Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
ELIZABETH
A Spectacular Fall
Sitting down on the floor, I slide the small, ornately carved wood chest out from under Charlotte’s bed.
Randy, Ryder’s father, made this for her ninth birthday.
God, I miss him. He passed away a year before Ryder was diagnosed with AML.
Heart attack in his sleep. Faith never recovered from losing both her husband and her son in such a short amount of time.
She sold the house on Fallen Brook Drive and moved to Lexington, Kentucky, to live with Brea and her family.
“Ryder, what did you do?” I whisper, staring at the box.
Uncertainty…and a hefty amount of guilt for prying into my daughter’s personal stuff…rides me hard, but the need to know the truth wins out.
I unhook the metal catch and lift the lid—and down Alice’s rabbit hole I go.
The first thing I see is a pressed four-leaf clover. It’s the one Ryder and I found in the backyard the day we broke ground to start building our house. He said it was a sign.
I gently hold the delicate clover between my first and middle fingers.
During recess in elementary school, Ryder, Jayson, Julien, and I would sit in the grass and hunt for them.
I can almost feel the excitement and anticipation of those stolen moments where it was just the four of us huddled together, searching for Irish treasure.
Ryder would tuck clovers into my hair and call me his good luck charm.
My throat constricts when I think about how he always had a way of making me feel special, even in the smallest moments.
I gave this one to Charlotte the morning of Ryder’s funeral, wanting her to have something good to hold on to as she watched her father being lowered into the ground.
With care, I set it aside.
Next, I discover an old photograph I didn’t know Charlotte had, slightly wrinkled and worn at the edges.
My wedding day. Ryder and I are facing each other, laughing, our faces lit up with pure joy as we dance.
He was so handsome in his tux. Jesus, that man had a way of stealing my breath every time I looked at him.
Pressing the photo to my chest, my heart feels like it’s missing something vital.
Like a crucial piece is no longer there, and in its place is a gaping, empty hole.
I blink back tears. I hate crying. Crying doesn’t help anything.
I should know. I’ve cried an ocean of tears for years, and all it’s ever accomplished is the gift of a massive migraine.
My gaze lands on the envelope that was hidden underneath the photograph, Charlotte’s name written on it in Ryder’s messy cursive.
With trembling fingers, I pick it up and pull out the folded paper tucked inside, not at all ready for what I would read.
My sweet Charlotte,
If you’re reading this, my sweet girl, it means I couldn’t keep my promise to be there for you as you grew into the incredible woman I know you’ll become. Writing these words breaks my heart because there’s so much more I want to share with you as you travel down life’s road.
Along with your mother, you and your brothers have been the greatest joys of my life. I remember so vividly the first time I held you in my arms. Our sweet, precious angel that God gifted us.
You’ve given me more happiness than I ever deserved, and I will carry that with me always. Your laughter, your strength, and your kind heart—you have brought me light, even in the darkest days.
Watching you grow up has been the most wonderful honor a father could have, and my only regret is that I won’t be there to see all the amazing moments that are yet to come—to see you graduate, to walk you down the aisle, to hold your children someday and hear them call me Grandpa.
But I need you to know that just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not there.
I will always be with you, sweetheart, in every laugh and tear, every triumph and every heartbreak, cheering you on every step of the way.
To paraphrase one of your favorite poems, I will never leave you during your times of trial or suffering.
When you only see one set of footprints in the sand, know that it’s me who is carrying you.
There’s something important I need to ask you and your brothers.
Take care of your mother. She’s the strongest woman I have ever known, but I’m afraid of what will happen when I’m gone.
Your mother has been the love of my life since the day we met.
But I don’t want her to live the rest of her days bearing the weight of my absence.
She deserves to find happiness again. To love again.
When the time comes, when your mom is ready, she’ll need your strength to help her see that it’s okay to move on.
I want that man to be Fallon. He has loved your mother for almost as long as I have.
He understands her in ways I never could.
I trust him to take care of her heart and to protect it and love it the way she deserves. He’s a good man and a truer friend.
I asked Fallon to promise me something the other day when he came to see me. He will find her when the time is right. And when he does, welcome him into our family with open arms and never let him go.
And you, my sweet Charlotte, you must promise me something, too.
Find a love like the one I found with your mother.
The kind of love that sets your soul on fire.
A forever love. Don’t settle for anything less.
Live boldly, love deeply, and let yourself be happy.
Take risks, chase your dreams, and never let fear stop you.
I love you more than words could ever say, and I am so goddamn proud to be your father. You’re my heart, Charlotte, always and forever.
With all my love, Dad
Oh god.
Teardrops wet the paper and blot the handwritten love at the bottom of the stationery.
“Elizabeth?” Fallon calls out, his voice faint but audible.
I didn’t hear his car pull up or hear him knock.
Quickly getting to my feet, the anger of betrayal rises swiftly. Ryder orchestrated a choice that should have been mine to make.
Growing up, I allowed everyone to control my choices because I thought it would make them happy. All it did was make me miserable, and the bad stuff happened anyway. I swore I would never let anyone control me like that again.
Fallon didn’t come back because he wanted to. He didn’t come back for me. He came back because he made a promise to Ryder. And knowing that desolates me.
My fingers curl around the beige paper, crumpling it in my grasp. Fuck them. I’m not some damaged, fragile thing that needs to be fixed, and I sure as hell don’t need a man stepping in to take care of me or my children.
“Elizabeth, you here?”
Thankfully, my kids aren’t home to witness me lose my shit. Storming out of Charlotte’s bedroom, I catch Fallon just as he’s about to head into the kitchen. The smile gracing his mouth when he sees me disappears when I indignantly shove him. It’s like trying to force a mountain to move.
“Why would you go along with that? You lied to me!”
I shove him again, but this time, he snatches my wrist, his grip unrelenting, and it just makes me madder because I want his hands on me. I crave his touch and the yearning it evokes. I want to feel his fire and be burned by it.
It’s been so long since I’ve felt desire of any kind, and I hate myself for it because Fallon doesn’t want me like that. I’m the pathetic, lonely widow whose dead husband told another man to take care of her.
“The front door was unlocked, so I let myself in. You didn’t answer when I called.”
Fallon pulls me to the side, his arctic-blue eyes surveying me with concern, and I go from mad to livid when I see it. I hate that the guilt he still feels over what happened forced him into agreeing to Ryder’s asinine request.
Slapping the letter flat to his chest, I seethe, “Whatever promise you made to Ryder, it ends here. Now get out.”
Fallon grabs the piece of paper before it falls to the floor, his brow furrowing as he reads. When his eyes lift, my knees almost buckle from the heat I see roaring behind them.
“You’ve got it all wrong.”
“Do I?”
“Yes.”
Growing frustrated, I snap, “I don’t need you to take care of me. I can do this on my own. I’ve been doing it all by myself for over three years.”
Fallon suddenly advances on me, but I don’t retreat. Never from him.
All the air gets knocked out of me when he physically backs me up until my spine hits the wall. One muscled arm shoots out, caging me in. Pressing in close, he pounds a fist to his chest.
“But I need you . This fucking thing doesn’t beat without you. And I’m tired of living life without you. You’re my home, Kitten. You always have been.”
I want to believe him, to trust his beautiful words and rush forward into their embrace, but Ryder’s letter won’t let me.
I’m just an obligation my husband passed on to his friend.
And my children knew about it. Now I know why they insisted I take the trip to Italy.
Well-intentioned manipulations are the bane of my existence, and I wish everyone would stop thinking they know what’s best for me.
I glare up at him. “I don’t want your pity.”
His expression twists as if he’s in pain. “That’s what you think?”
“Why would you agree to?—”
Whatever else I was going to say gets swallowed by my moan when his lips crash down onto mine.
His total possession of me is brutal. Savage.
And I fall willingly into the maelstrom.
Fallon kisses me like he has something to prove and is willing to destroy me to do it.
And god help me, he does. His tongue plunders my mouth, invading and conquering with deep, penetrating thrusts, stealing every thought inside my head except for one. More . I want more.