The Way Home (Chasing #3)

by Linda Oaks

  “That’s fine.”

  Miley fell into step beside me as we followed after Calvin and Myra. Her hand caught mine. When I glanced over at her, she was nibbling on her lower lip. She seemed nervous for me. At this point, I didn’t care. Good or bad, I just wanted this over. We didn’t even bother with taking a seat, which was fine with me since I didn’t plan on hanging around any longer than was necessary.

  Our position was far enough away from the doors so no one would overhear our conversation. Myra twisted the silver bracelet on her wrist. She was fidgeting. In all the time I’d known her, she’d never appeared nervous around me before. I found the behavior extremely odd, even for her. Calvin, though, he smiled at me.

  “I’m sure you’re more than a little curious as to why we’ve asked to speak with you, Nate.”

  “I am.” I could feel Miley edge closer to my side. I could also feel the weight of Myra Hayes’ eyes upon me.

  “It’s nice to see you again, too, Miley,” Calvin said, finally acknowledging her, and Myra offered her a lukewarm smile.

  “Thank you, Mr. Hayes. Mrs. Hayes,” Miley replied. She was gracious to a fault.

  “Son, the reason we wanted to speak with you…” His voice dropped off and he glanced at his wife who nodded her head; his gaze returned to mine. “Nate, we wanted to offer you an apology for the way we’ve behaved, the way we treated you after losing Natalie. This has been a long time coming, son. We’re sorry. It was difficult for us as grieving parents, but we failed to realize or understand how much this also affected you, too.”

  The shock of finally hearing those words momentarily left me speechless. Miley slipped closer and wrapped her arms around my waist, but my eyes remained focused on the Hayes’.

  “It’s probably too little, too late. I know what’s done is done, but we need to move forward, and holding onto all of this misplaced anger only hurts us more, at least that’s what we have learned through counseling, right, Myra?”

  She began crying. At that moment, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her even though she’d put me through hell. I may be six-foot-four and two hundred and thirty pounds of hard muscle, but the sight of a woman crying, even if it was Myra Hayes, was unsettling.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice shaky. Her gaze held mine. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. “I’m sorry for everything. If I could go back…” She fell quiet, studying me. “I hope someday you’ll be able to find it in your heart to forgive me.”

  As if hearing those words, the weight of the guilt I’d packed around for the last nine years suddenly didn’t seem as heavy as it once had. I’d allowed someone else’s truth to become my own. With her confession came the actual acknowledgement of what I’d tried to convince myself of for so long… it really wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t responsible for what happened to Natalie or to our unborn child. No one was… not Myra and not even the man who had been driving the truck that had hit her. The driver had been a healthy male without a history of seizures. Until the day of the accident, he’d never had a seizure in his life. No one, not even me, could have predicted or changed the course of those events. It was an accident — an unfortunate, horrible, shitty accident — but an accident all the same.

  “Seeing you at the Piggly Wiggly… it was such a shock. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that in front of everyone. I shouldn’t have blamed you to begin with. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us.” She looked over at Calvin, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and drew her against his side as tears streaked down her cheeks. “We want you to be happy. Natalie would not have wanted any less for you either. She loved you, Nate, and she would be ashamed of us if she knew how we’d treated you. We robbed you of your right to say goodbye, not only to her but also to your child.”

  My throat was so tight, I couldn’t swallow. I couldn’t breathe. If someone had told me that Myra and Calvin Hayes would be apologizing to me, I’d never have believed them in a million years.

  Forgiveness… did I even know what that word meant?

  All that anger was gone. There wasn’t that uncontrollable rage present anymore when I stared at the small, shaking woman standing huddled against her husband’s side crying her eyes out. Even though I’d thought that I hated her, she reminded me of Natalie; it was truly hard to hate the person who had given me the love of my life.

  Miley stiffened beside me then released my hand just as Myra’s came toward me. She wrapped her arms around me. Confused, I glanced over at Miley who stood nearby watching us. There was half of a smile on her lips. Her expression seemed solemn and a little sad. The look in her eyes caused me a moment’s pause, but before I had time to think any more about it, Calvin’s arms were wrapped around me too. My heart contracted to the point that I was certain it would explode.

  “Follow you heart.” My gran’s voice whispered through my mind.

  Three little words, but was I brave enough to take the first step?

  When they finally pulled away and released me, I stood frozen in place. I watched as Calvin wrapped his arms around Myra, who was now sobbing. “Thank you, Nate. We won’t keep you any longer. If you’d like to stop by the house, you’re more than welcome anytime.”

  I nodded, unable to speak. This whole course of events seemed like some kind of strange dream. I turned to Miley. She tried to smile back at me. I held out my hand and watched as she wiped her cheeks and then walked toward me. She ignored my hand and, instead, wrapped her arms around my waist, hugging me tight. She felt so good against me.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered into my chest. I breathed her in, her scent helping to calm me down.

  I drew in a deep breath. “It will be,” I whispered, and when she looked up at me with watery eyes, I bent my head to brush my lips against her forehead.

  CHAPTER TEN

  MILEY HAD WANTED to drive. My truck was my baby. I didn’t normally let anyone else drive it, but I made an exception for her. Miley wasn’t just anyone, even if I didn’t want to admit it. The radio was cranked. The music was loud. Beyoncé’s “Halo” blared from the speakers. Even though I was dying to change the station, I didn’t have the heart. Her fingers tapped along the steering wheel, keeping time with the music. Her voice was crystal clear, hitting every note of the chorus as she sang along at the top of her lungs.

  Who knew she could sing? Miley was full of surprises.

  It was a beautiful day and, with the windows rolled down, a sense of peace settled over me. It was a good feeling, and one I wasn’t used to. Strands of Miley’s hair whipped around her face. She glanced over at me and winked. This woman made me feel emotions that scared the ever loving shit out of me. For the first time in a long time, I felt alive, at peace, and, well, happy. I needed to get a grip, though, before Miley became as significant to me as breathing. Before I fell farther than I had ever fallen and loved her as if it were second nature to me. Before I ended up losing myself in her completely.

  I could never let someone have that much power over me ever again.

  “I can see your halo, Nate.” She giggled, teasing me, and my lips curved upward. There was no halo above my head. I was pretty sure if you looked close enough, you’d see a set of horns instead. I shook my head, taking her teasing in stride; however, it suddenly dawned on me where we were going. Son of a bitch! She’d managed to distract me. She had to turn around.

  Damn it all to motherfucking hell!

  I leaned forward and shut off the radio. My heart was racing. Miley glanced over at me. I didn’t say a word, but instead arched an eyebrow at her questioningly.

  What in the hell did she think she was doing?

  It was more than obvious now what she was up to. I wasn’t stupid. Every muscle in my body tightened as the truck climbed the road carrying us closer to our destination. I hadn’t been here in years. When I turned thirteen, I’d finally stopped visiting the cemetery all together.

  Two times a week, my gran used to drag me along with her to visit my g
randfather’s grave. He’d passed away when I was only six. I didn’t remember much about him. I vaguely recalled a big man with booming laughter who had regularly given me change to purchase candy at the Piggly Wiggly.

  Unease coiled in my gut. The lunch I’d eaten at Fred’s churned nervously in the pit of my stomach. I broke out in a cold sweat. Anxiously, I shifted in the seat wishing I were anywhere else but here in this godforsaken place. Was I ready for this? I didn’t feel ready. In fact, I was fucking pissed. I didn’t like being forced into anything, not even by Miley.

  “Turn around,” I commanded her, but she ignored me. “Turn the fuck around,” I demanded, and, this time, her eyes briefly flickered from the road to mine. She seemed calm, her expression neutral even though I was about to explode.

  How the fuck could she remain so calm when panic threatened to bury me alive?

  I couldn’t do this. Not now; maybe, not ever.

  “Miley,” I warned, and then the truck slowed and pulled over onto the shoulder of the road.

  It was too fucking late.

  Before me stood the wrought iron gates of Blossoming Hills Cemetery. I couldn’t breathe. My lungs refused to cooperate. It was as if I were being smothered alive; a heavy pressure weighted upon my chest. A pressure that grew heavier and harder with each passing second. Moisture welled in my eyes. I stroked my beard trying to gain control of my breathing and closed my eyes silently counting to ten.

  Shit, I needed to calm down. Focus, Nate.

  When a tentative hand gently touched my shoulder, I jerked away and opened the door to climb out of the truck. I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t handle her touching me… not now. My flesh felt as if it were crawling; tiny pin pricks dancing along my skin. All this nervous energy I couldn’t contain or shake. I began to pace. It was either that or run my fist through something.

  “You need to face them, Nate.”

  Those words did nothing to lessen my anger. Instead, they had the opposite effect and had me stopping in my tracks and spinning around to glare at her. “When did you get to decide what was best for me? You think because we fucked a few times you can make decisions for me now? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  My outburst didn’t seem to faze her at all. Miley had no idea what she’d done. All those ugly words I’d just spewed at her; I couldn’t take those back, and right now, I was past the point of caring. “You don’t make decisions for me, ever.” I glared at her.

  Blue eyes narrowed, flashing with emotion; her lips flattened into a thin line. “You can’t make decisions for yourself,” she argued, her tone filled with exasperation.

  She had the nerve to roll her eyes at me as if I were a fucking child. She climbed out of my truck and slammed the door so damn hard I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists.

  What the fuck was her problem?

  “What have I said about not slamming the motherfucking truck door?” I roared, and she walked around the front of the truck, straight up to me, and handed me the keys.

  She didn’t say a word. She didn’t even try to touch me, and for some reason, that pissed me off even more. I was being unreasonable. Hell, if I was honest, I’d passed unreasonable ten minutes ago. I was acting like an ass, but she’d backed me into a corner. I didn’t like being forced into anything. I didn’t like feeling trapped. There was no other way out.

  This was it; hurt or be hurt.

  Her eyes shimmered with tears. Good, she was finally showing some emotion. Her expression reflected the hurt accurately delivered by my words. My chest tightened as I regarded my handiwork. My own heart began to ache. She walked past me, and there it was… that faint scent of honeysuckle, and the familiar aching pang of regret. Taking a deep breath, I unclenched my fists and turned, heading in the direction she went. I needed to apologize, but… what was she doing?

  Where in the hell did she think she was going? If she thought for one second I was going to let her walk all the way back to town, she was crazy.

  This woman had the ability to make me see red. I needed to get my temper under control. This wasn’t the way to handle the situation, but I’d be damned if she was walking anywhere, especially with Ryder Blade still out there somewhere on the loose. Her shoulders were shaking by the time I finally caught up with her. As if sensing my approach, she spun around. Her face was streaked by tears. Her mouth opened and closed with no sound passing her lips. She shook her head at me as if at a loss for words. She drew in a deep breath, and it was then I noticed — she was trembling.

  Fuck, sometimes I even hated myself. This was why I didn’t do relationships.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, and moved toward her; crowding her body and cupping her face in my hands. I brushed the wetness from her cheeks.

  I’d fucking made her cry. What kind of a worthless piece of shit did that?

  I didn’t deserve her.

  I didn’t deserve anyone; not her, and definitely not Sierra. They would both be better off without me.

  She took me by surprise when her hands covered mine. Her fingers curled around my wrists. She was actually touching me. Even after what I’d said to her, she still wanted to touch me.

  “I love you, Nate.”

  She couldn’t.

  “I love you,” she insisted, repeating those same words to me once more.

  “You can’t.” I dropped my hands and pulled away. I took a step back.

  She couldn’t love me.

  Before I could blink, she closed the distance between us and wrapped her arms around my waist. My body tensed. Everything inside of me simultaneously rebelled and yearned for her touch. I couldn’t believe she loved me. Those same words hovered on the tip of my tongue. I wished more than anything I could say them back to her.

  Her hands tenderly stroked my back. Over and over she said those words to me. It was almost as if she were trying to soothe a frightened animal; as if the repetitive calmness of her tone might quell my urge to flee. Maybe she was hopeful that if I heard her declarations of love long enough, I’d finally begin to believe it myself. Beneath her touch, I stood still, all the time feeling my resolve slipping away. My muscles began to relax. Without thinking, I found my arms wrapped around her and my face buried in her hair. I didn’t have the strength to push her away… not again.

  “Stop saying that.” I prayed she would just be quiet.

  I didn’t want to hear it.

  I didn’t want her to love me.

  Her hands slid beneath the hem of my shirt. Soft, warm hands caressed my skin. I closed my eyes squeezing them tight as my thoughts buzzed chaotically. There were too many emotions; too much to feel and it was all happening too fast.

  “Nate.”

  I gazed down at her, studying her upturned face. Her chin rested comfortably on my chest. She peered up at me from beneath her thick lashes. Even with her face splotchy and red, she was gorgeous.

  “Let me fight for you,” she pleaded, her eyes locked on mine.

  I couldn’t reply.

  What did someone say to that?

  Was I worth fighting for?

  Hell, no.

  Her hands slipped from my waist to slide up and along my shoulders. She cupped my face. Her fingertips lazily stroking my beard. “Nate,” she repeated drawing me from my thoughts when her fingers tangled in my hair. She tugged my head down.

  I could have resisted, but what the hell was the point?

  I was tired of fighting.

  I was starved for the taste of her.

  At the touch of her lips, a groan rumbled deep within my chest. I edged closer to her and began to unmercifully tease her lips. Just a brush of my tongue against all of that softness. I dipped inside to steal a taste of her sweetness. I craved her. She squirmed against me, rocking her hips while mimicking the motion of my tongue. She nipped my lip. The slight sting momentarily brought me to my senses, but not before I stole another kiss from her. This had to stop, and soon, or I’d end up taking her outside the cemetery gates.

 
As if drugged, I tore my lips from hers. Her skin was flushed, and she was breathing hard. Her words haunted me.

  What could I have possible done in my miserable life to ever deserve this woman?

  “Are you sure this is a war you want to fight?” I asked. She had to know what she was getting into. Without a moment’s hesitation, she nodded her head yes.

  “I’m not afraid of the battle, Nate.”

  She might not be afraid, but I was… afraid of losing what remained of my heart.

  She stepped from my arms and grabbed my hand. She began pulling me along behind her. As we made our way up the hill to the cemetery, a million excuses came to mind. There was still time. I could get out of this, but those words refused to pass my lips.

  “You can do this,” she urged, as if reading my thoughts.

  Her words were meant to encourage, but I paid them no attention. My mind was entirely too focused on what lay beyond those wrought iron gates. Natalie was in there, and so was our child. My whole world was buried in that ground. My eyes flickered to Miley’s right before I allowed her to lead me inside.

  This was a big mistake, but for her… I’d try.

  “Which way?” she asked, and I took over, leading the way as I recalled my gran’s directions and the description of Natalie’s grave.

  A sense of shame overcame me. In a way, it was almost as if I had deserted her, but how could you desert the dead? The marker lay straight ahead, at the end of the row near the pear trees by the chain linked fence. Taking a deep breath, I glanced up at the sky and caught sight of a red bird flying overhead… a cardinal. My skin prickled with awareness and broke out in goosebumps. It wasn’t a damn sign, none of that shit was real. It was nothing more than a bird, even though considering the possibility of more caused my heartbeat to accelerate.

  The sun warmed my face, and squinting against the brightness, I walked toward Natalie’s marker while savoring the small comfort of Miley’s hand in mine.

  How could someone so soft and fragile be this strong?