“Come in.” I took a step back and held the door open wider. Leaving him on the front step only made things more awkward, so I figured letting him in might lessen the tension radiating from him. Except I hadn’t take into consideration that I’d just invited a very angry person inside my home. Noticing the weathered diary in his grasp at his side, I tried a different approach. “I thought you were going to mail me the journal; I wasn’t expecting a personal delivery.”
He handed me the journal and then ran his fingers through his hair. It was slightly longer, even messier than the last time I saw him. And I couldn’t deny that it was definitely sexier. It dragged me into the memories of tugging those locks, begging him to stop licking me, my nerves unable to take one more swipe of his warm tongue. But then his heavy sigh snapped me back to reality.
“Why’d you do it?”
I stared at him, waiting for more yet getting nothing. “Do what, Drew?”
“Buy the land. I told you I was looking into different marketing avenues and strategies. Did you think you could do better? Or did you just decide to hell with me and my family because you have—”
“What are you talking about?” I cut him off, unable to listen to one more ridiculous question—or, more accurately, accusation. “I didn’t buy anything, especially not land. I’ve told you about how we’ve been struggling to pay for my grandfather’s care, so what in the world would make you think I had money to purchase property?”
“Because your mom’s name is listed as the new owner on the deed.”
That made my head spin so much I worried I’d fall over.
“And the only thing I can think of is that you spent a week listening to me complain about the resort and how we didn’t have the funds to put into marketing, so you decided to swoop in and take advantage of our situation.”
I waved both hands between us, forcing him to stop talking long enough to gather my thoughts and form better words than are you kidding me. “Drew, stop for a second and ask yourself: How could I have possibly paid for all that land?”
“I don’t know. I’m not concerned with the how. I’m more worried about the why. I trusted you, McKenna, yet the entire time, you were just pumping me for information about the resort.” The fact that he didn’t call me Kenny was equivalent to a fist in the gut. Or a dagger through the heart. “How could you do it?”
“Wait a second… You said my mom’s name is on the deed?”
“Yup—Rebekah Tisdale.”
That threw me for an even bigger loop. “How do you know what her name is?”
“Your emergency contact list.”
I couldn’t even remember what I had done with that after arriving at the resort. Spending every day with Drew made me forget a lot of things. Regardless of how he discovered her name, it didn’t change the fact that he was utterly convinced of what he was saying. And there was only one way to get to the bottom of the accusations.
“Hey, Mom!” I called out, heading toward the kitchen. But before I made it around the corner, she met me in the hallway.
Her eyes widened as she glanced over my shoulder, likely noticing the very tall guy behind me. “Everything okay, McKenna?”
“Do you own any property besides this house?”
Her eyes narrowed, confusion setting in her brow. “Not that I’m aware of. Why?”
“Apparently, your name is on the deed to the land that the resort is on.”
The lines between her brows deepened even more but then let up right before she shook her head. “Are you talking about what was in your grandfather’s will?”
I turned around to glance at Drew, hoping he could shed some light on this, especially considering how confused my mom and I were. Without more information, we’d end up going in circles all night.
“I have no idea who owned it before. All I know is what name is listed as the owner now.”
“Well, I guess then, yeah. Maybe so. But I can’t answer for sure because I don’t have a clue as to what property you’re even talking about. Whatever was in my father’s will all went through the lawyers. To be honest, he could’ve willed me a parakeet and I wouldn’t have a clue.”
Slowly but surely, things began to fall into place and make a bit of sense in my head. “So the land that Black Bird sits on, the same land that surrounds Crowe’s Lake—and subsequently, Chogan—belonged to my grandfather? How?”
Just then, as if being summoned, my grandfather shuffled out of the living room and into the hallway with the rest of us. He made it several steps before stopping dead in his tracks. He pierced Drew with the most contemptible stare I’d ever seen. Hatred poured from his eyes, while at the same time, disgust curled his upper lip. All he said was one word. One name. “Andrew.”
Drew turned to me. I faced him. My mom’s gaze bounced between both of us. I wondered how my grandfather knew him; Drew seemed just as confused, and my mom simply appeared lost in it all.
“How do you—”
“You can’t have her!” my grandfather seethed, his frail hands balling into white-knuckled fists at his sides. “I won’t let you take her from me again. Do you hear me?”
We all stepped forward, creating a human wall in front of the old man.
“What are you talking about, Dad?” Mom was, without a doubt, the most perplexed of us all, and I had to admit, even Drew and I were mystified. “How do you know him?”
However, he never took his eyes off Drew, other than to briefly glance at me before turning his attention right back to the guy on my right. “She’s mine.”
“Who, Grandpa? Who can’t he have? Who’s yours?”
“You!” The forcefulness of his voice shocked us all. It sounded far too intense to have come from a feeble old man who struggled to pull himself out of his rocker. But once the shock began to fade, it was clear who he was talking about—he pointed directly at me. “I won’t give you up, Emily. I lost you once; I refuse to lose you again. Especially to him. Andrew can’t have you.”
I became slightly less baffled when he called me by my grandmother’s name. I’d been told my whole life how I was a carbon copy of her, and considering dementia patients tended to confuse loved ones with those from their past, it made sense that he would think I was his late wife. However, when he mentioned Drew again by name, any amount of understanding I had gained by being called Emily vanished, and I once again plummeted into the depths of muddied waters.
“Dad?” Mom sounded worried, which paired perfectly with the fear painting Drew’s face and the disorientation that left my head spinning. “Who’s Andrew?” she asked cautiously, as if approaching a wild animal. In her defense, Grandpa looked quite crazed and unpredictable.
Out of nowhere, the gentle old man, who I’d helped with his slippers every morning, lunged at Drew. At first, I assumed he’d fallen forward. It wouldn’t have been the first time. However, as soon as I saw his wrinkled hands encircle Drew’s neck, I knew it was intentional.
Mom and I scrambled to get Grandpa off Drew, but to our amazement, he put up a good fight. Growling and grunting, he refused to let go. He mumbled a few incoherent things, then said something neither of us thought we’d heard correctly. Then he repeated it. Again. And again.