“And yet you came back.”
“It’s my home.” I turned to look at him. “And so did you, I might add.” Why?
His eyes rose to meet mine, and he shifted the ice pack on his cheek.
“I came home because Dad left me a voicemail saying that Xander wouldn’t give him a DNR and he needed my help. Then he shot me, kicked me out, and forgot who I was—all within forty-eight hours—so I’m not really sure which of those he was lucid for.”
“Cam,” I whispered. The heaviness of what he faced hit my stomach like an anchor. The mere thought of losing my dad and fighting with Charity about it was nauseating.
“But you chose to come back… Why? To settle down and do what? Get married to a man who will never measure up to Saint Sully in Alba’s eyes? To be ridiculed when you haven’t grieved on their time line and done what they expected? Followed their script?”
“I came home for the same reason you did. Family. And people change. The town will just have to adapt.”
“Don’t fool yourself, Willow. This town exists for the dead, not the living. When the younger generations leave, they only come back for funerals—their family’s or eventually their own. Alba is a huge mausoleum, literally funded by tourists who flock here to see the dead things we refuse to let go. We’re all just part of the exhibit. If you’re expecting change or acceptance, don’t. Survival here depends on our ability not to change, to preserve the past. Change and progress are the two things that will kill this town.”
His words stabbed at something deep—a truth I wasn’t ready to surrender to.
“That’s a really narrow way of looking at our home. And it’s ours, just like you said. If you’re capable of change, they are, too.”
“That’s the point.” He pushed off the counter and put a few steps of distance between us before turning around. “It doesn’t matter who I am now. They won’t let me be anyone other than the kid who threw too many punches, broke too many rules, and got Sullivan killed. They can’t let me change, the same way they can’t let you. It’s a matter of self-preservation. And you know it, otherwise you wouldn’t live so far up the mountain, where you’re all tucked away and safe from prying eyes and judgmental mouths.”
“So you’re saying that I’m doomed to a life of loneliness? Of becoming the eccentric old hermit lady? Because I’m going to love again, Cam. I’m going to love and get married and have kids. All of it.” My eyes narrowed as heat spread in my cheeks.
“No, I’m saying that you would have been happier somewhere else, at least until you knew your man was strong enough to withstand the weight of Sullivan’s shadow.”
I scoffed, hopped off the counter, and turned toward the door before I said something we’d both regret.
His hand closed around my arm, surprisingly gentle in its strength but enough that I stopped in my tracks. I could have shaken him off, it was that light, but instead I savored the contact.
“I know you’re strong enough, Pika. But this town isn’t going to be gentle on whoever you deem worthy enough to give your heart unless they decide for you. And I don’t see you going for that. You let the town dictate once, and I know you loved him, and he loved you, but can you honestly say you’ll let Alba choose for you again? Do you love your comfortable boundaries that much?”
My posture softened, and he let go of my arm. He was right, which only pissed me off even more. Loving Sully had been easy because we’d fit. We’d been supported and encouraged—enabled—by everyone around us.
He placed the unicorn on the kitchen counter. “Thank you for taking care of me. It’s been a hell of a long time since anyone’s done that. I’m going to head down, hopefully get to pay my bill, and go home.”
His broad back filled my vision as he passed me.
How was it possible that no one had cared for him in the past decade?
“You should come to the Historical Society,” I blurted.
He paused but didn’t turn.
“If you want to help your dad, you’re going to have to go against Alexander. You’ll need support, and reminding them that you’re a son of a founding family will go a long way. You don’t have to like the game to play it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He walked out, and less than a minute later, Charity breezed into the kitchen.
“Camden’s sure in a mood,” she remarked, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and apple juice from the refrigerator. “Want some?”
I shook my head. “Camden is always in a mood. Stubborn ass.” My voice definitely lacked its usual bite when discussing the middle Daniels.
Her shoulders shook with laughter as she poured her drink.
“How did you two not get together?” I questioned. “You’re exactly alike. I always figured you’d end up dating when we were in high school. Both rebels to the core.” Not to mention that Charity was timelessly beautiful, where I was cute, maybe passably pretty at best.
She looked at me like I was a class-A moron and put away the juice. “Seriously?” She sipped her juice but peered at me over the glass.
“What? It’s not like he’s hard to look at, and you graduated the same year.” It was a logical conclusion. Hell, maybe they had hooked up once and I’d never known. I rubbed my chest, trying to soothe the ache that surfaced at the thought.
“Oh, Cam was hot, and somehow he’s only gotten hotter with age. Have you seen those arms? And the way he caught Oscar’s fist? Smokin’ hot, baby sis.”
Maybe I really didn’t want the answer to the question I shouldn’t have asked. Nor did I want to see my sister walk through the door I’d stupidly opened. Stop being selfish.
“Yeah, so I’m going to head home. Want me to throw Rosie’s unicorn in the wash?” I asked.
“I got it.” Her mirror-image eyes saw more than I was willing to show.
My feet took me to the door, my sister following behind.
“I love you, Rule Maker,” she said, hugging me tight.
“I love you, Rule Breaker,” I replied before leaving, wondering for the millionth time if Dad had known who we’d grow up to be when he’d given us those nicknames in elementary school.
And Cam was right. I needed change and progress, but what I wanted was for the rules to shift. To bend.
He’d always broken them, just like Charity.
I was halfway down the stairs when Charity poked her head out of the door. “Willow.”
“Yes?” I turned, wondering what I’d forgotten.