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“Yes!” I laugh, increasing my pace to get ahead of Rhett, reaching out to grasp the intricate iron railing. “He’s definitely one of them. Ezekiel died young.”
“How?”
Biting my lower lip, I turn to face him, standing on the second step, which puts me at perfect height with him. I might even be a little taller. I can see the top of his head, his mussed golden-brown hair. How it waves at the ends. “He killed himself. Jumped off the roof of this very house.”
“What?” His eyes go wide and he glances around, his expression unsure. “Are you serious?”
I nod. “There used to be a terrace up there. They had parties much like the one tonight. They did it for the view, and of course, the higher you are, the richer you feel.” My uncle Grant told me that once. But then he also added, The higher you are, the harder you fall.
That always stuck with me.
“Okay …” He steps closer and I rest my hands on his broad shoulders, staring into his hazel eyes. The green in his gaze seems more intense tonight. “I can tell there’s more to this story.”
“Oh, yes.” I am relishing this moment. No one is around and I have Rhett Bennett’s undivided attention. This might be a stall tactic on my part, but it’s also fun. And I think he’s enjoying the story too. “The night it happened, there was a party. His younger brother was engaged and the family was celebrating, with the exception of Ezekiel. He was morose the entire evening. Snarly and snapping at everyone, and no one could figure out why. And when the party was long over, in the middle of the night, Ezekiel jumped from the roof and landed in the circular drive.”
I shiver at the mental image and Rhett’s brows are drawn together.
“Creepy,” he says. “No wonder that statue has always bothered me.”
“Why he did it isn’t creepy, it’s tragic.” I pause, because another thing my uncle Grant taught me is that a solid pause in the middle of a story always makes it more engrossing. “He left behind a note. He was in love with his brother’s new fiancée, and couldn’t go on living if he had to witness her marrying his brother.”
“Was she in love with him?”
“She was seeing Ezekiel first, but then she met Thomas Lancaster. His younger and much more charming brother. It was never that serious, what she shared with Ezekiel, but her abandonment devastated him,” I explain. Oh, I love Lancaster family lore. It’s so intricate and dramatic and interesting.
“What happened after he killed himself? Did they get married?” Rhett asks.
“Yes. They pushed back their wedding date due to the funeral and the time of mourning for the family, but six months after his death, they were married. They ended up very happy together and had six children. Their youngest boy they named Ezekiel, after his dead uncle.”
Rhett actually chuckles. “That’s a little morbid, don’t you think? He was in love with her. Killed himself at the loss of her, and they named their kid after him?”
“Thomas loved his brother. He was always plagued with guilt, but I suppose love wins over blood in the end?” I shrug, sliding my hands to the back of Rhett’s head, burying my fingers in his hair. I love how soft it is.
His lids lower, as if he’s enjoying me playing with his hair. “That’s kind of fucked up.”
I lean in close, pressing my cheek to his so I can whisper in his ear. “My entire family is kind of … fucked up.”
Rhett rears back, his shocked gaze meeting mine. “Did you just say fuck, Willow Lancaster?”
I nod, pressing my lips to his to keep him quiet. It’s a playful gesture, but when I try to pull away, his hand cups the back of my head, keeping me in place as he deepens the kiss. His tongue searches my mouth, making me whimper.
A loud noise booms somewhere in the depths of the house, startling me, and Rhett growls, grabbing my hand and leading me up the stairs. I follow after him, hurrying to keep up, both of us silent as we move down the corridor, passing by Iris’s closed bedroom door.
I swear I hear her giggling, followed by a very male groan.
Oh my.
We stop in front of the guest bedroom door Rhett’s staying in and he rests his hand on the handle, pausing to turn toward me.
“You’re sure?”
He doesn’t say any more, but I know what he’s referring to, and I nod firmly.
“Yes.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Rhett
