by Emily Conrad
Adeline lit up her phone, probably checking the time as they walked toward the motorcycle, and his hopes soared. She hadn’t immediately dismissed the idea.
He had already done the math. “We’d get to Fox Valley a little after eleven. Your parents would still be up. Unless they’re early birds now?”
She shook her head. “Up until midnight, at least. You think breaking into your mom’s house while she’s sleeping is a good idea?”
“I have a key. Besides, the worst she’d do is scream.”
“Or call the police.”
“I’m willing to risk it. Surprising Mom usually takes more than a two-hour trip, and I don’t know when I’ll be back up this way.”
She gazed at the helmet as if the answer of what she should do would surface in the visor. “I’m supposed to be at the church in the morning, but I could call Drew. I’d need to be back for the food truck in the afternoon.”
Drew. The name John had mentioned. “Who’s Drew?”
“The pastor. He’d understand. I never call in, and there’s not a lot going on anyway.”
So the man who’d been helping her with her house was also the pastor who’d planted the seed that Gannon wasn’t a Christian. And the church job didn’t sound reliable, if she wasn’t busy. No wonder she had been doing her own work on her house.
“You got my message?” she asked.
“I did.”
Her voice in that recording had been the sweetest sound he’d heard in a long, long time.
She pulled her gaze up from the helmet. “I misrepresented what he said about you. Mostly, he was positive about your music and interviews. He just mentioned that you being in a relationship with Harper would be inconsistent with your beliefs.”
“He’s right. It’d also be inconsistent with my tastes.” He never would’ve said such a thing to a reporter, who’d take the statement as an opening to ask what his tastes were. But he regarded Adeline evenly. If she needed him to elaborate, he would. Happily.
Her eyes widened, and flattered surprise flickered over her features.
She understood.
Good.
As her expression fell, her lips seemed to form a word and then abandon it. She passed her helmet from one hand to the other. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re forgiven.”
She chewed her lip, regret lingering. If she couldn’t understand forgiveness over something minor, how would she ever understand it from God over what had happened between them and with Fitz?
She shifted. “I also saw that story about Harper. The abuse one.” The corner of her mouth dipped. At least she looked apologetic instead of suspicious.
“I wish it were easier to clear up that kind of thing. We checked the security footage and confirmed no one else came or went to my apartment that night. She just fell.”
Adeline nodded. “I’m sorry they’re saying otherwise.”
Lots of people had had sympathy for Harper. In response to her video, they’d piled on affirmations.
Though Gannon’s inner circle had never doubted his innocence, mostly, from them, he’d faced frustration. Adeline’s sympathy marked a first, and his fingers ached to reach for her.
“Where to?” he asked.
Adeline studied him, and doubt crept in. She’d never go along with this.
“Lakeshore?” he asked.
She pulled on the helmet. “Let’s visit home.”
14
Gannon paused on the front step to text his mom. If she was awake, she’d get the message and meet him at the door. If not, hopefully she’d see it in the morning before calling the police about the man in her house.
After a minute without an answer, he let himself in. He left his shoes by the door and took a quiet tour of the first floor. Not much had changed in the last eleven years, including the lingering scent of savory cooking spices. He lay down on the couch instead of in the guest room upstairs so he’d wake when Mom got up.
Or at least, that was the plan, but when he opened his eyes in the morning, light drifted through the windows, and the scent of bacon and eggs meant she’d snuck by him into the kitchen. His phone told him it was only six o’clock, but he made himself sit up. Adeline needed to get home before her lunch shift at the food trailer, so they didn’t have much time.
The sight of Mom at the oven, checking what must be an egg bake, brought a smile. He leaned against the doorjamb and waited while she refilled her coffee. When she turned and saw him, a grin broke across her face.
He wrapped her in a hug.
When she stepped back, she patted his cheek. “You stinker.” She lifted her coffee mug, her smile marking her eyes. “How’s Lakeshore? And Adeline?”
“I brought her with, dropped her off at her parents’ house.” If only all those years ago, giving her a ride home had been so uneventful. Last night, there’d been no good-night kiss, hardly anything but a quick “see you tomorrow.” He’d watched until her dad opened the door and welcomed her in.
“It’s good you two are talking again. Fitz was a nice boy, but even weddings that do happen are only binding until someone dies.”
“She took it hard.”
“We all did.” She dipped her chin and met his gaze pointedly. She’d been the one to rub his back while he lay on the couch crying after the funeral, where the only words Adeline had spoken to him were, “We did this to him.”
Coming home always dredged up memories like these. Maybe that was why he usually flew Mom out to LA and why Adeline had never gotten over Fitz’s death—she lived so much closer to the loss, came home to reminders of the tragedy a few times a year. If he wanted to understand her, understand how their mistakes could be so fresh in her mind after all this time, he ought to go see Fitz’s grave.
His stomach hardened at the idea, but by resurfacing in her life, he’d made Adeline face feelings like these and worse. The least he could do was go remember. Seeing the grave again would confirm for himself and for Adeline that, even when confronted with the ugliness of the past, he could cling to belief in God’s forgiveness.
“You still care for her.”
He rubbed his face. Mom wasn’t supposed to know. He’d never spoken to her of his feelings for Adeline. “It’s complicated. Don’t read too much into it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. You’ve got an entire industry of people to do that for you.”
True, and they’d be hard at work today.
Adeline turned the mug tree her dad had made. Her favorite, a white mug dripping with teal glaze, came into view. She put it under the single-serve coffeemaker, then pressed the button. Her parents had been thrilled to open the door and find her on the step. So thrilled, the three of them had stayed up until two playing board games, which had been fun until her alarm sounded that morning.
Mom made her own selection from the mug tree. “The roses are lovely this year, if you’d like to pick some for this morning or to take back home with you.”
For this morning meant she could cut flowers to take to Fitz’s grave. She visited every time she came to Fox Valley. The whole reason she’d agreed to this trip was to freshen her memory of the stakes, and following through with a visit to the cemetery would dampen the building anticipation for the ride home.
She smiled to thank her mom for the offer, then went back to watching the coffee gurgle into her mug.
“Unless you’re not going to the grave this time.” Mom wrapped her fingers around her own mug, one with a logo for the church Adeline had attended for years before she’d moved. “Time is short, after all.”
“What does that mean?”
“Whatever you need it to, sweetie.” She rubbed Adeline’s arm. “Fitz won’t notice what you do. At some point, you’ve got to let God take care of the dead.”
We’re completely forgiven and free.
Free to enjoy being with Gannon, though? She’d wanted to reestablish their old friendship, but now that she had it, a longing for more had entwined around her heart,
immune to the barbs of regret that should’ve repelled the desire.
“Life’s short,” Mom continued. “This visit too. I guess the question is, who do you want to spend your time with? The living or the dead?”
Dad wandered in. “Is Gannon going to say hello?”
Her dad had always liked Gannon and Awestruck. He used to mortify her by bobbing along to the music at the back of their shows, but at least she’d known how genuinely he supported them. His encouragement these days, a side hug while scarfing down a hotdog or a comment on how good office help kept a church running smoothly, was nothing in comparison.
For bringing her home for a visit, Gannon had gained bonus points with her parents. Even more, she suspected, for being the first man they’d seen her spend time with since Fitz.
“Unless he’s running late, I think he’ll say hi.” She claimed her coffee, doctored it with sugar and milk, and sipped as she readied herself for the day.
Less than an hour later, she parked the car she’d borrowed from her parents on a dirt road shaded by mature oaks and surrounded by stone crypts. Fitz’s parents had secured him a plot in the prettiest cemetery in town, not that she was supposed to enjoy anything about this. She set off on foot around the big, old monuments to the smaller markers on the more recent graves.
She lifted her focus from the uneven grass to locate Fitz’s gray headstone among the sculptures and other markers, but between her and the grave stood a man. His back was to her, his black jacket was fitted across his shoulders, and his brown hair was disheveled. A helmet dangled from his right hand.
Her stomach plunged, and she inhaled sharply, freezing. It had never occurred to her Gannon would be here, the very place she’d determined to go to cool her feelings for him.
She looked back toward the car, thinking of leaving. A crypt hid all but the rear bumper, but the vehicle wasn’t that far away. Gannon didn’t seem to have seen her yet, and she could probably leave before he did.
But then Gannon lifted his hand to his face and dropped it again. Was he crying?
Could the loss have affected him more powerfully than she’d known? Curiosity and an instinctual desire to offer comfort pulled her forward.
She saw no tears, but when he looked at her, grief pulled at the corners of his eyes and mouth. He fixed his gaze back on the grave marker with Fitz’s full name, Gregory Fitzwilliam. After a deep breath, he stepped away. “I’ll give you space.”
When it came to her grief, all she’d had for years was space. The last thing she wanted was to be alone again with the desolate emotions. Maybe that, rather than curiosity or a noble hope of offering comfort, was the real reason she hadn’t run when she’d spotted him here. “I didn’t know you would come here.”
He slowed, then stopped. His hazel irises lifted her direction before he took another step away.
“Weren’t you afraid someone would photograph you?”
He halted again but kept his back turned. “I already told you, Adeline. The truth coming out isn’t the worst thing that could happen to me.”
“What is?”
He lowered his face as if the weight of a headstone had been loaded onto his shoulders. “I’m only here for the summer. The worst thing would be having to leave you still broken.” As if to block her from stopping him with more conversation, he pulled on the helmet and walked off. A minute later, the growl of his motorcycle hammered against the tombs as he pulled out.
Broken. He thought her broken.
Her mom did too or she wouldn’t have been trying to talk her out of this visit.
Tegan did, or she wouldn’t be trying to get her to apply for a new job.
Adeline studied Fitz’s name, engraved in granite. They were all correct. She was broken.
Gannon wasn’t letting the past define him. The idea of that freedom was intoxicating, especially now that she’d seen him here, seen that he wasn’t denying the cost of his sin, wasn’t immune to regret.
Also, he’d shielded her from trouble last night. He’d been so attentive in helping her off the ladder, had hidden her under the helmet, and had paid hundreds to ensure she would be safe on the bike.
There was something to him, to his belief that, though she was broken, she was worth protecting and making whole again. The longing returned, squeezing so hard, breathing took effort. She wanted that wholeness, and it seemed the closer she got to Gannon, the more possible it became.
What would be the worst thing?
Prior to Adeline’s question, Gannon had put no thought into what he’d most hate to experience, but as soon as she asked, the answer had flashed through his mind, and now that he’d seen the truth, he couldn’t erase the realization.
Having to leave you.
He’d almost stopped there, almost hadn’t added those last couple of words. He’d rented Havenridge indefinitely. He’d bided his time, letting days slip between conversations with Adeline, but when she’d asked that question, he saw how much time he’d wasted.
He couldn’t stay indefinitely. He had commitments that required he return to LA at the end of summer. What business did he have trying to ignite her old feelings for him? He’d still leave, and then what? They lived separate lives.
He hadn’t come to Lakeshore to win her over—that was a goal he’d added when he’d seen her. Maybe it was for the best that she wasn’t interested. If a relationship didn’t work out, the disappointment would be on his end, and he’d shouldered that pain before. Like the possibility of seeing their past splashed across the front page, he didn’t relish the idea, but survival would necessitate he cope again.
So, he’d added the “still broken.”
Having to leave you still broken.
She’d suffer until she found healing—something the last nine years had proved she wouldn’t find on her own. The clock had been ticking for weeks already, and though Adeline was finally softening, true healing took more time than he had.
The inevitability of the worst happening dropped even more heaviness over him than seeing Fitz’s grave had. It pulled at him all the way back to his mom’s house, lingered in the back of his mind as they visited and eventually said goodbye, and he dragged it with him when he went to the Greens’ house to collect Adeline.
The sky was overcast, but the cloud cover was thin enough to glow in the general direction of the sun. In her new pants and jacket, Adeline stood with her mom at the side of the house. Mrs. Green clipped gigantic collections of blue flowers off a thigh-high bush, but Adeline smiled his direction.
He got off the bike and hooked his helmet on the handlebars as his phone went off. For most people he wouldn’t have answered, but John’s name showed on the display.
“What’s up?”
“Matt hit Tim’s rental in the garage last night.”
“Fantastic.” Gannon turned away from Adeline. She already had enough to not like about him without knowing about the drama within the band. “Is he all right?”
“Yeah. He was as surprised as the rest of us this morning.”
“I assume Tim’s working it out?”
“The things Tim can do are too little, too late. I’m not sure keeping Matt on is helping him.”
So John was back to the idea of firing Matt.
Adeline would be uncomfortable around Matt, and she’d hate getting caught anywhere near the bad press his behavior could lead to. But what would she think if Gannon fired someone? They’d just come from Fitz’s grave.
“We can talk when I get back.” He disconnected and pivoted back toward the house.
The front door opened. Adeline’s dad emerged, and her mom rushed inside with the flowers. A happy family scene.
Would he ever have that?
“Gannon, how you doing? Long time no see.” Adeline’s dad gave him a firm handshake.
“I’m good, Mr. Green. How are you?” His PR training spoke for him—never complain, be grateful, care about people. Under normal circumstances, these things came naturally.
“Lance. Call me Lance. You’re not a high schooler anymore.” He chuckled. “Your last record won quite a few accolades, I understand. We’re beyond proud of you.”
Adeline picked up her helmet from the front stoop and approached.
Her dad slung his arm around her as he continued. “Sort of wish we’d never kept Addie from going with you boys. Bet with her, you would’ve gotten that record deal faster.”
Adeline gave him a helpless smile that seemed to say, Parents, right?
But her dad’s belief in her wasn’t misplaced. She had talent. “We hated to leave her behind, but we were just stupid kids. The move could’ve turned out badly.”
Adeline bit her lip at that.
Gannon tipped his head, silently acknowledging that in important ways, the band’s early days in California had turned out badly. If she’d come, everything might’ve played out differently—but for the better or the worse?
“But it didn’t.” Lance slugged his shoulder, then circled the bike. “This looks like fun.”
Gannon followed him into conversation about the motorcycle until Mrs. Green came outside again, holding the flowers. She handed them to Adeline, and Lance laughed.
“Janie, how’s she going to get those home on this?”
Mrs. Green dropped her hands to her sides, and her mouth popped open. “You rode here on a motorcycle? All that way? In the dark?”
“There were hints, Mom.” The helmet in one hand and flowers in the other, Adeline lifted her arms the way she had when she’d exited the dressing room last night.
Lance pulled Janie to his side, gaze kind but serious as it focused on Gannon. “Gannon’s a good driver, right? He’s going to be careful.”
“Yes, sir, but I’m afraid the flowers probably wouldn’t survive the trip.”
Lance clapped Gannon’s hand into a second handshake while Adeline said goodbye to her mom.