Saving Sara (Redemption #1) (16 page)

27.

C
illa had a killer headache that wouldn’t quit.

She’d had it ever since she’d shrieked at Bryce like a banshee and run out on him.

He’d called her cell a few times and left messages. She’d deleted them without listening. What was the point, when nothing he could say would change facts?

She couldn’t give him what he wanted and he deserved a woman who could.

“Were you playing matchmaker last night?” Jake strolled into the kitchen and grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl.

“Good morning to you too,” Cilla muttered, stirring the porridge with particular viciousness.

“Someone’s in a bad mood.” Jake took a bite out of the apple and leaned against the island bench, his intense scrutiny making her uncomfortable.

“Heard you on the phone last night. Were you talking t
o Rose?”

He bought her deflection or decided to let her off the hook. “Yeah, she’s improving daily. Sounded really upbeat.”

“When can Olly see her?”

It broke Cilla’s heart, seeing the way that boy pined after his mother. Olly hid it well but she heard his tears some nights, saw the way he stared out of the window in the hope his mother would drive up to the house. Jake was doing the best he could, and their relationship had improved, but a caring uncle was no substitute for a mother.

“Not yet. But he can call her later.”

“He’ll like that.” She took the porridge off the stove. “And to answer your original question, no, I’m not matchmaking. I just thought it was a nice night for a stroll.”

Jake faked a sneeze that sounded surprisingly like “bullshit.”

Cilla turned to face him. “Listen, want to know why I sent you two away? Because Olly dotes on Sara. I saw the way he hung on her every word, the way he lit up when she even glanced his way, and I don’t want him getting too attached to her.”

“What?” Jake’s mouth hung open. “Olly’s good for Sara and vice versa.”

Cilla didn’t condone naivety. Not when she’d had her own ripped away as a teen married to a monster. “I already warned you about this right at the start. Sure, Sara looks years younger compared to when she first came here, I’ll grant you that. But what do you think will happen to her when Olly leaves and she feels like she’s lost another child all over again?”

Jake frowned. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think? You can’t compare her grief at losing a child with missing Olly once he m
oves away.”

“How do you know?” Cilla yelled, startled by her own vehemence. “I’ve never had a child die but I grieved every single day for years when Tam left. And even you . . .” She trailed off, horrified she’d given away so much. “When your father wouldn’t let me see you and Rose anymore, I missed you so much it hurt. You kids had no idea how much you brightened my life when you stayed here. You helped me forget my own miserable life. You gave me purpose.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Jake crossed the kitchen to hug her. “We missed you too.”

Cilla allowed Jake to comfort her for a brief time before shrugging out of his embrace. The last thing she needed today was sympathy. She’d been treading a fine line since leaving Bryce, standing on an emotional precipice doing her best not to tumble off. If Jake was any nicer, she’d start blubbering and not stop for a week.

“I don’t want to see Olly get hurt,” she said, clearing her throat when her voice came out husky. “As far as he knows, his mom abandoned him, he’s living with an old aunt he’s never met, his uncle is his new guardian and the lady next door seems like an angel.” She shook her head. “It’s too much for a kid his age to handle.”

“Olly’s doing okay,” Jake said, his expression closed off. “I have to head into town for half an hour and when I get back I’ll take him fishing. Do you need anything?”

“No thanks.”

Jake nodded and made for the back door, like he couldn’t escape fast enough. What was it about men running at the slightest hint of anything to do with deeper emotional needs? Though considering she’d bailed on Bryce, she guessed the escape artist genes favored both sexes.

Shaking her head, she walked to the foot of the stairs, before calling out, “Olly, breakfast is ready.”

Usually, he would scamper downstairs at breakneck speed, declaring how starving he was, and have a double helping of her porridge sprinkled with brown sugar and cinnamon.

Today, silence greeted her, so she called out again.

Nothing.

With an increasing sense of foreboding, Cilla climbed the stairs. Knocked on the door of Olly’s room. And opened it when there was no response.

The bed had been slept in. But Olly’s favorite ripped jeans, red T-shirt and holey sneakers were gone. Nothing unusual with that; he always came down to breakfast dressed. But the silence in the house made her edgy.

After a quick check of the upstairs bathroom and all the bedrooms, she padded downstairs.

“Olly, where are you?” she called out repeatedly, flinging doors open to check every room. He wasn’t in the den, the living room or the downstairs bathroom, and in the kitchen, her porridge congealed on the sideboard with no little boy in sight.

Panic made her hands shake as she wrenched open the back door and scanned the garden. No flash of red. She ran outside and scoured her property, front and back. No Olly.

With her pulse pounding so loud in her ears she could hardly think straight, she ran inside and grabbed her keys. Maybe s
he could drive a
round, see if she spotted him walking in a nearby field.

Her first instinct, to call Jake, made her grab her cell. But she stopped, her thumb hovering over the call button. He’d freak out. He already carried around enough guilt over that plane crash and she saw it every day, no matter how much he tried to hide it from her. If he thought for one second Olly had run away . . . No, she was probably being overdramatic.

Perhaps Olly had gone for a morning walk without telling them. Or had popped over to Sara’s house. However, a quick visit next door showed that Sara wasn’t home and a scour of her garden proved Olly wasn’t there either.

Fear tightened her chest as Cilla gripped the cell in her hand. There was one other person she could call other than Jake, the only other person in town she trusted aside from her nephew.

Bryce had a level head; he’d know what to do. He could help her search without making a fuss that could potentially scar Jake and Olly for life.

Without hesitation, she called him. He answered on the second ring, thank goodness.

“Cilla, thanks for calling me back—”

“I need your help.”

“Anything,” he said, without question, and if he were in front of her at that moment she would’ve kissed him in gratitude.

“I can’t find Olly this morning. I’ve looked everywhere. Jake’s in town and I don’t want to worry him unnecessarily so I was wondering if you could help me search. It’s probably nothing and he’s just gone off for a stroll but I’m worried—”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” he said, and hung up.

Cilla slipped the cell back into her pocket with a shaky hand. Bryce had come to her aid, no questions asked. A man of action. She should be grateful, but one thought pierced her worry.

Was I too hasty in giving him up?

While she waited for Bryce, Cilla retraced her steps, once again searching every inch of her house and its surroundings. She yelled out Olly’s name until her throat ached. She checked every hiding place a boy would find tempting.

When Bryce arrived, he’d barely stepped from the car before she flung herself into his arms.

“I can’t find him anywhere. Should I call the police?” She
sniffled
into his chest, finding the familiarity of his aftershave
comforting
, before she realized what she was doing and disengaged.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” he said, his expression grim despite his eyes seeming to eat her up and come back for seconds. “When did you last see him?”

“About half an hour ago. He was in bed so I popped my head in to say good morning before heading downstairs to make breakfast.” She dragged in a deep breath to stop the quiver in her voice. “He seemed perfectly normal. Sleep-tousled but happy.”

“So nothing happened? No argument?”

She shook her head. “I heard Jake say good morning to Olly a few minutes after I did and that was it.”

“In that case, if you saw him thirty minutes ago, he couldn’t have gone far.” He glanced at her car. “I’d suggest we split up and drive a five-mile radius, but Olly doesn’t know me and if I found him, he’d be more likely to bolt than come back with me.”

“You really think he ran away?” Cilla’s heart ached at the thought of that sweet little boy feeling so dejected that he had to abandon the only home he knew for now.

“No point speculating. Let’s go find him.” Bryce walked around his car and held open the passenger door, staring at her with a raised eyebrow when she hesitated.

But not for the reasons he thought. Being in the car alone with Bryce didn’t terrify her as much as the thought of not finding Olly or, worse, discovering a tragedy had befallen him.

“I didn’t call Jake because I didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily. Do you think I should?”

Bryce’s frown deepened. “Thirty minutes isn’t long enough for little legs to get very far, so let’s do a quick drive around and if we don’t find him, we’ll call Jake, okay?”

Cilla nodded, glad of Bryce’s decisiveness. She’d done the right thing in calling him.

She slipped into the passenger side of his luxury vehicle, belted up and prayed. She prayed harder than she’d prayed for years, as they cruised the country lanes surrounding her house, working
outward
.

“Do you know what he’s wearing?” Bryce glanced at her,
taking
his eyes off the road for a brief second, and the concern she glimpsed exacerbated her fear.

“Jeans and a red T, I think.”

At that moment, Cilla spotted a flash of crimson in the
vineyard
on their left.

“There. I spotted something,” she said, almost flinging the door open in her haste.

“Whoa. Hold on.” Bryce pulled over and she was out of the car before it had come to a complete stop.

Bryce wasn’t far behind. “Don’t scare him,” he said, laying
a ha
nd on her arm, the contact jolting her and making her panic in a different way: the way her body reacted when he touched her made her feel more alive than she had in years. Despite all her self-talk to ignore her attraction to this charming man, all he had to do was touch her and he bamboozled her all over again, her body humming to life in a way it never had before.

She could blame her body’s reaction on her freak-out over Olly, on the fact that adrenalin was already flooding her system and maybe Bryce’s touch had set it off, but she knew better, dammit.

“Come on, we’re wasting time,” she said, shrugging off his hand and running into the vineyard.

But she took Bryce’s advice, not calling out to Olly. Instead, she pointed at the red flash weaving in and out of the vines. Bryce nodded and accelerated, his long strides meaning she had to jog to keep up with him.

When they got closer, Cilla’s knees almost buckled in relief as she spotted a mop of dark curls above the red.

“That’s Olly,” she said, swallowing a sob that threatened to spi
ll out.

“It’ll be okay.” Bryce snagged her hand and squeezed it before releasing, the brief contact less surprising this time and more
welcome
.

They picked up the pace and when they were close enough, Cilla held up her hand so Bryce would stop and she could move forward alone.

He nodded, his eyes filled with concern and understanding and compassion.

He really was a spectacular man.

But Cilla didn’t have time to ponder her foolishness in letting him go. Not when she had a young boy who deserved her full
attention
.

She continued following Olly for a few paces, before her shadow fell across his and he spun around, letting rip a bloodcurdling scream.

“Olly, it’s me,” she said, crouching down to his level and holding his shoulders in case he decided to bolt. Her legs had turned to jelly in relief and she couldn’t possibly have chased him at this point even if she tried. “Are you lost, sweetheart?”

Olly’s lips compressed into a thin, mutinous line as he shook his head. Cilla’s heart sank. Her earlier suspicions had been confirmed. Olly hadn’t taken a morning stroll and lost his way.

He’d run away.

“Come home with me and we’ll talk over a mug of hot
chocolate
.” She squeezed his shoulders in reassurance. “With extra marshmallows, for energy.” She glanced around. “You’ve walked a long way from home.”

“Your house isn’t my home,” he blurted, tears filling his eyes. “I don’t have a home. Mom doesn’t want me anymore, Uncle Jake won’t want me soon because I saw him kissing Sara and they’ll get married and have their own kids, and you’re sad all the time because I’m around.”

He started sobbing and Cilla’s heart fractured, and shattered into a million pieces.

This poor, poor child.

“None of that’s true,” she said, slipping her arms around him, relieved when he didn’t pull away.

He sniffled into her shoulder. “It
is
true. I saw Uncle Jake and Sara kissing last night from my bedroom window.”

For the first time this morning, Cilla felt like smiling.

“Sometimes grownups kiss because they like each other, not because they’re going to get married.”

He pulled away, indignation scrunching his cute face. “So they can’t have kids if they’re not married?”

That was a talk she’d save for another day, like in five years or so. For now, Cilla had to show Olly he was loved and that no one was going to abandon him again.

“How about we go get that hot chocolate and I’ll answer all your questions, okay?”

Olly glared at her, his hands still clutching her top. “Okay. But Uncle Jake’s going to be real mad I ran away.”

“Why don’t you let me handle Uncle Jake?”