Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Declan
Grant laughs, then claps as Poppy and Lily emerge from the frigid river water at the same time.
Charlie’s with Ma and Da. Sisi, Rowan, Finn, and May are all being idiots in the water. But as Grant pointed out, the fact that they’re in the water means he doesn’t have to be in order for the girls to be in.
“Evie feeling better?” His gaze is on the girls, but I’ve known Grant my whole life. He’s hunting.
“Yes. All better.”
“Good. Good.”
It’s coming, so I brace and keep my focus on my nieces and nephew.
“And how’s the marriage?”
There it is.
“Going well, from what I can tell.”
“Is it?”
I scowl over at him because he’s about as subtle as a boulder. And I don’t speak, because clearly, he has something to say regardless of what I do.
He shrugs. “She looked like she had her mind on something when you two showed up. I’d guess Sam thought so, too, which is why they disappeared.”
The low hum of anxiety running through my mind notches up.
I don’t know what’s going on with Evie, but I very much want to know.
I can’t push her, and if I keep talking to her, I’ll ruin everything.
I’ll end up pressuring her to say things she doesn’t mean or give me things she doesn’t want someone to take.
I don’t want some mistaken sense of gratitude, or even fondness, to take us anywhere.
I can’t let loose my feelings and end up creating another cage for her.
No, not something actively harmful, but still something she wouldn’t fully choose if circumstances were different.
Without knowing for certain she would choose this, free and clear, I can’t do anything that will make her feel obligated.
I won’t do that. And so, I hold back. I keep every ounce of self-control wrapped around me, sutured into my chest so I feel the tug of it every time I want to lean into her, deterring me, pulling me back into my place.
Every time I want to press my lips to hers, or slide my arm around her waist and crush her to me. I want her so close, she’ll pull the stitches clean. I’d let her do it—unravel me however she wants.
It’s a foolish thought but it’s there—I think some part of me is healed thanks to her, so what she finds underneath the threads could be okay without them.
I’m open to a future with someone—with her—in a way I thought forever lost to me before.
I’m hoping for it, even, and all credit for that sense of hope, even as I hedge against it, is hers.
But even the thought of her wanting that kind of relationship with me any less than I want it with her shrivels me into dust. Part of me wishes I didn’t have those old scars. What would I do if I hadn’t been with Mallory and discovered she’d only stayed out of a misplaced sense of duty?
I can’t say. But it still wouldn’t change Evie’s past. It wouldn’t make a difference to the reality that she must be free to choose what she wants and I will do nothing to taint that, including impress upon her my own desires.
“I’ll talk to her. The whole family can be overwhelming.”
He gives me one of his signature Grant looks, but I keep my gaze ahead, where Finn is currently shoulder-pressing Lily above his head and singing “Macho Man” while she giggles maniacally. Everyone else is laughing at the spectacle.
“Damn, he’s an idiot. But he’s a great uncle,” Grant mutters.
“He likes for people to think he’s an idiot. You and I both know he’s nothing of the sort.”
Grant grumbles his agreement.
“How about you and Sam? Wedding planning coming along?” Might as well turn the attention back to him.
Instead of grumbling, he beams. “I have you to thank for the progress we’ve made there.
She was pretty ambivalent about a lot of stuff before.
Second marriage, where she came from, you know.
” A few choice words for her ex emerge with a lethal edge I can’t blame him for.
“Anyway, she said she was inspired by your wedding. We’ve set a date for Thanksgiving. ”
“Congratulations.” I smile saying it, but damn if those sutures feel like they’re straining where my heart thuds in my chest.
“Are you and Evie going to take a honeymoon?” Eirinn wanders up with a thermos of what must be coffee. The woman adores it even more than May does, and drinks it year-round and most of the day. It’s a wonder she can ever sleep.
“After the hearing.” It’s the rote answer, but it makes sense.
“Two weeks, right?” She makes herself at home in a camp chair on the other side of Grant.
“Not quite that long, actually. Did Davis say—”
“We don’t discuss his work.” She focuses her attention on the show in the water.
Grant and I share a look.
It’s conspicuous that Davis isn’t here. He’s coming around dinner time but supposedly has to leave later tonight. He won’t be staying.
“Of course. Confidentiality and such,” Grant offers, but he and I both know something’s going on.
We haven’t voiced it lately, and neither one of us is willing to risk Eirinn’s wrath by asking her directly if something’s off between them.
So we’ll just all spend the weekend acting like this is normal.
“Look who I brought with me!”
Ma’s voice reaches us and shortly after, I hear Charlie’s tiny voice. I stand, but before I can turn to see Charlie, Finn shrieks.
“GUS!”
He shoves Poppy, whom he’s now holding, right into May’s arms, and runs as best he can in the waist-high water until he reaches the muddy shore. Everyone watches as he launches himself into Gus’s arms and they’re laughing and clapping each other on the back, words flying a mile a minute.
“I thought you said late September, man? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You need a little surprise in your life. I’m here to do that for you, Finny.”
Finn shoves Gus back a little. “I’ll take it, Gussy, but I will note you’ve officially ruined your chances of a surprise welcome home party.”
Gus chuckles in that baritone voice of his. “Darn. Maybe I should go?”
He and Finn keep chattering away. I take Charlie, whose attention is on the boy-men making so much racket, but my eyes find May.
She’s holding Poppy, looking at her with so much focus even I can tell it’s unnatural. She’s talking to her, giving our niece every bit of herself.
And she’s notably not looking at Gus.
“Sam, Evie, and Davis are getting dinner set up. I told them you all were finishing up and then we’d have an early dinner since we’re doing s’mores tonight.” Ma leans in to put her head next to mine and talk to Charlie. “And you, sir, have you ever had a s’more?”
“Not sure that’s age appropriate.” Does she really think a sixteen-month-old baby should be eating burned marshmallow and melted chocolate?
“He can at least have the graham cracker, can’t he?” She winks at me, subtly reminding me I don’t have to worry about her.
I know this, but my defenses are all out of whack. I’m worried about whatever’s on Evie’s mind, worried about how the night will go, and I’m worried about the hearing. But none of that is going to help right now.
And at least those worries will keep me from cringing at all the unwashed hands. I’ve been better about shoving that down lately anyway.
Grant corrals the girls and works on toweling them off as they shiver in the late summer sun. “Just wait until next year. You’ll get to do this, too.”
He means Charlie. He means I’ll be here with Evie and Charlie, and Charlie will want to swim even though it’s not warm enough. Then he’ll shiver and his lips will turn a touch blue while I towel him off, then curl him into me to help warm him up while we walk back to the campsite.
That’s what he means, and I can’t even pretend I don’t want that with every fiber of my being.