Until Harry(87)

“I’m not selling the house,” I casually said as I continued to look out the window, admiring the beauty of the town.

I felt Kale’s eyes on me. “What does that mean?” he asked in a low voice.

I shrugged. “It means I’m not selling. It’s my house, and I don’t want to sell it to someone else.”

Kale swallowed. “Will you lease it out and be a landlord?” he asked, grabbing at straws. “You’d get decent monthly rent for it.”

I shook my head. “No, if I did that I’d have to live in my parents’ house forever, and while I love them dearly, I don’t want that.”

I felt hands on my shoulders, and then my body was turned.

“Don’t play jokes on me,” Kale warned, his eyes trained on me.

I looked up at him. “I’m not playing games. I’m telling the truth.”

He blinked, his surprise evident. “You’re . . . moving back—”

“Home,” I finished for him. “I’m moving back home.”

His eyes widened, and he didn’t say a word, but just stared at me. I held back a gasp when the glint I thought I’d seen minutes ago flashed across his eyes, and this time it didn’t leave.

My Kale, my mind whispered.

I glanced for something to distract me from doing something stupid. My eyes flicked around his empty walls, and I frowned. “Why don’t you have any pictures up?”

Kale gnawed on his inner cheek. “Of Kaden?”

I nodded.

“Because they’re a reminder that he is gone.”

I tilted my head. “Couldn’t they be a reminder that he was here? Even though it was for a short time?”

Kale looked away from me. “I don’t know if I want to talk about him. It hurts.”

“I know.” I frowned. “I wish that one day we’d wake up and his passing would all just be a nightmare.”

Kale gripped the counter, then took my hand in his and led me into the sitting room, where we sat on a very comfortable sofa. For minutes we sat in silence.

“I miss my son, Lane,” he whispered. “I miss his laugh, his cry, his screams and even his serious conversations with his chubby toes. I miss everything about him.”

I was silent as he spoke.

“Day by day it’s ripping me apart because I know I’ll never see him again. Never hold him again. It kills me that you’ll never get to know him. I was robbed of you, and then I was robbed of him. God hates me. I hate me.”

I got up and kneeled before him and put my hands on his face, forcing him to look at me.

“You’re the bravest person that I have ever known. You’re so strong, and sweetheart, you’re a good fucking person. Horrible things have happened to you for no reason, because no reason is good enough for you to lose a child. The why can never be explained, and nothing will ease that pain you feel, but I truly believe that one day you won’t feel sorrow or sadness when you think of Kaden. You will think of happiness and love, because I know in my heart that he was pure light. You will see him again.”

Kale’s whisky-coloured eyes were glazed over with tears, and when he blinked, they fell and splashed onto his cheeks. Without thought or hesitation, I leaned in and kissed the salty droplets away. I pressed my forehead against his and looked into his beautiful eyes.

“I wasn’t there for you when you lost Kaden, but I will be here for you now and every moment after. I don’t care what has happened between us in the past. Before you were my crush, you were my best friend. You’re still my best friend, and I refuse to lose you again.”

“You . . . you really aren’t going back to America?” he asked, the hope in his voice almost breaking me.

I shook my head. “No, darling, no matter the outcome of this conversation, I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here where I belong, with my family, and with you in any capacity. You’re my best friend. I’ll give up everything before I lose that, lose you, again.”

I barely finished speaking before he covered my mouth with his and kissed me.

“Kale, no,” I said, and broke away from him. “You’re kissing me because you’re sad.”

“No,” he said, looking at me with searching eyes, “I’m kissing you because if I don’t, I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

I sat back on my heels. “You don’t know what you’re—”

“Don’t tell me what I’m feeling or what I’m thinking,” he growled, cutting me off. “I’m sick of people thinking they know what’s best for me. I know what’s best for me.”

I felt a moment of déjà vu as he echoed my earlier words to my family.

“And what’s best for you?” I quizzed.

“You,” he growled.

I was confused with his anger.

“You’re mad at me,” I said, stating the obvious.

“I’m not mad at you, Lane,” Kale stated calmly. “I’m fucking livid with you.”

I stood up as I sensed a fight brewing. Kale did too, because he was on his feet before I was. “Why’re you angry?” I asked, confused.

“Because when I think about how things ended with us before you left me, it fucking infuriates me.”