It had taken me five years to build a life in Quincy. I’d walked away from San Francisco a broken man. I’d come home to recover. To start again. To return to a place where I’d had good days in the hope of finding them again.
Five years and I was there. I loved my job. I loved my family. I loved my life.
Unchanged.
As soon as Memphis was gone from the loft, it would be easier to put her out of my head.
I drained the last swallow of my beer as Hudson’s eyelids began to droop. “I’d better get home. Let you guys get him to bed.”
“Thanks, Knox.” Winn yawned.
“Have a good night.” I walked over, bent to kiss her cheek, then shook my brother’s free hand. I ruffled the dark hair on my nephew’s head and touched his button nose. “Give your parents some rest, kid.”
Hudson had a tiny hand over Griff’s heart.
Damn, that stung. As Hudson grew, it had dulled, but not disappeared. I let it spread through my chest, then jogged down the porch steps for my truck.
My drive home was through a maze of gravel roads. The highway was more of a direct route to home, but taking the back roads gave me time to roll down the windows and simply think.
When I’d stopped at Mom and Dad’s earlier, they’d asked me if I’d made my decision about the hotel. Uncle Briggs had had a rough week. He’d gone out for a hike without telling anyone, and though he’d probably been lucid at first, he’d had an episode and gotten lost.
Lost on the land where he’d lived his entire life.
Thankfully, Dad had found him just before dark. Briggs had tripped and twisted his ankle. So after a trip to the ER—Talia had been the doctor on call—they’d gotten Briggs home. But the scare had spurred Dad’s urgency to get my answer.
An answer I didn’t have to give.
Part of me wanted to agree, simply because it would make them happy. I had the best parents in the world. They let us fail when we needed to fail. They gave us a hand when it was clear we couldn’t get back up on our own two feet. They loved us unconditionally. They’d given us every advantage possible.
But if I said yes to the hotel, it wouldn’t be for me. It would be for them.
Did I want The Eloise? I didn’t want it to go to someone outside of the family. But me? Maybe. I just wasn’t sure. Not yet.
I reached my turnout and rolled toward Juniper Hill, disappearing through the trees to my secluded corner of the world. As the house came into view, my eyes went to the loft. Even hidden behind walls and doors and windows, Memphis drew my attention. She had since the day she’d arrived.
Her Volvo was parked beside the stairs, and that car was as much of a mystery as my tenant. It was a newer model and Volvos weren’t exactly inexpensive. So why was she surviving on cheap meals and spare change?
Not my business.
I’d flown to Gianna’s rescue all those years ago when I should have minded my own fucking business. Lesson learned.
Parking in the space closest to my door, I headed inside. Before winter, I’d have to figure out a different parking situation so both of our rigs weren’t left outside in the snow, but for now, leaving my truck outside meant one more way to keep my distance.
The house was quiet. The scent of macaroni and cheese lingered in the kitchen. I walked to the fridge, getting another beer, then retreated to the living room to watch TV until dark.
The abundance of windows meant that when the sun began to set below the crest of Juniper Hill, I caught it from all angles. Pink and orange and blue light cascaded over the walls, fading with every minute until the silver glow of moonlight took its place.
It should have been relaxing. The number one trending movie on Netflix should have kept my attention. This was supposed to be my sanctuary, yet since the day Memphis had moved in, she’d held a constant chain to my thoughts. A distraction.
Was she cooking dinner? Was she sleeping? Was the place big enough for her? Was she searching for another apartment? Did I want her to find another apartment?
Yes. She had to leave. We couldn’t do this forever, right? I needed my home back. Yet the idea of her in town, on her own, made me uneasy.
She wasn’t my responsibility. She was a grown woman, an adult, capable of living alone. She was twenty-five, the same age as Eloise. Close to the same age as Lyla and Talia, who were twenty-seven. Did I feel the need to keep my sisters close? No. So why Memphis? And where the hell were her parents? What had happened with those siblings she’d mentioned?
I stared at the TV, realizing I’d watched almost the entire thriller and hadn’t a damn clue what it was about. “Christ.”
Restlessness rattled beneath my skin. I shoved off the couch, went to my bedroom for a pair of workout shorts, then disappeared to the gym I’d set up in my basement.
After an hour spent alternating between the treadmill and the heavy bag, I climbed the stairs, drenched in sweat. Thankfully, the workout had served its purpose and my pent-up energy had burned out, so I headed to the shower.
Sleep had been scarce over the past few weeks. The last solid eight-hour stretch had been before Memphis had moved in. Drake had a set of lungs, and though I should just sleep with the windows closed, every night, I got too hot and had slept with them cracked for as long as I could remember.
Wearing only a pair of boxer briefs, I climbed into bed, killing the light on the nightstand. My head hit the pillow, and as a gentle breeze swept through the room, exhaustion won out.
But like it had for weeks, my sleep was broken by the wail of a baby boy.
I jolted awake and scrubbed a hand over my face before glancing at the clock beside my bedside lamp. Two fourteen.
He’d slept longer than normal. This past week he’d woken me up around one. Or maybe he’d been up for an hour and I’d just been too tired to notice.
I buried my face in the pillow, willing sleep to come again. But as the crying continued, echoing through the dark night, I knew I’d be awake until he stopped.
“Fuck.”
That kid was determined, I’d give him that. As I lay on my back, staring at the moonlit ceiling, he cried and cried.
If it was loud here, how loud was it in that loft? I hadn’t slept, but neither had Memphis. Though she tried daily, no amount of makeup could hide the dark circles under her eyes.
The image of Griffin holding Hudson popped into my mind. Then another baby, another set of arms from years past. A scene I didn’t let myself remember.
Drake’s cries built, one upon the next upon the next, louder and louder, minute after minute, night after night, until it was like he was screaming for me. Enough was enough. I couldn’t lie here and do nothing.
I flung the sheet off my legs and swung out of bed, stopping at the walk-in closet for a T-shirt. Then I headed for the door, pausing to step into a pair of flip-flops so I didn’t shred the soles of my feet on the gravel.
The night air was cool against the bare skin of my arms and legs as I crossed the driveway. I took the stairs two at a time, moving before I second-guessed my decision, and knocked.
A light flipped on, illuminating the glass window in the door.
Memphis’s face was in the glass next, her brown eyes wide and swimming with tears. She looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful. Except tonight she looked to be hanging on by her last thread.
She wiped at her cheeks before flipping the lock. “I’m so—”