to Bridgewell.
His life in Maple Valley gave him a sense of peace. But Bridgewell gave him purpose—and probably the closest thing he’d ever get to redemption.
“I better get to the security line.” Flagg clasped his palm in a handshake.
“I’m sorry I was rude when you first got here yesterday.”
Flagg grinned. “I’d hold a grudge except, honestly, it was highly amusing seeing you so upended and frantic.”
“I don’t think you’re capable of holding a grudge.” No, underneath his soldierly exterior, Flagg was far too compassionate for that. He was a man of quiet, but strong, faith—in God, in forgiveness, in the power of prayer and the possibility of redemption.
There’d been a time when Lucas had that sort of belief, too. Might even still be there inside somewhere, but it was worn and eroded now. His prayers were few and far between.
“Well, I’ll tell you what, son, I know a thing or two about what you’re capable of. I know you don’t see the sense in this assignment. But give it some time. Get to know Noah and let him get to know you. You have more to offer than you realize.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t think I don’t know how badly you want to argue with me right now.” Flagg chuckled and slung his bag over his shoulder. “Now, I’ve got a plane to catch. And Noah’s should be landing any minute.”
Already had according to the flight schedule behind Flagg. Another handshake and the older man was off. Lucas crossed from the escalators to the baggage claim and found a seat.
“You have more to offer than you realize.”
Flagg was right—not about that, but about how much he’d wanted to argue. To say he didn’t have a thing to offer Noah. That there had to be someone better.
But this was the assignment. Somehow he had to figure out how to treat it the way he did all his other assignments. Accept the mission. Identify the strategy. Complete the mission.
From his pocket, his phone pinged. Kit checking on his whereabouts? Or Beckett nagging him for leaving him alone at the climbing wall today. Or perhaps Flagg had given Noah his number.
Better than all three—Jen.
Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU. I would’ve said it sooner but I temporarily lost my phone.
Despite the fatigue clinging to every bone in his body, he grinned and replied to her text.
Everything going ok? With the kids and stuff?
His phone dinged again.
Acknowledge my gratitude, Lucas!! (And yes. Everyone’s still alive, anyway.)
Gratitude acknowledged. You’re welcome, obviously.
“Are you Lucas?”
He looked up from his phone. “Noah?”
A younger man stood in front of him, his clean-shaven cheeks and a light blue button-down a contrast to the tattoos marking both arms, the leather jacket tied around his duffel.
Lucas stood. “Nice to meet you.” He held out his palm, but Noah didn’t move to take it. He dropped his hand. “I know this is a little awkward. Don’t know about you, but Flagg didn’t give me much lead time here. But I’m hopeful—”
“You can keep your hope. I don’t need it.”
“Okay. Uh, listen—”
Noah’s pale eyes glinted with stubbornness. “What I need is to make the Bridgewell Elite team. I doubt you want me here any more than I want to be here. But if it’s what I have to do to make the team, I’ll do it. Just don’t expect me to be happy about it. I’m not looking for a new best friend.”
Lucas adopted Sam’s usual look—folded his arms, lifted an eyebrow. “You finished?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. You got a suitcase or anything?”
Noah nodded.
“I’ll wait.”
The younger man turned toward the baggage claim but Lucas called after him. “Not for nothing, but I’ve already got plenty of friends. And you might want to consider that the guy you just brushed off holds the key to your future with that team you want to join.”
Noah’s back stiffened.
Same way his own sore muscles tightened at the thought that the reverse was equally true. His own future with Bridgewell rested with the sullen man currently walking away from him.
Peachy. Just . . . peachy.
Colie wouldn’t get out of the borrowed minivan.
Jenessa shifted Cade on her hip, a cool breeze sending sand from the orchard’s gravel parking lot dusting over her black-and-white-striped canvas shoes. She kept hold of Violet’s hand to keep her from excitedly running toward the goats she’d already spotted in the petting zoo.
“Please come with us, Colie. It’s a really cool orchard.”
Coming to the orchard late in the afternoon had been a whim, sparked by a desire to distract the children from all the turmoil they’d experienced since their grandmother’s passing. Maybe distract herself too. Violet had asked her at least twenty times if they’d be staying at the house again tonight. Colie had cast her countless skeptical scowls all day long. After calling that emergency DHS number three times without an answer, she’d been helpless to know what else to do other than tell Violet that, yes, they probably would be staying another night and come up with some sort of activity—anything—to fill the rest of their Saturday.
And if Lucas was here, she could take the opportunity to thank him again for all he’d done last night.
Transportation had been her only obstacle, but Sam had come through. One of his deputies had a minivan he didn’t need for the day.
“I want to see the goats, Jessa.” Violet tugged on her hand.
“Please, Colie?” She tried again.
“I don’t feel like it.”
How many times had she heard that exact phrase today? Colie hadn’t felt like eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at lunch. She hadn’t felt like explaining Cade’s napping routine. She certainly hadn’t felt like talking at all about what had happened with her grandmother a few days ago.
But Jenessa had pieced together enough from Violet. Their grandmother—who Violet had repeatedly referred to as mean—hadn’t come out of her bedroom by lunchtime on Wednesday. Colie had found her unresponsive in her bed and had called 9-1-1.
But so much didn’t make sense. Were there truly no other adults in the kids’ lives? And why weren’t they in school? Had Colie had a plan when they’d left their house?
According to Sam, the eviction notice on their front door was a week old. Which meant the grandmother had known about it. Had she had a plan?
For all she didn’t understand about the Hollis family’s situation, subtle questions to Violet here and there had filled in a few gaps. They hadn’t had a happy home life even before Tessa Hollis’s death, it seemed. Tessa and the grandmother hadn’t gotten along. Sometimes her mom had a job and sometimes she didn’t, Violet said. And their father rarely made an appearance.