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When I get back to the couch and plop down, he murmurs, “Sorry.” He slides the plate on the table and sits back against the pillows, resting an ankle on the other knee and his arm draped over the back of the couch. I take another long sip of water to wash down the pie and lingering desire. “That was out of line. It’s tough pretending there is nothing between us.” He sighs. “Let’s talk.”
I had prepared a list of questions, but now, in this moment, with my head reeling from tonight’s events, nothing is coming to mind except one thing. “I saw the police report.” The words tumble out, dragging an icy chill over my skin. I pull the blanket around me, still not okay with finding out that my dad killed my mom and Paxton’s brother. “I’m sorry.”
“Kali, you were eight. What are you sorry for?”
“Not believing you.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me. I should’ve been honest with you from the start. I just…” Uncertainty creeps into his expression. “I didn’t realize I’d fall for you so quickly.”
“I could never hate you,” I whisper, fiddling with the label on the bottle. As the silence stretches between us, my swirling thoughts settle. “You mentioned you came back to the diner but saw me come outside mad. When was that?” I’ve been racking my brain trying to pinpoint that day, wondering why I’d been so upset. Enough to make him not want to talk to me.
He hums. “It was a few weeks later, maybe. You burst outside, looked up at the sky, and started cursing.” He snaps his fingers as if a lightbulb just turned on. “We were getting bad weather that night. I remember sitting in the car and the radio announced that there were possible tornadoes. But I was certain you weren’t cussing at the sky.”
I remember that day.
The day just Ann came in, and the night I bought the lottery ticket. “You were in the parking lot?”
He nods. It’s crazy how a single decision in time could alter your entire life. If he had gotten out of his car and came up to me, I wouldn’t have bought a lottery ticket.
“So why? Why search for me after all these years?”
He picks at a spot on his jeans for a moment and then lifts his gaze with an uneasy expression. “After the accident and the initial shock of my brother’s death, my dad was worried about you. He kept in touch with child protective services to see what was going to happen. When he found out they put you in a group home, it gutted him.”
I stare at him, blinking, unsure what to say to that. Why would his dad care about the child of the man who murdered his son?
“He talked my mom into adopting you. They always wanted a girl.”
I gasp, recalling a family that wanted to adopt me. The family that never showed up. Were those his parents? “Were they the ones that said I wasn’t a good fit?”
He reaches for my hand. “Kali, it wasn’t because of you. My mom just couldn’t…”
“Paxton,” I say, stopping him. “I can’t even imagine…” I pause, shaking my head, still in disbelief at our connection. “I understand. Your mom was still grieving the unimaginable loss of her child. I don’t imagine anyone could ever get over that. Let alone expect her to stare at the same eyes as the man who took her child every day for the rest of her life.”
“But you’re not him.”
“Still. That’s a lot.” I wouldn’t want to grow up with that guilt. It makes me sad he doesn’t talk to his mom. She’s lost everything.
I feel as though a dump truck backed up and dropped its load on me. I might not be buried alive, but the weight of everything is suffocating. We almost became brother and sister. Nope, that is one idea that never needs to be mentioned. A shiver runs down my spine.
“You okay?” he asks, watching me with intense eyes.
I nod, remembering the broken-hearted little girl sitting on the hard wooden bench for hours. “Just thinking about unanswered prayers.”
CHAPTER 32
Paxton
Surviving a week without touching Kali has been hell. The past couple days, though, there’s been a shift. This morning, she gave me a hug goodbye, and she let it linger. The entire morning, her smell stayed with me. She wants this as much as I do. I can see it in her eyes. But for now, I’m giving her all the control. She’s in the driver’s seat, still using her brake pedal a little too much. I just have to trust that she knows we belong together.
“It’s that time, huh?” I say to the ten-pound weight nestled in my lap. Riggs, with his dark eyes and furrowed brows, glances up as he keeps his head planted. “You’ll have to move if you want me to get up.”
He perks up and jumps back. Let’s get this done before our meeting.
The scorching late September weather is confused, it thinks it’s July, reaching a beating hundred degrees. He better not take forever to find a spot to piss. At least there’s shade at the park across the street. When we get to the light, I notice a woman sitting alone on a park bench. I tilt my head forward, narrowing my eyes at the familiar face. Dammit to hell. It can’t be. When the crosswalk flashes to go, Riggs stares up at my hesitation. Let’s get this over with. As we draw closer and she comes into a better view, it’s her—older and thinner, but sporting the same contrived smile she wore when anyone was looking.
I groan, not having enough time to get myself ready to deal with her. Riggs looks at me confused when I pause. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Paxxy, that is not a nice way to greet your mom,” she replies, standing. I cringe, her voice triggering a visceral reaction that I haven’t had in a long time. “Come, give me a hug, sugar bear.”
