Page 148 of The Keeper

The diary. I had to find it.

“We should get back to it,” I said, caressing his cheek. “Break time is over.”

“Yes ma’am.”

I continued digging through this box while watching him sift through old school books and folders. He lifted a diploma cover and looked at me. It had to be mine because I was the only one who graduated.

He turned it so I could read the school name.

Dartmouth College.

“Why is this at the bottom of a box?”

“I don’t know.”

“Victoria.”

“It’s just a piece of paper.”

His brows knit together in frustration when he opened the cover. “Magna cum laude. I know enough Latin to know what this means.” He looked up at me through a dark fringe of lashes. “Aren’t you proud of what you’ve accomplished?”

“Of course I am,” I acquiesced.

“May I have the photo please?”

I handed it over. He tucked it inside my diploma and placed it on the floor next to him.

“You can’t bury your life away forever,” he told me.

“I know,” I responded softly. “When I was out with my dad the other night, he said we owed my sister the dignity of coming together for something to keep her memory alive. He meant the cottage but I think,” I stumbled over my words and emotions, “I think maybe I should do more to honor her.”

“What would you like to do?”

“I’ve tossed around the idea of setting up a foundation in her name. Something small to start. Give the proceeds to local mental health organizations for teens and young adults. Maybe even split the donations and give some to the animal shelter.” I shrugged. “I need to do something.”

A soft smile curved Xavier’s mouth. “I’d love to help in any way I can.”

“I’d love that, too,” I grinned. “Then maybe you won’t be so jealous of Noah when he donates to the shelter next year.”

Xavier’s eyes flared. “I’m not jealous.”

“Oh, okay,” I laughed. “And I’m not a natural redhead.”

“Yes, you are,” he said in a silky tone.

My cheeks flushed. “You were so jealous at dinner that night when Hannah asked me about the charity. I thought steam was going to come out of your ears. And then last night at the bar? Come on.”

“Fine,” he huffed. “I was jealous. And then you sat in the wanker’s lap and it made me fucking crazy. Plus, he’s a bit of hugger.” His voice started to rise. “He hugged you at the stadium, at the bar. He had his arm around you in another bloody photo. What is it with him always putting his hands on you?”

The fiery stare he leveled at me should have given me pause, but no.

“I’ve known him since he was a rookie,” I said calmly. “He’s been with Tracey the entire time. They’re the nicest people. You saw it last night. You talked to him for almost an hour. You don’t have any reason to be jealous.”

“What about the other one from last night? Tre? He kept shooting me dirty looks. Do I have a reason to be jealous of him?”

Well, shit.

My little game seemed to be backfiring on me in spectacular fashion.

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