I linked my hands behind my back, the picture of innocence. “Say what?”
“Use me,” he rumbled, meltwater eyes stark in his face. “I want you to use me.”
I crossed to him, rose up on my tiptoes, and pressed a brief kiss to the underside of his jaw, the prickly patch of skin quickly becoming my favorite spot. “I would be honored.”
A slight curve bent his lips. “I’ll meet you outside.”
Alone in my room, I strolled the perimeter, ending up at the window Wu had made his perch. Far below, Cole was loading my belongings in the back of his SUV, and I paused to admire his casual strength. Hand pressed against the glass, the chill barrier acted as a reminder of the fragility of his trust, how easily it could be broken.
The house was empty as I passed through each room, flipping off lights and unplugging appliances. When I reached the front door, I leaned my forehead against the wood and listened to the stillness.
“You were the best home a girl could ask for,” I told the house. “I’m going to miss you.”
After dashing tears from under my eyes, I locked the door behind me and met the guys in the yard.
“Luce and I are going to hold vigil with her aunt,” Cole announced with an edge in his voice that had the other two clamping their mouths shut. “Miller, drop her luggage off at the bunkhouse. She can take my room. Thom, you shadow us.”
We each went our separate ways, Cole and I reuniting inside the Bronco. I sat there for a minute, gazing out the window at the lovely, old farmhouse where a gruff cop had brought a feral child and made a family with her.
Out of time to reminisce, I drove us across town to Mo Jones’ house. Mo-Mo was Aunt Nancy’s best friend, and I had no doubt the Jones house was where I would find her. Sure enough, when I reached the sprawling blue clapboard home on the outskirts of town, I counted two dozen vehicles in the yard and enough bodies milling on the low porch to be certain folks from the church had carpooled to be here during her time of need.
The walk up to the front door was one of the longest of my life. I had no right to be here, but Aunt Nancy didn’t know what loving me had cost her. As far as she was concerned, I was the dutiful niece who had come home to witness chaos, not the churning heart of the storm.
Cole’s fingers brushed over my knuckles, a show of support, but we didn’t connect.
Talk about a metaphor for our relationship.
“Lu-Lu,” a breathy voice called from down the porch. “Hey, doll face. I wondered when you’d show.” A wisp of a woman with light-brown skin and a bald head she’d decorated with henna tattoos that changed each week shuffled bodies aside to reach me. “She’s upstairs, third bedroom to your left. I’d walk you up but —” she glanced around the gathering “— the whole community has come out to offer their condolences, and Nan is exhausted from the first wave. I’m doing my best to give everyone an outlet while she recovers.”
“Thanks.” I looked back at Cole. “I’m going to check on her. Would you mind waiting in the car?”
The crowd would make him uncomfortable and vice versa. There was no reason for him to suffer.
He invaded my personal space. “I’m coming with you.”
“He can go up too.” Mo-Mo patted his arm, and Cole did his best not to wince. Contact with strangers wasn’t his favorite thing either. “I don’t blame him for worrying about you after all that’s happened. He’s a good man to want to keep an eye on you until the monster responsible for Harry’s death is captured.”
I flinched so hard I rocked backward, right against Cole. Mo-Mo’s eyes softened as she measured the two of us, her thoughts clear on her face. She thought I was seeking comfort from my boyfriend instead of reeling from the unintentional blow she had landed.
“Speaking of good men…” Her hand lifted to toy with the gold cross at her throat. “How is your father?”
“He’s resting comfortably.” A stock phrase if ever I’d uttered one. “Thanks for asking.”
Breaking away from Mo-Mo, I led Cole through a packed foyer toward a staircase that belonged in Gone with the Wind. We climbed up to the second floor, and I would have known where to find Aunt Nancy even without the directions. A dozen women lingered in the hall, handkerchiefs in hand, and their red-rimmed eyes snapped wide at our approach.
“I’m here for Aunt Nancy.” I inched toward the door when none of them blinked. The warm presence at my back alerted me to the issue. “This is my friend, Cole Heaton.”
The ladies nodded their heads in tandem, a row of bobble head figures tapped by a greater hand, their voices tight and high as in unison they remembered there was somewhere else they needed to be and made their apologies.
“I’ll wait for you out here.” Cole posted himself at the door. “Take as long as you need.”
Grateful he was here with me, that I didn’t have to face this alone, I lingered with him, studying the many-times-broken nose, the ragged ear, the jaw harder than a diamond. “They were scared of you.”
Mt. Heaton gazed down at me through eyes the color of glacier melt. “That bothers you.”
“Not how you think, no.” I pursed my lips in search of what I wanted to say. “Their reactions reminded me of when we first met is all. It got me wondering when I stopped being afraid.”
Amusement seesawed across his mouth. “You greeted me barefoot in your pajamas. That was all the armor you donned to face down a dragon.”
“Yeah, well. I didn’t know you were a dragon at the time.” I smoothed my hands down my pants, acknowledging the procrastination tactic for what it was, and poised my knuckles to knock. “Never let it be said that I’m afflicted with common sense.”
Aunt Nancy offered muffled assent for me to enter, and I shuffled across the threshold into the darkened bedroom. The light was off, and the drapes had been closed. She reclined on the bed, her gaze fixated on the ceiling like there was a whole world up there for her to explore. Her ankles were crossed, and her hands were folded at her navel. Her peaceful repose sent ice crystalizing down my spine, vertebrae by vertebrae.
“I married Harry when I was eighteen years old, fresh out of high school. We’ve been married forty-six years. Our babies are forty-two and thirty-nine this year. Our grandbabies are ten and six. He was your father’s partner for thirty-five years. He was your uncle for fifteen.”
As she made her recitation, I drifted closer until I could sit on the bed beside her and hold her cool hand.
“That sounds like a lot of years, a lot of time,” she murmured. “It wasn’t enough.” Her eyes closed, and tears spilled down her temples. “It wasn’t nearly enough.”
“I miss him already,” I said, just as softly. “Dad doesn’t know yet. I’m going to tell him when I see him.”
Her lips trembled as she mashed them together. “How is Eddie?”
“Resting comfortably,” I repeated the company line. “He hasn’t woken up yet, but the doctors are hopeful he will regain consciousness in the next day or so.”
“That’s good.” She dragged in a long breath as if reminding her lungs to get with the program. “Are the boys on their way?” Her lids cracked open. “You would have called them. You’re always so thoughtful.”
“Jamal will be here tonight. I’m going to pick him up at the airport myself. Elliot has to make arrangements for his pets and get the kids packed up, so he’ll be here tomorrow morning.”
“Has the person who…?” Her fragile throat worked over a lump. “Has there been any news?”
“Not that I’ve heard.” I was out of the CPD loop. The only way I could get updates without making a bad situation worse would be to involve Santiago. And nothing they uncovered would implicate the true villain, whether that was Famine or me, I hadn’t yet decided. “I’ll ask Rixton to keep you in the loop.” He would do that for her sake. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, tater tot,” she sighed deeply. “I’m fine where and how I am.”