My stomach churned. This was what happened when you let people in. When you let yourself love someone and that love made you tear your walls down.
I had half a mind to call Kel, apologize, and tell him that “no risk, no reward” was the stupidest Hallmark bullshit ever invented.
I tried calling Delaney again, but once again, fucking voicemail.
I was closer to panicking than I’d been in a long time, and a part of my brain knew I was being unreasonable—he was anhourlate at most, he hadn’t given a specific time in the first place, I had no evidence he was in danger—but I also knew it wasn’t the facts that were making me panic.
It was the knowledge that I, a man who’d loved nothing more than solitude, who’d kept nearly every relationship in his life at a surface level for years because that was easier and safer, had somehow given my heart to another human being.
Delaney Monroe was right now walking around—Jesus, please let him be walking around—withmyheart beating inside his chest right next to his own.
His hurts were my hurts. His frustrations were my frustrations. His sorrow was my sorrow.
How the fuck were you supposed to cope with that? How did you just accept that you were vulnerable, 24/7 for the rest of your life, and continue on drinking coffee and building cabinets and eating croissants?
Teeny whined softly, reminding me that while I was having an existential panic, she probably needed to pee.
I grabbed my coat.
Standing in the backyard, I tried to calm down and breathe, but I couldn’t. Now that my walls had crumbled, I didn’t know how to compartmentalize. I felt like a tiny boat lost in a sea of emotions—bobbing on tides of fear and anger, nearly swamped by waves of love.
The night was cold but clear—not a single cloud to be found—and through the spindly winter tree branches, moonlight glittered on the snowy lake. Above, a billion tiny stars spilled across the inky blue sky in random, patternless splotches that humans had spent centuries trying to neatly organize into pictures so they could find some sense of order and meaning in them. So they could feel like they were in control.
But as my dog turned herself into a snow angel in the lingering patches of icy snow, I finally managed a deep breath and remembered something Bennett Graham, the owner of the Observatory House across the lake, had said to me once.
“The most important thing to know about stars, Brew, is that they shine brighter when you’re stargazing with someone you love.”
At the time, I’d thought he was a total sap—frankly, I still thought that, and so did anyone who’d ever seen him with Theo—but now I wondered if maybe he had it right.
There were a lot of things in the universe you couldn’t control. Stars. Fathers. Random, ridiculous camper fires. A world that could be so callous about your love you needed to hide the evidence away in a jam cupboard for decades.
But building walls to protect yourself didn’t stop you from being hurt. It sure as fuck wouldn’t make the world more fair and right.
All it got you was a solitary life in a camper without the brave, prickly man you loved.
And that was no kind of life for me. Not anymore.
Not when Delaney’s triumphs could be my triumphs, and his joys could be my joys.
“Teeny,” I called. “Get over here. We’re going to find Delaney.”
I would call his sister, the police, and my father, in that order. I’d drive to Southbourne and take the town apart brick by brick if I had to.
And then I’d tell the man I loved that I fuckinglovedhim, because the fear of being honest was nothing in comparison to the fear of living without him.
But it turned out I didn’t have to search for Delaney, because the moment I walked inside, a key turned in the front door.
Delaney was home.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
DELANEY
The ride homefrom Southbourne had been torture.
A small part of me had been relieved because I’d finally cracked the fucking case. But now that I had proof that, yes, Anthony Harmon had been strong-armed by Empire Ridge, it was cold comfort. Because I’d also learned that, in the process of selling his parents’ house, he’d also stolen the one thing Brewer loved most in this world.
His grandfather’s house and the legacy he’d been so proud of.
