Free The Prodigal's Return by Anna DeStefano Page A

he does.”
    â€œHe locked me out, Jenn.”
    â€œThen break the door down.” She fired the engine, prepared to leave whether he let go or not.
    Please let go.
    But as he finally stepped back, the loss that had destroyed her in the courtroom years ago threatened to consume her all over again.
    Â 
    â€œI S EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT ?” her dad called as Jenn and Mandy hurried in the front door, bringing the cold night in with them.
    It was hours past the two o’clock she’d promised to return by.
    â€œI’m sorry we’re so late. I didn’t make it back to pick up Mandy until after six. I’ll get started on dinner.”
    â€œDinner’s fine. I popped a frozen pizza in the oven a few minutes ago. What happened at Nathan’s? I was worried.”
    â€œMandy, honey. Why don’t you play upstairs for a bit until the pizza’s ready?” Jenn forced a smile as she grabbed the coat off her twirling child. An everyday routine they followed without thinking, only today the normalcy of it earned Mandy an extra hug.
    This child was a reminder of all Jenn had done right since leaving Rivermist in shame. Everything she could still do right in her life, if she stayed and kept trying, instead of running—which was exactly what she’d talked herself out of doing as she drove in circles for hours before finally driving to Ashley’s.
    â€œâ€™Kay, Mommy.” The six-year-old headed up the stairs, giving her grandfather plenty of space.
    Disappointment flickered across his features.
    â€œShe’ll get over this morning, Dad.” Jenn patted his shoulder, then shucked off her own coat. “She loves you to pieces.”
    She found herself drowning in his gaze, the word love swirling in the perpetually choppy watersbetween them. If only she could claim for herself what she just had for her daughter—that she loved this man to pieces. But that kind of trust was beyond them still, just when she desperately needed it back.
    Yet, he’d been worried about her, even if his concern came in the guise of heating an oven-baked pizza. That was something at least.
    â€œSomething’s wrong,” he said. “Is it Nathan?”
    Nathan, Traci, Neal—where did she start?
    Neal.
    Her mind had refused to settle on anything else, no matter how pointless and painful it was to replay how tall and breathtakingly handsome he still was. He’d been right there in front of her. Touching her and talking to her. And she’d—
    Stop it!
    â€œMr. Cain…” she began, forcing her thoughts back to what she dealt with best: other people’s problems. “He’s dying, Dad. Nathan Cain’s dying.”
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    â€œT ELL ME YOU DIDN’T KNOW ,” Neal demanded as he barged past Buford’s sputtering secretary and into the lawyer’s office.
    â€œMr. Richmond?” asked the young girl manning what used to be Gretchen McCrady’s desk.
    â€œIt’s okay, Belinda.” Buford waved her away and waited for the door to close before addressing Neal. “I take it you’ve seen your daddy’s place foryourself. It’s a shame how he’s let that house go. I tried to tell you—”
    â€œScrew the house.” Neal dropped into the age-worn club chair that had been across from the man’s desk since Buford and Nathan started the firm twenty-five years ago. “Tell me you didn’t call me down here on the pretence of making sure my father saw a doctor, knowing full well the man was dying.”
    â€œDying?” The leather of Buford’s chair groaned as he leaned forward. “Who told you that?”
    â€œNathan! Sort of. The two of them were acting weird, then something he said hit me—only a minute before the front door did, when he locked me out. I’ve tried for hours to get him to open back up, but—”
    â€œThey?” Buford roused himself from his shock to zero in on