I grin. “Fun. It’ll be like Christmas.”
Jackson lands with a thud behind us. “You get the water workin’?”
“Yeah. We just need to call the power company to see if they can hook us up. I still don’t have a phone.” He glances down at me, his melancholy look unsettling.
“I can do that.” I squeeze his arm. “We’re gonna make this work. I’m excited.” Rising on my tiptoes, I kiss his cheek and force a bright smile.
His expression disintegrates even further, and the worry that was nibbling at me before starts taking out large chunks of my stomach.
Something’s caught his eye. I turn to see what he’s staring at, and all I see are a clutter of old shovels and a lawnmower that looks like it belongs in a museum.
“You all right?”
He flinches when I touch his arm.
I’m surprised by his reaction, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking about ready to pass out. “I just… I need a minute. Some fresh air.”
He shuffles past my brother and heads up the stairs.
Jackson frowns after him, then looks to me. “What was that all about?”
“Stay here,” I murmur, then point over my shoulder. “Why don’t you, uh… why don’t you look through some of them boxes?”
“Okay.” Jackson shrugs, obviously happy to stay out of whatever Michael’s facing.
I race after my boyfriend and find him in the house. He’s standing by the fireplace, and that lighter he loves so much is turning circles between his fingers. He’s just staring like he’s caught in a trance or something.
“Michael?” I whisper his name and inch forward, approaching on soft steps.
He doesn’t move until I’m standing right beside him.
His haunted gaze brushes over me, and I reach up and touch his face.
“You’re not all right.”
His forehead wrinkles and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come back here.”
I swallow and scramble to think of what to say. “But… we’re meant to be here. I don’t know how I know it, I just…” Rubbing my thumb over his stubble, I wish for him to open his eyes and look at me. “It’s just like I knew I had to help you that night in the diner. The first time we met. I could feel in my soul that you and I met for a reason.”
His eyes pop open and his face crumples like he’s in some kind of pain.
“You don’t believe that?” I whisper.
He lets out a shaky kind of breath, more like a sob, and grips the fireplace mantel. I gaze at the framed cross-stitch above it: Live justly. Love mercy. Walk humbly.
I’m about to ask him if that’s his family motto when he starts talking in a broken whisper. “When you called me out for being a liar…” He shakes his head. “No, when you forgave me for being a liar, I swore that I would never keep anything from you again.”
Those words make my heart smile. I reach up to kiss him, but he pulls back.
“Annie, please…”
I step away from him, crossing my arms and wondering where the hell this is going.
He gives me an apologetic look before turning away from me, fisting the lighter and murmuring, “Do you remember how I told you that Grandpa saved us? Brought us here.” He sucks in a breath. “And then you asked me if my dad found us.”
“And you said it took a long time.”
“Five years. Two months. And three days,” he rasps, and then his voice goes thick and wobbly. “It was raining. I remember it was dark. Late. Raining.” He braces his hands on the mantel like he needs it to keep himself upright. “I opened the door and he looked meaner than I’d ever seen him in my life. It froze me up. He busted in and wanted blood. Grandpa tried to calm him down, but he… he…” This strange whine comes out of Michael’s throat, and he squeezes his eyes shut before letting out a sob that breaks my heart. “He pushed him, and Grandpa hit his head.” He points to a brown stain on the stones. “He never woke up again. My dad killed him.” He stares down at me then, his eyes bright with emotion. “He murdered my grandpa.”
It’s hard to find the right response.
I can feel his torment like it’s my own, and it takes all the courage I have to talk without crying. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you had to live through that. What happened… to your father?”
His skin pales, a look of horror rushing across his face before he whispers, “We killed him. We got rid of all the evidence and swore we’d never tell a soul.”
“You…” A cold chill sweeps through my body. “You… you killed him? How? What happened?”
“Not me. I didn’t… pull the trigger. I just…” Michael’s legs buckle, breaths punching out of him like he’s going to hyperventilate. “It was chaos. Dad was yelling, and Grandpa was bleeding. He wouldn’t wake up. I couldn’t wake him up! Dad was raging, and he went after Deeks and he was… he was gonna kill him… I think. I can’t…” He whimpers into the back of his hand and flops onto the stones beside the fire, covering that brown stain and staring across the living room like a lost child. “We didn’t know what to do. Dad was dead and… and we were… scared. We thought we might end up in jail or something and we… we just had to… hide it.”
It takes me a moment to move. I’m struggling to digest this information, to understand what really happened. I want every single detail, but the look on Michael’s face tells me I can’t get that all in one big chunk. It’s going to take time and patience… and love.
I step into his space, pulling his head against my stomach and kissing the top of his hair. “I love you.” I whisper it over and over, holding him and willing his arms around me.
He eventually moves, like he’s waking up from hibernation and slowly becoming aware of me.
“Why are you saying that to me?” He holds my hips, looking up at my face.
My response is a mystery to him, but how can he not understand?
“You’re not an evil person. I don’t understand everything that happened that night. I want to, and I will listen whenever you’re ready to tell me. But…” I shake my head, struggling to find the right words. “I know you are good, Michael Barrett. And I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sorry that it’s part of your past.” Stepping back, I take his face in my hands and make sure he’s looking right at me. “But it’s not part of your future. I am, and I love you. And we’re gonna turn this house into the place it was before your father ruined everything. This is your home. We’re gonna fill it with love and hope and sunshine again.”
He studies me for a minute.
Does he believe what I’m telling him?
I wonder for a moment if I haven’t said enough to reach him, but then his eyes start to smile.
“Only with you,” he whispers, reaching for my face and pulling me down to kiss him.
And I do.
I pour every ounce of love that I can into that kiss.
I need him to feel it right down in his very soul.