Seconds later, his whole frame twitched and he jerked backward, but as he did, his elbow caught Lane’s eye, knocking her into the double stove and onto the ground.
He tumbled forward again, but before he could land on top of her, he was yanked back as if by an invisible cord and thrown to the floor.
Lane peered up from her spot on the floor and saw Brooks standing over the man.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was frantic, as though his worst fears had been realized.
Ryan’s dad pushed himself up, but Ryan shoved him down again. “Stay there.” He looked at Lane. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I’m fine.” Her eyes welled with tears as she saw the shame wash over him.
“Your face is bleeding.” Ryan’s eyes flashed black as he grabbed his dad and pulled him upright, holding him by two fistfuls of his coat. “What did you do to her?”
Lane stood and put a hand on Ryan’s arm. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. It was an accident.”
“Look at you, still the great protector,” Ryan’s dad spat. “You always did think you were a hero.”
Ryan’s grip on his dad tightened, as did Lane’s on Ryan.
“I should’ve turned you in when I first figured out the truth,” Ryan said through clenched teeth. “Why did I even hesitate? Why did I give you time to do the right thing?”
“Because you’re weak.”
“No. Weak would be running two people off the road and leaving them there to die.”
Lane let out a slight gasp. It wasn’t Ryan—it was his father. His drunk, good-for-nothing father. And Ryan hadn’t had the heart to turn him in.
“Lane, call Walker Jones,” Ryan said without looking at her.
“Don’t do this, Son.”
“I told you not to call me that,” Ryan said. “Lane, pick up the phone.”
“Ryan, are you sure—?”
“Lane, please.”
She did as she was told and they sat there in silence for five solid, awful minutes until a squad car pulled up in front of the cottage.
Walker strolled in, thumbs hitched through his belt loops. “Domestic dispute here?”
Ryan turned his dad to face Walker. “This man is responsible for Nate Kelley’s accident.”
The shame in Ryan’s eyes had only deepened. Lane could practically see the boy he’d been, forever making excuses for an unfit father.
“That right?” Walker took Ryan’s dad by the arm and glared at Ryan. “I knew you were hiding something.”
“Just get him out of here,” Ryan said as Walker dragged a drunk Martin Brooks out the front door.
Once they were gone, Ryan turned to Lane, eyes glassy and panic on his face. “Are you all right?”
She looked at him and nodded.
He reached over and touched her cheek. “Did he hurt you?” His voice caught in his throat as he said the words.
She shook her head. “I’m okay. It was an accident, really.”
Ryan folded Lane into his body, holding on to her tightly, seeming afraid to let her go. “I’m so sorry, Lane.”
The memory of that boy she’d known all those years ago—the one who loved without condition, who always seemed to see her despite her attempts to hide—scrolled through her thoughts. Now, having a real picture of the way he’d been raised—it only made her love him more. Because in spite of it, he’d turned into the best man she’d ever known.
Even now, in the midst of his own pain, he was only concerned for her.
Had she ever loved anyone so selflessly?
“I’m fine, Brooks. I promise.”
He pulled back and studied her face. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you the truth about the accident.”
“No, I’m sorry I didn’t trust you enough to give you the benefit of the doubt,” Lane said, still locked onto his eyes.
He shook his head. “It’s my fault. I promised him time to come forward himself. I was going to tell Walker soon; I just—”
Lane put a hand on his lips. “I don’t care, Ryan. I don’t need you to explain. You had your reasons.” And she didn’t care what those reasons were. She only wanted him to know that he was safe—that in this place, with her, he was safe.
And something told her the same was true for her.
CHAPTER
36
LANE STOOD ON THE FRONT STEPS of Lindsay and Jasper’s home, gift in hand, wishing she and Ryan had driven here together. It had been a week since his dad had been hauled away by the police, and in that time Lane had watched a peace wash over him, the kind that comes with finally letting something go.
It had convicted her somehow, knowing that she’d been holding on to years-old anger and pain, allowing it to seep into every aspect of her life.
She rang the doorbell, and a few seconds later Jett pulled the door open and stared at her. He took one look at the neatly wrapped box she held and shouted, “Presents!” Then he snatched it out of her hands and took off in the other direction.
Lindsay had texted Lane an invitation to Jett’s half-birthday party, and while Lane thought celebrating a half birthday seemed a bit over the top, she decided to show up.
It was a step.
Maybe there was peace waiting for her, too, if she could finally let a few things go.
Lane stepped inside the house, and it was, as she expected, ostentatious. Perhaps that was simply Lindsay and Jasper’s taste, but she couldn’t help redecorating it in her mind.
“Back here,” Lindsay called out.
Lane followed her sister’s voice to the kitchen—a true gourmet kitchen with practically more space than Lane had in her entire Chicago apartment.
When Lindsay saw her standing there, she stopped slicing strawberries. Her shoulders dropped as if she’d just let out a breath she’d been holding for years. “You came.”
Lane smiled—not even a forced one—and accepted her sister’s hug. “Jett already has my present.”
When Lindsay pulled away, Lane saw the tears in her eyes. “I can’t believe you came.”
Lane hadn’t been kind or forgiving with Lindsay at the hospital. She’d found it difficult to part with the pain that had defined her for so long.
But having been forgiven with such ease after barely whispering an apology to Betsy, Lane understood the freedom that could come with that gift. And somehow she wanted to extend it to her sister. If she didn’t, she’d wind up bitter and angry for the rest of her life.
And that wasn’t a life she was interested in living. Not anymore.
“Where is everyone else?” Lane looked around the nearly empty house.
Lindsay fidgeted with the watch on her wrist. “You’re a little early.”
“I am?” Lane pulled her phone out to check the text again. Sure enough, she’d misread it, putting her at Lindsay’s half an hour before the party started.
She glanced at her sister. “Okay, then. What can I do? Put me to work.”
Lindsay nodded and walked back to her spot behind the counter. “Cut up this watermelon?” She rolled it toward Lane. “Everyone will be here soon. I’m thankful you came early.”
Lane sliced into the watermelon. “You are?”
Lindsay nodded.
They worked in silence for a while.
“You were right, Lane,” Lindsay said without looking at her. “I’m going to work on things with Jasper. We’re planning to get away for a weekend and talk things through.”
“I’m glad.” Lane’s pulse quickened at the thought. There was still a part of her that didn’t like thinking about Lindsay and Jasper together, but when her eyes caught a glimpse of Ryan outside, heading to the deck with a poorly wrapped present for her nephew, it seemed to matter less.
Jett raced over and grabbed the gift from Ryan—Lane bet he didn’t thank him either—then darted away.
“So you and Brooks?” Lindsay said quietly.
Lane waited until Ryan looked up and saw her through the glass door. He smiled and waved a
t her. “Yeah,” Lane said. “Me and Brooks.” She went back to cutting the watermelon, still unsure how to make conversation with Lindsay. They’d never had the chance to really get to know each other as adults, so in some ways, Lindsay felt like a stranger.
“Your house is beautiful,” Lane said with another slice.
Lindsay had moved on to cantaloupe. “It feels like a museum.”
Lane didn’t argue.
“Hey, could you help me with it? I haven’t done anything to it since we moved in.”
Help Lindsay create a home for her and Jasper?
“I’ve seen your work, and everyone is talking about Cedar Grove. I’d pay you, of course.”
Lane’s gaze caught the living room, where a beautiful stone fireplace was wasted on a poor layout that did nothing to direct the eye to the room’s true focal point. Within seconds, she had ten ideas on how to make that space beautiful and cozy, the way a family home should be.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Please, Lane? It would be fun.”
“I said I’ll think about it.” Lane gave her an exasperated look, and Lindsay’s eyes lit as she gave Lane a bright smile.
“Think about what?” Dottie had let herself in through the front door. When she found the two of them standing there alone, her brow knit.
“I asked Lane to help me with my house,” Lindsay said cheerfully.
Dottie’s eyebrows shot up. “And you’re thinking about it?”
Lane scraped chunks of watermelon from the cutting board into the bowl. “I’m thinking about it.”
Dottie covered her mouth with her hand, and her eyes filled with tears. “You’re thinking about helping Lindsay?”
Lane felt her shoulders relax as she saw the joy on her mother’s face.
“It’s what I’ve been praying for, Lane,” her mom said. “That you would come home to us, that you could find a way to forgive. Not just Lindsay, but all of us.”
Lindsay looked away, her guilt still obvious.
“I’m working on it,” Lane said.
Dottie pulled her into a hug. “I’m so sorry you were hurt, sweet girl. That’s what I tried to tell you all those years ago.”
“When I was too stubborn to listen.” Unexpected tears sprang to Lane’s eyes.
“Yes, when you were too stubborn to listen.” Dottie stepped back and looked at her. “We never stopped loving you, Lane. You always, always have a home here.”
The words lodged themselves in Lane’s heart, and surprisingly she believed them. It was what she’d wanted for so many years—had it really been hers all along?
Dottie hugged her again, this time tugging Lindsay close too. “I’m so thankful my family is back together.”
After several long seconds, Lindsay pulled away, wiped her eyes dry, and picked up a plate of cookies. “I’m going to take this out to the deck.”
“I’ll help you.” Dottie grabbed a bowl of pasta salad and followed her, tossing one last smile at Lane before closing the sliding-glass door behind her.
Lane continued to cut the watermelon and put the chunks in a big glass bowl. From where she stood, she could see people arriving for Jett’s party—people she now recognized and most of whom she even enjoyed. Sure, they were quirky and a little bit nosy, but they were her people.
What if she didn’t go back to Chicago at all?
Well, that was a crazy thought. She belonged in the city, working. What would she do with herself if she lived here? She found her value in her work. It was the only thing she was good at.
Her phone buzzed several times. She didn’t recognize the number, so she sent the call to voice mail.
She picked up the bowl of fruit, propped it against her hip, and had started outside when her phone beeped with a new message.
She dialed her voice mail and stepped through the sliding door, managing to pull it shut behind her, before the voice on the other end stopped her in her tracks.
“Lane, this is Julia Baumann from Innovate. I understand you’re no longer working with JB Sweet.”
Had she called to gloat?
“What a huge mistake they made letting you go. Listen, a creative director position has just opened here, and I think you’d be perfect for it. I’d love to set up a time to get you in here and tell you all about it, but I can assure you that’s just a formality. We want to offer you the job, and we think you’d be a great fit for our team. I’ll be waiting for your call.”
Lane must’ve looked as shocked as she felt because when Brooks came over, he was wearing concern on his face.
She clicked the screen off and regained her composure. Now was not the time to think or talk about a job offer that would take her back to Chicago.
Never mind that they both knew this would probably happen. She supposed a part of her just didn’t think it would happen so soon.
“Is everything okay?”
Lane waved him off. “Yes, of course.”
He leaned over and kissed her, a gentle hello—but she still got excited by his nearness. He took the bowl from her. “I’ll go put this down on the table.”
She moved closer to the edge of the deck, overlooking the huge yard. Kids were tearing toward the swimming pool. Adults were standing in small social circles, greeting each other like the old friends they were. And for some reason, Lane wasn’t overwhelmed by the scene in front of her at all.
Instead, she almost felt like she belonged with these people—a feeling she wasn’t sure she’d ever experienced before.
“You’re here.”
Jasper’s voice was unmistakable. Lane didn’t even have to turn around to know it was him. He stood beside her, bottle of beer in hand, and she stiffened at his nearness.
“I’m surprised you came.”
“I am too, actually.” She avoided his eyes, focusing instead on the birthday party scene unfolding below.
“You still holding a grudge?”
She caught a quick glimpse of Ryan, who was helping Lindsay set up chairs on the deck—something that seemed more like a job for Lindsay’s husband. “No, I’m actually not holding on to any part of what we had. I’m starting to realize it was a good thing that you and I didn’t end up together.”
“Really?”
She finally met his gaze. “Yeah. I don’t think we were ever right for each other, Jasper.”
He scoffed.
“It would’ve been a mistake, me and you. I know now that I’m with the right person.”
“Who? Brooks?”
Lane didn’t want to seem like a goofy teenager, but she couldn’t help but smile at the mention of his name.
“You and Brooks.”
She nodded. “And you and Lindsay. Don’t mess that up.”
“I can’t believe you’re giving me relationship advice.” He leaned his elbows on the railing.
“She’s my sister, Jasper. Treat her right.”
He took a swig from his bottle and walked away.
Lane’s eyes wandered across the yard to Ryan, who greeted Jack and Hailey on the deck. He picked Jack up and turned him upside down, all the while carrying on a conversation with his sister.
From her bird’s-eye view, she could see the stark contrast between the two men she’d loved, or thought she loved, and for the first time ever, she was genuinely thankful Jasper had broken her heart.
It had taken years away from it all to see that her pain—her gut-wrenching heartbreak—had actually been a gift and that gift had led her back to Ryan Brooks, which was perhaps where she had always belonged.
CHAPTER
37
RYAN SAT ON THE DOCK, Cedar Grove behind him, aware that his work was nearly finished. With Lane’s help, the crew had transformed the twelve cottages into more than he could’ve ever imagined. He should be joyous, but with tonight’s grand opening celebration just hours away, the part of him that knew Lane’s time in Harbor Pointe was temporary began to inch ahead of the part that could pretend what they had was permanent.
Over the last couple of weeks, he’d fallen even more in love with her—if that was possible—and now, imagining a life without her seemed on par with torture.
He heard her footfalls behind him and tried not to think about how seldom they would share this lunch-on-the-dock tradition if she did decide to go back to Chicago. Why had he fooled himself into believing this place could ever be enough for her?
Still, when she kicked off her flip-flops and sat down beside him, dangling her feet in the water, there was a part of him that hoped . . .
“I think we’re all ready for tonight. I’ve prepped the tour guides, and the photographer already shot the cottages, so your new website is going to be absolutely gorgeous.” She stared out across the water. He stared at her. “I really loved being a part of this, Ryan.”
Did she sense it too? The end of what they had?
“Is everything okay?”
He nodded.
“You’re quiet. That’s not like you.” She studied his face for a long moment. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re not staying here, are you?”
Her face fell. “Brooks . . .”
“No, it’s okay.” He took her hand. “I knew we couldn’t keep you to ourselves for long.”
She scooted closer and let her head rest on his shoulder.
“What are you going to do?”
She sat up. “I was offered a position with Innovate, the firm I’ve been competing with since I started at JB Sweet.” Her smile was sad. “They want to make me a creative director.”
His stomach rolled. He was thrilled for her—genuinely happy—but those feelings had a hard time surfacing for the devastation he felt for himself. He couldn’t move to Chicago—his life and family were here. But Lane couldn’t give up this opportunity. It was what she’d been working for all along.
“That’s so great, Lane. You deserve it.”
“Really?” She still wore her happiness cautiously.
“Of course. You’ve earned it. And they’re lucky to have you.” Hardest words he ever had to say.
She stared toward the lighthouse. “So you think I should take it?”
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