Until You (The Redemption, #1)(14)

“Fifteen minutes, and yes, they did.”

“Christ. She’s not that bad. I mean, yeah, her breath can make my chest hairs curl, but—” He loses his battle against trying not to laugh. “God, that’s horrible that I’m an adult, and I’m saying it. Right? That makes me an awful person.”

“No judgment here.” I hold my hands up—an Oreo in one, my wine glass in the other—to reinforce my words.

“In all honesty, in the upheaval of the last two years, Ginny has been a huge, steadying help. Yes, she’s a fortune, and her breath is something else, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that she treats the girls as if they were her own. She’s great at math homework, when I’m not. She is a way better cook than I am—as demonstrated tonight. I don’t know.” His words fade off as he stares at the rising moon.

There’s something more there. Something I don’t have a right to ask about or dig deeper on, but by the tone of his voice and his sudden silence, there’s definitely something there.

“So why here?” I ask. “Why now?”

He purses his lips as he finishes contemplating whatever seemed to be weighing his thoughts down. When he turns to look at me, he tries his best to clear it—whatever it is—from his eyes and is almost successful.

“Why now? A change of scenery. For the girls. For me.” His sigh falls heavy. “The last year or two has been brutal. I was hurt, and if I’m honest, it not only scared them, but it scared me too. With mandatory time off, I figured why not take that much-needed break.” His smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

“You are . . . were hurt?” I ask, thinking of him the other day flexing his strength by moving the railroad ties.

He gives a measured nod. “Yes, to both.”

I slide a glance his way. How am I supposed to decipher that answer?

“I was hurt in the line of duty,” he says. “I’m a cop.” I think I cover my staggered surprise well enough, but his narrowed eyes and quick chuckle tells me otherwise. “What?”

“I don’t know. You don’t exactly scream cop to me.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re too relaxed?” I shrug. “I don’t know. Every cop I’ve ever known is Type A, high-strung.”

“Give me a bit. I’m sure that will shine through the more you know me.” He runs a hand through his hair, his exhale unsteady. “To say we haven’t been tested in the past two years would be a lie. Everything has changed for us, first with their mom, then with my work.”

Their mom. Not my ex-wife. Huh.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly.

“Don’t be. We survived on all fronts, right?” He leans forward and taps his wine glass to mine. “We were blindsided by both, but maybe quick and shocking is better than dying a slow death? Jesus. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “I seem to be saying that word—sorry—a lot tonight. I promise I didn’t mean for that conversation to get so heavy so quickly. Can we shift gears? What about you? Where are you from?”

I smile. “Not much to tell, really. I’m an only child. Book editor.”

“No shit?”

“Yep. I make a living cleaning up the beautiful words that writers string together while turning a blind eye to punctuation, grammar, and the ever-elusive run-on sentence in everyone else’s writing but my clients’ work.”

“Remind me to never send you anything in writing. I’m sure you’d be appalled at my grammar.”

I roll my eyes and wave a hand his way. “That’s what everyone says. Don’t worry. I never notice,” I lie.

“Noted.” He pauses, and for a brief moment we stare at each other through the moonlit darkness. Crickets chirp and the porch swing creaks as it sways just slightly under the force of the gentle breeze. “Why Redemption Falls, Tenny, or have you lived here your whole life?”

The events that led me here flash through my mind, and I shake them away just as quickly as the question makes them come. “I settled on here a couple years ago. I’ve done the big city thing, never thought I’d like the country, small-town stuff . . . but now that I’ve been here, experienced it, I don’t think I’ll ever go back to it.”

“No?”

“Nah. It’s not me anymore. I moved around most of my life, and this is the first time I can see myself staying somewhere.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Why did you move around so much?”

“Army brat.”

“Mom or Dad?” he asks.

“Dad,” I say, the lie so rehearsed that no one would ever think differently.

“Me too. I get it. I do.” He pauses for a beat before asking. “What made you choose Redemption Falls?”

“Probably the same reason you’re here. Simplicity. Safety. A slower pace.”

“Pretty much. Shit, I haven’t been back here to my Uncle Ian’s place for at least twenty years. With everything that was going on, he reached out and told me what I needed was the fresh country air. Distance. That I could stay here during the summer and in turn, do some handyman work on the place. I thought he was crazy for a while, but the more I thought about it, the more I knew it was what I needed. So I came here thinking Redemption would have changed with all the time that has passed. It has, but at the same time, it’s completely the same, if that makes sense.”