Page 28 of You're the Reason

Not that they’d see each other much. But with him living here, there would be no avoiding her. And right now, knowing she was twenty feet below made returning to sleep impossible, even if Bach hadn’t still been vibrating through the floor.

Seth sat up and stretched his neck to the right and then to the left. The first item on the agenda was to buy a mattress. Maybe an air mattress would do.

His gaze landed on the wooden plaque he’d pulled from the wall at his mom’s old house. Why had he bothered to save it? Probably the same reason he’d pulled it from the trash back when he was ten.

Making that with his mom had been the last time he’d heard her laugh, really laugh. He hadn’t known in that moment how much that memory or this stupid thing would come to mean to him. They had nearly glued their fingers together as they laid each of the sticks on the little wooden board, only to discover after it dried that they had done it wrong.

“Would you look at that, Sethy. We spelled Jesus’s name wrong. It says Jeus. I guess it’s a good thing He loves us even when we mess up.”

It had been the next day that a sergeant and a captain had shown up in uniform with hats in hands to tell them that his dad had been killed in action.

The two men hadn’t even pulled out of the driveway before his mom had dug out a bottle from the cupboard and tossed the wooden plaque in the trash. She just stared at him with cold eyes as she uncorked the bottle.

“I was wrong, Sethy. Jesus doesn’t love us. Sooner you realize that the better you’ll be.”

Seth rolled to his back and let out a deep breath. His mom’s problems hadn’t started with his dad’s death, but it was definitely when she’d stopped trying to overcome them.

It had still been in his pocket when Officer Hammond had patted him down. He had asked Seth about it in processing, but Seth had dismissed it with a shrug and told him he’d had it for a long time. It wasn’t a complete lie. He just hadn’t had it in his possession the whole time. But it wasn’t like whoever ended up owning that house wanted a child’s craft that was misspelled and poorly done. And admitting he did want it and explaining he had gone in to find it meant opening up, and that was not Seth’s way.

“You don’t have to do life alone, Seth.” Jon’s words still circled his mind three days later. But he did. And being in Heritage for a couple months wasn’t going to change that.

It was more than just that memory though. He’d kept it because he knew in his mom’s broken way, she’d been trying to help Seth find the faith that his father had.

He stood, letting the blanket fall away just as a cool morning draft from the window whipped down his spine. He released an involuntary shiver as he reached for the old worn Bible that had been his dad’s. Jon had found it at his parents’ place a couple years ago. Evidently Seth’s dad had left it with them before his last deployment. It was well marked up, and every day when Seth read it the past couple years, he felt that not only did he get a glimpse of who his heavenly Father was but who his earthly father had been also.

He flipped open the marked page as another concerto vibrated the floor. Maybe he would run first. He strode across the rough wood floor toward his duffel bag until he found some athletic clothes.

He’d normally burn his restless energy with a hard workout, but if Grace was already started, then he’d have to settle for a run.

He changed and hurried down the steps. He hated the fact that the only way out was through the studio. He knocked, although that didn’t seem right. But the last thing he needed was to slam into Grace with the door.

A moment later she opened the door in a black leotard, pink tights, and a sheer pink skirt wrapped around her middle. The color pink was suddenly growing on him. “Are you knocking to leave your apartment?”

“I just didn’t want to surprise you.”

“If I am dancing this close to the door, something is way off.” She wore her hair up and back into a tight bun, which only accentuated her face and especially those big blue eyes as she laughed with the words.

“Still.” He shrugged and secured the door. “I wouldn’t want you to call the cops on me.”

“Since you’re using the door and not a window for once, I think I’ll let it go. Besides, that’s what the tape that you made fun of is for.” She pointed to a white line. “The door space and along the wall to the steps down to the door are all yours to use at any time with your shoes on. Even if I’m dancing, you’re free to come and go.”

“Gracious of you.” He nodded and followed the marked-out path toward the back door. Who was he kidding? Sharing a space wasn’t difficult because she was a Howell. It was because she was beautiful and light and petite and toned. And seeing her every day wearing that, as she held herself as if she were made of air, might just drive him insane.

Okay, he really needed that run.

He forced his gaze around the room—anywhere but lingering on her and that sheer skirt. “Did I miss a weight?” He took a step toward the dumbbell sitting in the middle of the room?—

“Shoes.” Her elevated voice stopped him midstep.

“I was just going to grab the weight.”

“I borrowed it. My doctor wants me to do some strengthening.” The haughtiness finally dropped away. “Is that all right?”

“Sure.” Because he couldn’t put his shoe in her space, but she could go use his equipment without asking.

“If you don’t want me to?—”

“It’s fine.” He took a step toward the back door, taking care to stay in his lane.

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