When we were finally settled, I had hoped she had forgotten her original question. But no such luck. She took one bite of food while she stared at me and asked, “Why do you do it, West?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
BLUE
I thinkhe thought I’d forget to ask. You know, maybe I’d be too swept up in the deliciousness that was Marco’s garlic knots to remember the burning question sitting on the tip of my tongue. Rookie move. Because if anything, the conflicted look on his face just made me want to dig deeper.
It was annoying though, how the more I learned about West, the more I understood him. Respected him, even.
I’d walked in the door pissed, my heart tangled in betrayal. But by the time we sat down, some of that fire started to fizzle. Not because I no longer cared about the house, but because as it turned out, he genuinely had no idea someone else had put in an offer. My offer.
The petty part of me wanted to march back to that shady realtor's office, wearing a white pantsuit and heels, toss my hair over my shoulder, and introduce myself as Mrs. Westley Brooks. Just to watch her face melt because I had no doubts that she disregarded my offer once West stepped in, just in hopes of getting close to him.
As my mind wandered, West cleared his throat, breaking the silence across the table.
“I left Harmony Haven as soon as I could,” he started, voice low and tight. “It’s where my parents died. Every inch of this town reminds me of them, and I knew I wouldn’t survive if I stayed.”
I didn’t say a word. I just watched him. His eyes never met mine. He stared down at the table, rubbing an imaginary scuff on the wood. He was unraveling. Slowly. Carefully. This story had been buried for years and he was still trying to decide if I could be trusted enough to hold it.
“But as I got older,” he continued, “and started making a little money... I realized no one was putting anything back into towns like this. Everyone left, just like I did. For school, or jobs, or something better. And the people who stayed? They aged, passed on, and the houses just sat there. Empty.”
He paused again, this time longer but I didn’t rush him.
“My brothers still lived here, and my grandparents. And even though I didn’t want to come back, it was still the town where my parents raised me.”
That got me. The raw way he said raised me. The memory of their love was something he couldn’t, and wouldn’t let go.
“When I turned twenty-five,” he said, eyes finally lifting to meet mine, “I inherited my father’s private documents and business plans. My dad had owned a construction company and had done some farming to put a roof over our heads. I’d never given it much thought until tucked into all that paperwork, I discovered a plan he’d written up. A full restoration proposal. He had even named a section of his business Haven Revival, for side projects that would be funded under donors, and the community. He never got to realize that plan. I’m assuming my mom knew, but no one else did.”
I blinked. My chest pulled tight.
“I had started to see the return of my hard work when I was twenty-five, but it was nothing like I have now,” he added. “Itdidn’t matter though. I kept thinking about how much my dad would’ve loved to see those little projects come to life. So a few years later, once my business started paying off in the millions, I bought my first house here. Restored it. Sold it to a young family looking for quiet outside the city. And I felt, I don’t know… proud. Like I’d given something back. Like I was doing what my dad never got to do.”
He leaned back in his chair, fork abandoned, his gaze drifting toward the lake glowing gold under the setting sun. “My brothers live in houses I’ve bought. They help by working on their houses when they can, helping me with what they probably consider a weird hobby of mine. They know about Dad’s plans, but they don’t know I consider this project to be more than a hobby. My repentance. Maybe a way to get into heaven.”
I started to ask more, or even argue that he had no need to repent. But truthfully, I didn’t know everything there was to know about him. If he felt that in his heart, who was I to argue?
“When it came to this house,” he sighed, continuing as he looked around again. “I couldn’t let it go and I never understood why.”
Silence settled between us, thick and still. He wasn’t asking for sympathy. He wasn’t even asking for understanding. He just told me. Voluntarily. No strings.
I was thankful for that moment, which was probably why I felt the sudden urge to spill a secret of my own.
“I got a scholarship to college,” I said quietly. His eyes snapped back to mine and I gave a small shrug. “I was one of those people you mentioned. Wanting to leave this area for something more. Of course, I lived in Pecan Grove and it's a shithole compared to Harmony Haven.”
He smiled a little, not denying the truth. Where Harmony Haven was full of small town charm, Pecan Grove was considered the slums.
“My mom didn’t die, but she might as well have.”
His expression softened, the weight of his own grief still lingering in the space between us.
“My dad loved her. More than anything, really. Except for me and my sister. Half-sister,” I corrected, mostly for myself. My dad may have still claimed her because he raised her, but they didn’t share blood, and she was quick to remind us about that when it was convenient for her. Like when dad got sick and she refused to help.
“They left, right?” West asked gently, remembering that I had mentioned as much.
“Yep,” I swallowed. “Mom apparently did it for my sister, to help her. But how could she just leave me, too? Whatever…” I tried to shake off the resentment I still held because that wasn’t part of my story. It would lead to a much harder conversation that I never wanted to have with West. “My dad raised me alone. He did everything for me. So when he got his diagnosis, and I was all prepped to leave for college, I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t leave because he never left me. But he insisted I go. He told me he had enough money saved up to have the care he needed.”
My throat went dry and I looked away.
