Page 32 of Seven

I paid the bartender, then headed back upstairs. When I walked into the room, Mom was sitting on the sofa, and it was evident from her blurred mascara that she’d been crying. As soon as she spotted me, she stood and rushed over to me. “I’m so sorry, Tallie. You have to forgive me.”

“I can’t, Mom. It’s too much too soon.”

“Honey, please. I don’t know what I will do if I lose you. I just don’t think I could take it.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you lied to me.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“I will stay until we get through this mess with the police and Dad’s funeral, but after that, I’m going to need some time. And lots of it.”

“I understand.”

“You hurt me, Mom. You hurt me more than you will ever know.”

Without saying anything more, I grabbed my bags and headed for my bedroom. Being careful not to wake Ford, I slipped into our room and quietly closed the door behind me. I dropped the bags on the floor, and as I stepped over to the bed, I found Ford sprawled across the mattress with the covers balled up next to him.

His little chest rose and fell with the easy rhythm of sleep, and it gave me a sense of peace to stand there watching him. He looked so peaceful, so innocent. Knowing his peace wouldn’t last made my heart ache.

I had to tell him about Holt, and when I did, it would open the door to a million questions. Some I wasn’t sure how I would answer. There were just too many unknowns.

It had only been a couple of hours since I’d seen him, and I was still in a state of disbelief. He looked the same but older and more rugged. It was clear that life had taken its toll on him, just like it had me. And yet, the second our eyes met, I felt that old, familiar connection that had always been there between us. In so many ways, it was like no time had passed, but then, reality set in.

We were no longer the same naïve kids who fell madly in love. I’d missed eight years of his life. I had no idea what life he had led or who he had become, and that left me with an overwhelming wave of regret.

Regret for all the years we lost—regret for all the ‘what ifs’ that might’ve been ours. Seeing him made me realize how much I still wanted our happy ending.

I didn’t know if Holt would want to be a part of our lives, and that was a hard pill to swallow, especially after seeing him tonight and knowing that our connection was still brewing on the surface.

I slipped on my pajamas before easing into bed next to Ford. I leaned over and gently kissed him on the temple. I fixed the comforter, covering us both, and laid back on my pillow. I closed my eyes and found myself wondering which conversation would be harder: telling Ford about his father or telling Holt about his son.

They would both be so angry and hurt.

I positively dreaded it. I closed my eyes, trying to push away the fear and uncertainty, but they hovered over me like a dark cloud. The storm was coming, and the timing couldn’t have been worse. I hadn’t even buried my father yet, much less figured out who’d murdered him. My mind was running in circles, buteventually, the steady rhythm of Ford’s breathing helped to lull me to sleep.

I got up early the next morning and took a quick shower. Once I’d put on some fresh clothes, I had Ford do the same. We had a busy day ahead. Rooks would be here within the hour, and after I confronted him about his lies, we were going to the funeral home to make arrangements for Dad.

We were also going to stop by the police station so he could talk with Detective Joyner. Rooks knew more about my father’s business dealings. He’d even helped him implement one of his company’s programs, so I was hoping he might be able to get some answers for us.

I was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting my sweater, when I heard the faint creak of the door. I glanced over my shoulder and found Mom standing in the doorway. We hadn’t spoken since our argument, and I could tell it was eating at her. She let out a defeated sigh as she said, “Rooks is here.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in a minute.” I gave myself a quick once over in the mirror, then walked over to the sofa and sat down next to Ford. “Hey, buddy. Your Uncle Rooks is here.”

He kept playing his game as he grumbled, “Do I have to go in there?”

“Not yet.” I gave him a pat on the leg. “Just hang out in here for a bit, and I’ll come get you when we’re done talking.”

He nodded, then turned his focus back to his game. I got up and headed for the door, but I didn’t go straight in. I needed a moment to collect myself.

I hadn’t seen Rooks in over a year. Part of me wanted to rush out to see him and feel the comfort of his presence, but another part was dreading seeing him.

Rooks was four years older than me, and when we were kids, I couldn’t have asked for a better big brother. He was sweet and patient, and he always had my back. No matter what was goingon, he would stop whatever he was doing to help me with my homework or listen to my silly ramblings about my friends or school.

But somewhere along the way, he changed.

Maybe it was the pressure of his fancy, high-tech job or all the traveling he had done, going off to places I could only imagine. Or maybe it was the fact that he’d been carrying around lies in his back pocket for years. Whatever it was, he was different now. He was cold and distant towards me, like there was this invisible wall that separated us, and I had no idea why it was there.

He barely talked to me, and when he did, it felt forced and ingenuine. And he was even worse with Ford. He would barely even look at him, much less talk to him and goof around like he once did with me. It hurt more than I cared to admit, but I hadn’t given up hope.