“Tell me about him,” he says in a soothing tone.
I huff out a disgusted laugh. “He’s a controlling ass.”
Seth shuts the water off and turns to me. “No. I meant your dad. Not your mother’s husband.”
“Oh.” Thinking about Dad calms me and fills me with a sense of home. I move to the French doors and wave at the ocean. “Dad said life was like the vast ocean. Turbulent, beautiful, calming, devastating. And he said to truly live, one needed all those things.”
Seth, still standing in the kitchen, leans across the bar, balancing on his elbows. “I’d say you’re living life to his terms.”
This time my laugh is real. “Everything except the calming part.”
“I thought that’s what we’re doing together.”
I turn to scoff at his assessment, but then stop. Outside the bedroom, that’s exactly what we’re doing. At least he calms me. I’m not sure how I affect him, but he seems happy enough to just hang out with me. “Could be.”
“What else? Tell me what life was like living with him.” He gazes at me intently, so interested. It’s not something I’m used to, and I find I have to look away to get my bearings.
“Well…” I stall, letting my memories flood back. I feel my lips crack into a small smile. “Dad was a gentle giant. Tall and foreboding to those who didn’t know him, but a giant teddy bear to those who did. He was quick with a kind word, the first to offer support even if he didn’t agree with my choices, which for a while there was often. And he wasn’t afraid to tell me when he thought I had my head up my ass.”
Seth chuckles. “Sounds like someone I’d be friends with.”
I eye him, taking in his ink. “He would’ve hated your tattoos. Though he wouldn’t have held them against you.”
“That’s good to know.” Seth moves from behind the counter, takes my hand, and pulls me to the couch. We sit side by side, our knees touching. “What would he say about the choice you’re facing now?”
I lie back against the couch cushions and blow out a breath. “I don’t know, Seth. I really don’t. He’d hate what Cadan has done and likely would threaten to hunt him down and beat the crap out of him. He wouldn’t, but he’d really want to. What I do know is he’d support whatever decision I make.”
Seth leans back, mimicking the way I’m sprawled out. “Even if it meant losing this place?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “He always said home is where you hang your hat. If he had to give up this place to keep me from drowning in Cadan’s crap, I believe he would. The problem is, I won’t give it up. Not ever.”
“I understand.” His tone is so low I barely hear his words.
I know he’s talking about his place with Elsa even though he hardly ever stays there. I still can’t believe he said her name. Jax said he hasn’t referred to her by anything other than E since the accident. Did it mean anything? Or was E a term he only used with friends? Either way, I’m grateful he opened up to me about her. I squeeze his hand.
He leans over and kisses me gently. “Why don’t you skip your mom’s and come to my place for dinner?”
I shake my head and give him a sad smile. “Thanks, but no matter how much I don’t want to go, she’s still my mom. I’ll stay a few hours and then come home.”
“Really?” He raises his eyebrows. “It’s a two-hour drive to Santa Rosa. I thought you’d stay there.”
“Oh, God no.” My heart speeds up just thinking about it. Not after what happened when I lived there. “I only go over there on holidays for Mom’s sake, but that’s it. Randy and I, well, we don’t get along.”
He frowns, worry lines appearing around his eyes. “It’s supposed to storm again later. I’d feel better if you were traveling with someone.”
He’s so sweet to be worrying about me. Rain is the last thing I’m worried about at the moment. If Randy and I get into it again, I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold back. “Who’s going to come with me? Jax has to work, and even if she didn’t, she has her own family stuff.” I pause and eye him, then grin. “Unless you’re volunteering?”
“I…” He shifts uncomfortably.
Laughing, I stand up. “Kidding. I wouldn’t subject you to them on a regular night, much less Christmas Eve. It’s okay. I’ll survive.”
His worried expression doesn’t ease, but he nods anyway. Then he gets up and says, “Will you do something for me?”
He’s so serious that it unsettles me a bit. I nod. “Sure. Anything.”
“Call me if it gets bad.” Stepping close to me, he rests his hand on my cheek. “It’s time you had someone in your corner.”
His concern and the tenderness of the moment overwhelm me, rendering me speechless. When was the last time anyone cared how I was feeling? A lump clogs my throat, and instead of answering, I wrap my arms around him and press my face into his shoulder. Finally I whisper, “I will.”
Chapter Twenty Four
Seth
After I reluctantly leave Lucy’s house, I’m supposed to head to Jax’s to drop off her Christmas present, but I take a last-minute detour to the three-story farmhouse I can’t bring myself to live in. My sister’s car is parked just ahead of me, and for once I’m not irritated she’s here.
She moved in when I refused to live here after the accident. It was Elsa’s family house, and she left it to me in her will. Her mom had passed a few years before she did. If she’d had any family left, I would’ve given it back. But she didn’t, and Lillian said someone had to take care of it if I wouldn’t. The truth is I’m grateful she did. At the time, I’d hated her for it. I hadn’t wanted anyone in Elsa’s space.
“Hey, loser,” Lillian calls from the door. “Are you going to get your ass in here or do I need to drag you out of your truck by your ear?”
I glance at her and chuckle. She’d do it, too.
“Is that a smile I see?” She says it mockingly, but I know her better than that. There’s hope warring with suspicion in her eyes.
I climb out of the truck and meet her on the steps. “No. Must be a figment of your imagination.”
“Really?” She follows me in. “And are the dark strands of hair and second toothbrush in the bathroom a figment of my imagination as well?”
“No.” There’s a fresh pot of coffee in the carafe and I pour myself some, then hold the pot up, silently asking if she’d like a cup.
“Yes, please,” she says and sits at the kitchen table.
With two steaming cups of coffee, I join her. “Where’s Trace?”
“At his dad’s. Where’s your new girlfriend?”
Trace is her soul mate. They met four months ago, but none of us have met him yet. I’m starting to think she’s made him up. I raise an eyebrow. “You sure he’s a real live person? You haven’t resorted to a blow-up mate, have you?”
She reaches across the table and smacks my forehead. “Shut up, you perv. If you must know, he’s coming up tomorrow. You’ll meet him then. Now. About this girlfriend of yours…”
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” I say stubbornly.
Lillian’s pale green eyes narrow. “Well, whatever you’re calling her, there’s someone. The signs are here and I’ve seen you smile twice in the last five minutes. Spill it.”
I stand and head toward the door that leads to the living room.
“Hey! Where are you going?”
“You’ll see. Come on.” I wave a hand and disappear through the threshold. Halfway up the stairs, the pounding of her feet on the steps tells me she’s following. There’s a slight pause when I keep going up to the third floor. I resist the urge to glance back at her. If I do, I might not go through with this.
I stop at the top of the landing with my hand on the doorknob. I feel rather than hear Lillian come to a stop behind me.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I take a deep breath and open the studio. The pungent odor of oils assaults us. The room full of glass windows is freezing, and Lillian
lets out a small gasp, rubbing her arms.
“Where’s that space heater you used to have up here?”
“It died.” I stride across the room and pull back the curtain designed to protect the paintings from UV light. “This is her,” I say almost to myself. “Lucy.”
Lillian carefully makes her way toward me and spends long, agonizing minutes studying the abstract painting I’d worked on the past few days. Then she shifts and stares intently at two more. When she looks up at me, she has tears in her eyes. “Who is she?”
My nerves are raw, and suddenly I regret bringing her up here. I shove my hands in my pockets and hunch my shoulders. “Does it matter?”
She takes two steps and stops right in front of me. Her lips are set in a determined line. “Of course it matters. She got you painting again.”
I walk over and turn around the last painting Elsa and I had worked on together. It’s a small cottage on the edge of a cliff with an intricate garden full of rhododendrons, camellias, and daffodils. The sky is darkened purple and gray as a storm rolls in. The sea rages below in the perfect juxtaposition of tranquility and impending disaster.
“You finished it,” Lillian says on a whisper.
I nod and can’t stop the tears from burning my eyes. Blinking them back, I steel myself. “She always said this is what she perceived life to be. Wonderful and devastating at the same time. That one can’t really experience life without both. I didn’t really know what she meant before.”
Lillian touches my arm. “What are you going to do with it?”
“Put it in a gallery, I suppose. Elsa worked on it, too. Its true owner is out there somewhere.” That’s how our paintings worked. If we painted something together, eventually it would make its way into the hands of whoever needed it most.
“Does this mean you’re going to show again?” Her eyes are wide with disbelief.
“Yeah,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “I think I have to.”
“Wow.” Lillian goes silent as she wanders around the room, taking in the other half-finished pieces. Pausing, she picks up one of an older couple. “Isn’t this Dad’s friend?”
I nod. After I’d started painting again, I couldn’t get Francie’s request out of my mind. It’s a Christmas surprise.
“That’s really sweet of you.”
I shrug.
She turns and gives me a hard stare. “And none of this is because of this new girlfriend?”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I say again. “She’s… Hell, I don’t know. A friend for sure. She’s a singer. She and her mate, that’s their connection—”
“She has a mate?” Lillian cries. “Seth! You can’t get involved with someone who’s bound to break your heart. What are you thinking?”
Her words hit me deep in my chest and fear rolls through me. I know she’s right, but I won’t stay away. I can’t. “I already said she’s a friend. And you don’t have to tell me about the power of mates. I think I have enough experience to know she’ll go back to him eventually.”
She nods sadly. “They all do.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I lie. “You know I don’t do relationships.”
“Yes, you do.” She shakes her head. “Jax, me, the guys at your shop. Mom and Dad. You have relationships with all of us. And what you had with Elsa, not every soul-mate partnership has what you two had. If there’s anyone in this world who does relationships, it’s you. You’re just too scared to try again.”
Anger flares to life deep in my chest. “Don’t talk to me about scared. Jesus, Lillian. You don’t have a clue what it was like when she died. To be the one who held her as the life literally bled right out of her. All because I’d insisted she drive me home from that damn party. She asked me not to go. I was too stubborn, and she died because of it.” I narrow my eyes at my sister. “Don’t ever talk to me about being scared again. You have no idea what being scared is.”
“Oh, don’t I?” she yells back. “How about watching your baby brother almost drink himself to death? Or watch him cut out everything… or everyone… who was important to him. Including me.” She’s standing there shaking, her face red and fists clenched. “What I see now is a man who has found his way back to his gift. But believe me, it won’t mean anything unless you find someone to share it with.” She sweeps past me, heading for the door.
I grab her arm, stopping her. “Lillian,” I say and wait for her to look up at me. Tears glisten in her eyes, which are almost identical to mine. “I didn’t cut you out.”
“You did,” she insists.
“I didn’t mean to. You did what I didn’t have the courage to do.” I wave my hand around the room. “You took care of this place. You were close to her when I couldn’t be. When it hurt too much to think about it.” I tug her to me, wrapping my arms around her. “Thank you.”
Her hands clutch at my shoulders and she lets out a muffled sob. “It’s about time, you big doofus.”
I chuckle and tighten my grip. When I let her go, she wipes at her eyes and pushes me away. “That’s enough. Now, tell me about this girl.”
I glance once more at the abstracts. Lucy’s eyes are huge, her mouth distorted as she sings, and color is everywhere. It’s beautiful and disturbed at the same time. I love everything about it. “Downstairs,” I say and pick up the portrait of Don and Francie.
She nods, and a minute later we’re sitting in the kitchen with fresh cups of coffee.
“Spill it,” she says and stirs sugar into her cup.
“What do you want to know?” I hold my mug with both hands and gaze out the window at the horizon. Another storm is definitely rolling in. And all I can think about is Lucy driving alone on the two-lane highways on her way to her mom’s. God I wish she had someone with her.
“First, who is she? And second, what is it about her that got you back in the studio?”
I shift my gaze from the storm clouds and smile at my sister. Her eyes light up with pleasure, almost tearing the smile from my face. Have I really never smiled around her since Elsa’s accident? Jesus. I’m a dick. I force my smile back in place, if only for her benefit. “Well, she’s Jax’s best friend.”
Lillian lets out a gasp. “Lucy Moore?”
“The one and only.”
“Holy shit, Seth.” She bites her lip and gives me a grimace. “You don’t really believe she’ll leave Cadan Kinx, do you? Their music is… damn. Magical.”
“Don’t remind me,” I huff out. “I know. But here’s the weird part. It was her singing that snapped me back to myself.” She opens her mouth to speak, but I hold a hand up, stopping her. “Not her and Kinx’s songs. Last week she sang on her own at the bar as a birthday present for Jax. And damn if she wasn’t mesmerizing.”
Lillian’s expression turns to one of pity.
“Stop looking at me like that.” I scowl at her. “The point is that she was up there enjoying the hell out of herself. She was doing what she does best on her own terms, just for the love of it. She was so alive. I wanted that. At first I thought I just wanted her. But I wanted what she had. Passion for her gift.”
Lillian leans back in the chair and really studies me. “That’s great, Seth. Really. But tell me something.”
“What?”
“Have you or have you not been sleeping with her?”
Heat crawls up my neck as I clamp my mouth closed. This is not a conversation I want to have with my sister.
“Aha! I knew it.” She stands up, a knowing grin on her face. “Singing wasn’t the only thing that touched you.” She makes disgusting kissing noises and mimes making out by wrapping her arms around herself.
“Stop it. You’re embarrassing yourself.” I get up and grab my coat from the hook near the door.
She drops the act and shakes her head at me. “Just sayin’.”
I roll my eyes. Grabbing the painting once more, I ask, “You want a ride to Mom’s?”
“Sure.” She grabs her own coat, hooks her arm though
mine, and tugs me out the door. I turn and look at the house. For the first time since the accident, it almost feels like home again.
Chapter Twenty Five
Lucy
The two-hour drive to Santa Rosa goes by far too fast. I suspect it has a lot to do with the trepidation I have for returning to my mother’s house. I don’t want to spend the entire time defending my decision to leave Cadan. And I really don’t want to have to make nice with Randy. My skin crawls with the thought.
As I take the exit for the pharmacy, my phone buzzes for the fifth time in ten minutes. A quick glance at the screen reveals Mom’s name. Crap. How’d she get this number? Cadan probably. “I’m driving!” I yell at it. “And it’s raining. Compulsive texting isn’t going to make me answer you any faster.”
A few blocks down, I pull into the parking lot and scan the messages:
Where are you?
Don’t forget Randy’s meds.
We also need milk. Skim.
Call when you get close.
What time can I expect you?
“Holy crow.” I delete all the messages and tap in one to let her know I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, then turn the phone off and toss it into my purse.
There’s a line of retirees stocking up on blood pressure and cholesterol meds before the pharmacy closes for the holiday. The delay puts me back another ten minutes, and when I pull to a stop at Mom’s house, she’s standing outside in the rain, her arms crossed over her chest. Her salon-dyed auburn hair is already stringy from the rain, and her satin blouse has rain splotches staining it.
I take a deep breath, grab the meds, the milk, and Mom’s Christmas present, and paste a smile on my face. “Merry Christmas,” I say as cheerily as I can muster.
She uncrosses her arms and places both hands on her hips. “I was worried.”
I bite back a snarky reply and brush past her toward her front door. She can stand in the elements all day if she wants. I’ll wait on the covered porch.
“You didn’t call.” She follows me onto the porch and smoothes back her damp hair.
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