Page 72 of Learning at 40

“Someone lives in the house?” Noah’s voice rings incredulous. “I thought the old geezer was using it for company retreats and rental property.”

I’d forgotten all about that. When the house was first confiscated as equity against the money stolen, it was used by handfuls of men and visitors. Parties happened next door as if they were celebrating, dancing on the grave of my childhood and the memories of my family. I hated Quincy Grocer and even refused to take a real estate case a few years ago with their name attached. Was that case possibly River’s inheritance?

I’d rather a single woman who appreciates the place live there permanently than groups of random people traipsing through the house or, worse, lewd men doing God knows what all over the place.

My thoughts race, recalling everything I’d done to River, and all of that was only outside in the backyard, in the tree fort, against the side of the house. I’m such a hypocrite.

“It isn’t a rental anymore. A woman inherited it from Dennis Quincy.”

“No shit?” Noah laughs.

“No shit. But, Noah . . . Robert . . .” Focus, dammit.

“Dad,” Noah emphasizes.

“Why would he go to the house? Why is he even in the area?” What the hell is he doing in the state of Michigan? I thought my father would want to be far, far away from the memories of where life went all wrong for him.

“It’s his home,” Noah states matter of fact. Our parents were actually from Chicago, much like Anna’s parents, though. That’s where the trouble started for my dad. Irish kid from the Southside wanting to hold his own; he was a scrapper with dreams of money and success. Most days being an accountant didn’t fit his persona, nor did the family home on lake property, but he wanted it. He wanted that view and that house. He wanted to please my mother. He said it often enough.

“He shouldn’t be there!” I holler into the car, blasting at the hands-free phone system.

“He can live where he wants,” Noah defends, and it pisses me off even more.

“Is this why you’re planning to move to Lakeside? Are you coming to see him?” Has my brother paid him visits before?

“I think we should discuss this another time when you can act like a rational adult.”

I snort. This, coming from the man who still acts like a college guy, going to bars on the regular and hooking up with rich women in hopes of I don’t know what. “Yeah, I gotta go.”

“Zack, don’t be like this,” Noah pleads, his voice a whine, restoring him to the brother I know.

Don’t listen to them, Zack. Suck it up, Zack. It’s only a little longer, and then you’re out of there, Zack.

Easy words for the teen who left shortly after everything blew up. He wasn’t the one left behind to face it all alone with a heart-sick mother and nowhere to call home.

“I’ll call you later,” I mutter, acting petulant in my own right as I disconnect the line.

+ + +

By the time I’d made the three-hour trip back to Lakeside, it’s dark outside. My boys are with our new nanny, and I hated to leave them behind already, but this visit needed to be done alone. I needed to see River for myself. Logan said he hadn’t found River at home, which made my heart rate race even harder. I didn’t really believe Robert would physically harm River. I just didn’t want him anywhere near her.

Dammit, I shouldn’t have left her alone. I shouldn’t have left her at all. Barreling across the state, I felt an unsettling sensation ripple over my skin, and I thought about a lot of things. Number one being how I didn’t want to live without River in my life.

Once I reach her front door, I hammer at the wood. Growing frustrated with the lack of response, I help myself to round her house and enter the backyard. I hardly note the missing fence that once lined her property. It wouldn’t have kept me out anyway.

I find River sitting in her chaise lounge. Only . . . another body sits beside her.

“Zack?” Anna questions, noticing me first. River twists beside Anna to look at me over her shoulder. Slowly, Anna rises, says something to River, and crosses the lawn to me. “Don’t be stupid.” The warning surprises me as she pats my chest over my heart. I lean forward to kiss her cheek, and then Anna leaves the yard, easily walking through the space between the trees behind her garage.

“I see you’ve kept your clothes on,” I tease, finding my voice rough as River rises next from the lounger.

“Don’t have a fence to protect my privacy.” The previous barrier was transparent, but in all honesty, the way I saw River was looking over the shrubbery from the second-floor next door. Now that room is vacant and dark.

“I don’t want any boundaries between us anyway,” I admit, and I’m not referring to a damn fence. River steps closer to me but not close enough.

“Then you’ll need to let me in.” She doesn’t stop at that, though. She passes me, crosses her small patio, and enters her home, leaving the sliding glass door open.

The only way to mend this broken fence is to step inside.