I can’t help but stare at the back of the house and wonder. With how Mamma and Father died, would anyone have really cleared out the house that well and know all the hiding spots that Father built into it?
Jonah comes up to me. “What’s goin’ on? Is it gettin’ to you, being here on the compound and that this was your folks' place and all?”
I shake my head. “Nah, that ain’t it. I dealt with that shit years ago. I’m just wondering’ if Mamma’s hidden spot is still there and if her box is there. Guess it won’t hurt none to go see, would it?”
Jonah chuckles at me like he’s done plenty of times over the years. “Brother, now’s the time to look. No one in there is gonna stop you. If it’s something you’d like to have, we’ll get it. You gotta be proactive and take what you want. None of us are gettin’ any younger.”
I can’t help the sigh that comes out in response. “I’m working on that. I’m just hopin’ I ain’t thirty years too late to get what I want.” I head on into the house. It’s eerie that the inside looks so much the same as the last time I was here.
Jon looks at me in surprise. “You in here to help clean up, or is something else going on?”
I look at my nephew. “I wanna see if a box my mamma kept hidden might still be here. Father built in a few hiding spots that would be almost impossible to find if you didn’t know where to look.” He nods and gets back to the cleanup. I walk into the kitchen and go to her treasured spice cabinet. Opening it, I move a few spice bottles inside, push the shelf up, and watch as the back of the cabinet opens up and reveals a cubby. It’s dark, butI feel around. There’s a box in there. I pull it out and instantly know that it was Mamma’s. I hear my name called from outside, so I head outside with the box in hand, with no intention of ever returning to this place.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I love how you almost always have music playing and how eclectic it is. One song is Bon Jovi, and the next is Lefty Frizzell.
~Text from Erik to Grant
Grant
Hearing Erik verbalize that he hopes he’s not too late shows me he still doesn’t one hundred percent believe what I told him all those years ago. I think my patience has worn out. I’m no saint even if I’ve been behaving like one, and I can’t handle not touching him much longer, especially when he’s no longer forbidden fruit.
Jonah declares that we leave the cleanup to the younger generation, and we go to leave and head down the mountain with Ry driving Jonah’s truck and Jackson, Wyatt, and I hopping in Erik’s.
We’re probably halfway down the mountain when Wyatt breaks the silence. “What’s in the box? How’d you know it would still be there?”
Erik shrugs his shoulders. “I haven’t opened it, so I don’t know what’s all in there, but I remember Mamma putting it there when she realized it wasn’t noticeable by anyone. I didn’t know if it would still be there, but since Mamma died in the way that she did, I highly doubt anyone up there knew of its existence. I just figured if it’s something Mamma wanted hidden, it meant something to her, and either Linnea or I would like to have something of hers. We don’t have much of anything other than our Larvikite that she gave us when we were kids, and we only have those because we’ve kept them in our pockets every day since she gave them to us. The house was cleaned out of almost everything personal when Father made Mamma move up the mountain full-time. Mine and Linnea's were the only rooms that still had more than the basic furniture. It could be nothing, but I figured it didn’t hurt none to see if it was there and take it.”
Wyatt continues the conversation. “That makes sense. If you wanna drop me and Jackson off at the house, I think Anna’s gonna need some time tonight to deal with…well, shit, everything, I would guess.”
I watch in the rearview mirror as Jackson glares at Wyatt. “You guess? She just slayed her Everest and hadn’t even known where he was for fucking years. Yeah, she’s gonna need to deal tonight.Time and a bottle of whiskey is probably what she’s planning.” I swear, sometimes their arguing can rival Samson and Saxon, and that’s saying something.
They continue to bicker in the back seat, and I can sense Erik looking over at me. He’s got that half-grin going on that’s sexy as all get out. “You ever wonder if our boys learned their bickering from these two?”
I can’t help but chuckle. “I think they came about it honestly, but these two probably didn’t help shit.” That has us both chuckling. Erik takes the turn toward their place and, within a few minutes, drops them off to find out what kind of chaos is no doubt going on in their house.
We make the few-minute drive to my place in silence. I’m not sure where his head is at after being back up on the mountain. I know it always seems to mess with his head, and I don’t want him to do something rash. He pulls up the driveway, puts the truck in park, and turns it off.
I can’t help but ask him, “You doin’ okay? I know going up there must’ve—” He turns his head to look at me, and the look of determination and almost peace has me shutting up. “Yeah, I’m good. That shit up there? I dealt with that a long time ago, and it’s gonna stay where it’s at, in the past.” He gets out of the truck and heads into the house. I guess that’s the end of the conversation then.
Erik
I hurried up into the house ‘cause all I could keep thinking about was what Grant said to Jonah up on the mountain. I had headed toward the house, but I heard them.
I heard Jonah speak first. “So you think he’s thirty years too late, or does he have a chance at real happiness with the person who can give that to him?” I think I slowed down my steps, needing to hear the answer more than my next breath.
“He’s not too late. Not too late at all.”
Replaying that over and over again, I know he’s been waiting for me to make a move or say something. It’s a lot harder than you’d think. Is it really okay? I can’t help but pace by the front door. Grant’s only a minute behind me.
He opens the door, comes in, and heads toward the kitchen. “I’m getting a beer, want one?”
I speak up before I lose my nerve. “I’m ready.”
He stops walking and slowly turns back toward me. With one eyebrow raised, he asks barely above a whisper, “What did you just say?”
I look at him, and with more nerve than I think I really possess, I say it again. “I’m ready. I’m ready for everything. I want—.” I’m interrupted by Grant eating up the space between us as I speak and pushing me up against the door. With our faces almost touching, he reaches up and grabs my neck like he did in thekitchen all those many months ago. Looking at me eye to eye, he speaks up. “Are you saying you’re ready…to try and be with me?”
