Page 114 of Keller

"Savannah was a little different. Same type of thing, but not the project we were meeting about today." He drains half his glass. "Something tied to my mother. Something I should have dealt with years ago."

I wait. The air between us is suddenly fragile, like the humidity before a storm breaks. That's how I always feel whenever his mom comes up.

I think about the trust in his mom's name, and the sudden use after years of inactivity. My heart sinks.

"Oh, I didn't realize?—"

"No need to apologize. I didn't go into detail about it because it's something I'm working through myself, without bringing mybrothers in, yet. I found a connection I never knew about." His thumb traces the rim of the glass again. "I thought going there in person would settle things."

"Did it?"

"No."

He doesn't offer any other details. Just "no." My mind races, wondering if Savannah is somehow connected to the trust that raised the red flag that put this investigation in motion. I'm literally nauseated, so I sit down in the black metal chair.

The guilt presses against my ribs. He's standing here trusting me with pieces of his grief, and I'm the fox in the hen house. All of it is almost too much for me to bear. Do I tell him?

"I don't usually talk about this stuff. I'm sorry I'm unloading on you."

His voice is rough around the edges. Stripped of the smooth confidence I've come to expect.

"You don't have to apologize, Keller."

He looks at me then. Really looks. Something shifts in his expression. Not relief exactly. More like recognition. Permission granted.

"She had this whole life outside of us, it seems. Outside of my father." He sets his wine glass on the railing.

And seemingly out of nowhere, the sky cracks open. Raindrops the size of grapes come down with a vengeance, sending us both scrambling.

Thunder rolls through the sky, and a wall of rain slants across the deck in the same breath, hitting the boards like a drum.

"Go, go, go?—"

Keller grabs both glasses as I run through the sliding door. We stumble inside together, water streaming off our shoulders. My hair is soaked in seconds, plastered to my neck, and dripping down my back. His shirt clings to his chest, dark with rain.

I slide the door behind us so the sideways rain doesn't follow us in. The storm hammers against the glass.

We stand there dripping on my floor, breathing hard. Keller looks down at himself, then at me. A drop of water falls from his chin.

I start laughing.

He does too. The sound breaks something loose in my chest. Not the tension from earlier, not the weight of what I know and what he doesn't. Just this moment. Rain caught us both off guard.

"Your hair." He gestures vaguely at my head.

"Your entire shirt."

"Fair point."

I grab a towel from the hall closet and hand it to him. He takes it, but instead of drying himself, he drapes it around my shoulders. His hands move to my hair, rubbing gently at the wet strands. The pressure is soft and caring in a way that doesn't ask for anything back.

I close my eyes for a second, allowing myself to drink it in, scared it could all be snatched away from me if he ever finds out.

"We should rinse off. You want to shower with me?"

"I'd like that."

I grab his hand and pull him to the back of the house with me. I find my largest t-shirt and some old basketball shorts I borrowed from Nate a while back and lay them on the bed for him.