Chapter One #2
he added, “Fetterly’s dead, and Sheriff Grafton’s gone. Carlisle is
the current sheriff. He’s a good man.”
Walker let that pass. “How’s
Pop?”
Sawyer shook his head and Walker told
himself he’d known the old man wouldn’t get better. Walker was long
past the point in his life where he believed in miracles. Still,
grief hovered over him, dark and oppressive like sullen storm
clouds.
“It’s good you’re back.
Clara moved him into the big house when he came home from the
hospital so she and Delaney could look after him.” Bud continued to
growl, like the constant revving of an engine. Sawyer shone his
flashlight into the truck. “What the hell’s that?”
“Dog.”
His brows lowered. “You sure? Looks
kind of puny for all the noise it’s making.”
“Tell him that. Damn dog’s
got a Napoleon complex.”
“Right. Let’s get you
home.” He jerked his head in the direction of the highway. “I’ll
give you an escort.”
Minutes later Walker pulled up in
front of the big house where golden light shone from first-floor
windows. Sawyer cut the blue and reds when he parked. Walker stood
on the gravel driveway, staring at the house. Just seeing the place
made something in him ease, like a spring wound too tight had
loosened.
Pop was dying and Walker would have to
face Laney, but damn, being home felt good. He set Bud on the
ground and the dog rushed for the nearest clump of grass to lift a
leg.
Walker caught the shadow in his
brother’s eyes that matched his solemn expression.
“You ready for this?”
Sawyer had always been able to read him.
“No. Let’s go.”
He gave a whistle and Bud scurried to
follow him. They crossed the wide porch and Walker felt like he was
mentally pulling on armor. He’d rather face thirty-foot seas in the
Gulf of Alaska than the emotional storm waiting to swamp him. He
paused, took a slow breath to help beat back everything that was
clawing at him. Then he braced himself to do what came
next.
The living room looked as it always
had. The same leather sofas with cushions in earth tones. A lit
fireplace with its deep hearth radiating warmth. An old dog sitting
close to the heat of the fire. The dog rose slowly to its feet,
ears perked.
“Is that
Callie?”
“Yeah, it’s
Callie.”
Bud’s nails clicked on the hardwood
floor as he made a beeline for the other dog, then stood quivering
as they touched noses. The black and white pointer approached
Walker, rumbling in her throat, the smaller dog prancing beside
her. Callie stared at him, nose twitching, then must have caught
his scent because her tail swung like a pendulum as she surged
forward, sniffing his jeans before rubbing her face against his
legs.
“Well, I’ll be damned,”
Sawyer muttered. “She remembers you.”
Walker crouched to hold out a hand to
the dog and felt those emotions straining to break free. He stroked
her head. “Hey there, darlin’,” he murmured. Bud began a circuit of
the room, nose to the floor, while Callie licked Walker’s chin. He
figured that was as good a welcome home as any, and loads better
than he could expect from Laney.
He rose to his feet and Sawyer
motioned him through the living room to a short hall. Walker
followed more slowly to give himself a minute, then stepped into
the doorway.
His gaze went straight to Laney and
his heart gave a hard lurch.
Well, shit.
Time had done nothing to lessen that
kick in the gut seeing her always gave him. He only needed to lay
eyes on her and the past slammed into him with the force of a semi
on the highway.
She sat at Pop’s bedside, an open book
in her hands. Her black hair was longer, its loose curls a curtain
hanging down her back, and her dark brows arched over eyes of
brilliant blue.
Then there was that face that had
always pulled at him, now with dark circles smudging the skin under
her eyes. He didn’t know why of all the women on the planet, it was
Laney Bryant who made him feel like she was the part of him that
was missing.
It was bullshit to think there was
only one woman who completed you, that you were never whole unless
she was with you. But there it was. Laney was that woman for him,
and he had to live with the fact he’d fucked up any chance of
having her a long time ago.
Her gaze snagged his, and after a
split second of what he thought might be the same raw emotion that
had him in a stranglehold, she blinked and her expression turned
remote.
Now she looked at him like something
the cat had left for dead on the doormat. She’d never been any good
at hiding her emotions, but she must’ve learned because she wasn’t
giving much away. He turned to the old man lying in a hospital bed,
his hair thinner and his frame shrunken, Pop was a hollow shell of
a man. A strong contrast to one who’d always been so big and strong
in every way that mattered.
His green eyes reflected recognition
and a faint smile briefly pushed up his weathered
cheeks.
“Pop.”
“I knew you’d come
home.”
Walker could only nod. His grandfather
raised his hand and Walker crossed to the bedside to take it. Small
purple blooms sat in a vase on a small table, without a doubt
because Laney had put them there. Walker crouched beside the
hospital bed, its steel frame looking out of place amongst the warm
tones of the rest of the room’s furnishings.
He bent and kissed his grandfather’s
forehead.
Laney rose from her seat and moved to
the door. He thought she’d leave, but Sawyer stopped
her.
He dropped a hand to Laney’s shoulder,
his voice low. “Stay. It’ll be soon.”