Page 114 of The False Flat

Deanna and I craned our heads up to William’s sad smile, and then the three of us held hands, a silent pact passing on contact.

“Grant needs to come home,” Deanna said, moving beside me on the couch like a bird. “He needs to know that you—”

“Can I use your phone? I can’t find mine,” I said, interrupting. She was right. Grant needed to know that he wasn’t alone, and he’d waited long enough.

“The cabin doesn’t have good service,” William said. “I’ll be shocked if you can get through.”

“Then I’m going to Chuck’s cabin,” I said, after he’d been proved right by several calls going straight to Grant’s voicemail.

He shook his head. “It’s pouring. You shouldn’t even go home, and you definitely shouldn’t try driving two hundred miles on back roads you aren’t familiar with.” I’d never seen him this insistent. It was incredibly annoying. “We’ll try again tomorrow or wait for him to come back. He’s working on a big project; he won’t stay gone long.”

“Just give me the address,” I demanded. A storm wasn’t going to stand in my way.

“It’s a cabin in the woods. Winding, narrow roads,” he explained. “You can’t go tonight.”

“904 Raven Branch Pointe.” This came from Deanna. William and I turned toward her in surprise. “Grant needs to know, William.”

His jaw tightened. “It’s not safe.”

But I knew the risks, and I didn’t care. Maybe I should’ve, but I didn’t care about the danger because I’d already faced the worst; nothing could compare to that.

“I’m going. I have to.”

Deanna slid her arm under mine and lifted me to my feet. “Come to the kitchen. Have coffee. It’ll keep you awake. When did you eat last?”

I winced. I didn’t deserve her kindness, but every muscle in my body filled with gratitude. “Yesterday’s dinner with Grant.”

“Then we’ll have pie too.”

I stopped our forward progress and put my hand on her arm. “You forgive me?”

“I’m sorry you reacted the way you did. I’m sorry Grant had to experience that pain. I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’m sorry for everything that was, for everything that is, for everything that will be. I’m so much more than sorry that my brother has . . .” She choked, unable to say the word. “But I’m not sorry my brother met you. So yes, I forgive you.”

I nodded, raw emotion keeping my voice low. “Do you think Grant will?”

“If I know my brother, he’d respond to that by saying, ‘For what?’”

While William made coffee, Deanna pulled a cold pie from the fridge, stopped to grab forks from a drawer, and placed three-fourths of the pie and the forks on the kitchen table. “Let’s eat this before you go see Grant.”

Tears were still coming, off and on, with a will of their own. “That sounds wonderful.”

We ate the rest of the pie, and then I headed into the downpour, darkness and despair blurring the trip to Chuck’s cabin.

CHAPTER 45

THREE WORDS

Hours later, my spirits lifted when I saw a light on in a cabin. This had to be the one. There was nothing else out here, but the numbers on the mailbox at the end of the endless driveway were smudged, and I couldn’t be sure.

I knocked frantically on the cabin door, and I nearly cried when I saw Chuck’s rugged face.

“Please tell me Grant’s here.”

“Pen? What are you . . . you made it all the way out here in that?” He pointed to the storm. “At this hour?”

“Grant’s asleep in the guest room.” A gorgeous woman with flawless dark skin pulled me into the neat but rustic room, where a fire roared and a golden retriever excitedly wagged its tail. “Come in, come in.”

“Pen, this is Celia, my wife,” Chuck said.