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Bypassing the front steps, he headed around the side of the house and made his way to Isla’s property. Her back was to him, hair thrown up haphazardly in a messy bun, head bent, knees brought to her chest. A sniffle echoed through the quiet night, mixing with the sounds of crickets.
“You okay?” he asked, and she jumped at his voice, hands flying to her face and swiping at her eyes.
“I’m fine.” But her voice cracked.
He sat down beside her, his thigh pressing slightly against hers. He nudged his shoulder into hers. “You never were a good liar.”
She brought her legs into her chest. Her shorts rose up her thigh with the movement, and he tried not to stare at the silky, smooth flesh. And he definitely did not think about how he knew how silky smooth her skin was.
He took his eyes away from her legs and focused on the darkness surrounding them. For a while they just sat there, neither saying anything. Isla turned her head, resting her cheek on her knee. He looked at her and she forced a smile. “I miss her. I couldn’t imagine losing someone unexpectedly. I had months to come to terms with it, had a chance to say my goodbyes, and it still wasn’t enough. There are other things I wish I could have said or asked.”
“Like what?”
“Like why the hell she thought leaving me her house was a good idea.”
“That’s easy,” he said.
Isla’s eyes pinned him in place. “Is it, huh?”
“It is.”
She turned her head back, resting her chin on her knee and looking out to the darkness with him. “Care to clue me in.”
“You loved this house more than anyone, and she knew you’d take care of it.”
Isla barked out a laugh. “I have single-handedly destroyed it.”
“One burst pipe is not destroying it. Besides, that had nothing to do with you. Things get old and break, and let’s be real, this house is old. She’s definitely seen some stuff.”
This time her smile wasn’t forced; it was natural and lovely. “If only walls could talk. I’d love to hear the stories.”
“When we put up the new wall, it’ll be ready for its own stories, and those stories will be yours. Don’t look at it as destroying the house or its memories. Think of it as adding to the story. Adding your chapter.”
“I like that.” She turned, resting her cheek on her knee and gazing up at him. He couldn’t count the amount of times they’d been in this very backyard, her looking at him in the exact same way.
The wind blew slightly, and the loose hairs from her ponytail fluttered about her face. He reached up, smoothing the hair back in place, his finger lingering on her ear. She inhaled and bit her lip. That was his undoing.
His body moved on its own accord, leaning in close to her. Her warm floral scent danced with the wind, spinning right into him. It surrounded him in a dizzying embrace that had him begging to get a little closer still. Her eyes widened as she realized he was moving in, and as he was about to slip his eyes shut and capture her lips, he jolted back.
The tiniest of gasps slipped from her lips and, feeling like a jerk, he jumped to his feet. He pointed over his shoulder to the house. “It’s late. I should go.”
Isla pushed to her feet and pointed to her own house. “Me too. Thanks for stopping by. I’ll see you later.” She hurried into the house, and he let his head fall back as her door slammed shut.
He was an idiot, plain and simple. He wasn’t ready to trust his heart to the woman who broke it.
Chapter 12
Isla went into the kitchen, the time on the stove reading a quarter to two in the morning. Another night of restless sleep, and she’d about given up trying. She poured herself a glass of water and took a sip. Her mind kept drifting back to Nolan.
She rested her hip against the counter and stared at the big hole in the wall. She’d thought she destroyed Grandma’s house, but what Nolan had said to her really spoke to her heart. The best part about this house was all the memories and how every room had held a piece of Grandma.
Soon, there’d be a new wall, and instead of being sad about it, Isla was excited. She liked the idea of creating her own chapter in this house that had already been such a huge part of her story.
Her eye caught on a figure in the yard, and she froze. Fear shot through her but quickly vanished when her eyes adjusted to the dark night, and she could make out the solid frame.
Nolan was in nothing more than a pair of boxer briefs, stumbling around the space between the two houses. “What the hell is he doing?” she said out loud as she continued to observe him. “Oh no!” He was sleepwalking. She’d witnessed it before. His parents used to deadbolt the doors to keep him from wandering too far. He must not have deadbolted the door.
She should leave him. He’d find his way home. But what if he didn’t? What if his memory had forgotten he was in Morgan’s Bay, and he was trying to find his bed in Seattle? What if he wound up in the woods or worse… in the street?
