LANCE AND TREY PULLED INTO WASHINGTON LATE THURSDAY night. They’d hit the road at six a.m. and driven straight through, making quick stops for food and gas. In the rented U-Haul, it took longer than the estimated twelve hours, but they still reached Kendra’s condo in good time and sacked out.
They awakened early, ready to go. The hardest part was packing the kitchen, making sure Kendra’s dishes, glasses, and other breakable items were protected. But the rest she’d told them to pack crudely. If they could throw it in a box, throw it in a box. If it worked better to throw it loosely in the truck, throw it in the truck. The plan was to get everything loaded by afternoon, stop by the firm and grab what was there, and get right back on the road.
“I wish I had time to see the city.” Lance spoke from inside Kendra’s closet, as he and Trey packed up the last room. “I’ve never been to DC.”
Trey stripped the bed and added the comforter and sheets to a pile by the door. “I’ve been here twice,” he said, “but never got to see all I wanted to see.”
Lance lifted another armful of items from the rack and brought them to the empty bed. “Your sister’s got a serious wardrobe. We might’ve needed a bigger truck just for her clothes.”
“And shoes.”
“True.” Lance paused. “I should probably call to check on her.”
“Didn’t you call an hour ago?”
“Yes. But that was an hour ago. Anything can happen in an hour.”
Trey gave him a look. “Molly’s there. Cyd said she’d stop by. Brooklyn’s coming after school. If anything happens, they’ve got it covered.”
“You might have a point. I’ll call next hour.”
Lance cleared off a shelf in the closet and saw three picture frames facedown toward the back. He turned them over—Kendra and Derek. They were obviously engagement photos, and the photography was stunning.
In one, her back was against an outdoor wall as Derek leaned against her, arms to her waist, lips against hers. The Washington Monument stood in the distant background, against a cloudy sky. In another they were walking along the river hand in hand, the focus on gorgeous sunrays breaking through the clouds overhead. He stared at it, at the way she smiled at him, head tossed to the side with long, beautiful curls. Took him back to the Kendra who had always seemed beyond him. He gazed at the third—
“I forgot about those,” Trey said, taking them from his hands. “Ken told me to toss them in the trash. I already got rid of the album.”
Lance stared vaguely, lost in thought.
“Hey,” Trey said. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to my sister. Don’t you forget that.”
Lance shook it off, emptying the rest of the closet. There was no wedding dress. Her maid of honor took care of that early on, so she wouldn’t have to see it. Lance could appreciate that himself now.
Two hours later, they’d loaded the furniture, boxes, clothes, and miscellaneous items into the truck. Lance picked up the phone, with good reason this time.
“Hey, Ken,” he said, “we’re headed to your office. What do we need to do?”
“My legal assistant already transitioned the files and all that and boxed up my personal things,” Kendra said. “All you have to do is pick it up. She’ll meet you at main reception and show you where to go.”
“Cool,” Lance said. “How’re you feeling? Any better than this morning?”
“A little.”
“I hate being this far from you.”
It wasn’t his nature, but Lance wanted to be open with Kendra about his feelings. What was the point of holding back? Making the most of every moment, living out of the box, meant he couldn’t be guarded.
“I didn’t think I’d miss you this much,” Kendra said.
“I’ll call you when we get on the road. Love you.”
“Love you more.”
Trey leaned against the truck outside her condo. “Think we can keep moving with the task at hand?”
Lance smiled. “I’m recharged, ready to keep moving.”
Kendra’s assistant, Jennifer, had shown them into her office, where a box was sitting atop her desk, good to go. But she realized she’d overlooked some knickknacks on the shelves and a few things inside the desk. Lance and Trey waited for her to return with a smaller box so they could pack those.
Lance leaned against the desk. “I see why this is one of the top firms in the world,” he said. “It looks high-powered, from the interior design to the designer suits people are wearing.”
Trey nodded with a chuckle. “We got some looks in our ratty jeans, didn’t we?”
“They’ve been nice though.”
Before they could get up to her office, they’d been stopped several times by people asking about Kendra and sending their love. Others had stopped into her office as they waited. She’d clearly been missed.
A knock sounded on the door, and Lance turned. He recognized the man at once from the pictures.
“Hey,” Derek said, hand extended. “Trey, right?”
Trey looked at him. “That’s right.” He shook his hand.
He moved to Lance next. “Derek Richards.”
Lance shook his hand. “Lance Alexander.”
Derek stepped back, looking like the other attorneys in his blue power suit. “I heard you two were here and, uh . . . I wanted to ask how Kendra’s doing.”
Trey looked annoyed. “Have you called to ask her yourself?”
“I’m . . . almost positive she doesn’t want to speak to me.”
“Even so, the attempt might’ve shown you cared, at least a little.”
“Trey, I know I’m not your favorite person,” Derek said. “I understand that. I’m just genuinely wondering . . . How’s Kendra doing? How are the chemo sessions going?”
“Lance can answer that,” Trey said, motioning to him. “He’s with her more than anyone.”
Derek looked at Lance, brow raised a little.
“Honestly,” Lance said, “I don’t know what you want to hear. It’s a hard road. But you already anticipated that, right?”
Derek’s gaze fell off.
“If you want me to help you feel better by saying she’s doing great, I can’t do that.” Lance was focused on him. “What I can tell you is she’s surrounded by people who love her, and her faith is strong.”
Derek gave a bare nod. “That’s . . . that’s good.”
Jennifer breezed in. “Sorry it took me so long. I had to hunt one down in the mailroom.”
“No problem,” Lance said, taking the box. “Thank you. We’ll get it packed quickly.”
When Lance glanced back, Derek was gone.