Whispers of You (Lost & Found #1)(29)

My steps faltered, and I gaped at Nathan. “So, you’re…what? Trying to heckle him into staying?”

Nathan flushed. “Hey, it’s worked so far. He’s made it to the seventy-two-hour mark. That’s the longest he’s been home in a decade.”

My chest ached as I turned to Nathan, my hands reaching up to his shoulders. “What you two have is precious. Just because it’s rusty doesn’t mean the root of it isn’t still there. If you want to find your footing again, be honest. Tell him you want him to stay. That you want a chance to know the man he’s grown into.”

It was a measure of how much I loved this family that I encouraged the very thing that would cut me open and pour acid into the wound. But I knew what it was like to live with pain. Over time, I could deal with this, too. The pain would become normal, and I could take it if it meant the Hartleys finding their peace.

Nathan pressed his lips together. “I’ll think about it.”

I looped my arm through his and guided us back toward the living area. “That’s all I can ask for.”

What sounded like a herd of elephants erupted from the basement, followed by shouts of glee and maybe some video game trash talk.

“We’d better get back there,” Nathan said as he picked up his pace, looking way spryer than before. “Those grandsons of mine could eat us out of house and home.”

“Like father like sons when it comes to food motivation.”

Nathan snorted. “I didn’t raise no fools.”

A grin pulled at my lips as we stepped back into the living area. But that curve of my mouth slipped away as I took in the sight in front of me.

“Put me down, Uncle Holt,” Charlie giggled.

Holt tickled the little boy’s side and held him upside down by one ankle. “What’ll you promise me?”

“You get the first slice of pie! I promise!”

Holt lifted him higher, tickling his other side. “I don’t know if I believe you…”

Charlie shrieked and laughed, making a grab for the pie sitting on the counter.

Holt swung him into the air and then caught him in his arms as Charlie begged for him to do it again.

Our gazes locked. An entire lifetime passed in a matter of heartbeats—years full of how Holt would’ve teased our babies, tossing them high and letting the giggles rain down around us. Years full of watching them grow and making that football team of a family we’d always wanted.

I’d been wrong earlier. I’d never learn to live with pain like this. It would swallow me whole first.





11





HOLT





The color drained from Wren’s face, the green extinguishing from those gorgeous hazel eyes. She was already backing away. Her head swiveled, looking for a way out like a cornered wild animal.

I cursed, setting Charlie down.

“Uncle Holt,” he hissed. “Grandma’s gonna be really mad. That’s a bad one.”

I couldn’t pause to assure the kid it didn’t matter because I was already moving, eating up the space between Wren and me. Her eyes widened, and she bolted with a whisper to my dad as she took off for the door.

I picked up to a jog, but my dad grabbed my arm. I tried to jerk it free, but his grip was shockingly strong for a man still supposedly recovering from a heart attack and a broken leg.

“Don’t,” he said in a low voice. “Let her go.”

I jerked my arm out of his grasp. “I know you’ve finally realized what a garbage human I am and that I never deserved her, but do me a favor and back off for just a damned second.”

His jaw dropped as my mom gasped. “You’re not a garbage human.”

“We both know that’s not true. But I’m not going to let Wren suffer for it. So, give me one fucking minute to try to make this right.”

“Holt.”

My dad’s voice had a slight tremor, one that made me hate myself even more—a task I would’ve thought impossible a couple of seconds ago. But I didn’t let that hatred stop me from moving and doing what I had to do.

I jogged to the entryway and threw the door open, searching for her—the person I’d know anywhere.

The image that greeted me shredded whatever was left in my chest. Wren, dropped to the asphalt next to her truck, arms locked around her legs, rocking back and forth.

My legs started moving before I gave them the command, muscles pushing harder as I ran to her. My Cricket. The woman I’d loved all my life.

I dropped to the ground in front of her, hands going to her knees. “Wren—”

“Don’t!” She jerked away. “You’ll make it worse.”

My hands hovered just shy of making contact. “I’ll make what worse?”

“It’ll hurt so much more if you touch me.” Tears streamed down her face as she struggled for breath. “I can’t. I thought I could, but I can’t. I can’t see what we could’ve had. I can’t watch you move back here, fall in love with another woman, and give her all my dreams. I can’t.”

My eyes burned as if someone had poured a bucket of acid over my head. “Cricket.”

Her nickname only made Wren cry harder. “Don’t. I know I wasn’t enough, but I can’t be reminded of that every day. I can’t do it.”