She sat up abruptly, looking at him in a way he struggled to interpret, and Hops squeaked a small complaint that might have been a bark from a bigger dog and walked off, curling up on what River had dubbed his special sandal. River went to sit in the chair again, but Georgie stopped him, her hand wrapping around his bicep.
“Sit with me,” she said.
And he did, sitting close enough that their thighs touched, every point of contact searing into him. She took his hand and looked into his eyes.
“Thank you for doing that for Adalia.”
“I did it for you,” he said honestly.
“I know,” she said.
They stayed like that for a moment, the silence between them intense but somehow not uncomfortable. In that silence, there was a universe of possibilities. Of different paths they could take, but his heart only led him down one.
She spoke first. “I have a lot of regrets about the past, River.” Another pause, but the fact that she didn’t pull away kept him from wondering—or asking—if he was one of them. “My father might not have been a good husband, but my mother grounded him in some way. He became a hundred times worse after she died. It was horrible to live in that house. He was so judgmental. Cold. Cutting. And I left Adalia there with him. I could have gone to college in New York, but Harvard was my top pick, and I was so happy I got in.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, keeping her other hand entwined with his. “Truthfully, I think it was my top pick because I wanted to leave, although I didn’t think of it that way at the time. Adalia begged me to stay, but I told myself that she didn’t need me. That Lee would look after her until I got out of school.”
“This isn’t your fault,” he said, turning a little to face her. Needing her to see that he meant it. “You’re not to blame for whatever’s happening with her.”
“But I left her, River,” she said, her voice thick, “and things haven’t been the same between us since. If anything, they keep getting worse. When she got into art school, she called me before she told my father, and I messed up. I knew what he was going to say, how cruel he would be, and I warned her that he probably wouldn’t pay for it. That he would never consider art a career. My mother taught art history, and he always treated it like a hobby. Like it was something cute that she did.” She lowered her face as if she couldn’t bear to look at him. “And, to be honest, I kind of felt the same way about Adalia. I figured it was just a phase. So I have no right to be surprised that she’s kept her distance. That she hasn’t told me about her shows, her life. It’s my fault.”
He reached over and tipped her chin up slightly, so their eyes met. Hers were brimming with tears.
“I’m telling you it’s not,” he said firmly. “The only way of fixing something you feel you did wrong in the past is by acting differently in the future. By being there for her now. By owning up to how you feel.”
“How can you be so understanding?” she asked. “I left her.”
He understood what she wasn’t saying. His mother had left him like she thought she’d left Adalia, except it was a false equivalence.
“If you’re talking about Esmerelda…my mother,” he clarified, in case Dottie hadn’t confided his mother’s name along with the rest of his personal history, “then you need to understand the situation was completely different. She was an adult, and you were still a child when you left home. A grieving child. You can’t beat yourself up about decisions you made before you had the perspective to understand what you were doing. Besides, it’s not like you disappeared off the face of the earth. I’m sure you called and texted.” He felt himself grin a little at that. “Probably more than she would have liked.”
She smiled back, but it had to be the saddest smile he’d ever seen. “I guess I did.” She paused, looking conflicted, then shook it off and added, “I’m so sorry that happened to you, River.”
“I’m not,” he said, and to his surprise, he somewhat meant it. “The best thing she could have done was to leave me with Aunt Dottie. I think maybe she knew that. She’s not a very happy person. I don’t think she ever really wanted a child or knew what to do with me. She didn’t even know what to do with herself. We moved every few months, but I don’t think she ever found what she was looking for.”
“I didn’t mean to make you talk about this,” she said, but he could tell it was because she worried about making him uncomfortable, not because she didn’t want to know. And he found himself surprisingly okay with letting Georgie in. With spilling his secrets to her.
Because she’s already in your heart, a voice whispered.
“It’s okay,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but I don’t want to shift the focus off you right now. This is about you and Adalia. And you should consider the fact that your sister called you when this happened. Not your father. Not your brother. You. That means everything in the world.”
The look in her eyes changed then, something fierce flashing in them.
“And I came to you,” she said.
“You did,” he said, his soft tone belying the sudden pounding of his heart. “And you always can, Georgie. Always. But I have to know why.”
She looked down again, and for a moment he was afraid she was going to pull away, but if anything she tightened her grip on his hand. When she looked up again, her eyes were full of purpose.
“Because all the reasons we’re supposed to stay away from each other don’t feel so important anymore. When I’m around you, I can’t seem to remember them. I came here because when I’m with you, I feel like everything’s going to be okay, not in the sense that you’re going to fix it, but because you’re there with me.”
Something bloomed inside of him, a warmth like he’d felt earlier at Beau’s grave. The sense of coming home. But he didn’t pull her into his lap like he wanted to, because he had to know for sure. His heart needed it.
“Georgie, if you change your mind about us, I need you to mean it. It can’t just be for tonight, or because your sister is in trouble.”
She spanned the short distance between them and kissed him. It was soft and exploratory at first, almost as if she were asking a question, but the passion between them—banked for days—ignited in an instant. He shifted the angle to take the kiss deeper, their tongues twining, teeth knocking together as they tried to get closer, to take it even deeper. Almost as if they wanted to consume each other. She started to tug on the bottom of his shirt, but he didn’t want this to happen here in the living room. Not tonight. He wanted her in his bed.
So he pulled away and, in response to her soft complaint, lifted her off her feet and carried her into his room.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Georgie had a hard time concentrating at work in the morning. She’d only slept a few hours after receiving Adalia’s call, and despite having talked to her sister after she was released (she’d agreed to come straight to Asheville on the flight River had arranged), she was a mess of worry. Didn’t help that she couldn’t stop mooning over River. Dottie noticed something was off right away, and she barged into Georgie’s office midmorning with a sage stick, determined to drive the bad energy away because she sensed some really great energy radiating from Georgie.