"Thanks, man."
"Anytime, brother."
With that settled, we finish up with the horses and head back up to the house. It's late, so Cas scoops Wyatt up and makes for home, while I linger in the foyer.
"Did you want to come in and eat?" Liz offers. "There's plenty left over."
"Mind if I take a plate to go?" I ask. When her smile falters, I'm quick to add, "I have some emails to go over, people I need to answer. I figure I can squeeze that in while I eat and maybe by thetime I'm done the kids will be in bed and I can come back. And we can talk?"
Her nod is slow, but the worry melts from the lines around her mouth again. She doesn't smile, but at least there's no frown either. "That works."
She disappears into the kitchen while I wait by the door, certain that if I follow her inside, I won't be able to pry myself away from her again. I've missed her. Fuck, it's insane how deeply she's become rooted in everything, in me. It's not that I can't function without her. It's just that every time I'm near her it gets harder and harder to be apart after.
When she returns a few moments later holding a plate, I thank her and bolt before I can convince myself to stay and help her get the kids ready for bed. I love those nights when they happen. And I'm going to do everything I can to make sure those nights become my every night in the future.
Answering emails takes more time than I expect, and I'm long through the heaping portion of lasagna Liz plated up for me by the time I'm finally done.
The house is dark but for the light over the kitchen sink and a small reading lamp beside the sofa in the living room. I let myself in through the back door and walk quietly through the house until I find her curled up under a blanket, reading. It strikes me how familiar the scene is, how often I saw her like this when we were teenagers and how long it's been since I've seen it.
"Hey," I say softly, trying not to startle her.
She looks up like she was expecting me. "Hey yourself."
I point at the spot on the couch beside her. "Mind if I join you?"
"Not at all." She moves to tuck her feet in closer, but I hurry to sit and snag her ankles, tugging them out to rest her feet in my lap.
Her nose crinkles, and I know she wants to argue with me, pull away, but then she releases a long breath and surprises me with silence instead.
"You in a good spot to take a break right now?" I ask, nodding at her book and where she has her page saved with her thumb.
She answers by sliding a bookmark between the pages and placing the book on the coffee table. "Are you finally going to tell me what's bothering you?"
I nod. "I learned something today. Something from our past. Your past," I start, already sure I'm fucking this all up.
"My past?" Her brow furrows. "I don't know what you heard, but—"
I cut her off before she goes too far off track, "It's about your mom."
Her expression freezes. I'm pretty sure she stops breathing for a beat. "Oh."
"I was talking to my mother," I try to explain, wondering how to tell her why the topic was even up for discussion without making her feel like I was talking about her like she's some mess I'm trying to fix. "About us."
"Us?"
I nod. "Our history came up, and then..."
"More history?"
I bite the inside of my bottom lip. That look in her eyes is already killing me. "She told me things, things I never heard from you or Lena. Things I think maybe no one told you either."
"What sort of things?" Her voice is barely a whisper.
"Things like why she really left," I say, instinctively wrapping an arm over Liz's legs in my lap as though she might try to bolt. "It wasn't her choice, Liz. There was an accident. And she was the driver. And... someone died."
Her head starts to shake back and forth, and I can tell by the lost look on her face, she's struggling to make sense of what I'm saying. So, I start at the beginning. I tell her the way my mother told me. And when I'm done, I lift her into my lap completely, hold her to me, and rock her until the tears stop.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
