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The muscles in my shoulders tense. “Do you plan on explaining what you’re doing breaking into my house, or are we just going to stand around here all night?”
“Your house?” His forehead creases. “I think you’re mistaken. My grandfather might have let your family stay here because your mother looks after the property, but you don’t own it.”
My mom didn’tjustlook after the Kane house, but she loved it like her own ever since she was hired by Brady Kane to manage the property and help watch after his grandchildren.
Yet he leftyouthe property, not her.
My chest throbs. “According to your grandfather’s deed of the house, I do.”
His body stiffens. “What do you mean?”
“That’s between me and him.”
“Seeing as I can’t exactly go ask him to explain since he’s six feet under and all, I’m going to need you to elaborate.”
The pain above my heart intensifies. “He said this is my property, and I have a right to shoot anyone who questions otherwise.”
He crosses his arms against his chest, drawing my eyes toward the muscles straining beneath his shirt. “Now I know you’re lying. My grandfather always hated guns.”
“Then how do you explain his little collection in the attic?”
He rubs his chin. “What collection?”
My head tilts. “Maybe you didn’t know your grandfather as well as you think you did.”
“Oh, and you did?” His chuckle comes off condescending.
I raise my chin. “He spent every single summer here until his accident, so yeah, I think I might know him better than the person who couldn’t even bother to call for his birthday.”
His eyes dart away. “He and I weren’t exactly on speaking terms before his coma.”
“I wonder why.” Sarcasm seeps into my voice.
He rubs the back of his neck. “I made a lot of mistakes the last time I was here.”
“Like getting together with me?”
The muscle in his jaw flexes. “I shouldn’t have pursued you the way I did.”
My chest might feel as if Cal plunged a serrated knife through it, but my face remains devoid of emotion—a skill perfected over the years.
“No, you really shouldn’t have.” My fingers tighten around the handle of the gun.
“I regret ruining our friendship.”
The invisible knife twists, sinking deeper into my flesh. “Dating didn’t ruin our friendship. Your addictions did.”
Painkillers. Alcohol.Sex. Cal used all of them to escape the demons in his head, and I was too stupidly in love to see otherwise.
You can’t blame yourself when he was a master at hiding it.
Yet I still struggle with believing the words I tell myself. My throat tightens from years’ worth of repressed emotions, making swallowing difficult.
His jaw clenches, and his sharp bone structure stands out even more. “Believe it or not, I didn’t drive all the way out here to fight with you about our past.”
“Then why exactly did you come here?” Out of the hundred questions I want to ask him, that feels like the safest one.
“I came to check out the house.”
