“I prefer to call it your perseverance.” Cassie grinned, shutting the car door before hurrying around to the driver’s side.
When they pulled up to the farmhouse, Cassie cut the engine. “Want me to come inside with you?”
Eliza gazed at the imitation Tiffany lamp glowing in the front window. “No, that’s okay. Thank you, though.” Her words sounded dull and hollow.
Cassie reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Hey, I know everything seems hopeless right now. But I promise you, it’s not.”
“Thanks.” Her palms clammy, Eliza gripped the door handle and shoved it open.
“I’ll come by tomorrow. Try to get some sleep.” Cassie’s car purred back to life.
“Good night.” Eliza winced as the car door slammed shut with a thud of finality.
Once inside, she slipped out of her heels and crept down the dark hallway toward the sliver of light peeking beneath Ben’s bedroom door. Cracking it open, she caught sight of her son sound asleep, his Marvel night-light casting shadows across his peaceful features. Her heart wrenched, and Eliza quickly covered her mouth, stifling another sob.
She tiptoed across the plush carpet and knelt beside his bed, tucking her bare feet beneath her. Holding her breath, she took in every infinitesimal detail. The tiny flutter of his eyelids. The delicate wisps of blond hair splayed across his forehead. The way his lower lip stuck out farther than the other, giving him an adorable pout.
Everything about him was perfection. And even though he changed all the time, growing and maturing faster than an egg timer, he remained perfect in her eyes. Her little Bug. Her glorious light in the midst of darkness.
She couldn’t let him go. Shewouldn’tlet him go.
As she reached for the switch to the night-light, a splash of color on the nightstand caught her attention. Gently, Eliza lifted a crinkled sheet of paper, the watercolors still damp on the surface.
Her hand flew to her throat.
Ben’s latest work of art depicted two figures rendered with bright, bold smears of paint and confident, unrestrained brushstrokes.
Two figures who clearly represented Grant and Ben.
Father and son.
Together.
Large, unbridled tears cascaded down her cheeks, rolling off her chin and onto the page, dispersing the colors like ripples in a lake. Frantic, Eliza dabbed at the splotches, merely spreading the damage.
“No, no, no…”she murmured under her breath, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand to mop up the mess while tears continued to ping across the page—tiny, cleansing raindrops washing away the painful image.
Yet when Eliza gazed at the marred painting, Grant’s features nothing more than a smudge, she came face-to-face with her past.
She’d wiped Ben’s father from his life before.
Did she really want to repeat the same mistake?
* * *
Flicking on the switch, Grant winced as harsh light flooded the room.Hisroom. Four walls that once held his odd assortment of Star Wars posters and reproduction prints of Van Gogh’sStarry NightandWater Liliesby Monet. The ceiling he used to stare at every night in high school, daydreaming about Eliza.
Now, the walls were painted a muted mint green, adorned with select pieces of original artwork, none of which were Grant’s. His frayed navy-blue bedspread since replaced by a pastel floral quilt. Nothing of his former years survived, save for the back corner of the closet where a few belongings he’d left behind had been swiftly banished.
Grant shoved aside the cedar hangers laden with expensive designer gowns his mother no longer had use for, his gaze resting on a stack of dusty shoeboxes. The one on top housed his beloved Chuck Taylor All Stars. The one beneath contained his barely worn Air Jordans. But the bottom box…
Well, that one was special.
Reverently, he slid it from underneath the stack and sat cross-legged on the floor.
His heart thudded against his rib cage as he carefully removed the lid, coughing as dust particles flitted into the air.
A leather sketchbook filled with drawings of Eliza caught his attention first, followed by the note she’d tucked inside the first tin of cookies she’d ever baked him.
