Wow... those reviews! 21 in the first 12 hours after I posted. That's insane. I can tell you all feel strongly about Ranger's actions.

Chapter 35

"Given everything that has happened between us this year," I said evenly, managing to maintain steady eye contact even as my heart beat a rapid tattoo in my chest. I couldn't believe it had come to this. "We can't possibly stay together right now. It's not healthy for either of us. We need to heal and to understand why we allowed such a devastating series of events to happen. I have been working through things with a psychologist recently and it seems to have helped so far. I'll be continuing to do this in light of the new information you have revealed this morning. I suggest you do the same."

He nodded but said nothing. Just as well, since I wasn't finished.

"There has been a fundamental breakdown of trust," I pointed out, amazed at how calm I sounded when I was falling apart inside. I'd been angry at Ranger for so long, but I think somewhere deep down, I had harboured some hope that we could get through this. Now, I wasn't so sure. "Which," I continued, "As I'm sure you're aware, is not easily repaired. My hope is, while I can't fathom looking at you right now, we can, in time, start to mend the bridges that have been burned by both our actions."

Another nod.

I squinched my eyes shut for a few seconds, working at maintaining my control, before opening them, and downing the last mouthful of my orange juice. My next move was probably a selfish one, but I while I warred with myself over it, I knew I couldn't not make it. The wrong needed to be righted and Ranger was the only person I could think of that had the means to see it through. "I had hoped," I told him, meeting his gaze once more. "That if this conversation had gone well, I could have gotten your advice and help on a personal case I have uncovered recently." A quick, blind rummage in my bag produced a relatively thin file. "I know that something needs to be done about it, but I'm at a loss as to what that is, or how to go about it."

Setting the file on the table between our empty plates, I sat back on my side of the booth, wedging my hands under my ass to keep them from fiddling nervously with everything in sight. Ranger dragged the file toward himself and spent several silent minutes perusing it. "Criminal abandonment," he eventually uttered. "Desertion. Bigamy." His brows creased as e regarded me. "What's your connection to this?"

"Brandon Haze, the fourth partner, is the man who trained me while I was in England. I hot to know him and his daughter quite well and was horrified by the effects of this woman's actions on the little girl. I haven't looked any further into it than what's in this file, but I imagine the other men she's spurned are also dealing with lingering trauma."

He shook his head, a hint of sadness in the action. "I'm not a private investigator, Babe," he pointed out. "And I don't have the authority to bring this woman to justice."

"No," I agreed. "You don't. But you do have friends in high places that can get things done. My hope is that with your influence, this woman's reign of terror can come to an end and the men and children she had hurt can start to heal." I let that sink in for a few moments, adding selfishly, "Think of it as your first act of redemption. Step one of our own healing process."

One eyebrow twitched a little higher on his forehead than the other, but he didn't say a word, only inclined his head in a near invisible nod.

"I'm not saying that if you get this done I'll be able to forgive you and we can be together again," I clarified, sitting a little straighter. "I'm not sure if we'll ever be able to make it back to where we were before. But maybe this will be a show of good faith. A step in the right direction."

Another nod, this one slow and solemn, acknowledging the truth of my statement. "I'll be staying out here for the foreseeable future," he said, closing the file and folding his hands on top of it. "Throwing all my energy into getting the new branch up and running, and working through my issues with my own psych, like you suggested. I hope not having me around town to accidentally run in to will help your healing journey. And maybe somewhere down the track we can revisit this conversation. In a year, or two years. To check in with each other and see where we are."

"That sounds like a decent idea," I agreed. "We need to heal individually, but there's also healing that needs to be done together… I mean… with each other." I took a deep breath, trying to keep all the many emotions I was feeling in check. I was having a mature conversation for once and while that didn't mean that emotions had to stay out of it, I didn't want the anger that had been stoked with his confession to do any more damage than we'd already done. The relationship was ruined enough. I couldn't see a path back to romantic partners at this point, but the part of me that valued his guidance and friendship when I was down on my luck didn't want to burn all the bridges just yet.

"Ranger," I said, my voice shaking with the force of the battle waging within me. "Could you take me back to the airport?"

"Of course," he agreed easily, though something in his posture told me that he too was dealing with a war zone inside. He dug out a handful of bills from is wallet, tossing them onto the table as he stood, file in hand, and we exited the diner to the too-bright sunshine that comes after morning rain.

The twenty minute journey back to the airport was performed in silence until Ranger pulled into the drop off zone. "Thank you," I said, unbuckling my seatbelt and sliding our of the SUV as quickly as I could before he could say anything in reply. I didn't think I could handle any more interaction right now if I was going to maintain this miraculous composure. I'd been hoping that he'd allow me to retrieve my bag from the back and escape with my dignity intact, but as I reached the back of the vehicle, I realised that while we'd both broken into a million pieces, Ranger was still a gentleman at his core. Which was to say that he was already opening the trunk and hauling my suitcase out.

I thanked him again and had just turned to leave when he called my name. I froze, unable to move either away or toward him as I recalled what had happened when Bobby had been dropping me at the airport three months ago and called my name as I turned to go. I couldn't let that happen with Ranger now. Not with the turmoil suffusing my every cell. Thankfully, though, Ranger took my statue imitation as a sign that he had my attention, which was apparently all he needed at this time.

"Don't wait for me," he said gently, punctuating his words with a thunk as he closed the boot.

I nodded once, unsure if he was even still watching me since I couldn't bring myself to turn around, and proceeded through the door to the airport, losing myself to the crowd even as I refused to lose myself to the tears burning behind my eyes.

*o*

Lugging my suitcase behind me through yet another airport, I tried to stifle the yawn that crept up on me. According to my phone, which had automatically synchronised with New Jersey time zone, it was four o'clock in the afternoon, but I'd left LA five hours ago at eight o'clock. And according to my body clock, which was still set to London time, it was bedtime. Whoever tried to say that jetlag wasn't a real thing had never been in three different time zones in the course of one day. Another yawn bloomed, deeper than the first, and I was forced to stop walking lest I run into someone.

Running a hand over my face, I looked around for any sign of Tank, Lester or Bobby. I knew that it was supposed to be Lester picking me up from the airport, but that was when I'd planned to pursue the Sarah Shrivington case myself, and I'd allowed myself several hours to locate and talk some sense into her while in LA. With the earlier arrival, I wasn't sure who to expect, especially since it was still within regular business hours and they were probably all busy with work. I was just about to pull out my phone and get some answers when I spotted Hector a little ways away, sporting a soft red sweater and a pair of tight black jeans.

"Hector!" I called, making a beeline for him, weaving expertly through the crowd. "Hector!"

He looked up and cocked an eyebrow at me as I drew closer. "Estephania," he greeted, allowing me to pull him into a hug. He waited until I'd released him and taken a step back out of his personal space before saying something that sounded like a question in Spanish.

"I've got everything," I assured him, gesturing to my bags. "We can go."

He shook his head, gesturing to the baggage carousel he was waiting beside, and sprouting off more Spanish that I clearly didn't understand. I loved all the Merry Men, and that included Hector, but the language barrier thing was a real trial sometimes. Especially when we were alone together. Probably, I should look at learning some Spanish.

"No, this is the wrong one," I said, interpreting his gestures and body language as best I could. "My bags came out back there. Carousel three. Not five." I held up my fingers to show him, but he still looked confused. "Anyway, I'm ready to get out of here whenever you are," I said, pointing to the doors that lead to the outside world. He didn't budge, just sprouted some more words I didn't understand and gestured to the carousel again. "I've got them," I told him again. "Look!"

Another shake of his head, and just as he opened his mouth to try to, potentially, try to explain some more, another voice called out Hector's name. We both turned to find a woman with long shiny hair making her way over. She had the same tan complexion and grey eyes as Hector, and didn't hesitate to wrap him in an amorous embrace, babbling in Spanish. Hector responded in kind, sprouting a lengthy amount of Spanish in return. As I watched I suddenly got the feeling that I was intruding on a private moment. Just as the thought occurred to me, though, Hector turned to me with a gesture, saying something that ended in my name. He then gestured to the other woman and said something that ended in 'Sophia', so I guessed that was her name.

Sophia immediately started talking to me excitedly, but once again, it was in Spanish and I was completely lost. Hector, who had pulled out his phone and was busily dialling someone, laid a hand on Sophia's arm and said something with a shake of his head. She looked from me to Hector in confusion, asking Hector a question, but he just sighed and lifted the phone to his ear, turning away to the baggage carousel as it started circulating bags. A couple of minutes later, he returned with a suitcase in tow and handed me the phone he'd been talking into.

Taking it without question, I spared a glance at the screen before pressing it to my own ear. "Lester?" I greeted.

"Beautiful," he greeted, sounding like he was fighting back laughter. "Throwing a spanner in the works as usual, I see. We weren't expecting you back until late tonight."

"I got an earlier flight," I pointed out. "I emailed to let you guys know."

"No, you didn't," he countered. "The last correspondence we have from you says that your plane would be getting in at twenty three hundred."

I shook my head. "I sent an email this morning after I changed my flight," I explained. "I figured you'd sent Hector to come get me because none of you could get away from work?"

He really was laughing now, his chuckles filling my ear. "Steph, Hector is there to pick up his sister, Sophia," he said. "He just happens to be there at the same time you arrived." Some more chuckling interrupted his words before he managed to tamp it down again. "Sophia thinks you're Hector's girlfriend, by the way, which is just about the funniest thing I've heard all week."

"What, you don't think I'm good enough to be his girlfriend," I asked, trying very hard not to sound as offended as I felt by his statement. All my emotions were still way too close to the surface after this morning's revelations and my extreme exhaustion wasn't helping matters at all.

"Beautiful," he chuckled. "Anyone would be lucky to have you as their girlfriend. The probably is, you're not man enough Hector's preferences."

"Oh." That made sense. I knew Hector was gay. My tired brain was not functioning on all cylinders. "Yeah. So Hector's not here to pick me up?"

"No," Lester confirmed. "But he said he'd drop you home anyway."


Poor Hector...