Page 107 of Easy Reunion
Chapter 42
Rierson
Hanging up the phone, I rub my fingers across my lips. So many things haunt me, including how much my heart aches for the woman on the other end of the line. “Only a few more weeks, my love,” I whisper.
I think about the changes I’ve helped guide John and his family through. There were none as significant as when Logan, anxious as fuck and backed by his grandparents, held out a shaking hand to me saying, “Thank you. I wouldn’t have known where to start to try to make them understand.”
I shook his hand firmly but released it quickly so he could retreat to the safety of his grandfather’s arms. “If we’re fortunate, they’ll never be able to understand, only to support us with all of their unconditional love.”
A weary maturity settled on Logan’s face—the very look I used to see in the mirror until a victim of a different sort showed me how to search my soul for the freeing words. She taught me to describe the love of something that wasn’t theirs to take—though none of it was—and by forcing me to dig deep, I took it back and found a pathway to a future I might never have traveled down otherwise.
A knock startles me. I give my father a semblance of a smile. “What’s up, Dad?”
“Your mother’s in a tizzy.” My bark of laughter surprises me and he takes it as an invite to join me in my suite of rooms.
“Why?” I ask curiously
“Something about an unexpected dinner guest.” He waves his hand, dismissing the topic. Knowing my mother, that could be a neighbor to the governor of the state of Georgia, so I leave the comment alone. He continues. “I just came to see how you’re holding up after today.”
“With Logan?” He nods. I take a deep breath. “I can’t say seeing his devastation isn’t bringing up bad memories I thought I had moved past.”
“And nightmares.” At my startled jerk, he shakes his head. “Son, despite your age, I wouldn’t be your father if I didn’t check on you every night you’re under my roof. One day when you’re a parent, you’ll understand.”
“Understand?” I parrot back almost automatically as my mind thinks of Kelsey’s beautiful body ripe with our child. A million feelings rip through me, none of which is fear.
“You’ll get it one day if you ever have children,” he assures me with a grin.
Still in a state of shock, I stumble when I tell him, “If you’d have asked me a year ago—hell, six months ago—I’d have said I might find the right woman when hell freezes over.”
“And now?”
“Now, I ache because I can’t hold her.” Sitting back, I wonder, “How is it possible for me to love her so quickly?”
“Maybe, son, because you started to fall when you were seventeen. Life’s natural road blocks only slowed the fall, but it never stopped,” my father tells me sagely.
I think in the comfortable silence for a few minutes before nodding. “You’re right.”
“Want to say that again?” he jokes. I throw a toss pillow his way. “Better get this room cleaned up before your mother sees it,” he warns.
I groan. Since I no longer live here, my parents transformed the shrine of my teenage years into a well-appointed suite. The only thing I take pleasure in teasing my mother about is there’s no basket awaiting my dirty clothes. She retorted, “It’s a guest suite, not your permanent residence. Bring the clothes downstairs yourself.”
My response is to pile them up in a corner and bring them down to wash when I’m close to running out. “There are times when being at home makes me feel about twelve,” I complain.
My father shrugs, all sympathy erased from eyes as blue as my own. “I just figured you’d want to not look like a slob by the time Kelsey gets here later.” Pushing away from the door, he disappears from view.
Shaking my head vigorously, I shove myself out of the chair. I must be hearing things. “Dad?” I call out as I dash out on bare feet to catch up with him. He’s already made it to the stairwell and is partway down. “Did you just say…”
“If her flight lands on time, I expect her here before dinner, son.” Giving me a critical once-over, he tacks on, “A shower wouldn’t be remiss in this situation either.”
“She’s coming?” I feel like I barely breathe the words. She swore she’d never come back to this place that left such scars on her soul.
“From what your sister said when she asked me to call her into the gates, she’s hell-bent on getting to your side.”
The warmth I’ve been missing since I left New Orleans—no, even before that—starts to fill me up. She’s coming to me. She isn’t leaving me alone to deal with this pain, wondering if when I go back if everything’s going to be okay.
She’s making sure it will be.
Somehow, I didn’t just find the love of my life; I found the person who will willingly follow me into hell to save me. And she’d better know I’d do the same for her. “Dad?”
