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Apparently, he’s the only one excited to actually be home.
I don’t know how I feel. Too many memories in this house, and they’re all threatening to swamp me as I sink down on the sofa and bury my face in my hands.
“He actually said it,” I whisper. I don’t even know what I’m saying right now, the words just spill out of me. “He actually said they...they killed my dad. It wasn’t an overdose. It was a setup the whole time. Dad stole that money, that gold, so they took his life.”
“One question—who’s ‘they?’” Alaska asks.
I jerk, realizing—oh, crap—I’m not alone.
But I almost wish I was when I look up.
He’s standing near the door, not sitting down, his posture tense—and the way he’s looking at me seems almost wary.
Somehow, that hurts more after the gentle way he handled me on the way out of Brody’s, the way he kept his arm around me in such a comforting way that I think if he hadn’t been there, I’d have fallen apart.
But I guess he’s waking up to the reality of what he’s dealing with now.
I shouldn’t have started depending on him so much.
I shouldn’t have wanted to.
“Sorry.” I shake my head weakly. “It’s nothing.”
“Murder doesn’t sound like nothing to me, Fliss. From the way you reacted, you already suspected what Bitters said.” Hearing it spelled out that way nearly gags me with truth, and he’s not done. “You know something about the gold, don’t you? Something you aren’t telling me.”
What do I even say when he’s glaring down?
When he’s totally right?
When he’s been nothing but honest, generous, and overprotective?
All while I lied by omission to his handsome face.
End me.
“There’s a reason...” I strangle out, scrubbing my hands over my face.
I can’t look at him anymore. He’s always been so forgiving, but I can’t stand seeing that shuttered look on his face. That withdrawal. That disgust.
Sooner or later, he’ll start looking at me the way the town rumor mill does, and it kills me.
I owe him an explanation, don’t I?
“I never meant to hide anything. It’s just...this entire mess has ruined my effing life, Alaska. I had ideas, but I didn’t know how bad it was until now. Not beyond a reasonable doubt. Now, I know my father died because of it, and I—I probably will, too. Even if I don’t, this is going to haunt me forever.” I can’t help how my voice breaks. “I’ll never be free.”
I’m just waiting for the slamming door.
Waiting for him to realize I’m too much trouble, too dangerous, and walk away like a sane person.
So I’m not expecting to hear, much less feel his massive bulk moving toward me.
Alaska sinks down on one knee in front of me and pulls my hands away from my face with a gentle strength. His hands take mine, dwarfing them, fully engulfing my fingers, while those heart-stopping sand storms for eyes drill his rough spirit into mine.
“Look,” he growls, his voice like distant thunder. “Nothing’s inescapable, Fliss. Nothing. I don’t even believe that shit about death and taxes after the number of times I’ve dodged death, and after seeing some real colorful Alaskan tax returns.” He squeezes my hands with unshakeable certainty—and even if he’s a human rock, I’m trembling anyway. “Whatever’s going on, you can start over. You can make it right. We’ll find a way. You’re stubborn as hell, Fliss, but you wouldn’t be stubborn if you weren’t strong enough to weather it.”
I don’t feel strong right now.
More like I’m approaching a total nervous breakdown.
And when he pulls me into his arms—
Yeah. There it is.
Let’s call it borrowed strength.
He’s so perfect; he’s the one who’s strong, his arms cradling me like this silent, strange promise that says there’s nothing about me so terrible he’d ever think I don’t deserve the warmth he’s giving right now as he gathers me against his chest.
There’s no holding back.
I snap like a twig, shattering into brittle pieces with a hoarse sob.
Amazingly, it doesn’t feel as awful as I expected.
More like it’s safe to break down here in his arms. The only place I might ever feel secure again.
Like I can crash into as many pieces as I need to, but it’s okay as long as he’s there, catching me and holding me together so no part of me gets lost.
No part of me is broken, forsaken, because he’s keeping me whole.
While these sobs hollow me out, ripping pain from my core, he strokes his fingers through my hair and murmurs soothing, formless things.
Words that don’t have to make sense when what matters is the heat of his presence and the wall of his embrace.
After a moment, there’s the brush of soft fur against my thigh.
Shrub lets out a sympathetic whine, pressing his wet nose against me.
I’m shredded.
I’m surrounded by love I don’t deserve, and I’m not strong enough to turn it away.
