Chapter 19 #3
And she’d pushed him away. She had picked a fight about groceries and credit cards and being a burden when what she should have said was “I love you.” She should have told him he wasn’t just a temporary shelter from the storm. He was home.
Deputy Simmons brought her a bottle of water. Lydia drank it mechanically, not tasting it, just getting it down because the deputy was watching her with concerned eyes and wouldn’t leave until she finished it all.
Another vehicle pulled up, a blue sedan that Lydia recognized even before Mrs. Figgs climbed out. She hurried across the yard with surprising speed, her face creased with worry.
“Oh, honey,” she said, pulling Lydia into a hug that smelled like lavender and fresh bread. “Are you all right? Do you need someone to take care of the children?”
“We’re okay,” Lydia managed. “But Mrs. Figgs, I can’t ask you to?—”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” Mrs. Figgs pulled back, her hands on Lydia’s shoulders, her eyes fierce.
“One of the deputies called and said you might need someone to take the children for a few hours. It will give you time to handle all this.” She gestured at the crime scene, the deputies, the chaos.
“I’ve got hot cocoa ready at home. And cookies.
And that cartoon channel the kids like.”
Lydia wanted to keep Eli and Rosie close, where she could see them and make sure they were safe, but they had seen enough of their father’s violence. They didn’t need to see deputies photograph the barn or crime scene investigators collect evidence.
They needed to not be here anymore. And they needed to eat. It would help with the shock. A grandmother figure fussing over them would help too.
“Take them.” Ethan appeared at her elbow so suddenly, Lydia jumped. She hadn’t heard him approach, but he was here now, alive like she needed him to be. “Mrs. Figgs will look after them. We need to deal with this.”
The old fear lingered, whispering to her that she was imposing and taking advantage. “I can’t keep asking her?—“
“Lydia.” Ethan caught her hand, his fingers warm and callused. “It’s okay. Let someone help.”
Lydia nodded, blinking back more tears.
She bundled the kids into Mrs. Figgs’s car, buckling Rosie into the back. She kissed both their foreheads and promised to come get them soon, told them to be good.
“We love you, Mom,” Eli said, his arms tight around her neck.
“I love you too, baby. Both of you. So much.”
Two small faces peered out the back window, hands waving as Mrs. Figgs drove away, the sedan disappearing down the road.
She turned back to find Ethan’s eyes on her. The raw and unguarded intensity in them made her breath catch.
“We need to talk,” he said.
The words should have been ominous from the fight they’d had, but the way Ethan said it, gentle but urgent and uncompromising, made Lydia’s heart skip.
“I know,” she said. “But first—” She looked at the crime scene, the deputies still photographing and measuring and collecting evidence. At Sheriff Wyatt conferring with his investigators. At the chaos that would take hours to untangle. “This could take hours.”
“Then it takes hours.” Ethan squeezed her hand, his thumb rubbing small circles over her knuckles. “I’ll be right here, because I’m not letting you walk away again—” His grip on her hand tightened almost painfully. “—not without telling you what’s been on my chest.”
“Ethan—” Lydia started, but he wasn’t done.
“You’re not ruining my life.” His voice was fierce now, absolute in its conviction. “Quite the opposite, you make life worth living again. All of you, Lydia. I’m sorry I let you think otherwise. I’m sorry I walked out when I should have stayed and fought for us.”
Tears spilled down Lydia’s cheeks again, but these felt like they were washing something away instead of drowning her.
“I almost got you killed,” she whispered.
“You saved my life.” Ethan’s free hand came up to cup her face, his palm warm and rough against her cold cheek, his thumb wiping away her tears. “You and those kids. You brought me back from the dead. I was just going through the motions before you. Now I’m actually living.”
“Ms. Harper?” A deputy called from near the barn. “We need you to walk us through the interior, show us exactly where everyone was positioned.”
Lydia closed her eyes, wanting to tell the deputy to wait, that this conversation with Ethan mattered more than crime scene reconstruction. But it didn’t. Not right now. She needed to help build the case that would keep Tom locked up and trust that Ethan would understand.
She opened her eyes. “I have to go,” she said, but she didn’t move, unable to make herself pull away from his hand on her face, his fingers wrapped around hers.
“I know.” Ethan leaned in and pressed his lips to hers for just a moment. His breath was warm on her lips. “We’ll talk when this is done. Right now, all I need you to know is that I love you. All of you. And I’m here, Lydia. I’m not going anywhere.”
She kissed him. Quick with fierceness and longing, tasting salt from her tears and coffee from his morning shift.
“I love you too,” Lydia whispered against his mouth. “Heaven can stand as witness, Ethan, I love you too.”