Chapter Seventeen #2
The day flew by with the speed of something you want to last forever.
It was full of perfect moments where we played board games and fell into each other’s arms, laughing about the strategies we employed to win.
We noticed the ways they were similar and the ways they were different.
There was something magical and easy about our connection that day.
Food was something we took breaks for, and if there was anything beyond her, I didn’t see it.
All of my attention and all of my senses were focused on her.
We were sitting in front of the fire on the couch again when, out of nowhere, she asked, “Do you still talk to anyone from Firebrook Valley?”
I shook my head. “Not really. Most of my friends are people I met in college or through work.”
She took a sip of coffee, then added casually, “I don’t make friends at work.”
It landed like a confession. I didn’t let my surprise show, but it hit me how lonely that sounded. Surrounded by people every day, and still alone.
“No?” I asked carefully.
She shrugged. “People respect me, but I wouldn’t say they like me.”
“They would if you let them,” I said with quiet certainty.
“That’s not how I was raised.” It was the most Bella answer I’d ever heard.
I leaned forward. “Do you even like your job?”
Her expression sharpened defensively, then softened as if she’d been waiting years for someone to ask. “I’m good at it,” she said.
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
Bella stared into her coffee while the fire crackled and the storm hissed against the windows. Finally, she said quietly, “I don’t allow myself to ask what I do or don’t like.”
The honesty hit harder than the sex had, because she wasn’t lying. She meant it.
“Sounds suffocating.”
“Sometimes,” she said, almost to herself, “I want to follow my mother’s footsteps and walk away from all of it.”
“What stops you?”
She didn’t hesitate. “My father. As long as he’s in it, I’m in it.”
I watched her, then asked the question that mattered. “And what about you? Don’t you need someone too? Or don’t you allow yourself to ask that either?”
She swallowed and looked away, searching for an answer she didn’t have because wanting wasn’t something she practiced. “I’m the eldest daughter.”
I reached across the space and covered her hand with mine. She didn’t pull away, but she stared at our hands like they were a foreign language. “That doesn’t mean it all rests on your shoulders.”
“Brady is young, and Evan is . . .” she said softly.
I could have added a few expletives for her, but I didn’t. I knew Evan the way I’d known Bella, from a distance. I knew he was spending far too much time running around and partying and not enough time helping Bella. “Have you tried telling Evan to come home?”
She raised and lowered a shoulder.
I told myself her problems were not mine, but that wasn’t how it felt. The temptation to track her brother down, slug him a few times, and drag his ass back to wherever Bella needed him to be was strong.
Her voice lowered. “I know you understand.”
I nodded. “You’re right. I do. My father needs me as well. He’s still reeling from my mother’s death.”
Her expression softened. “Of course he is. She was a lovely woman and everyone was saddened at her passing.”
I nodded, and her hand tightened around mine. The simple gesture almost broke me. I hadn’t realized how long I’d gone without someone holding that part of me with care. Staring into the fire, I said quietly, “My mother was a good woman. Sweet, caring, and we all loved her.”
Bella’s voice was gentle. “But?”
“But she wasn’t happy,” I admitted. “Not really. I didn’t understand that when I was younger; I only thought she was quiet.
” I swallowed hard. “My parents stayed married, and I think they loved each other, but they lived separate lives. My father worked constantly, and my mother found her freedom by riding her Paso Finos in the mountains. Horses, trails, solitude. Nora wanted to join her, but my mother preferred to ride alone.”
“That must have been hard,” Bella said softly.
“Nora said she understood, but she didn’t,” I said. “There were times I wished she’d just divorce our father and leave like yours did.”
Bella went still.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” I continued, my voice rough.
“No, I understand. And it explains why you’re so protective of Nora.”
I nodded, then added, “None of us have gotten over that, when my mother died, she died alone.”
Bella’s breath caught.
I kept my eyes on the fire. “We were used to her going off on her own. No one looked for her for hours. Even when she didn’t come back when she said she would, we assumed she’d stayed up in the mountains with Evie.
She never took her phone with her.” My voice broke.
“Even I can’t stop asking myself if she’d still be alive if we’d gone to look for her earlier. ”
Bella shifted and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me with her whole body. The relief of her cheek against my chest was immediate. I held her like I’d been holding my breath for years.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“Me too. The coroner said she died instantly from the fall. I don’t know if that’s true or something coroners say to make family members feel better.”
Without speaking, Bella simply held me tighter. I added without real humor, “Her horse never left her side, so there was at least that.”
“So, she wasn’t really alone,” she whispered.
The words hit like a blade because she was right.
I pulled back to look at her. Her eyes were wet.
She wouldn’t let the tears fall, but she felt it.
“I guess not.” I closed my eyes briefly.
“It was difficult to get Nora to go back to school and separate from that horse. I’m actually glad to see her out with her friends again. ”
I didn’t add, even if one of them is your brother, but the words hung there, nonetheless. She leaned forward and kissed me tenderly, a kiss that felt like a bridge as well as a promise.
We made our way back to the bedroom without urgency. This time was about warmth and connection, an intimacy that felt almost sacred. Later, with her head on my chest and her hand spread over my heart, she whispered, “I wish we could stay here forever.”
“Me too,” I murmured.
Bella went quiet, and I could feel her mind building contingencies for when we returned to the world. I wanted to promise that everything would be okay. I wanted to tell her I would make everything okay. But she was already shifting closer to me, and her eyes were heavy with sleep.
The storm outside had ended. A storm back home of a completely different kind was inevitable.
When we went back, I would inform my father that it was time to put the past behind us.
No feud was worth losing this. Bella deserved more than secrecy; she was already carrying too much alone.
She shifted, her hair fanning across my arm, and her fingers flexed slightly like she was anchoring herself to me.
I kissed her temple one last time and let my eyes close.
As sleep pulled me under, I had one certain thought: this is how I want to fall asleep every night. And whatever trouble that brings, we’ll figure it out.