She wasn’t certain she’d ever tried to put her feelings about her home into words before. Even to herself. And to make things stillmoreconfusing, those feelings were changing. Rapidly. Because of Max, the vampire kneeling at her feet and scanning her expression with a frown of concern.
“I’ve stayed so long because…” Hesitantly, she explained as best she could. “My house on Cloverleaf Drive is almost all I have left of my parents. Most of our furniture and possessions got broken or”—she swallowed hard—“stained. I had to get rid of them. But I still owned the house itself, and it’s where I had my last truly happy memories with them. My last truly happy memories in general, I suppose.”
The hand towel paused on her thigh, and he pressed a light kiss to her knee.
Her mouth twisted as she fought for composure. “Besides, no one was going to buy an old brick split-level from the 1960s in Zone A. If I left, the house would simply stay empty and rot. Like all the other places on our block.”
If she left her parents’ house behind, what she abandoned would shortly cease to exist.
Exactly as they had when she’d left them behind.
But even that reasoning—which was faulty; she knew it was, but knowing hadn’t changed how she felt—didn’t fully explain why she hadn’t left her childhood home. Why she hadn’t gone away to college. Why she hadn’t moved to be near friends and neighbors once more.
“I wanted to pay forward what they did for me too. I thought…if I stayed in the area, I could call for help as soon as another breach occurred and get the alarm going immediately. I’d be in a good position to help others. And if I managed to save a neighbor, I could…” When he stood to dry her back, she braced herself on the vanity and watched him in the mirror. “I don’t know. Give my parents’ deaths more meaning, I guess.”
So many people had died that day. Her parents had simply been two more names on a long, tragic list. Two more bodies for the funeral pyre, since local mortuaries lacked sufficient capacity to process the victims one by one.
His eyes met hers in the reflection.
“They saved you, my Edie. Their beautiful sunbeam of a child.” His voice was very, very soft. “There is nothing in this world that could give their sacrifice more meaning.Nothing.”
She turned to face him, and her fingers trembled as she nudged a wet swath of hair off his forehead. “I know they’d agree with you. Much as it pains me to admit that.”
“Darling.” The towel dropped to the mat as his arms wrapped around her. “You don’t have to move. You never have to move. You can stay in that house forever if you want.”
He rocked her back and forth a little, his hold gentle but secure.
She buried her face in his neck. Because she wouldn’t let her tears fall, they were dripping down her throat instead, and swallowing hurt. When she said so in a whispered complaint, he got her a cup of water from the sink. She gulped it down gratefully and handed the cup back, and he refilled it without a word.
“In all my life…” She drained the water again. “I think Mom and Dad are the only people who ever loved me that much. That fiercely and wholeheartedly. If I truly let them go, it felt like—I don’t know. What could ever replace them, really? How could whatever came next possibly make up for their loss?”
The ache in her throat had eased, and she set the paper cup on the counter.
He hummed a little and gathered her close again, his fingertips drifting through her dripping hair. Working out her tangles one by one, the routine increasingly familiar. Each tug noticeable but not painful.
“But here’s the thing, Max.” Her forehead dropped to his chest, and she sighed. “Because they loved me that much, they wouldn’t like what I’ve done. It would hurt them to know I never went to William and Mary or saw the Alps. They’d hate that I’m still only a single stone wall away from the same threat that ended their lives, and they’d tell me they never wanted me to make myself a living, breathing memorial to their love and their sacrifice.”
His talented hands weren’t so much detangling anymore.More…caressing. Cradling her head against his shoulder and massaging her nape and stroking her hair.
“I know all that. I’ve always known all that.” Burying her nose in his neck, she inhaled deeply. When had his piney scent become such a comfort to her? “Until now, I just chose to ignore it, because sure, they would hate the decisions I’ve made, but they’re gone, and I have to find a bearable way to live without them.”
“Ma puce, it’s okay.” The warmth in his voice trickled through her like syrup. “I’m not asking you to—”
“Maybe, though…” Squeezing her eyes shut, she took the leap. “Maybe if I had a new family. New memories. Someone who loves me as much as they did.”
His fingers stilled in her hair.
“Maybe then I wouldn’t need to cling so tightly to the physical reminders of what I’ve lost,” she finished, and now he knew. What she wanted from him. The future she was beginning to envision, with him by her side and at her back. Always. From this moment until her last breath.
When he spoke again, he didn’t sound scared or disdainful. He didn’t sound like he found her presumptuous or overly needy or foolishly impetuous.
Instead, he sounded…settled. As content and steady as she’d ever heard him. “If you decide to stay, I’ll stay too. But I would also relocate for you as needed. And even if we did move, my Edie, we could keep the house. Maintain it.”
We. The most beautiful word in the world.
Gaston Maxime Boucher, committed recluse and cynic, was committing himself to her. More than that—committing to rejoin the world at large and mingle withactual peopleagain if that was what she wanted. Even knowing she’d bring plates of creamcheese–swirl brownies to all their new neighbors’ homes and invite them over for coffee or lunch.
Yep. He definitely, definitely loved her.
