And that was an idea he couldn’t bear. If he left now, then the Barretts would always be just as they were in his memories of this precious time he had spent with them.
If he stayed, he would ruin that. He always did.
When he was ten or eleven, he’d seen a nature documentary on television one day, in a home he lived in for a short time. On the TV, the narrator described how onebird would place its eggs in the nest of another bird to trick it into raising its young. But the imposter baby took more than its share, pushing the other nestlings out of the way, and sometimes entirely out of the nest.
Stop thinking about that,he told himself sharply as he grabbed his duffel out from under the bed.
He shoved the armful of clothing he’d been keeping in Andy’s dresser inside the bag and slung it over his shoulder, not bothering to zip it up before he strode out of the room without looking back.
He still saw the photos of Andy in his mind’s eye as he moved quickly down the back stairs, skipping the creaky one without really thinking about it.
I’m not stealing your life,Andy, Dalton promised his friend.You’re the one they want here, not me. I was only passing through.
When he reached the kitchen, he tried not to inhale the comforting scent of the pot roast Michael had made for dinner, or let his eyes drift to the refrigerator, which was plastered with Dove’s drawings of Santa Claus.
I can make my own life,he told himself.I don’t need to be a poor substitute in someone else’s.
But the words rang hollow in his mind because he knew to his bones that no matter where he went or what he did, this was the home he would long for.
He stepped outside and locked the door behind him. Snow slanted down hard, obliterating any view he might have had over the farm. It was just as well. There was no more time for sentimentality.
Dalton put his head down and crunched through thesnow toward his truck as frigid fingers of snowy wind clawed at his face and neck.
He had arrived in darkness, somehow it was fitting that he left in darkness too.
He had just thrown his duffel into the cab when he heard the front door open behind him.
“Dalton,”a soft voice called out across the snowy lawn.
He forced himself not to turn. She felt sorry for him, that was all. But he didn’t deserve her pity.
20
ELLA
Ella watched, astonished and more than a little confused, as Dalton swung himself up into the truck.
“No,” she muttered to herself. “No, no, no, no,no.”
The wind blew down in gusts as she hurried across the porch, leaving tracks with her socks in the inch or two of snow that covered the painted wood planks.
Running across the lawn without shoes or a coat might be madness, but he was clearly leaving, and not just on a run to town for some late-night errand. If she let him go now, she knew somehow that she would never see him again.
“What are you doing?” his deep voice was filled with what sounded like fury as she got closer. But Ella could sense the longing underneath. They understood each other. It was part of why she couldn’t let him go.
“I’ve lost too much time with the people I love,” she shouted against the wind as she ran for the truck. “I’m not going to lose you too.”
“For heaven’s sake, Ella,” he growled, striding toward her and lifting her up in his arms. “You can’t just run out in the snow like this.”
“You were going to leave,” she heard herself sob as he carried her back toward the house.
“I’m still going to leave,” he told her gruffly. “But I won’t let you catch your death out here.”
“I thought about what you said,” she murmured into his ear as he climbed the porch steps. “You’re right. I did love him as best I could. Thank you for that.”
“I’m glad,” Dalton said, stopping in place. “You deserve to feel good about your memories.”
But his tone was resolute, like he’d already made up his mind.
