“Yes, you do.” She remained where she was and crossed her arms.
Part of him wanted to smile at her tough exterior, but she was absolutely right. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I know you were simply making conversation, and I . . .” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to put words to the turmoil that stewed inside whenever he thought of Lucas. “Thinking of Lucas makes me angry, and sad, and . . .”
“Helpless?” she suggested.
“I suppose. Yes.” He sighed, feeling suddenly exhausted. “I feel like I should have been here to help him, which is ridiculous. He was a grown man with his own life, and I had mine. It would have never crossed my mind to come here unless he’d asked me. There wasnothingI could do, and now he’s not here.”
Jolie looked up at him with those beautiful blue eyes. After a moment, she patted the floor next to her.
Grateful for the possibility of forgiveness, Cade went to sit beside her. He rested his head on the wall that Lucas had framed and Cade had finished, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
“I understand grief,” Jolie said, her voice soft yet firm. “I know it feels like nothing is the same and yet everything continues on just as it was, as if you’re the only one who’s walking around with a sort of gaping hole inside.”
Her description was eerily accurate. Cade’s throat seemed to close at how well she could put those feelings into words. “It’s easier not to talk about him at all.”
She didn’t respond right away. He turned toward her, and found tears gathering in her eyes. “Jolie?”
“I’m all right.” She blinked quickly, and without thinking, he reached out and wiped away one tear—and then a second—with the pad of his thumb. “Thank you,” she said, her voice ragged at the edges.
“Were you thinking about your father?” He laid a hand on hers.
She nodded. “And my mother too. I know it isn’t the same with her, but sometimes I miss her so much it feels as if I can’t breathe.”
He wanted to gather her into his arms, the way he did that first day they’d met. But she’d beensoangry with him, and he was honestly surprised she hadn’t pulled her hand away already. “I understand how that feels,” he said quietly.
She looked at him then, her eyes still damp with tears and seeming to see him in a way that made him want to shift and look away. It was as if she were trying to read every thought in his head.
No one had ever looked at him in that way.
Cade took a deep breath, and he didn’t look away. After a moment, Jolie spoke. “If this is to work, you can’t speak to me the way you did earlier. I understand that you were upset, but I’d done nothing wrong.”
He swallowed his embarrassment at that earlier reaction. “I promise that won’t happen again. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
A moment passed, and she nodded. “I’ve found that speaking about my papa, telling stories about him, makes it feel as if he’s still here. As if his memory is still present, even if he can’t be. Does that make sense?”
“It does,” Cade said, the words coming slowly. “I imagine I’ll feel that way, some day. Right now, it’s . . . too painful.”
She said nothing in return, but she gave him a sympathetic smile, and he knew she understood. Then she turned and leaned her head on his shoulder.
His heart warmed, and he shifted his arm to wrap it around her shoulders. After a while, her breathing evened out, and he knew she’d fallen asleep. He didn’t want to move. If he could stay here forever, with Jolie resting against him as if she trusted him fully, he would.
So he tightened his grip around her shoulders and leaned his head against the wall. The wall of the house he’d built for them.
And then he dared to imagine the future.
Chapter Thirteen
Washingclothing,Joliedecided,was the most detestable chore.
She stood and stretched her aching back. Never again would she take for granted the help she’d had for most of her younger life. She glanced at the clothing that was now strewn upon various rocks and boulders by the creek to dry for a bit before she attempted to carry it back home to hang. And she couldn’t help but laugh.
A year ago, she would have looked helplessly at a washing board and bit of soap without the slightest idea of what to do. And six months ago, while she’d had to learn to wash, she never would have imagined scrubbing dirt and fire ash from a man’s trousers.
And yet here she was, doing just that without complaint. Well, perhaps with only alittlecomplaining.
Pressing her hands against the small of her back, she contemplated sitting for a while. But if she did that, she feared she would linger too long here, unwilling to stand or, worse, falling asleep. Maybe it was a better idea to take a short stroll while the sun dried the heaviest amount of water from their clothing. She hadn’t brought her sketchbook, not with her hands fully occupied by the basket of clothing, but a walk for just the sake of a walk sounded nice.
Jolie picked her way around the small stones that lined the bank of Silver Creek. And without clothing stains to occupy her mind, her thoughts drifted to Cade. Ever since she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder, she’d found him watching her more frequently, often with a light smile creasing his features. Just that morning, he’d sat close to her by the fire as they ate, his leg brushing hers each time one of them moved. It was such a strange feeling to be so very aware of someone else’s actions, of every single time they made contact. And yet it was impossiblenotto be so aware, considering that each time his fingers brushed hers or his knee pressed against her leg, her heart beat a frantic rhythm and she nearly forgot how to breathe.
