Razed (Barnes Brothers #2)(95)

She glanced over at him. “Almost there.”

He stared out the window, oddly tense, almost strained, ever since they’d left the loft.

Feeling like she had to do something, offer something, she said softly, “I’ve got some of your pictures in my work area.”

Now he slid a smile her way. “I’ve noticed. The one of the Borealis . . . ?”

Her heart had sighed in wonder when she saw that one. “It’s my favorite.”

“I took that one thinking you’d like it.”

An ache settled in her heart. “Damn it, Zane.”

She sniffled.

“Now, what you’re supposed to say is thank you.”

She sniffed again. Slowing down at a red light, she shot him a look. Then, she reached across the nonexistent console, hooked her hand in the front of his shirt.

As he came to meet her halfway, the light turned green. She didn’t care.

“Thank you,” she whispered against his mouth.

He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

The rest of the drive was in silence, but it only took another ten minutes.

When she pulled up in front of the big, sprawling old house, Zane studied it with some level of bemusement, his gaze lingering on the For Sale sign before he looked back up at it.

She wondered what he was thinking, although she doubted he’d have any idea what was in her mind.

“I love this house,” she said softly, as they both got out of the car.

He looked over at her.

Tucking her hands into the back of her jeans, she rocked back on her heels and just stared.

“Sometimes, I’m out driving and I’ll just come here and look. It’s big . . . almost too big, but it feels like a home, ya know?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, just started toward it.

He was right behind her and when she took the paved walkway that led around the side, he moved to walk along with her. “I haven’t had a home since my father died.” She accepted that ache in her chest, accepted it, and realized for the first time she could maybe even learn to let it go. He hadn’t left her on purpose. “There were a few times when I was almost there, but every time I came close, something went wrong. So I stopped letting myself try to find anything that might be home. Even when I left Kentucky, even when I was on my own. I didn’t want anything that might be taken away again.”

She stopped as the walk opened into a large courtyard.

It wasn’t so beautiful now.

But the home had stood empty for more than a year.

She could see it as it should be, as she wanted to make it.

“So I didn’t let myself look for a home. I think . . .” She blew out a breath. “I think I’m ready to be done with that.”


*

The house was something, Zane had to admit.

It was also huge, and sitting on what he suspected was prime real estate.

He had money in the bank—or would—from the sale of his house, but that didn’t mean he could afford something like this, nestled in the foothills of the mountains, with a view that faced out over the desert.

Unless, of course, he gave up on the idea of buying the photography studio instead of renting it. He could own it, outright. He’d been tinkering with the idea. He could do it, with the money from his place, the business loan. It would be tight, but he could make it.

Yet looking at the house that filled Keelie’s eyes with such longing, he realized there was no contest.

He didn’t need to own a big place for his studio—didn’t need to own, period. He could rent. Might have to start out smaller, cheaper. He’d have to juggle the figures. The place near Abby’s might not work now, but he could find a way to make everything work.

For her.

For her.

Reaching out, he rested a hand on her spine.

“You want this.”

She glanced at him, a gleam in her eyes.

“I’m getting this,” she said.

Then she turned to face him, even as he tried to process that comment.

“I think some part of me knew,” she said, her head cocked as she studied him. “Every time you kept asking, and every time I pushed you away. I spent a long time punishing myself.”

Fury whipped through him. He tried not to let it show as he reached up and cupped her cheek. “You weren’t to blame,” he said, his voice hot despite his best intentions.

“I know.” She covered his hand with hers, pressed lightly. “I know. But that didn’t stop me from believing it. For a very long time. I kept myself isolated. I convinced myself I was in love with a guy I knew belonged to somebody else . . .” A smirk twisted her lips. “And then, just to twist myself up even more, I threw myself between them, because hey . . . why settle for being miserable, if I can be utterly miserable? And you . . .”

Her eyes moved to his.

“You.” She moved her hand to his cheek, stroked her fingertips along his cheekbone, his jaw, across his lips. “You looked at me like you saw me. I hated it. Even as part of me wanted to be around you more, just because it was nice not to have to hide, or wear a mask, or throw up a wall just to keep people away.”

Her eyes roamed across his face and then she turned away. “I think I always knew.”

His heart twisted, shifted. There was something burning deep inside, but he was afraid to look too deeply at it just yet.