I smile. “I know he would be glad that you have it. He would have liked you.”
“My mom liked you. Sometimes, when she knew dad was coming home, she’d urge me to go play with you.”
She protected him as best she could. Until that terrible night when all our lives changed.
I hand the knife back. “I’m glad you kept it.”
“You gave it to me.”
A lump forms in my throat when he says it, mirroring my words, and the meaning behind them. “How did you keep it all these years?”
“I hid it in our tree. The one we carved our initials in. The day I came back to Hollow Peak, it’s the first place I went.”
I wrap my arms around him, holding him tight. “Was it terrible? Foster care?”
He stiffens, then growls. “Compared to what? Not being able to save my mother? My father going to jail for her murder? Being labeled a murderer’s son?”
“Dorian…”
He crushes me in his arms and buries his head in my neck. “It was endless. One home after another, and no one really cared.”
My heart breaks. “No one?”
“There was one couple—the Blackthornes. Had this big ranch in Montana with wide open skies, animals, and fresh air. They had adopted a few boys out of foster care and were looking for more. I was fifteen when they took me in.” He pauses and clears his throat.
This is the most he’s spoken since we met.
“They gave me food, shelter… kindness. Everything I wanted. One of the boys—Garrick—even tried to befriend me, but I was too afraid to trust it. Too afraid I’d lose it again. So after twomonths, I ran away. Police found me, and I went to another home just like all the others.” He strokes his hand through my hair. “That’s when I realized, only I could decide who I was meant to be. I thought about you, and about my grandfather every day. When I turned eighteen, I went into the Army and became a medic.”
Saving people, when he hadn’t been able to save himself or his mom.
A tear slips down my cheek.
He kisses it away. “You can’t cry before breakfast.”
“I can’t?”
“House rules.”
I choke out a watery laugh. “Is there a list somewhere? Do I need to study?”
Dorian traces his lips over my cheek, then gives me another sweet kiss. “Stay with me, and I’ll teach you all of them.”
My heart swells. Could I stay? My life in Denver feels so far away. And the longer I’m with Dorian, the less I want it.
But what if he goes to Montana? Would he want me to go with him? Do I want that?
The questions spin until they start to give me a headache. So, I turn my attention to making breakfast and enjoying as much time with Dorian as I can.
We spendthe rest of the afternoon talking about everything. Places we’ve been, people who were important to us. I told him about my business, and how I stumbled into it after taking a class on bookbinding. There’s so much to restoring old books, and I love the beauty of them—the stories and knowledge they preserve. My reputation is building as I get more clients, and someone just sent me their treasured family bible that recorded fourteen generations of their family history.
Dorian listens as we sit on the couch in front of the fire. Outside, the sun is setting, and the mountains are quiet. It’s peaceful.
Which is exactly when my mother chooses to call.
I groan and reach for my phone. “Hi, mom.”
“Did you call Philip?” she asks in way of greeting.
