Page 32 of Loud Unspoken Memories

I swallow, because it’s becoming harder and harder to hide my emotions. “I’m not anyone’s dad. Not anymore.”

Her eyes snap up to mine. Tears instantly coat her lashes. “Dallas, no.”

I turn my back to her and open the refrigerator. “I’m going to make some food. Mind putting the photo away?”

I stare into the fridge, not looking for anything in particular. In fact, not looking for anything at all. I just had to stop looking ather.

I hear her shuffle behind me as she puts it back where she found it.

“I’m so sorry,” she says.

“Yup. Me too.” I close the fridge and open the freezer. “Pork chops for dinner?”

“Sounds good. What can I do?”

Go away? Get out of my head? Stop invading my every fucking thought?“Nothing. You should rest. You’ve had a big day.”

“We both have.”

I turn and her burrowing gaze meets mine. Is she talking about her falling through the ice, or what happened after? Looking into her eyes, it’s hard to tell. She’s looking at me the way everyone does when they find out my family died.

She clears her throat uncomfortably. “I think I’ll take Bex outside for a while and let you cook.”

“Wait,” I say, throwing the meat on the counter to start thawing. I put my coat back on and motion for her to follow. “Come with me.” I walk her around the back of my cabin, traverse the yard, and show her exactly where the edges of the pond are.

I go to the wood pile and get an armload of wood, dropping pieces every few yards to delineate the water from the shore. I should have done this earlier. I can’t be trusted to keep anyone safe. She could be dead because of me.Just like they are.

Bex comes to my side as if he’s read my thoughts. Is he missing Abe? I’m reminded once again just how much the dog and I have in common. We’re both alone, left by the only ones who truly loved us. Yeah, I think maybe Iwillkeep him.

I thumb toward the house. “I’ll go make that dinner.”

Bex stays behind. He’s not about to leave her alone like I am. But I have to. Being around her is wrong. It’s messy and noisy and torturously tempting.

So then, why, when I turn the corner to the front of the house, do I look back at her once more, my heart battering my ribs when I think of how spectacularly she fell apart beneath me?

Chapter Fifteen

Martina

He’s a widower. And he lost his child.

Ever since he told me, emotions I haven’t felt in a while surface all over again and I’ve found it hard to breathe.

No wonder he’s here. How long ago did it happen? I think he said he’s been here a few years. That’s the reason he left Calloway Creek. He’s running. Running from memories ofthem.

He really does live here. This isn’t just a fishing cabin he comes to a few times a year.

I can’t imagine being that alone. For me, after my losses, the only thing that helped was being around people. When I wasn’t, and I had only my thoughts for company, life was depressing. Talking with people who knew and loved them, remembering the good times—that’s what got me through. But Dallas seems to have nobody. Was that a choice? Or did it happen by default?

He has a job. And I guess he has parents. After all, someone has to run the family winery.

If I had access to the internet, I could probably find out how his family died. A car accident most likely. My heart pounds. Oh, God. How he totally freaked out when he saw the car seat after my accident, it all makes sense now. Did he lose his own child that way? It’s a horrible and unsettling thought.

The internet would also give me information on his job and family. I wonder what it’s like to own and work for a winery. It must be fascinating. But I wouldn’t know. He hasn’t talked about his past, where he’s from, or… anything really.

For the next half hour, I watch Bex chase a lone squirrel braving the cold to look for food. He skitters up a tree and Bexdutifully circles the trunk over and over hoping the critter will come back down.

When I can’t stand the cold anymore, I call Bex and head back inside.

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