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We all took their deaths hard in our own ways, but the stillness of our home once they were gone continues to haunt me. It drove me mad to know I’d never hear Dad, Lucas, and Everett in the kitchen cooking, or Mom singing at the top of her lungs with Archer and me.
Consequently, I struggle to endure prolonged periods of silence, despite my self-imposed isolation from others.
I wish they were here to counsel me. To ask me what the fuck I’m still doing in Magnolia Creek or demand that I stay and build the kind of life I’ve always imagined for myself and my brothers.
But they’re gone, and now I’m having to find those answers on my own.
Pocketing the image, I decide not to read through her diary, and move on to the red journal. Inside, I find pages full of gardening notes, Polaroid pictures, and a sketch of the private garden outside a pair of adjoining rooms downstairs.
“This must have been one of her hobbies when she lived here,” I murmur, tracing the pages thoughtfully.
Keeping her plant diary with me, I place the other one back on the shelf, and then walk downstairs to the study, where I’m meeting with Patricia to discuss my engagement.
The last two nights I’ve spent in this manor have wreaked havoc on me mentally. I’ve hardly slept in the guestroom, where Sam stayed during the last few months of Thomas’s life, because it’s dark, eerie, and the silence is suffocating.
In Seattle, I can distract myself with the noisy city. Out here, I’m forced to face just how much I’ve been deflecting, and as much as I hate to admit it, I’m lonely.
I can’t help but think about Molly. The denim-wearing florist whose heart-shaped lips crease her cheeks when she smiles and whose smart aleck remarks are irritatingly refreshing.
There’s nothing about her that doesn’t fire me up or surprise me, and I deserve a goddamn award for hiding the intensity of my desire for her that night at dinner.
Keeping my hands to myself had been excruciating. If it were up to me, I’d have pulled her onto my lap and hand-fed her that meal while she squirmed on my cock, moaning, panting, hungry for both. I crave that woman in a way that defies logic and endangers my carefully constructed barriers.
But as long as this lust I have for her stays exactly that, we’ll be fine. If I come to care for her, however…
No. I vow to myself, here and now, that I won’t.
From death, I’ve learned that caring for someone means the inevitability of losing them, and I refuse to add another name to the list of those I’ll eventually mourn.
Once inside the study, I pace before an enormous glass window facing the south side of the property, which offers a stunning partial view of the lake, the boat slip, and two of the four guest homes on the property.
Checking my phone, I find the messages I’ve sent Everett have been answered with little more than thumbs up emojis. I have a feeling he’s still pissed that I’ve left him in charge of my clients while I’m out. But he’ll be fine. The responsibility is good for him, and Archer babys him, anyway. I doubt he’s working all that hard.
Archer’s reaction to me staying at the manor was painfully predictable.
“What good is my word if I don’t follow through?” I said to him when we spoke yesterday morning.
“I don’t think a legally binding marriage to honor your promise counts,” he grumbled. “This is not only dangerous, but fucking stupid. You owe those people nothing.”
Of course he doesn’t understand. He’s not here, walking the halls of Mom’s childhood home, living in the same town where she met and fell in love with Dad.
And then there’s Molly, who needs the kind of help only I can provide, and I plan to do exactly that.
I call Lucas, pacing some more.
“Well, well,” he croons the second he picks up, “someone’s in trouble.”
Running a hand through my hair, I pause in front of the window. “How bad is it?”
“Bad enough that he visited me and Everett personally to forbid us from getting involved.” He pauses. “Obviously, I have no choice now but to get extra involved.”
“That won’t be necessary. I want you to stay out of this for the time being.”
He clucks his tongue. “When will the two of you learn that telling me no actually means yes, twice.”
Irritation rises at his childishness. He’s caused enough problems lately.
“I’m serious. Don’t say or do anything until you hear from me again. I’m still sorting things out, and the last thing I need is you fucking it up.”
