Chapter 24
Titus
I've just finished my breakfast and pulled on the fresh shirt Mariah brought me after tilting my world on its axis, when I see Walker pull-up in his side-by-side. Thank God he didn't come any earlier. He might have seen way more than he bargained for through the open blinds of my office windows.
And while I wouldn't have wanted my cousin to have witnessed that specific interaction, a big part of me wants him to know Mariah is mine. That no amount of charm or smooth words will lure her into his bed.
Because she's staying in mine.
I push up from my desk, settling my tray onto the cart I found for Mariah to use since she insists on continuing to cook for me, rolling it along as I go to open the door.
I don't want him to ring the bell because Mariah frequently takes a nap in the mornings.
If she's curled up on the couch asleep, I won't let him disturb her.
I watch Walker trek up the sidewalk, analyzing the stiffness of his movements and the tightness of his expression. Something's up. I just don't know what it could be.
After closing the door behind him, I tip my head toward the kitchen.
"You want something to drink?" I roll the cart into Mariah's domain, loading the empty dishes into the washer so she won't try to do it herself.
"I've got sweet tea, sparkling water…" I tip my head at the fancy machine on the counter. "Coffee, tea."
Walker slides into one of the stools at the island, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I'll take a coffee."
Now that I'm really getting a good look at him, he looks tired. And not in the way that comes from lack of sleep.
Dropping in one of the many pods I ordered after Mariah arrived, I set the machine to run, and finish cleaning up any mess left from breakfast. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"
Walker’s quiet for a minute, staring down at his hands before finally looking up at my face. "I think I'm ready to figure out who's responsible for the accident."
The admission stuns me. I'm not the only one of us who experienced a life-changing event they struggled to recover from.
Like me, Walker lost a woman who was very important to him in a way that is similar enough to the way I lost Kara that I've always felt a connection to him.
One rooted in pain and loss. It made me feel like Walker understood what I was going through like no one else could.
We dealt with our pain in completely different ways, but that didn't change the similarities.
That's why I'm shocked that he wants to talk about it now.
"What brought this on?" I have to ask, because I need to know if he's really serious. Once I start digging into the information I can find, doors will open that probably can't be closed. Knowledge can be power, but it can also be a weakness, breaking even the strongest man in the blink of an eye.
That's why, sitting in a safe, there's an envelope with a single word written inside that I've never been tempted to look at. I don't know if I could handle the knowledge it contains.
"Honestly? I'm not sure." He shrugs. "All I know is it's getting worse not knowing than I think it will be to know."
"Even if there's nothing you can do about it?"
Justice can soothe a lot of hurts, but in this case, justice might not be possible. It's been too many years. Depending on what happened, there might not be any way to hold the person responsible for her death accountable. And in the end, nothing will bring his mother—my aunt—back.
After a few seconds, Walker gives me a nod. "Even if."
I know this has been hanging over his head for decades, and I can imagine what it would be like not to know who was responsible for the car accident that killed your mother. I hope finding out can bring him the peace he's been chasing.
"I will do everything I can to find out what happened." I pass off his coffee. "Are there any rules? Or can I do whatever needs to be done?"
I’ve spent a lot of time alone over the years. While it probably wasn't the most healthy thing, it did make it possible for me to become very good at what I do. And what I do can occasionally be very morally gray.
Walker lifts his cup, letting it hover in front of his mouth. "Do whatever it takes."
"Consider it done." I select a cup for myself, setting the machine to run a second time. "I'll touch base with you next week and let you know where I'm at."
I don't know how long it will take me to track down the truth.
Especially the truth from a time where cameras on every corner wasn't the norm.
It's possible this could take me months—possibly years—but I hope not.
Because I have some life changes of my own to juggle over the coming months.
And one of them chooses this moment to wander into the kitchen.
My assumption that Mariah might be taking a nap wasn't far off. She looks like she needs to be asleep, with heavy lids and a slightly pale complexion. Not quite like she's about to pass out on me, but it's clear she's not feeling her best.
I abandon my drink. "Tea?"
She nods, giving me a weak smile. "Tea sounds good."
I haven't found anything that calms her stomach better than ginger tea, so I fill the kettle and switch it on, preparing her mug as the water heats. Once it's ready, I pour it over the bag so it can steep.
"Why don't you go lie on the couch?" I gently turn her. "I'll bring this over when it's ready."
She gives Walker a little wave, then rounds the corner into the great room. The way my kitchen is situated, I can't see her, but Walker can. He watches her go, gaze lingering before turning back to me and angling a brow in question.
I'm sure he can tell something's going on. And I'm not necessarily trying to hide anything anymore. But I don't want any pressure put on Mariah. Not from me, and sure as hell not from my family.
When her drink is ready, I grab a sleeve of her favorite crackers, setting them on a tray before adding the tea and carrying it out to her.
Setting it on the coffee table, I kneel down beside her, smoothing the hair from her face.
"Drink your tea, eat a few crackers, and then take a nap.
You'll feel better when you wake up." She always does, and hopefully today will be no exception.
I know she's worried about her appointment tomorrow. But it can't come fast enough for me.
I need to make sure she's okay. Confirm there's not some underlying reason she's been so sick and lightheaded.
"Okay." Her voice is soft. "Is Walker okay?"
"As good as he can be." I keep it simple for now, but I doubt I'll keep Walker's past from Mariah. Honestly, I doubt I'll keep anything from her. She's the first person I've genuinely wanted to talk to in years, and once I started, it's been impossible to stop.
Obviously, based on the number of notes I stacked onto empty meal trays.
Without thinking, I lean down to press a kiss to her forehead, freezing as the weight of eyes watching me registers.
So much for shielding Mariah from my family's nosiness.
Straightening, I meet Walker's gaze, surprised to find there's no question in it this time. Instead I’m met with a knowing smirk.
I rejoin him in the kitchen, taking a sip of my coffee while we stare at each other in silence. If he's expecting me to explain, he's about to be in for a very rude awakening.
"I don't know why you're looking at me like that." Walker polishes off the last of his coffee. "Because I've known since the day you hacked into my security system to watch me eat her cake."
"I'm gonna need you to phrase that a little differently." Walker's technically my cousin, but he’s as much my brother as Tobias, Trevor, and Tucker. I know he would never try to take something that's mine. Wouldn't even consider it.
He still can't talk about eating Mariah’s cake.
Unbothered by the hint of threat in my tone, Walker chuckles, standing from his seat.
"I'll make sure to word it a little different the next time she brings me dessert.
" He rounds the corner, lowering his voice as he gives me a light slap on the shoulder.
"I'm happy for you." His expression turns serious.
"If anyone deserves to find peace, it's you. "
I never expected Walker would be the one to put the deepest of my feelings surrounding Mariah into words.
One word, more specifically. Peace. She's offered me the peace I didn't think I would ever have.
The pain is still there—likely always will be—but the edges of it don't cut as deep as they once did. I'm not bleeding endlessly.
"However, I am a little pissed that your mother's going to think she's responsible for this, because I know damn well she won't just stop at one of us."
I give him a grin. "It's not as bad as you think it is." I've always figured Walker stayed single for the same reason I did. Because he knew what loss felt like, and didn't have any interest in adding more of it to his plate. Yet another way our lives aligned.
But when Walker shakes his head, he says something that makes it clear our reasons for isolation aren't as similar as I thought.
"I'm not worried it's bad. Actually, I'm pretty sure it's the best fucking thing that could ever happen.
" His hand drops from my shoulder. "But I can't ask someone to give themselves to me if I can't give myself back. "
"I hope that changes for you." Now it's my turn to give him a pat on the shoulder. It’s the universal sign of manly affection we’re all comfortable with since hugging sometimes feels so fucking weird. "Maybe knowing the truth will help."
Walker appears unconvinced, but at least he says, "Maybe."
I walk him to the door, promising to set up a time to meet next week. Sending him on his way, I return to check on Mariah. I’m surprised to find her still awake, nursing her tea and nibbling on a cracker. I sit beside her, guilt tugging at my insides. If she's feeling this bad, she shouldn't have—
"Don't look at me like that." She tilts her head, resting it on my shoulder as she curls toward me. "You said I could touch you whenever I wanted, and I did. So you can't be all weird about it now."
I pull her closer, dragging her into my lap where she always seems to end up.
"I don't like when you don't feel good. I especially don't like it when I'm probably partially the cause of it.
" I can't imagine the act she performed on me did anything to help her gag reflex, and I'm already regretting telling her she had free reign of my body.
Not because she doesn't, but because Mariah has a bad habit of inconveniencing herself for other people.
For me.
"You weren't responsible for it." She tips her head back, looking up at me. "I'm not trying to hurt your ego or anything, but I'm more than capable of wrangling what you have going on without making myself sick."
"It would take more than that to hurt my ego." I take her tea, setting it on the table since it's mostly gone. "Are you worried about your appointment tomorrow?"
"Yes." She gives me a simple answer, and it doesn't feel complete.
I won't try to pry anything else out of her, but now is probably a good time to fill her in on a decision I've made. "I can drive you to your appointment." I don't know who I think will benefit more from it, me or her. Probably me. "I'm not trying to control you or be overbearing—”
"I know that." Mariah reaches up, her hand cradling the right side of my face. "And I would appreciate it if you drove me. I think going completely alone would make my nerves even worse."
The thought of Mariah dealing with any of this alone sits sour in my stomach. She's so strong and so brave. I know she would put on a happy face and pretend like it was fine.
But it wouldn't be.
"You don't have to go to anything alone." I stroke down her arm, linking our fingers to hold her hand with mine. "I am at your disposal. Willing to chauffeur you anywhere you’d like to go."
Are there a few slight hiccups in my offer?
Sure. The primary one being I don't technically own a car. Never needed one. Especially not in the age of grocery delivery and online superstores. Anything I’ve wanted has been available at the tips of my fingers.
Before that, my family was understanding enough to help me meet my needs.
In addition, I don't particularly love going out in public. Historically, it’s caused me to have nightmares and pulled so much of my pain to the forefront.
But maybe this time it can be different.
Maybe knowing I'm doing it for Mariah will help keep that at bay.
Even if it doesn't, I will still take her wherever she needs to go.
Because I’m not ever going to let her face any of this alone.
"Thank you." Mariah looks down at our joined hands, a thoughtful expression pinching her pretty features. "Did you know I wasn't originally the one who was supposed to come here?"
"I didn't." Everything in me twists tight at the possibility Mariah might not have come into my life. That I could've ended up with some random person wandering through my house, making me food and touching all my stuff. “How do you know that?”
“Because my best friend, Janie, was the first person your mom hired.” She gives me a little smile. “She decided to stay in Moss Creek and referred me since I…” She takes a deep breath. “Since I was looking for a change.”
And thank God she did. Because there’s not a doubt in my mind if Janie—or anyone else for that matter—had been the one walking in with my mother that day, I’d still be holed up in my room. Alone. Hidden from the world.
Hiding from myself.