Page 91 of Holding Ground

“Sure.”

Without saying anything else, he turns back to face the door.

“Elliott.” He goes still with his hand on the doorknob but doesn’t turn around to face me. “I’m here if you want to talk.”

The smallest nod is my only indication that he heard me.

And then he’s gone.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-SEVEN

Elliott

The cards have been dealt, but nobody is playing.

Hell, I’ve been staring at my hand for at least three minutes and still haven’t seen a single card.

“So…” Ansel says. “Are we gonna talk about it, or are we going to sit here and pretend Elliott isn’t vibrating?”

“I’m not vibrating.”

“Your knee is shaking the table,” Sam says quietly.

I realize he’s right and force myself to stop, pressing a hand to my thigh.

Though I have no doubt almost everyone at this table already knows what I’m about to say, given how news travels around Echo Lake, I draw a steeling breath first, because once the words are out there, I can’t snatch them back. And it will make this more real.

“Kate’s returned to town.”

The room is already silent, but the silence grows heavier.

Roy sets down his hand, Hollis stops shuffling his chips, and Jimmy uncrosses his arms. Clyde isn’t here tonight, but if he were, he would’ve probably launched into some sixteen-minute monologue.

“She wants to see Baylor. Claims to want to be a part of her life now.” I force myself to pick up my beer and guzzle some, just for something to do. Just so I don’t have to listen to the silence that now feels too loud.

This kitchen table has seen a lot over the years. It’s the same table Roy sat all my siblings and me down at to tell us our dad wouldn’t be coming back. It’s the same table where I told Roy that Kate had left. And now it’s the table where I’m telling him that she wants back in our lives.

“What did you tell her?” Roy asks.

“That I needed to think about it.”

“You needed to stew about it,” Hollis says.

I don’t bother responding.

“I’m surprised you didn’t personally escort her past the county line,” Ansel says.

“She says she’s in a different place now and that she wants to have a relationship with her daughter, but that it’s up to me.”

“And?” Ansel arches an eyebrow.

“And I feel like bashing my head against this fucking table so I don’t have to make this decision.”

“That’s you reacting. What are you actually thinking?” Roy asks.

I scrub a hand over my face. “I’m thinking she left. She made a choice, and she left her six-month-old daughter and never looked back for more than five years. And now she’s changed her mind, and I’m supposed to what? Roll out the red carpet for her? Just forget the past?”