She stayed.
And I stayed away. I ran from seeing the disappointment on their faces.
Until I couldn’t anymore.
Until I woke up one morning and missed my home. My boys. Even while I hesitated darkening their lives, I returned.
The hot July sun scorched through the rubber soles of my shoes as I rolled out of the car. It baked my clothes to my clammy skin. But it was the sight of the century’s old estate looming over me that had the back of my neck prickling. It was the vacant stare from the grimy windows. The rust flacking off the iron fence. It had been so long since I stood before the grand, oak doors that I almost felt like a stranger.
It nearly sent me back into the air-conditioned interior of the idling vehicle, but my feet propelled me closer. Punishment for my neglect.
Somewhere inside were three lost children I abandoned. Faces I hadn’t seen in … Christ, how long has it been? Enough years that they had zero reason to want anything to do with me.
That prickle of unease intensified. That knowledge that I didn’t belong here. With them. No amount of groveling was going to make up for my cowardice.
I ascended the first step.
My shoes scraped the stone. Loud in the afternoon hush.
Then, I heard it. The soft hum of chatter. The steady stream of one-sided conversation. Curiosity had me pivoting and following the sound around the side.
She sat crouched in the dirt. No hat. Face red from the sun. Dark hair barely contained in the thick plait falling down her back. She’d been in a black dress. Loose with thin straps over her sun-kissed shoulders.
“That is no way to behave,” she was telling the odd spray of flowers running the side of the house. “If you can’t play nicely, I will put you in a pot and leave you in the greenhouse. Do you want that?”
I glanced around to make sure I wasn’t missing anyone, but it was just her and a small arsenal of gardening tools.
Perhaps, she works with Gordon, the groundskeeper, I guessed.
“Now, you will keep your roots to yourself, understood?”
Small, deft hands patted soil around the plant with the black blooms.
Careful not to frighten her, I edged a step closer. My feet rustled on the grass and her head twisted in my direction.
I was punched by the sight of Gloria’s dark eyes, and when her face broke into a smile that took my breath, it was all James. I was still reeling beneath the sensation of getting punched in the gut when she scrambled to her feet.
“Uncle Marcus?”
Without giving me a chance to brace, she launched herself at my chest. The sweet scent of earth, flowers and woman, crashed into me a second before she did. Her arms swung around my shoulders. Every part of her that made it clear she was not fifteen anymore settled perfectly, so fucking perfectly along mine.
“You’re home.” She squeezed once before pulling back to peer up into my face. One eye was twisted against the sun, but she smiled so big, I knew it had to hurt. “The boys will be so thrilled. Have you seen them yet?”
I think I gave a mute shake of my head, but all I could focus on was the unraveling of her hold and the loss of her scent as she pulled back.
“Let’s go find them.”
With that declaration, my hand was captured and I was led through my own house while the tiny creature stealing all my damn senses chattered on about everything I missed while I was gone as if it was merely days and not years.
“We redid the guestroom,” she states, gesturing wide towards the stairs as we pass by. “Ames will tell you it wasn’t necessary, but,” she cuts me a narrowed stare from over her shoulder, “it was. Brown is an unattractive color.”
Against my better judgement, I pulled her to a stop. Her big, brown eyes jumped up to my face as I peered down at her.
“Brown can be the most beautiful color sometimes,” I heard myself mutter stupidly, but, God, it was worth it when she broke into an overwhelming smile.
“You’re right. Chocolate. Chocolate is a beautiful brown and I love chocolate.”
I was ready to buy every chocolate factory across the country for her, but she was moving again. Still talking and gesturing to things I didn’t care about.
