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Everything his father had said Eli knew in his gut, and he didn’t take it for granted when the man who had been his mentor his entire life spelled it out. Nothing solidified Eli’s fucking up more than this moment right now.
“So, it’s just me,” Eli called over the cheers and good wishes. A quick glance around the table confirmed smiles falling left and right. “My timing sucks for that epiphany. I’m sorry. I just wanted to say you’re all smarter than I am.” He pushed away from the table, the chair scraping from rug to floor. “A hell of a lot smarter.”
Instead of heading for his bedroom, he walked to the metal set of stairs leading to the loft. The stairs he’d avoided climbing since he came home. Because there was no sense in trying to reclaim who he once was. That was bullshit—like nearly every other belief he’d tried to hang on to since he was discharged. He took each step, rickety metal whining, bracing his upper arms on the railing as he hauled himself up.
When he reached the top, out of breath and sweating a little, he went to the door he hadn’t opened since he’d been back home. Time to merge the old him with the new one. God knew they could learn a thing or two from each other.
He flipped the dead bolt and pushed the bar on the door, exiting to the roof. Outside, he shook the leaves off a rusted lawn chair and plopped onto the seat. The air was freezing up here. He crossed his arms tightly as the breeze cooled the damp sweat on his body. Wind blew his hair and chilled his bare face, having a sobering effect.
The city lights were bright, interspersed with porch lights from houses and the glowing sign in front of the cathedral across the street. Somewhere in the city, Isa was without him and doing better for it. That’s what he’d tried to make himself believe each day when he’d scrolled back through their texts in his phone. There weren’t many. But it hurt to remember how for one fragile moment, he’d had her in the palm of his hand…
Then crushed her without meaning to.
Predictably, the door opened behind him, then shut. He’d expected one of his well-meaning family members to fetch him. The question was, who had drawn the short straw? Tag? Reese? One of the girls?
“You’ve turned brooding into an art.”
Dad.
Of course.
“We each have our talents,” Eli said.
“Being a horse’s ass seems to be yours.”
Eli frowned over his shoulder. His father, weathered skin and white hair, goatee and checkered shirt tucked into dark jeans, looked younger than his sixtysomething years. He was a virile, capable man—an amazing single father. The best Eli could have asked for. And now he was engaged to be married. Because he wasn’t a massive coward.
“Why’d you retire, anyway?” Eli asked as Alex located another dilapidated lawn chair that creaked in protest when he opened it and sat down. “This is your fault. If you’d have stayed CEO, Reese would still be COO, and I would be—”
“You’d be what?” Alex interrupted. “You’d be sitting in your warehouse alone and brooding? You never would have met Isabella Sawyer? Yes, your brothers told me about her.” A breeze feathered the hair that fell over his forehead. “You’re a man who’s lost a lot, Eli. Your friends, your leg, your career as a Marine.”
Eli gritted his teeth, feeling the pain of those losses like a series of punches to the stomach.
“Your mom,” Alex added.
That one was more like a punch to the kidney.
“Like you said, we all lost her,” Eli said.
“Yes, but you were the one who held on longer than you should have.”
“You’re one to talk.” Anger vibrated down Eli’s arms. “You worked and kept your head down for years. Hell, you didn’t even date. If it hadn’t been for Rhona working with you, you may never have…”
Eli quieted. His father’s story lined up pretty damn closely with his own.
“Isabella busted through your defenses because she was there every day,” Alex stated. “She wiggled her way into your arms and then into your heart.”
She had.
“You’re the one keeping yourself from her. Why?”
“She loves me,” Eli said, the pain of that admission worse than anything else. It was so fresh. The wound of losing her hadn’t covered with scar tissue—not yet. The ache for her was so acute, Eli wondered if he’d ever heal. Like his unchangeable past—losing friends and his mom and his leg and his career as a Marine—he’d lost Isa, too. “She loved me last Friday, anyway.”
Eli rubbed his palm with his thumb, grounding himself to stop the pain in his heart.
Didn’t work.
Alex leaned back in his chair, his eyes turning skyward. “I’m sure that’s not changed. She’s been waiting for you to step up, I imagine.”
