Pieces of Us (Confessions of the Heart, #3)(7)

Oh awesome.

I’d just knocked into my new boss.

“Yes, we do,” Helen said from behind. “This is Isabel Lane.”

He kept his hands on me, holding me up, but stepping back a little as he angled his head to the side.

That was right when I was noticing just how attractive that he was. I mean, not quite like Maxon Chambers. That man was a brand all his own. But attractive in that clean-cut way, light brown hair and dark brown eyes.

“Well, I have to say it’s great to meet you. I was hoping we’d find someone to fill Sandy’s spot.”

I stepped back and stuck out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I just hope I can fill her shoes.”

His eyes glinted when he returned the shake. “I’m sure you’ll do perfectly fine.”

I glanced between them, flustered, not even sure where it was coming from anymore. “Well, I’ll get out of your way. I’ll see you Monday morning.”

I ducked out, glancing over my shoulder, redness hitting me again when I saw that Dr. Nelson was watching me go.





*



My old car bounced down the narrow, dirt lane that led to the house where I’d grown up.

Our home was secluded in a dense thicket on the far east side of Broadshire Rim, the forest surrounding it lush and alive, fed by the river that twisted through our property.

I wound along the mile-long lane that was hugged by towering trees, their huge trunks covered in moss, massive arms winding and curling as they fought their way toward the sky. The branches were covered in green leaves that protected the earth from the scorch of the blistering South Carolina summer.

Glittering streaks of sunlight broke through, and I leaned forward to see them dancing across my windshield, sprinkling like stardust where they played on the ground.

The sheer beauty of this place struck me with awe.

I’d missed it.

I’d missed it so much, just another piece of myself that had been ripped away when I’d left.

My parents.

My home.

Maxon.

All those stupid, childish dreams that he’d crushed in one sweeping blow.

I looked out to the right to see the meadow peeking out from the copse of dense trees. The tiny house where he’d lived was barely visible in the distance.

A lance of pain tried to cut through the joy I felt at getting the job. I forced it down. I wasn’t going there right then.

I kept driving, winding around one curve and then another until the estate came into view. It had once been a bit lavish, if not pretentious, though there were far more grandiose mansions in the area.

The years had taken its toll on it, though.

The white, two story home fronted by pillars and a sweeping porch had deteriorated, the paint peeling and wood splintering. The once perfectly maintained lawn was shabby in spots, and the wild jasmine was living up to its name, growing completely out of control.

The money had run as dry as the gargoyle fountain that stood not so proud out front.

But still, it was breathtaking. Welcoming. My home.

I pulled to a stop in front of the garage on the left side of the house and climbed out, my heels clicking on the red-brick pathway as I made my way to the porch steps. I climbed them, the wood creaking with my weight, and I wiggled my key into the lock.

Turning the knob, I pushed open one side of the double doors. “I’m home,” I called, just because saying it felt so good when I’d been gone for so long.

A trample of footsteps pounded down the stairs. “Did you get it? Did you get it?”

“Yes, baby, I got it,” I breathed out, my own relief and excitement uncontained.

“Yes!” Dillon threw his fist into the air before he was throwing his little body across the room. I picked him up, swinging him around, even though he wasn’t much of a baby anymore, already five years old and larger than life.

He pulled back and looked at me seriously. “I’m really proud of you, Mom. I knew you could do it. Didn’t I tell you that you could? You had nothin’ to worry about. Just like you’re always tellin’ us we can be whatever we want to be.”

If you could be anything when you grow up, what would you want to be?

So yeah, I was guilty of that question, too, and didn’t feel bad about it at all. I was just glad he wanted to be a jet fighter when he grew up rather than to marry Brigid, the poor little girl next door who’d bawled her eyes out when she’d found out we were moving and her favorite playmate was leaving her behind.

I poked at his chubby belly, giving him a tease. “Does that mean you’ve been listening to me?”

“What do you think? Listenin’ is part of the rules, isn’t it? And you’re the one who said I had to follow all the rules, and I was listenin’ then, too. See?” he rambled out so fast it was a wonder I could process through the words.

“Just makin’ sure,” I said with a playful grin.

He was my life.

My soul.

My soul that was completed when I carried Dillon across the room and through the swinging doors that led into the kitchen. It was where I was sure I’d find Benjamin at the bay window that had been converted into a big reading nook at the far corner of the expansive room.

The second he’d seen it, he’d claimed it as his own, and if I was looking for him, I could bet that’s where I would find him.