Chapter Three #2
were here, I’d never have come in this direction.” His gaze
remained steady and she shrugged. “I spent a lot of time here with
James.”
She left it at that. If he wanted to
poke at her for missing James, then he was more of a jerk than she
thought. She stared at the boards leaning against the wall and
repeated her question. “What are you making?”
“A coffin.”
Her gaze flew to Walker’s. “You’re
making James’s coffin?”
For a split second his eyes reflected
a deep well of grief. Grief that matched her own. “He always said
he wanted a simple wood coffin when he was buried.” He shrugged.
“Sawyer said he could give me a couple hours tomorrow to work on
it. We’ll line it and add some finishing trim, but leave it
unstained. We should have it to the mortuary within a couple
days.”
A simple pine coffin. She couldn’t
think of anything that would suit James better, and that his
grandsons were making it for him made it all the more
fitting.
She swallowed against the tightness in
her throat, her voice rough when she spoke. “That’s perfect,
Walker. It’s exactly what James would want.”
His gaze held hers and the feeling of
connection, of understanding, swelled.
She turned away, hoping he wouldn’t
see her blinking back tears. Right now, everything made her tear
up. She hated feeling she was on the verge of a big ugly
cry.
With her back to Walker, she crouched
to stroke the little dog who watched her with big, brown eyes. When
she’d finally gained some control, she stood. Walker leaned against
the workbench, his arms crossed over his wide chest, attention
focused on her like a laser beam.
Absently, she spun the handle of the
vise attached to the bench. “When are you leaving?”
“Anxious to get rid of
me?”
“Can you ever answer a
question directly?” She gave a frustrated sigh and gave the vise
one last turn. “I’m curious. But honestly, you don’t want to see me
any more than I want to see you. Tell me so I know how long we’ll
have to deal with each other.”
“That’ll be a long
time.”
“Meaning what?”
“Exactly what I said. I’m
not going anywhere.”
“But you live in
Alaska.”
“Not anymore.”
“You’re staying.” Her
stomach hitched and she told herself it was because she was
disappointed.
“I’ve learned a few things
over the past years, Laney. One is that you can’t outrun anger.
Sometimes you have to stand and fight. I’m ready to stand and
fight.”
She looked at him sharply. “What do
you mean, stand and fight?”
“Exactly that. I’m going
to find who set me up. When I do, they’re going to pay.”
“Why now? Why didn’t you
fight before?”
“I had to think on
it.”
She asked incredulously, “For eight
years?”
“Seems like.”
Anger that had been building for a
decade boiled to the surface. Anger at Walker for leaving after
he’d been released from prison. Anger at those in the community who
had been so willing to believe he was guilty. Anger at the justice
system that had failed so badly. Suddenly furious, she paced,
feeling like she barely had herself under control. She whirled
around to find Walker’s gaze still on her, his face
impassive.
It was that lack of expression that
tipped her over the edge.
She stalked toward him until she could
see the dark gleam of his eyes. “‘Seems like?’ That’s all the
explanation for being gone for eight years? Eight years when
whoever framed you has walked free? Eight years when James got
older and you only came back to see him die?”
Eight years when she’d missed him each
and every day.
“I don’t think the two
years, three months, and seventeen days I was in prison should be
counted in the total. That leaves roughly five and three-quarter
years you have a right to be angry about.”
“This isn’t a joke,
Walker, and it isn’t about me. It’s about James and your brother.
You turned your back on your family.”
“Believe me, I don’t think
of it as a joke. But it is about you. Pop and Sawyer understood.
You didn’t.”
“How could I understand
when you never even had a simple conversation with me? You just
left. But don’t worry. I get it now. We were done and you moved on.
We both moved on,” she added hastily. “You didn’t think you owed me
anything, and I’m fine with that.” She forced herself not to break
eye contact at the lie.
He shook his head. “No, I do owe you.
You deserved that conversation, Laney. But I didn’t know how to
explain, so I took the easy way out and didn’t try.” He blinked
slowly. “I’m sorry.”
“That doesn’t make it all
better. I’m still angry.”
“I’m home, sweetheart. You
can shoot that anger right here.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart,
and don’t call me Laney. No one calls me that anymore.” She glared
at him. “You’re not important enough for me to waste that much
emotion on.” Another lie, and the worst part was they both knew
it.
Callie followed Delaney when she
crossed to the door before turning to lob her parting
shot.
“You don’t have much of a
record for sticking around so I, for one, won’t be surprised when
you light out of here as soon as James is buried.
“Let’s do this: I’ll avoid
you as much as I can, you do the same. That way I can pretend
you’re still on a fishing boat in Alaska and forget you ever came
home.”