Wild by Mackenzie McKade

Note: Prologue omitted.

Andrea Adair’s paralegal popped her head and her unruly mop of blonde hair around the door. “All work and no play makes Andie a dull girl.”

The twenty-two-year-old’s carefree laughter and obvious happiness in her light tone was the last thing Andrea needed right now. In fact, one more joke like that and Sharon might end up being her ex-paralegal.

Andrea rolled her head side to side, tendons stretching and joints popping as she attempted to ease the tension. It was Friday afternoon and she was still hard at work while everyone else was leaving early to start their weekend per a corporate edict for a job well done. Of course, it was by choice the stack of case files in her inbox rivaled those in her outbox. She subscribed to the notion that a rolling stone gathered no moss. Besides, if she kept busy there was no time to think.

Glancing up from the stack of papers and photographs before her, she murmured, “Have a good weekend.”

Before she could refocus on the folder in front of her, Sharon stepped into the room, smiling. “No date?”

Andrea raised an auburn brow that matched her shoulder-length hair. “Yeah. I’ve got them lined up for the weekend.” A little too much sarcasm bled through her words. She regretted it immediately when she saw Sharon’s chagrined expression.

“I’m sorry, Andie. I just meant—”

“No, Sharon. It’s me who should apologize.” Andrea rubbed her tired eyes. It wasn’t for a lack of invitations. She could have had a date tonight. Hell. She was pretty enough with a more than acceptable physique the gym had helped to carve into shape. But she deliberately shied away from men, as well as relationships. Sharon had worked for her over a year now and she knew nothing about the paralegal. Sad, but true.

Andrea gazed around her office devoid of any personal memorabilia. If it wasn’t for the nameplate on her desk and its messy contents, no one would have known someone occupied the space.

“I said, ‘Yes’ to the Broman’s case,” Andrea explained, “and now I’m fixating on how to approach it.” A ride at one of their client’s California theme parks had malfunctioned. It had taken almost two hours to get all the passengers down to safety. The Broman boy hadn’t been physically hurt, but he was having nightmares. His parents were suing for mental duress, one count for the boy, another for the child’s hysterical mother.

“You should just say no.” Sharon sounded like a commercial for the war on drugs. When Andrea didn’t reply, the woman shifted her feet. “Well…I guess there is no rest for the weary.”

Andrea gritted her teeth to keep from biting back a nasty response. What was wrong with her today?

“Do you want me to stay and help you?”

Andrea didn’t miss Sharon’s crestfallen expression. “Thanks, but no. You have a great weekend.” She pulled her attention back to the documents on her desk and began to thumb through them.

“If you’re sure?” The spark in Sharon’s voice had returned.

Without looking up, Andrea jokingly waved a hand through the air. “Go. Get out of here. Have fun.”

And she meant it until her assistant closed the door softly behind her. Then the walls in the room seemed to move, closing in on Andrea. It was her imagination. It was always her mind screwing with her. Inhaling a deep breath, she scented the tropical room freshener and trapped it in her lungs, waiting for the burn before she released the air in one steady stream.

Fun?

What kind of woman forgot how to enjoy herself or what friends were for? Because that’s the kind of woman Andrea had become. Work was what she lived for, exercising, eating and sleeping only when it was absolutely necessary. Some of it was self-induced while other times were mandated by nightmares. No amount of distance or counseling erased the events of the dreadful evening she lost her parents in a tragic boating accident.

Ten years. Why couldn’t she put the incident behind her? And why was she asking when she already knew the answer?

Andrea glanced at her laptop containing her response to the email she received regarding her ten-year high school reunion. Using a single finger, she drew the cursor over the send button and paused, re-reading the words she had written earlier.

It was the same excuse she had given her grandfather each time he had called. Taking a deep breath, she clicked the mouse. The deed was done.

Tears suddenly welled in her eyes.

What was wrong with her? She didn’t want to attend the reunion. There wasn’t anything on God’s green earth that could get her back to Whispering Cove. The place held nothing but bad memories.

Taking a breath to steady herself, she picked up Mrs. Broman’s affidavit and started to read. Halfway through the first page her cell phone rang. The abrupt interruption startled her, jerking her from her thoughts. Frustrated, she glanced at the caller I.D. and her shoulders drooped.

“Not again.” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. This would be the second call today from her grandfather. Perhaps she wouldn’t answer, but that would be childish. She loved the old man.

No. This time she would be firm with him about not returning to Maine. Pressing the call button, she raised the telephone to her ear.

Silence greeted her, except for some scuffling and buzzers going off in the background. “Grandpa?” When no response came, concern slithered across her arms, raising goose bumps. “Grandpa? Are you there?”

“L-Laaa-ssie?” He sounded breathless with the effort it took him to call her by the endearment.

As she moved to the edge of her seat, tension crawled across her shoulders cramping her tendons and muscles. “Grandpa. What’s wrong?”

“H-hossss…pital,” he slurred. “But don’t be wah-wah-worrying yourself.”

The knot in her throat thickened. “Hospital?” Even as she repeated the word, she knew the signs of a stroke. Her grandfather hadn’t slurred a single word in his lifetime. Her fingers tightened around the phone. “Why are you in the hospital?”

More frustrating, nerve-wracking silence ensued. The longer it went on, the more her skin tightened with anxiety.

Oh God. A flood of uncontrollable tears began to stream down her cheeks. Don’t you do this to me. “Grandpa,” she choked.

“Andie, is that you?” Relief soared straight to her core when she heard Byron’s voice. Byron Mitchell was a member of her grandfather’s gruesome threesome. Along with Errol Wilson, the three men were inseparable and incorrigible. They’d be a menace to Whispering Cove, but everyone loved them and their antics, including Andrea.

She swallowed hard, fighting emotion that threatened to strangle her. “Is Grandpa okay?”

“Your grandfather needs you.”

Her grasp on the telephone tightened. “But is he okay?”

“They just took him in for more tests.” He spoke in a clipped, rushed manner. “I have to go.”

“Wait? Byron? Answer me first—”

The dial tone blaring in her ear was the last thing Andrea wanted or needed to hear. Pulse racing like a freight train roaring down the track, she tried to gather her senses. Her hands shook as she pressed the end call button. Surely if Byron knew anything he would have said something. If they were waiting for test results it wouldn’t do any good to call the hospital and speak to a doctor or nurse. Should she wait for another call? And what if the news was bad?

No. She couldn’t think that way.

Even still, she found herself pulling her laptop in front of her. Fingers flew over the keys as she typed in the city codes to search for the fastest way to get to Whispering Cove, Maine.

Ten minutes later she had booked a flight into Bar Harbor. Whispering Cove was an hour-plus trip by car, half the time if she chartered a boat. The mere thought of stepping onto a watercraft sent a tremor throughout her body that chilled her to the bone.

What would thirty minutes mean?

Palm to her mouth, she sucked back an unexpected sob. She was being foolish. Boat. She would take a boat.

The one-way flight leaving from Los Angeles was scheduled to depart in two hours. The other attorneys in the firm would have to take several of her cases, some she could take with her. How much time should she plan for? Several days? A week, maybe two? Two weeks, she decided. Adjustments could be made after she knew more about her grandfather’s condition.