Chapter Twenty-Five
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Mark
T he axe came down hard, splitting the log clean in half.
I have to tell her.
I set another log on the stump, adjusted my grip, and swung again.
What if she walks away?
Another crack echoed through the trees as the wood split beneath my blade.
What if she hates me for waiting this long?
I breathed deep, wiped the sweat from my forehead, and reached for another log. The morning air was crisp, but it did nothing to cool the heat burning beneath my skin. Every muscle in my body was coiled, tense, wound tight with the weight of what I had to do.
Tell her. Get it out. Face whatever came next.
The next swing came harder, like I could split the truth open the same way I was splitting the wood.
What if she forgives me?
That thought made my hands falter for a second. I gritted my teeth and steadied myself before raising the axe again.
What if she stays?
A deep breath. Another swing. Another split.
Then I saw her.
Lanie stood on the porch, wrapped in one of my flannels, her bare legs visible beneath the hem. The sight of her stole whatever breath I had left. And in that instant, I knew.
The bridge.
Where we made our promises. That’s where I would tell her. That’s where I would make things right.
I let out a slow breath, dropped the axe, and walked toward her. “I want to take you someplace today.”
Her smile was warm, but tentative. “Okay.”
Even before I reached her, the front of my pants tightened uncomfortably and I understood her expression. If I weren’t battling with guilt, she would have woken up with me by her side and there wouldn’t be anywhere I’d rather be than in her arms all day.
Inspiration hit. “After we shower.”
She stretched, her lips curling into a teasing smile. “We?”
I cupped her face, and murmured, “Unless you’d rather shower alone?”
“No way.” She laughed. “A shower for two, please.”
I swept her up in my arms and carried her inside, her laughter a soft melody against my ear. The second we were through the door, I kicked it shut behind us. “Good answer. Two is always better than one.” I wiggled my eyebrows playfully.
That had her both laughing and murmuring, “Prove it,” against my neck.
And I did.
Slowly. Skillfully. Even, not to brag, but a bit creatively.
And guilt free because I had a plan.
By the time we emerged from the house, freshly showered and headed toward my car hand in hand, I felt lighter than I had in years. I was going to tell her. And she’d forgive me. Right where we’d made promises before. Right where we could make new ones. Our bridge.
The road stretched ahead, the morning sun filtering through the trees as I drove. Lanie sat beside me, relaxed, her fingers playing absently with the hem of my sleeve. I understood. Neither of us wanted to break the connection.
I glanced over at her, my chest tightening with something raw and certain.
“There’s so much I want to say to you, but I’m trying to hold off until we’re where it should be said.”
She turned to me, all eyes.
I couldn’t tell by her expression if I’d either sounded incredibly romantic or a little murder-y. I opened my mouth to tell her I hadn’t meant to sound like the latter, but then decided that nothing puts a woman more at ease than announcing you’re not driving her into the woods with mal-intentions. My father was a wise man and more than once he’d told me sometimes it’s better to say nothing.
So I smiled at her and kept driving.
I ignored my phone when it buzzed in my pocket, but when it went off a second time I knew I’d have to check it. Knowing my parents, my father was up a ladder with a chain saw, trying to trim the hedges or something equally insane.
I exhaled and pulled my phone out, glancing at the screen before answering. “Dad?”
“Mark.” My father’s voice came through the line, clipped and serious.
“Something wrong?”
“Come to the house.”
“Dad, you’re scaring me. Is Mom okay?” The pause was long enough to raise my blood pressure. “Is she okay?”
“Yes. Your mother is fine. Upset, but fine. Just get over here.”
“Why is she upset?” I would have asked another question, but my father had done something abruptly that half the time he fumbled with—he ended the call.
Bile rose in my throat as I imagined all sorts of near-death experiences. Had she fallen? Was she hurt? Had she gotten confused, lost, and scared herself? I tried to call him back but he didn’t answer.
Lanie’s playful expression faded as she studied me. “Everything okay?”
I looked at her, at the woman I had decided I wasn’t going to keep secrets from anymore. Gripping the steering wheel with both hands so hard my knuckles were white, I drove right past the road that would have led to our bridge. “Dammit.”
Lanie shifted beside me, concerned but also confused. I felt the same.
Would putting off the truth be a decision that would cost me a second chance? There was no way to know, but I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if anything happened to my parents while I was off explaining why “idiot” was probably a more accurate name for me.
“That was my dad. He said my mother’s upset about something. Lately, they’ve become more impulsive. I need to check on them. It might be nothing.”
“Of course.” Lanie hesitated. “Are you okay with me going with you?”
My fingers flexed against the wheel, torn between the past and the present.
This is where I screwed up before. I didn’t tell her what I needed. I let her leave, thinking she didn’t matter.
I exhaled sharply and reached for her hand. “I’ve always wanted you with me.”
She laced her hand with mine, but my declaration had shaken her. Her lips parted slightly, and she sniffed. She didn’t say anything, which was probably for the best.
I was worried about my parents, my emotions were running high, and I didn’t want to say anything that would have her running back to Portsmouth before I had a chance to show her why she belonged in Maplebridge with me.