The Hideaway (Lavender Shores Book 5)

by Rosalind Abel

  Another squeeze and then he released me. “Oh, good. That will work, then.” He stepped away, leaving me standing there with a raging hard-on, and grinned viciously. “Something to look forward to.”

  I looked down at the bulge in my pants, then back at him. “Are you kidding me? You’re leaving me like this?”

  Despite his attempts at seeming uninterested, his gaze lingered a few seconds too long on my crotch. “Before we get to that, I actually wanted to talk about home decor over dinner.”

  “Home decor?” I barked out a laugh. “You trying to channel Debbra Kelly right now?”

  He shrugged, his playful smile returning. “Maybe.” He pointed to one of the stalks of asparagus in his newly colored-in tattoo. “I was doing some planning the other day. Now that we’re… official, like you say, I’d actually like to start working on the house again. Really get it up to snuff. I was thinking this color for our bedroom. You like it?”

  Ridiculously, my heart rate sped up. “Are you asking me to move in?”

  His brows furrowed and he looked at me like I was a moron. “Is that something I have to ask?”

  My mouth moved, but words weren’t even close to appearing.

  “Never mind.” Disappointment crossed his features. “I can tell from the panic on your face it was a stupid assumption on my part.”

  Moving in. To Micah’s house. “Like soon?” God, I really did sound like a moron.

  “I said never mind. It’s not a big deal.” He forced a smile and shrugged. “Forget I brought it up.”

  Moving in. I glanced around the kitchen. Stared off into the living room and the distance. Out the window that looked over the distant cliffs, in the direction of the cavern. This could be home. Our home. I looked back at Micah. “Could we do red?”

  “What?” He’d started to walk to the fridge, but turned around.

  “The bedroom. Could we do it in red instead of green? Not bright red, but that deep purplish color, like a red wine. Not all four walls, maybe just a couple of them. We could do accents of eggplant and off-white or something, maybe an ivory.” My heart still raced, but the panic was giving way to excitement.

  A smile began to form, erasing the hurt that had been on Micah’s face. “Why in the world do you want a red bedroom?”

  I shrugged and couldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s the color that always comes to mind when I think of you. It’s the color of the sweater you were wearing the night you played ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas’ for the first time. Right after I got back from the Clarks.” I could see it like yesterday—Micah had always been home. Always. “It makes me feel safe, loved.”

  Micah sniffed, and this time the tears brimming at the corner of his eyes weren’t caused by onions. He walked toward me once more. “I didn’t know you were such a sentimental sap, Connor Clark.”

  I shrugged again. “It’s not my favorite quality.”

  He laughed and kissed me. “So I didn’t freak you out beyond repair, assuming we were going to live together?”

  “You really sure you want to live with me? I can be kind of a pain in the ass. And I snore, and I—”

  He smacked my arm, laughing again. “You think I don’t know that? I heard you snore nearly my whole damn childhood. Not to mention the past couple of weeks.” His expression grew serious again. “I wasn’t trying to assume. I’m sorry if I crossed a line. It’s just—”

  “No, I’m the one who’s sorry.” Now that he’d said it, it was so obvious I wasn’t sure why it hadn’t already crossed my mind. Maybe simply because I’d refused to allow myself to see a future with Micah for so long, the habit had stuck. “Of course I’ll move in. We’ll make this place exactly how we want. Give this house the happy ending it deserves. And if we can’t figure it out, we can just move into the cave. Couldn’t ask for a better view.”

  Micah beamed. Absolutely beamed, and was so fucking beautiful it hurt.

  The sound of someone clearing their throat startled us apart. I looked over and saw Gilbert standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

  “Sorry.” He cleared his throat again, eyes cast down at the floor as he shuffled his feet. “I knocked.”

  Micah and I both stared at him.

  After a second, Gilbert looked back, his gaze flicking between the two of us. Finally he pointed back over his shoulder. “I can… uh… go, if you want me to.”

  “No!” We both lurched toward him, crying out at the same time, then stopped, laughing self-consciously.

  Gilbert raised his hands. “Okay. I’ll stay. Don’t hurt yourselves.”

  I studied him, daring to hope Micah had been right yet again. That Gilbert had forgiven me. Surely that was the case if he was here. “You’re back in town?”

  He nodded. “Yep. Just drove up from flying into San Francisco.”

  “Is Walden with you? How’s his dad?” Leave it to Micah to ask the important questions instead of stating the obvious.

  “We think his dad is going to be fine. Probably not quite back to normal ever, but he should be okay. Walden’s going to stay down there another week or two. I’m going to grab some stuff from the cabin and then fly back down. We left in a hurry, and I still need to get some work done. Hell, if we stay long enough and I keep pretending to have a pleasant disposition, Walden’s folks might start to forgive me for not being a daughter-in-law.”

  He’d flown to San Francisco instead of directly to Lake Tahoe. That had to mean something. Although, he’d left his car at the San Francisco airport. Maybe that was all it was.

  Micah was thinking the same thing, obviously. “You came here first?”

  Gilbert shrugged a third time, then let out a long sigh, sounding somewhat defeated. “Mom, Lacy, and Andrew have called every goddamn day telling me to get my ass up here. Dad and Hayley called a couple of times as well, along with about every other stupid member of our idiotic family.” He rolled his eyes. “And you’d think, with his dad being sick, Walden wouldn’t have been focused on me the whole time, but I swear I thought I’d never hear the end of it. It was like Walden had turned into a preacher or therapist or some shit instead of a teacher. Figured I’d better do what everyone said I needed to do if I wanted to get my husband back. And to shut everyone else the fuck up.”

  “What did they tell you to do?” I was sure I knew, but I needed to hear him say it. Desperately.

  “What do you think they told me to do, you idiot?” Despite the growl in his voice, the corner of his lips began to curve into a smile. “To pull my head out of my ass and talk to you. You big fucker.”

  “Can you quit calling him names already, Gilbert? You’re kind of being an asshole.” Micah sounded like he was beginning to get pissed off.

  I started to tell him it was okay, but it wasn’t like the two of them hadn’t had endless spats over the years. All of us had. At the end of the day, we were brothers, after all.

  “None of that. You have met me, you know. It’s no secret I’m an asshole. And if I’m here to forgive that big bitch you think you’re in love with, there’s going to be quite a few names. Probably for a long, long time.” Gilbert pointed at Micah. “You and I will chat later. But Connor and I go back to before you ever met him. Before your damn voice even changed. He was my friend first, and in many ways, my brother long before he was yours. So if you want us to figure this out, let us figure it out, and keep your nose out of it.” There was no anger as he spoke. It was all matter-of-fact.

  For the first time, my hackles rose at the way he spoke to Micah, even though I knew Gilbert. Knew he meant no harm and he was just being his blunt self. That, really, he was saying how much he loved both of us in his own way. I stuffed it down. “He’s not entirely wrong, babe—” The word slipped out before I even thought. I glanced at Gilbert in time to see him flinch.

  He waved me off. “Whatever. Seems like I gotta get used to it. Might as well start.”

  That was a good sign.

  I had to remember what I’d been about to say. It cam
e back to me, and I couldn’t contain a little laugh. “Remember how I was always taller than everybody?” Stupid question. I was still taller than everybody.

  Micah nodded, looking like he wasn’t sure if he was going to be okay with not arguing with Gilbert.

  “Ever since fifth grade, Gilbert called me the Jolly Green Giant. Names have always been his way of letting me know he cared.”

  Micah’s expression softened. “You know, I kinda think I remember that.”

  “I called you Gumby too.” Gilbert chuckled, grinned at Micah, and motioned toward me with his thumb. “You should’ve seen him at recess. Him taller than the teacher, and skinnier than a scarecrow, running all over the playground wearing this god-awful cast-off green hoodie from his dad that hung to his knees. That thing had to have been big enough to qualify as a circus tent, considering how tall Connor was.”

  I’d been called lots of names throughout my life, both at home and at school early on. But the way Gilbert had done it, it always made me feel like family, way before I’d moved into the Bryant house. The fact he was doing it again…. We were going to be okay.

  Gilbert motioned for me to follow him. “Let’s go talk. Get the shitshow over with.” He sniffed the air, then looked at Micah. “Smells like you’re burning the chow, little bro. Better fix it by the time I get back. I’m staying for dinner, and I’m starving.” Then he turned and headed toward the porch.

  I grinned over at Micah and gave him a quick kiss. “You were right.”

  He kissed me back, and then glared out of the kitchen. “Maybe so, but I’m not ruling out poisoning his food.”

  Twenty-One

  Micah

  The late July day was bright and cloudless. We’d had weeks of unusually hot weather. Hot for Lavender Shores, perfectly pleasant for anywhere else. It was beautiful, but I preferred the cozier, foggier days most of the time. Even the cavern lost some of its mystical quality with the bright light pouring through the arches.

  Part of me felt guilty for my melancholy. It seemed wrong to ask the universe for more, not when I already had it all. Truly and completely had it all. But maybe it was okay if I was asking for someone else.

  Was I asking? I wasn’t sure. But this was where I’d sat countless other times as I planned out my future. Dreamed of Connor. Played song after song as I pictured the New York skyline over the horizon of the ocean. Mentally designed the interior of the Green Violin and found the courage to ask Adrian to be my business partner.

  It only seemed right I would be here again. That I would envision the world how I wanted it, let my little cavern hold it for me until it came to fruition.

  I looked around the space, seeing it in a new light even after all these years. Maybe that was what this place was. A womb of some sort, not the sexiest of notions by any means, but still. A place where dreams, desires, and needs could gestate and then be born into the world.

  That seemed to fit, actually. The warm earthiness of the walls and floor and cavernous ceiling. The relatively steady temperature inside no matter what was happening in the world beyond, the safety and comfort I always felt.

  Sitting on the edge of the pool that made its way in, I pulled my legs up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I focused on the rippling surface of the water, the gentle lapping waves as they wafted into the cavern, and I… prayed. Not really, but it was the closest comparison I could come up with. What I was doing seemed stronger than wishing.

  Life was just as wonderful as I’d hoped it would be with Connor. Better, honestly. No matter how much I had believed we would end up together at some point, there’d never been a time where there wasn’t tension or strain between us. Now that was gone. It was beyond what I’d been able to picture. So much better. It was obvious Connor felt the same. But in his newfound comfort and peace, the ache that built inside of him was evermore clear. As well as the guilt.

  He rarely mentioned Moses. But it was like the kid was with us at all times. Always just a thought away. The shadow of him lingering. Just as I never would’ve felt complete being separated from Connor, it was clear Connor was going to have a wound that never healed as long as Moses was gone.

  So that was what I envisioned as I stared out to sea, what I prayed for, what I hoped. That somehow, someway, Moses would find his way back. And though I knew it was the epitome of selfishness on my part, and while I knew it would be best for Moses as well, I wished it more for Connor’s sake than anything. It didn’t seem like too much to ask, even if it meant Connor and I both would have everything we wanted, which surely might tip the world out of balance. But still, it would be best for Moses too.

  As always, time faded as I sought refuge in my hideaway. But gradually, the whispers of guilt and obligation began to creep in. I’d told Adrian he only needed to cover the shop while I took lunch. And I was certain I’d been gone way longer than an hour. I was also certain he’d been calling my cell. One more benefit of the cavern. No cell service. A womb indeed.

  When I could put it off no longer, I let out a breath of regret, hating to leave, and started to stand. Then noticed something at the edge of the water, just a few inches from my feet. I leaned closer and smiled. A bright purple starfish with white crackling across its rough skin, was partially out of the water, one of its suckered legs slowly reaching for my shoe. I leaned closer, and felt a smile cut across my face. There were often little creatures in the small tide pool of the cavern. And starfish weren’t unusual, but I’d never seen such a vibrant purple one before. Not outside of photos.

  I nearly pulled out my cell phone to snap a picture for Lacy. As much as she loved all things Lavender Shores, the purple starfish would have thrilled her. I started to reach for my phone, then paused—the moment felt too personal, too magical, in a way. Like if I let a piece of technology in, or shared it with someone else, it would lose its power.

  It was just a starfish, purple or not. A starfish in the ocean. There were probably billions of those. Only a fool would choose to see meaning in a starfish. Well, I’d been a fool for many things. Why not again?

  I whispered thanks to the purple fellow and stood. Then I did my normal routine before exiting the cave. After rolling the rope ladder up and putting it in a safe place once I reentered the real world, my cell began to buzz, a wash of messages arriving all at once. I checked them, even though I knew they’d all be from Adrian.

  They were, all of them but one.

  There was a text from Mom, sent about five minutes before.

  I’m with Moses, at the house. Come meet us now. Don’t say anything to Connor.

  I glanced back toward the barely visible entrance to the cavern. Damn. That was one powerful starfish.

  Mom met me at the door. I glanced over her shoulder. “Moses is still here?”

  “Yes. He’s in the dining room.” She motioned back over her shoulder.

  “How did you get in touch with him? He even quit texting Walden a couple of weeks ago.”

  Her exasperated look clearly stated it should be obvious, and I was wasting time asking for details. “I don’t give up very easily. I kept texting. Only times I knew that stupid father of his was in his pulpit.”

  She was a marvel. “Thanks, Mom. This will mean so much to Connor.”

  “Connor?” Confusion crossed her face for a second, then cleared. “Oh, of course it will. But I didn’t do this for Connor. Moses is one of mine. Just like you, just like Connor. Just like all of my children.” Fire burned bright in her eyes, and her jaw twitched before she spoke again. “He’s mine. And I won’t let one of my children suffer.”

  Of course. I should’ve known. For all her crazy antics, when Regina Bryant set her heart on someone, there was nothing that would get in her way. That little starfish hadn’t had much work to do, if any. “So why did you text me and not Connor?”

  Her composure slipped, going from strong to looking on the edge of tears in a heartbeat. “I can’t even explain it. I’d almost forgotten how it was when Connor
came to us. How it had been when I lived in Texas. I’d forgotten the things that people teach their children, about others, about themselves. Moses won’t be able to hear anything from Connor, won’t be able to trust it, but I think he might be able to trust you.” She leveled her gaze at me, the strength returning. “He’s not going back to the Clarks, but I thought it would be smart to have you talk to him before we tell Connor.”

  She didn’t wait for me to confirm, just turned and headed back toward the dining room. I followed, trying to think of what in the world I could possibly say. Wishing she’d gotten ahold of Connor instead of me. At least he would understand what Moses had been through with his family. Even hearing the stories of the Clarks, I couldn’t manage to wrap my brain around it.

  Moses was at the table, eating. It looked like Mom had prepared a Thanksgiving feast for him. Of course she had. When he looked at me, I wondered if we needed a whole lot more help than either Mom or the starfish could provide.

  Mom went to him, rubbed his arms, and then patted his cheek softly. “I’m going to give you and Micah some space. But I’ll be in the kitchen. We need pie.”

  He gave a tiny nod.

  “Hey.” I moved to a chair, a seat’s space between us. “It’s good to see you. How are you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  I hesitated. “Mind if I sit?”

  He smiled, looking like Moses for the first time. “I can’t eat all this myself.”

  “Well, I did tell Adrian I was taking a lunch break, so I might as well eat.” I pulled out the chair and sat down, then grabbed some of the meat from the platter between us. “I’m playing hooky.” Maybe try to keep things light? I had no fucking clue what I was doing. I wanted to jump in and talk about Connor, but I wasn’t that big a fool. “Adrian was late on Charlie’s order of cilantro last week. You should’ve seen the blowup. And this time it was Adrian’s fault. He completely spaced the order. Of course I had to remind him of the shit he gave you when you were late for the very same thing.”