Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
Renthrow
The shattered look in Cordelia’s eyes breaks my heart. I stare at her as she plods into the house. Her shoulders are slumped, and her head is dipped.
She looks…defeated.
“You see what I mean, Brenda? The moodiness.” Sasha’s hands wave back and forth as she vents. “I try to be patient with her. I really do. And still, I’m the bad guy.”
“Well, maybe she’s just having a hard time right now,” Mom says, her eyes darting to Gordie who’s looking confused, concerned, and a little scared by Delia’s sudden exit.
I reach across to pat Gordie’s hand. “I’m going to check on Delia. You stay with Grandma.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“It’s always about her. Everything is always about her!” Sasha tosses her cloth napkin on the table in frustration. “It’s like she’s blind to the rest of the world and thinks her problems are the only ones that exist.”
My jaw tightens at her harsh words. That doesn’t sound like Cordelia at all. Sure, she appears tough and cold on the outside, but once she warms up to someone, she’s kind and considerate. Almost sacrificially so.
“Does she think I didn’t try? Everything she’s ever wanted, I gave to her.
That stupidly dangerous bike? I let her have one at seventeen when any sensible mother would forbid it.
I let her prance around at questionable bike shows and exhibits filled with dangerous men.
I let her bring all kinds of strangers to our garage to teach her how to fix the thing when it breaks—it’s like none of it matters! ”
My chair scrapes loudly against the porch floor as I stand.
Sasha looks up at me. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“Don’t bother.” She waves a hand adorned with gold jewelry. “Like I said…she’ll bite your head off if you try. It’s better to give her time to cool off.”
A frown works its way over my mouth. “I’ll be right back.”
I run to the guest bathroom and knock on the door. “Cordelia?”
There’s no sound from inside.
I press my hand against the wooden panel. “Cordelia…”
The quiet is booming.
“Are you okay?” I try again.
Nothing.
She’s ignoring me, locking me out. What do I say? How do I soothe a wound this deep?
I inhale shakily, feeling the weight of the moment and hoping that I can rise to the occasion and be what she needs.
“That’s probably a stupid question. I can tell you’re not okay.” I rest my head on the door, and it makes a light thudding sound on impact. “Relationships with parents can be complicated. That’s why I’m terrified of Gordie growing up and becoming a moody teenager.”
I wince when the silence darkens.
“Not that being a moody teenager is bad or anything. And I’m not calling you moody at all—”
I cringe.
This is going terribly.
“If it helps, I understand a bit of what you’re feeling.
Growing up, all I wanted to do was play hockey, but my dad didn’t see a future in being an athlete.
He said ordinary guys from ordinary families in ordinary towns only do ordinary things.
We’d argue all the time about it. If mom didn’t step in, we’d go days without speaking to one another. ”
I lick my lips, remembering that turbulent time.
“When I got my hockey scholarship, I left Lucky Falls thinking I’d never come back.
But then Dad got sick, and I went home and spent some time with him.
” I stare at my hands. “Talking to him when I was older and more mature, I realized that his delivery might have been awful, but his intentions were always good. He wasn’t against hockey because he hated me.
He wanted me to have a fall-back plan. He wanted me to be okay.
And I think, most parents do—even if they’re crappy at saying it. ”
I feel the air tense like maybe I said something wrong.
“I’m not excusing your mother or telling you that you have to ignore it when she hurts you. I hope that’s not how you’re taking this.”
Still nothing.
My stance shifts, and I soften my tone. “Cordelia?”
She ignores me.
Thinking hard, I try again.
“I know I’m not the best at comforting someone, so I’ll shut up right after I tell you this.” I speak earnestly, “You don’t have to let me in right away. I’m a very patient man. I don’t barge in when I’m not invited, but I also don’t give up easy.”
Sinking to my haunches, I press my back against the door and find a comfortable position. “I’ll be right here. No matter how long it takes. I’ll be right here outside the door, waiting for you to come out.”
“She’s not in there, son,” a male voice blurts.
I nearly fall sideways as a man emerges from the shadows. He’s slim with white hair and brown eyes.
“Who are you?” I wonder, stalking to my feet. Do I need to fight him or something? Sasha didn’t introduce us, which makes me wonder if he should be in this house.
“I’m Mills. The family’s driver.”
“Oh.” I point to the bathroom. “How do you know Cordelia’s not in there?”
He juts his chin at the doorknob.
Hesitantly, I wrap my fingers around the knob and turn it. The door opens easily, and I poke my head inside, noting that there’s no Cordelia anywhere around.
I scratch my head. So…I’ve been pouring my heart out to an empty bathroom?
Mills shuffles to me and offers me a small object.
“What’s this?” I stare at the strange key with the miniature motorcycle on the keychain. That motorcycle model looks familiar.
Then it hits me.
My eyes fly to his. “Did you…”
“I’ve stayed out of it for years, but Sasha is all the family Cordelia has left. At some point”—he presses the key into my hand—“she has to stop running.”
I curl my fingers around the key and frantically dash through the house and out the door. The lights thrown from the porch expose a tiny woman manually pushing her motorcycle down the driveway.
My footsteps pound the concrete path as I make a beeline for Cordelia. She hears me coming, and instead of stopping, the stubborn woman quickens her pace.
Unfortunately, the bike is bigger than she is. She probably could have gotten farther in her escape if she’d left it behind. But clearly, she’d never do that.
I grab the bike handle to stop her forward grind. “You’re taking off without telling anyone?”
“I planned to send a text,” she says tightly.
“How thoughtful of you,” I answer with a touch of sarcasm.
Her eyes flare like I just lit a match and dropped it over a gas keg.
She whirls on me. “Look, if you want to list your complaints about how rude, selfish, and grumpy I am, grab a number and get in line.”
“Cordelia, that’s not what I meant. I don’t think you’re rude and selfish.” I walk easily beside her bike. “Grumpy? Maybe a little…”
She scoffs and keeps pushing her motorcycle.
I keep up with her. “That was a joke. A poorly timed one, I’ll admit.”
She stares straight ahead, her eyebrows cinched.
I jump in front of her bike and throw my arms wide, forcing her to stop abruptly. “Cordelia, I’m on your side.”
“There is no one on my side.” She laughs bitterly. “And I deserve it. I deserve to be alone.”
My voice climbs to just short of yelling. “What are you talking about? No, you don’t! You’re amazing and sweet and kind. Your character, who you are deep in your bones, is what drew me to you in the first place.”
“You have no idea.”
“Even if I don’t,” I insist, “even if I’m totally clueless about everything else in this world, I know one thing—I trust you. I trust that pure heart of yours.”
“You shouldn’t. You have no idea who I am. I’m a coward. I’m the worst.”
“If you’re the worst, then so am I.”
Her eyes narrow.
“All my big dreams of playing hockey straight out of college went up in flames. My ex-wife left me. Gordie almost died as an infant because I had no idea what I was doing—”
“That’s not your fault. You did the best you could.”
I drop my arms. “Why give me so much grace if you can’t even give yourself a little?”
She turns her face away as she white-knuckles the bars on her bike.
“Do you still want to run?” I ask in a more gentle tone.
She nods.
“Then let me take you. You’ll go farther and faster with me than pushing that bike all the way back to Lucky Falls.”
Her shoulders loosen an inch.
Taking a chance, I nudge the kickstand down so the bike remains stationary.
“My truck is that way.” I slip my hand down her arm, so I can lead her to the car, but Cordelia resists me.
“Wait,” she whispers.
I turn to look at her.
“I don’t want to leave Gordie.”
“I’ll come back and take her and my mom home after I drop you off.”
Cordelia shakes her head.
“Then we can leave together,” I suggest. “I’ll get her.”
I feel a small tug on my hand.
“The way I left the table was too abrupt—she must be confused and frightened. If I disappear without warning or you drag her away without explanation, it might trigger another episode.” Taking in a shuddering breath, Cordelia stares at the house. “I’ll go back.”
I watch her throat bob as she swallows down her fear and discomfort. The strain on her face is obvious, but that doesn’t stop her from turning back to the house she just ran from.
“I’ll go back,” she says again as if each declaration builds a little more courage. “I’ll go back.”
Watching her fight for courage, I want to kiss her more than I’ve wanted to kiss any other woman in my entire life.
But the timing…
She’s reeling and nervous and sorting through a world of hurt. Rather than push myself on her, I pull her in for a hug. She melts against me, sinking into my arms as if she needed the strength.
“Thank you for coming after me,” she says, her words muffled against my chest.
“Thank you for staying.” I stroke my thumb over her hair. My feelings for this woman are solidifying even more, and it’s tough to hold back. Easing her away, I cup her cheeks between my palms. “And for being exactly who you are.”
She swallows hard, looking so soft and vulnerable.
I fight the impulse to slam my lips against hers.
Let her go, Renthrow. It’s not the right time.
Reluctantly, I start to pull away when Cordelia rises on the tips of her toes and presses her lips to mine.
It’s not exactly a full-on kiss since it lands a little off the corner of my mouth, and it’s also not something she thought through.
Because as she’s kissing me, her eyes widen to twice their usual size.
Abruptly, Cordelia wrenches away and covers her mouth with a hand. “I-I’m sorry. I have no idea what came over me. I—”
Screw it.
I move toward Cordelia with force. Impatiently, I curve my fingers over the hand covering her mouth and pin it behind her back to expose the plump, pink lips I’ve dreamt of tasting.
And then I kiss her.