And, no, he wasn’t talking about material things. Bailey had set him straight on that, and Holt had reinforced it. Rafe wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking they needed him to be the breadwinner, but he was confident they needed him to contribute in some way.
Perhaps he was a little less focused on the financial aspect since he would be more stable with a bar of his own, but it would take some time and a lot of hard work to get it where he hoped it would be one day. But he was dedicated and determined to make it work.
Was that what he had to offer? He wouldn’t half-ass anything he set his mind to. They could rely on him for that. If he redirected his attention to a relationship, could he make it grow? His gaze shifted to the flowerbed near the edge of the porch. Rex had planted tulips in a variety of colors. Unlike their mother, Rex didn’t seem to have to put much effort into keeping them alive. But that was one thing about their mother that Rafe had admired. She never gave up. Even when she probably didn’t have a reason to keep trying.
Yes. He could channel his mother’s determination. She’d put her heart and soul into creating a happy family. Rafe had loved her more than anything, even when he hated her for suffering at the hands of his bastard of a father. Adele Jameson never quit.
It was something, Rafe figured. Especially since, up to this point, the only thing he’d contributed to this relationship was a couple of orgasms, and while that was always a plus, he knew that wasn’t the only thing he could be good for.
He needed to prove to Bailey and Holt that he wasn’t a broken fuck up. Or at least that he wasn’tonlya broken fuck up. He loved them, and it was his job to find a way to prove that they could rely on him while they all had their clothes on.
Rafe glanced back at the house. Was Rex right? Did it start by tackling the house first? If, by going inside and facing what haunted him, could he begin to move forward? Maybe if no one was around, he could tackle that fear and show that he was making an effort. That would be a start, right?
Getting to his feet, he brushed his hands on his jeans and stared at the back screen door. It only took him seven minutes to make it past the threshold and into the kitchen.
He took deep, slow breaths, willing his heart to remain steady as he studied the place. He noted the differences, reminding himself that the place was basically new. Rex had replaced far more than he’d repaired, so in theory, the ghosts of his past had been tossed out with the old.
Rafe noticed the large knife on the kitchen counter. He walked over, picked it up, and saw Bailey’s blood on the blade. Before he knew it, he was washing the knife, removing any evidence that it had ever taken place. When it was as good as new, Rafe returned it to the butcher block holder.
If only it were that easy to erase the evidence of his fucked up childhood. Unfortunately for Rafe, it was forever etched in his mind. And while he couldn’t see the old wallpaper he’d stared at when Billy Don had forced him to sit beside Jolene and endure her gross touch, the memories remained.
His heart rate sped up, and his breaths became labored, but Rafe pushed himself to continue.
He made it to the dining room, noticing it was completely different. Forget the wallpaper; not even the walls were the same here. Rex had opened the space so that there was a full line of sight from the front door almost to the back. A single wall offered a small amount of privacy, sealing off the kitchen from where the guests would have their breakfast.
Gone were the dingy flooring and the shadowy corners. The windows had been replaced, some with larger panes to bring in more light.
Rafe walked over to the reservation desk, noticing the book on top and the lockbox mounted on the wall. He hadn’t noticed it when he’d come in through the front door a short while ago because he’d been too worried about Bailey. It was definitely different. He could almost picture Bailey standing here greeting guests as they arrived. He knew how much she’d wanted this job, and he could only imagine she was good at it.
He passed the stairs, his gaze snagged by the newel post. It had been replaced entirely. The new one was square when the original had been curved. If he had to guess, it wasn’t loose anymore, either. He touched it to see.
A smile formed, and suddenly, he felt as though he was in someone else’s house, not the childhood house of horrors he’d grown up in.
Rafe ventured toward the front and checked out what had once been the parlor. It had been converted into what appeared to be an office, but it wasn’t full of papers or shit like that, which meant it was a place for guests.
The living room came next, and unlike a short time ago when he’d stood in the doorway, Rafe saw the entire room for what it was today, not what it had been back then. Most of the windows were new, no longer painted shut as had been the case when he was a kid. The fixtures had all been updated, the walls and trim painted. Rex had done a damn good job.
For a solid hour, Rafe walked through the entire house, even checking out a couple of the guest rooms. He hadn’t wanted to, but he’d looked in the rooms that occupied the space where his and Rex’s old bedrooms once were. Nothing was the same, and knowing his brother, Rex had likely removed everything down to the studs and replaced it. Had it been intentional that he’d redesigned the space, moving the walls so that the original rooms weren’t there anymore?
It was a relief. Try as he might, he couldn’t even imagine where Rex’s old bed had been or even the closet in relation to it.
And to think, he’d been haunted by this place for so long.
As he was going down the stairs, the front door opened. He paused as though he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Bailey walked in first, her eyes slamming into him as she stopped in the doorway. Holt nearly plowed her over but stopped just in time, his gaze following hers.
“Rafe?”
He forced a smile and continued down the stairs. Surprisingly, he felt as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The only frustration was that he’d waited this long to do it. He’d wasted three years back in Coyote Ridge trying to outrun those fucking demons.
“What are you doin’ here?” Bailey asked.
“Exorcising my demons, apparently.”
Holt urged Bailey inside so he could close the door behind him.
“Are you all right?” Rafe asked, nodding toward Bailey’s bandaged hand.
“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “It was a stupid accident, but I’m fine. A couple of stitches.”
