After a few minutes, he lets out a sharp breath. “Look, I, uh…I want to say I’m sorry. For the other day. I was kind of a jerk.”
“You were, but you never have to apologize to me. I get it.”
Chris’s gaze, so much like Elizabeth’s, flicks my way. “You do?”
Leaning a hip against the counter, I stuff my hands in my jeans pockets. “Yes, but I’m also not going to presume to know exactly how you feel. My father died when I was at college, but we didn’t have the kind of relationship that you and Ry had. There was no love there.” And that’s the biggest fucking understatement of the century. May the evil bastard continue to burn in hell.
Chris frowns at my admission.
“And I know it’s got to be hard, seeing your mom with someone else.”
After adding a detergent pod into the dispenser, he presses a button to get the dishwasher going. “It’s not that. It’s just…he’s been gone for three years, but I’m not ready to let him go.”
Loss and love cohabitate in a ball of emotion at his raw honesty. I tap two fingers to Chris’s chest. “Just because you can’t see him doesn’t mean he’s not right here. And no one could ever replace your dad. Not me. Not anyone. Ry was one of a kind. The best man I’ve ever known.”
Chris’s fingers curl around the edge of the sink, his shoulders stiff again.
“I don’t expect anything from you. Nothing I do or say comes with strings attached. I’m here. For you, for your sister, for your brother, and for your mother. No questions asked.”
He stares out at the darkness through the window above the sink. “She sleeps on the couch because she has nightmares all the time. She wakes up crying. It freaks me out. I don’t know what to do.”
Hearing it cuts me wide open. Elizabeth’s life has been filled with too much pain. Everyone she loves keeps getting ripped away from her. So much loss for one person to bear, and it only proves how fucking strong she is.
Chris grabs the hand towel hanging over the bottom cabinet door and twists it. “I don’t care what Dad said or what he wants. If you’re going to break her heart again, then you need to leave her the hell alone and walk away. And if you make her cry, I’ll kick your ass.”
I suppress my smile. Even though he’s only a teenager, Chris stands his ground. Not many grown men do when they face me. Elizabeth always did. Still does. Chris is so much like her, but his protective heart is all Ry.
“I have loved your mother for a very long time. She’s it for me.”
His gaze snaps to me. “Have you told her that?”
“Not yet.”
“Then you’re stupid.”
This time, I do smile. “I’ve been called much worse.” I catch the soft cadence of Elizabeth’s laughter through the screen door, and an idea hits me. “Where’s your mom’s guitar?”
“Back room at the end of the hall.” Dropping the hand towel next to the stove, he ties up the garbage bag and lifts it out of the can. “I’m, um…I’m racing at the Fields on Friday…if you want to come watch.”
Elizabeth’s heart isn’t the only one I need to be careful with. “I’ll be there.”
He gives me a curt nod and heads out the back door to empty the trash.
As I walk down the hall, I pause to look at all the framed photographs hanging on the walls. So many beautiful moments captured, Ry in every one. When I pass by an open bedroom door, I stop the urge to go inside when I smell Elizabeth’s jasmine perfume. Not my place to intrude, no matter how curious I am.
At the end of the hall, I enter a room filled with musical instruments: acoustic and electric guitars in stands, a dual keyboard, drums, and a violin case propped in the corner. Grabbing one of the acoustics by the neck, I spot a pink guitar pick on a table and secure it between the strings.
Stepping out onto the veranda, I remain hidden in the shadows and take in the familial scene of Elizabeth and the kids roasting marshmallows around the firepit. Somehow sensing me, Elizabeth looks in my direction, a gorgeous smile blooming across her face. No matter how many times I’ve seen it the past couple of days, it always takes my damn breath away.
“I was about to come in and get you,” she says, blowing on her marshmallow when it catches on fire.
I hold up the guitar as I walk down the back steps. “Found something.”
She laughs like I’m joking. “I don’t think so.”
“Mom, play for us,” Chris says.
“I’d rather hear you play.”
