A Deep and Dark December(94)

Erin had called him a hero. He was no hero. Careless. He’d been so f*cking careless with the people in his life. No more. He’d worked hard in the past few days at breaking that pattern and was finally beginning to feel like he was accomplishing something in caring for his mother. She wasn’t an obligation. He was actually getting pretty good at gauging her moods. He’d learned how to redirect her when she became fixated on something and worked herself into exhaustion, worrying about things that didn’t exist anymore or weren’t hers to worry about.

And that first time when redirecting didn’t work, he’d been forced to use his ability to calm his mother down. It had worked. He knew it would but still, using it that first time was like learning to rush in as a first responder when every survival instinct he had screamed at him to get out.

The nights were the worst for his mother. He’d stand outside her bedroom door and will her to settle down and go to sleep until he heard her soft snores. She’d reward him in the morning with pancakes as if he was on summer vacation or home from college for the holidays. It was almost like being mothered by her all over again. No, not an obligation. Not an obligation at all.

Maybe caring for his mother and fully embracing his role as sheriff was its own kind of absolution, of making wrongs right because he was in a position to do so and not out of guilt. He was even beginning to enjoy and depend on small town life. There was a certain peaceful ebb and flow to it as predictable as the ocean tides. Neighbors had volunteered to help him with his mother and brought them so much food he’d filled up his mother’s refrigerator and the one at the station. He’d had to learn to accept the help, to smile and say thank you, knowing when his neighbors needed him, he’d be there for them.

He finally felt as though he belonged here, in this smallest of small towns. Who could’ve predicted that?

The only glaring hole in his life was the one Erin should’ve filled. As he drove into the cemetery near the plot where Ham—no, his father, he couldn’t run away from that anymore—would finally come to rest, he made a vow to convince Erin some way, somehow that he was indeed finally the man she’d challenged him to be.





The sea threw its all at the rocks, crashing in big booms, shooting sheets of spray straight up, misting Erin from head to toe. Not that it mattered, with the sky doing its best to outdo the ocean. Lightning flashed, followed shortly by thunder. She wasn’t sure why she’d come here. Certainly it was foolish in such bad weather. Her hair hung in limp ropes and her wet clothes clung, chilling her. She welcomed the idea that the rain could somehow wash away what had happened in this place nearly a month ago.

This was the first time she’d dared to venture out here. Recapturing her favorite place in San Rey—in the whole world, really—felt like the last step she needed to banish the nightmares for good. Sure, she could’ve come up here to the bluffs on a sunny afternoon, but where was the challenge in that? She laughed at herself. She’d been such a scared little mouse most of her life and now here she was, pushing herself, braving the elements to prove the point to herself that she could be bold and daring.

She raised her arms and tilted her head toward the sky. The twinge in her shoulder barely registered beyond the cold that had seeped into her bones. Another few weeks of physical therapy and she’d be pronounced whole once again. Other than the scars on her body, there would be nothing left of that night. She smiled to herself at that. She’d done it. She’d fought the monster and her own demons and had come out the other side stronger, if not happier.

“It’s good to see you like this.”

She lowered her arms, but didn’t spin around. Somehow she knew he’d come or he’d known she would come. Either way, here they were.

She turned around slowly, bracing herself to see him up close for the first time in weeks. Her preparation was wasted. Nothing could’ve prepared her for the sight of him as wet as she, standing just a few feet away.

“It’s good to feel like this,” she answered.

He cocked his head to the side, a small smile tilting up one corner of his mouth. “Nice weather we’re having.”

She tucked her hands in her coat pockets and gave him the same sort of smile in return. “Isn’t it?”

“I’ve heard if you count one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi after a lightning strike, you can tell how close a storm is. Four-Mississippi would be four miles away.”

“Is it important to you to know how far away a storm is?”

“It’s important for me to know where I stand in nature. It can turn on a dime.”

She nodded. “Hmm, I’ve heard that. Do you think by predicting how far away a storm is that you can know for certain when it will reach you?”

“Maybe. If I’ve done all the right things in the right way for the right reasons.” He looked up at the sky as lightning flashed. “One-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, three-Mississippi, four-Mississip—”

In four short steps she crashed into him. They held each other hard as though the storm would sweep them out to sea. She tilted her face up, he met her halfway, and they kissed a slow, winding kiss that spun her world on its axis. It had been so long since she’d been with him. So long since she’d felt him, so long since the scent of him wrapped around her.

Holding her face in his hands, he broke the kiss and stared down at her. “They also say that storms wash everything clean. Do you believe that?”