The Heartbreaker of Echo Pass, page 25
She wanted him around. She wanted him to be there.
It was difficult to imagine this without him, and that was sobering.
“This is amazing,” he said. And then he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, in full view of everybody.
“Thank you,” she said, her cheeks heating. Rose was inside, but Sammy and Pansy were there, looking on.
“Is there anything I can help with?”
She was about to say no, but then another wave of people came and Griffin immediately set to work charming them and handing cookies out. And she couldn’t deny that he was a pretty great asset when it came to female customers particularly. Today, he had on a tight black T-shirt and his cowboy hat, and he was looking...
Well, he was looking pretty perfect.
When all was said and done, her sisters offered to help with cleanup, and she was about to decline, when they started furiously working anyway.
And that left the five of them all doing things together, with Griffin talking to them effortlessly, as if he’d known them for years.
“We’ll get out of your hair,” Sammy said.
“You really don’t have to.”
“I think we do,” Rose said. “Anyway. Logan was cooking dinner tonight, and I really hate to squander a good opportunity to be waited on hand and foot.”
“Ryder might heat up a frozen pizza. But honestly, I wouldn’t eat his cooking if he offered.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Ryder.”
“He means well,” Sammy said. “And is very accomplished in other rooms.”
“Gross,” Rose and Iris said together.
“Goodbye, Griffin,” Sammy said. “It was nice to get to see you again.”
“You too.”
And that left just the two of them, standing there in the empty bakery, again.
“You know, the concert just started,” he said. “You want to walk up to the top of the hill over there and see if we can hear some of it?”
“I... Sure.”
They had a couple of concert baskets left over, and she grabbed them and the two of them walked out of the shop. She locked the door behind them, and Griffin took the boxes from her, and then grabbed hold of her hand.
Her heart squeezed tight as he walked her down the sidewalk, their fingers laced together in the way that she had sort of hoped he might do just a week ago when they’d gone to the Gold Valley Saloon.
Had that only been a week ago? It was so difficult to imagine her life before this. Before him.
And that made her heart stutter just a little bit.
They walked away from the main street, up the hill that went toward the amphitheater and then off a little path that led to a grassy hill. The sky was purple, the air hanging warm and low around them. She could smell the grass, the crickets, the smell coming up from the food trucks at the venue. And the music from an old country duo filtered through that summer air, adding to the magic.
“I don’t know why I never do this,” she said. “It’s really nice.”
“It’s easy to take for granted the things you have around you. The things in your hometown.”
“I suppose so.”
He opened up the first box, and took out a cake and offered it to her. She took it gladly.
“There have been all kinds of things I took for granted in my life,” he said. “It occurred to me that you may not know this. I feel like you lost the assurance that things would be all right very young.”
She nodded slowly, chewing the cake thoughtfully. “Yes. I did. I never assume anything. I never just assumed...”
“I did. My whole life. My parents had money, and I assumed that I would go to school. My father was successful in business, so I assumed that I would be. I was surrounded by people who made successes of themselves, and as a result it seemed pretty damn easy. I always assumed that a wife and kids would be out there somewhere. And when I met the woman that I wanted to marry, all those choices seemed easy. Love felt like something pretty easily won. We planned on having a daughter, and we did. And that all just seemed like how it was supposed to be. Until everything wasn’t. Until I found myself in a position that’s not natural any way you look at it. Until I was forced to bury my wife. Until I had to bury my child. And that was when I realized... Every good thing in life is a minor miracle. If not a major one. You can’t just assume that you’ll have anything. Or keep it. Not really.”
“I guess that’s true.”
“And I also thought... I was sure... I was sure that losing that meant I was never going to have anything like it ever again. That was just done for me. Just like I assumed that I’d have it, I assumed that having it once meant... That was it.”
“Of course.” His words made her chest get tight.
“I was wrong, though,” he said, his words steady and sure. “And it’s sort of a miracle, the biggest one I can think of, to realize that I can have these feelings. And it doesn’t feel like having them again, it feels like something completely different.”
“Griffin...”
“No, listen to me. It feels like something entirely different to be able to care again when you didn’t assume that you could. To be able to care about the world again when you were absolutely certain that you couldn’t. To be able to think ahead to a time where I want to share my life with other people. That I might be able to have a new future. Not just have my wife back. Not just have my daughter back.”
He took a sharp breath. “This whole idea of moving forward... It’s painful as hell. And I don’t know what it means. I feel disloyal. To be honest with you, I don’t feel perfectly healed, perfectly put together. I feel a little more broken, in fact, than I did the day before. Like making a change rebroke a bone that had healed...badly and now I have to heal a different way. But I care for you. A whole lot. You are something all your own, Iris Daniels, and I’m captivated by you.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. She felt overwhelmed, tears filling her eyes, she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what she wanted to say.
She didn’t know what she wanted to feel.
“Griffin...”
“You don’t need to say anything. I’m not asking for anything. I’m not sure what I’m offering either. I’m a little bit messed up, and just trying to deal with all this in the most honest way possible. I don’t want to go back to the mountain. I want to stay with you. For now, I want to stay with you.”
“I see.”
“Do you?”
She blinked, her chest feeling sore. “I don’t know, I... What about Mel?”
“Mel is gone,” he said.
She nodded. “Yes. You love her, though. She was your wife. I’m...not.”
He nodded slowly. “I’ll always love her.”
“You should.”
“She was my first love. But she isn’t here now.” His voice was rough and heavy with regret and it hurt. And it was foolish to feel hurt by it.
But she envied that woman, which was the least fair thing. Mel wasn’t here anymore. But she knew the man he’d been. The one she’d seen bits and pieces of when he smiled with her family.
He’d put a suit on for her and married her.
You weren’t supposed to do this...
She wasn’t doing this. She wasn’t.
It was just she cared so much, but she knew this wasn’t forever. She was okay with that.
“I need you.”
That word fed something inside of her. That word suddenly grounded her to the spot. She looked at him, at his beautiful, lined face. At the brokenness she saw there.
He’d said he didn’t have it all figured out, but that he wanted her. And she could help. She could do something for him. Fix him. Be what he needed. For the time he needed it.
But she realized when she’d seen him today that she couldn’t quite imagine a situation where she’d be happy without Griffin in her life. Couldn’t pretend that she was going to walk away from it unscathed. Why shouldn’t she take what he was offering? A chance to be together. A chance for her to help him heal, just like they’d been talking about before. But maybe this would be a little bit longer. With him around a little more.
As long as she knew what it was, it would be okay, wouldn’t it?
She’d given her sisters such a convincing story earlier but when she looked at him it burned, and...and she wouldn’t get confused. If she was happy helping, it was okay that it wasn’t love.
He loved his wife. He’d loved her first.
Iris would love her bakery and care for him.
It was okay.
“I want to be with you,” she said.
“Good,” he responded.
“What does that look like?”
“I suspect we’ll figure it out as we go. Though, still, your place is a bit more practical than mine.”
“Yes.”
“You won’t send me away at night again?”
“No,” she said. That scared her. Because it was compromising any distance she might have from him. And some distance had been comforting. A facade that maybe this wasn’t half so serious as it was becoming.
“I don’t really have much to bring down. Except some food from the ice chest.”
“You might as well leave it. If you’re going to be working on the house.”
“Yeah. True enough.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to ask you to work through this with me.”
“I don’t mind. Griffin, whatever you need, I can be there for you. I can... I can take care of you. I can.” And if it all felt really similar to another time, to another moment, and it made her feel a little bit afraid, she didn’t let it sink in. Didn’t let it show.
She got out the little bottle of iced coffee and took a sip. And then she just sat with him, in silence, everything he’d said echoing in her.
That he had feelings for her. That he wanted to continue.
One thing she knew for sure, she wanted him in her life. And she was willing to do whatever work she needed to keep him there.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
AFTER THAT, HE essentially moved in with Iris. It was weird to be down in town, where he could actually have an internet connection, and where his phone worked all the time. He decided to go ahead and get his old computer out, and engage a little bit more with the business, which his business manager was thrilled with.
The other person surprised by his sudden availability was Mallory.
“Hey,” he said, answering on the second ring one day.
“You... You have service.”
“I do.”
“What’s going on?”
“Well, I’m still about the homestead sometimes, but I... I moved.”
“You moved.”
“I’m with someone, Mal. Her name is Iris.”
“Iris. Really?”
“Yeah.”
He proceeded to tell her the whole story of Iris, how they’d met and how he was trying this, in spite of the fact that it was pretty intense.
“I can’t believe it. I mean, honestly, Griffin, I can’t. I was so sure...” Her voice caught. “I was really sure that we were going to lose you. I was afraid.”
“Yeah, well, you might have. If it wasn’t for her.”
“Well, I want to meet her.”
“You should come up here. You and Mom and Dad.”
“And Jared?”
“Are you back with him?” The disgust infusing his voice hadn’t even taken thought or effort. No prep required. Just knee-jerk dislike taking the wheel.
“I’m never not with him,” she said, suddenly defensive.
Amazing how his name came up the minute things were a little bit defused.
“Well, he seems to think that sometimes you’re not with him, which means he gets to behave as if he’s single.”
There was a biting pause. “It’s complicated.”
“I take it to mean he’s back crashing on your couch, though.”
“Not on my couch. But yes. He’s back at my place. At our place, Griffin. You haven’t been home in five years, you don’t really...you don’t know how it is.”
“Fantastic.” He chose to ignore that. “But I want you to know, I have a pretty big property, and hiding a body on it would be easy.”
“You know, a couple of months ago I would’ve been seriously concerned you might have meant that. But it sounds to me like you have something to lose now.”
What a strange turn of phrase. Something to lose.
It was true. He did.
And he could see that just a little while ago that might have stricken fear into his heart, that he loved something enough now he stood to lose more.
But it was weird to him that he wasn’t afraid.
He was... He was happy. Because life was better when you had something to lose.
He’d been a man with nothing. A man who wanted nothing, who loved nothing, and it was hell. It was hell. He would much rather be vulnerable.
“Come up and see us, though,” he said.
“Us,” Mallory said. “Seriously, Griffin. I’m so happy for you. You’re my hero. I hope you know that. I hope you know how much I miss you.”
And suddenly right then a lot of things seemed possible. Even going back to California. For a visit. Gold Valley was his home now, and he was resolved in that. But he could see taking Iris back there, introducing her to his parents. Bringing her over for dinner. And the idea didn’t draw comparisons between the time he’d done it before, and wanting to do it now. His and Iris’s relationship was its own. That much was clear.
He went downstairs, prepared to go up and put a couple hours working on the house, and when he walked into the dining room, Iris jumped up. “Do you need anything?”
“No,” he said, frowning.
She’d cooked him breakfast this morning, a huge spread, way more than what he was used to, she certainly didn’t need to be offering him anything else.
“I’m headed up to the house. If you need anything from the store before I get back...”
“I shouldn’t. Anyway, even if I did I have plenty of time to grab something for dinner. Will you be back for dinner?”
“Yeah. I aim to. Six o’clock?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Good. Hey, I invited my sister and my parents to come up and visit. I’d really like for them to meet you.”
Iris shifted uncomfortably, her face turning pink. “Really?”
“Yes. Really. You’re important to me.”
She blinked, and he could sense her discomfort. He didn’t know why that bothered her, any more than he understood why she’d gone into a kind of manic service mode since he’d moved in. But then, he realized this was new for her. Sharing space with another person in the way that they were. It had been a long time for him too. And he couldn’t say it was anything like he’d experienced before, because Iris wasn’t anything like he’d experienced before.
He got in his truck and headed up the mountain, headed to the building site. To the house.
The house.
He stood there for a long while, surveying the place and thinking, the revelation he’d had up there the last time he’d come turning over in his head.
And then...
Then he started thinking about the talk he’d had with Ryder. About what he’d said to him.
I can’t give you any guarantees...
Why not? That was the thing.
Why not?
The realization hit him in the chest like a brick, and it hurt. It hurt like hell.
Because the last thing he’d ever wanted in all the world was to find another woman that he wanted to marry. Was to navigate falling in love and...
He thought back to when he’d seen Iris holding her niece.
It was so painful. That image. Because it should make him turn away. It should make them feel some kind of deep, unending trauma. And instead, it filled him with longing. And for so many years the image of a woman holding a little girl had been a futile kind of longing. A longing for a child he no longer had. For a wife he no longer had.
But now when he saw that, he thought of possibility. He thought of a potential future. A wife he could have. A child they could make together, not just an avatar for the one that he’d lost.
And it wasn’t about simply replacing them. No. Not ever.
Because they...
Mel and Emma were part of him.
That was the simple truth.
He had thought of them as gone, and had thought of himself as no longer a husband and father. But he had known that love, and he carried it in him. He knew a father’s love. It was still part of who he was, of everything he was, everything he did. And he was... He wasn’t honoring their life by choosing not to carry that love forward.
If he kept it to himself, hid it all away, then their memory went along with it.
It was a waste. That’s what it was. And it always would be in its way. There was no way around it. You couldn’t resurrect the dead.
But there were better ways to honor their memory than what he’d been doing.
Building the shrine to a life he could no longer have. To people who would never live in it.
He was...
What if he could marry Iris?
What if he could love her?
Oh that hurt, it hurt like a bullet, at the center of his heart.
The risk in that. To love again...
Loving somebody again.
He’d been ready to accept that he cared. Love was a whole other thing.
But it wasn’t a decision. That was the thing. It just wasn’t. It was a reality. She’d come storming into his life, and with it, she brought his heart back into the world. He told her he couldn’t feel those things anymore, and when he’d said it, it had been true.
