Chapter Twenty
CHAPTER TWENTY
Mark
D id I need to carry her up the stairs?
No.
It was something I would have done in high school to make her laugh. Or when I needed to cheer myself up. She used to be the friend I could be myself with.
No judgment.
No filters.
Until I lost my temper and ruined everything. The fight at prom had turned my life temporarily upside down. I was suspended.
Lost my scholarship.
Lanie’s mother said she didn’t want me around her.
There wasn’t much I regretted about my life, but I regretted how I had handled that night.
I could have chosen a more private place to kiss her. Or I could have waited and taken things slower. She was my best friend. We could have been each other’s firsts.
I shoved aside thoughts of who she’d been with after me. Did they matter? I had been with a fair share of women who hadn’t. The past wasn’t something either of us could change.
So I returned my focus to this Lanie. And to now. We still had chemistry. She still wanted me. Last time, I had let things become strained between us. I gave her the space she asked for. But what would have happened if I’d been brave enough to tell her how I felt? Would she have cut ties with me if she had known I missed her so much I would have relocated to Portsmouth to be with her?
Until our prom night, people had called me a gentle giant. Kind. Reliable. Easygoing. It should have been the best year of my life, but one stupid mistake changed everything and kept Lanie away from me even before she left.
How would Dylan DeVoss have handled the situation?
My guess?
He would have somehow turned that disaster into a financial win. He also never would have let Lanie leave without knowing exactly how much he wanted her to stay. Not that his methods were flawless. He had also lost the woman he loved—and they had gotten halfway to the altar.
Somewhere between Dylan’s way and mine was how I needed to handle Lanie’s return.
This time, I’d take my shot with more care. And I wouldn’t scuff it.
Lanie sat at the island in my sprawling kitchen. Mom always called it the heart of a home. Kitchens were where people gathered, even when better seating was available in another room. Lanie wasn’t the first woman to sit at that island, but she was the first who felt like she belonged there.
I tore my gaze from her long enough to prepare the coffee, gather two mugs, and fill them. After placing her drink in front of her, I slid into the seat at the adjoining side so we shared the same corner.
She wrapped her hands around the mug. “How did you know I like it black?”
I met her gaze. “I do know you,” I answered lightly.
That gained me a small smile. “I shouldn’t have told you not to come to Portsmouth. I didn’t want to move away, but I felt like I had to. I was sad, angry, and certain that a clean break was the secret to surviving.” She took a sip, keeping her eyes glued to the table. “I also told Eliza to stay away. It wasn’t just you.”
Emotion deepened my voice. “It didn’t feel right to go with her to see you when you’d stopped answering my texts.”
Just above a whisper, she said, “I know. I told you what I wanted, and you respected my decision. You demonstrated a level of emotional maturity I’m still aiming for.”
“That’s an overly kind assessment of my passive response.”
The temptation to tell her about Dylan was there, but she was lowering her walls, and I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize the opportunity to finally understand why she had cut me from her life.
Her gaze rose to meet mine. “I don’t see you as passive.” She took a deep breath. “And I don’t know how I would have handled you showing up after I asked you not to. I was upset when Eliza came. If the two of you had? Maybe I would have felt cornered and said things I wouldn’t have meant.”
“We’ll never know . . .”
She nodded, and after a long pause, said, “I had a really good conversation with my mother recently. She was sad after Gramps died, but she’s happy in Portsmouth. Really happy. I didn’t realize I’d started to resent her for that—on top of resenting her for making me move.” She let out an audible breath. “I was eighteen when she decided to leave Maplebridge. I didn’t have to go with her.”
Her honesty, and how connected I felt to her in that moment, reminded me why I had often chosen time with her over my other high school friends. “Your mother needed support to make the move. You knew that. Your grandfather knew that. Give yourself credit for choosing to take care of her over”—I almost said me —“Maplebridge.”
She didn’t pick up on my near slip-up. “I also learned why she stopped playing the piano. She promised my father she’d put the family above her music. When he died, she said, so did the music.”
“That must have been hard to hear. But it does explain why she struggled for so long after losing him. She’d lost more than him.”
Lanie’s eyes widened, then softened. “Yes. She equated Maplebridge with that loss. Resented it. Maybe even resented me for existing. I don’t know. I’m the reason her promise didn’t end with my father.”
“Or you were what gave her a reason to keep going. If she’s happy again, the music will return.”
“That’s what I’m hoping.” A smile of gratitude curled those sweet lips of hers. “I should have known you’d understand.”
There was so much I wanted to say in that moment, but I simply nodded. This was the honest and open Lanie I had made time for over my other friends. The one no one had come close to replacing. Of course I understood her.
With her head tipped to one side, she asked, “How about you and your parents? Eliza told me you’re sticking closer to home because they need more care.”
I shrugged. “They had me when they were older, so they’re getting up there in years. I’m not looking forward to the conversation my father and I will have when driving is no longer a safe option for him. He’s approaching that age.”
Attempting to lighten the mood, I added, “No one told me having older parents was like raising a teenager. My father is becoming impulsive, outspoken, and... resistant to advice.”
Lanie’s mouth rounded. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. He just bought a whole new reverse osmosis machine without consulting me. Remember my hot syrup recipe? It’s been selling better lately. Dad thinks it’s time for us to expand our syrup production.”
“Those machines are expensive. Lucky you’re doing well now.”
“Yep.”
Her eyebrows knit together. “Is expanding production what you want to do?”
I took a sip of coffee before answering. “It’s where the money we’ll need to pay off the machine would come from.”
“But is it what you want?” She waved a hand in the air. “The only reason I’m asking is because I used to see things as all or nothing. I didn’t step back and allow myself to consider there might be other options. You like making furniture. Is that what you’d like to do more of?”
When I didn’t immediately answer, she added, “If you could do more of any kind of work, what would you choose?”
If I were talking to anyone else, I would have brushed the topic off but this felt like a pivotal conversation. We could choose to go on as strangers. Or we could let each other back in and reclaim our friendship. “I really enjoy ghost hunting.”
Delight transformed her expression. “You still do that?”
I ducked my head, my cheeks warming. “Just as a hobby. I have yet to encounter a ghost, but looking for them is a fun process.”
I looked her in the eye again and admitted, “I’ve always felt like there’s something out there calling to me. Some mystery I’m meant to solve.”
Her lips parted slightly, then snapped closed, as if she wanted to ask me something but decided against it.
She sipped her coffee, watching me over the rim. “You should marry—” She choked, either on her words or the coffee, and began hacking.
I stood and gave her back a few pats.
When she finally stopped choking, her face was red and sweaty as she forced out, “Marry your hobby with your work. Not get married.”
I smirked at her. “Whew, for a moment there, I thought you were proposing.”
Her face turned an even brighter shade of red. “And regretted asking me inside?”
“Or imagined carrying you up another flight of stairs.”
There.
That has to be clear enough.
Her eyes widened, and the air sizzled. Then, at the exact same moment, we both reached for our mugs, each taking a long sip of coffee.
Lanie set hers down first, clearing her throat. “I would go with you to hunt for ghosts.”
My heart thudded wildly in my chest because we weren’t just reconnecting, we were revisiting something that had always been there, waiting for us to be ready.