Page 47 of Ebbing Tides (The Lighthouse Duology #2)

Welcome to Connecticut.

It had been years since I’d been greeted by that sign.

I couldn’t remember when exactly, but it was likely one of the times I had driven to or from the Army base in New Jersey, and it was always seen in passing.

I had never stayed for more than the time it took to drive through, apart from that fateful night twenty years ago.

Never got the time to get to know the place, never had a reason to get comfortable.

Until now.

Christ, it seemed insane all of a sudden as I drove toward the address I’d pulled up in an internet search.

I must’ve completely lost my mind, running away from everything and driving across state lines to profess my love for a woman I’d known for all of a week, and although every atom in my body told me to come to my senses and turn the fuck around, my heart demanded I push forward and keep driving.

So, I did.

And as I drove through the night toward an uncertain future, with Lido snoring at my side, I couldn’t help but do a lot of thinking.

I thought about Grace and Lucy, about Sid and Ricky.

How, had I not chosen to become friends with either of them, I’d still be taking care of my little sisters today.

Because I never would’ve trusted anyone to do the job other than the two men I’d inadvertently chosen to take my place.

And though I might not have been thrilled about it initially, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I thought about Lizzie and Jane and all the time I’d wasted on missing them when I could’ve been watching them become the young women they now were.

But regret was nothing but a waste of time in itself, and all I could do was bask in the gratitude of knowing them now.

Of being given another chance to rekindle a bond that never should’ve been broken in the first place.

I thought about Maxwell Benjamin Meyer, the grandfather I never knew I had, and the children he had raised—Carol, Jack, and my birth mother, Lilly.

There were so many questions I had about the woman who had birthed me, about the family who’d wanted to keep me, and I had to hope he could give me answers.

And if he couldn’t … well, I hoped I could find the peace to live with those questions unanswered.

But either way, I looked forward to getting to know him, and as that excitement grew, I fantasized about the possibility of making memories I had never thought possible.

Happy holidays.

Relaxed family dinners.

Comfortable conversation.

God, it sounded almost too good to be true, but I wanted it.

And I wanted Lucy and Grace to be there too.

I wanted him to know them all and love them all, and if he didn’t, could I find it in me to still want him?

I wasn’t sure. But I thought about that, too, and I thought and I thought and I thought, until …

I thought about Dad.

I thought about him most of all and how glad I was to have gotten the last nine months with him.

They hadn’t been great, no—hell, I wasn’t sure they'd been at all good. But it was something. It had been ours. And while I knew I was never going to pardon him for how he had treated me for most of my life, I was grateful for the opportunity to have cared for him. I was glad that he’d given that to me instead of turning his back and insisting on living out his days in a facility.

And I was glad that he had cared enough for me as an infant to keep me alive.

“Still not forgiving you though, you rotten fucking bastard,” I muttered, letting my eyes drift toward the horizon for a moment as I slowed to a stop at a red light.

The night was nearly pitch-black in this industrial, waterfront part of town, wherever the hell I was, but somewhere off in the distance, beyond the docks and the piers and the calm waters below, I spotted a beam of light.

Blinking through the darkness and reassuring with every pass. Calling out, calling me home.

Home.

I’d hardly known the meaning of the word. Anytime I’d ever gotten accustomed to such a thing, I was once again thrown out into the frozen, frigid world to suffer, just as my first love had the night she died. It was what I’d always thought I deserved when she hadn’t deserved it at all, but …

Fuck that.

I had once said there wasn’t a reason good enough for Laura to not be here, and ten years later, I still stood by that.

But I’d also been right when I said there was a reason I still was.

And I had figured that out the moment Melanie stumbled out of the cold in the middle of the cemetery.

A blink in the distance told me to go to her, to stop lingering, to stop simply existing and finally live , and as the traffic light turned green, I smiled.

Because that was exactly what I planned to do.

All I needed was for her to open the door and let me in.

***

My hands held to the wheel in a white-knuckled grip as I stared out the window at a house so unfamiliar yet it somehow felt every bit like hers.

There was her silver SUV in the driveway. A bright, wintry wreath hanging on the door. A Welcome sign beside it in the shape of a cheerful, smiling snowman. The big front window was covered in sheer sunshiny-yellow curtains, and it glowed with the flickering of a television inside.

It emitted a warmth I hadn’t known since my life with Laura and the girls.

When I’d watch her sway in the kitchen as she cooked, cradling her growing belly and humming along to whatever song she was playing while Lizzie and Jane helped her in one way or another, and I’d just stand back in the doorway, proud to call something so beautiful and wonderful mine.

My life had been so gray and dull without them, and somehow, I hadn’t realized, until Melanie brought a rainbow of life and color.

“What if she doesn’t want me?” I thought aloud.

Lido moaned in reply, resting his chin on my shoulder. His tongue slithered from his mouth to give my neck a little lick.

“Well, I know you want me,” I grumbled, lifting my hand to ruffle his ear. “But you don’t have a choice. Who would feed you?”

He sighed, blowing a gust of breath toward my ear, and I answered with a sigh of my own.

Is that her watching TV? I wondered. What is she watching?

A driving force urged me to walk through that door and join her, to make myself at home without so much as an invitation. But that was crazy, and I was terrified, and I couldn’t get my fingers to unwrap themselves from this damn wheel.

Lido huffed again and slumped onto the seat. I could barely make out his form in the darkness, but I could feel him, and despite the heat emanating from his body, his fur was growing cold.

“Go,” I could hear Laura say. “I didn’t wait forever, and neither should you.”

“But you were young,” I replied silently, seeking the solace of Lido’s fur.

“And you’re alone,” she countered. “It’s okay. You know it is. For once in your life, Max, stop dragging your feet.”

“I wish I had told you her name.” The thought sprang to my mind unexpectedly, and my lips pulled between my teeth as a heavy weight sat against my chest. I wish I had told you about her.

“I know.”

“I was afraid of upsetting you. But I'm sorry I didn't.”

“I know, and it's okay.”

“I’m going to go now.”

“I know you are.”

“I promise to love you forever.”

“I know you will.”

With a deep breath, I swallowed the past, letting it burrow deep within my soul, where it would stay forever, warm and safe. Then I rolled down Lido's window, unbuckled my seat belt, and pushed the door open.

“Stay, boy,” I told him before closing it behind me. “Stay. I won’t be long.”

With determination, I pushed forward, rounding the front of the truck and hurrying across the street, up the driveway, past her SUV, and up the steps.

The stained-glass window within the door did little to give away the interior of the house, but the multifaceted glimpse welcomed me with refracted rainbows and whispered promises.

So, I raised my fist, ready to knock, when a gentle breeze and a tinkling melody grabbed my attention.

Turning my head, I spotted the lighthouse wind chime hanging from the awning above the door, and with that sweet little tune came the faintest scent of cigarettes.

“Huh,” I muttered, all at once aware of the pack of smokes and lighter still nestled in my pocket.

Return them , my mind called of its own accord.

And without another second to think, I knocked.

Then I waited, and I hoped, and I worried that this entire stupid thing had been nothing more than the pathetic dream of a sad, lonely, broken man. A silly delusion, derived from a few nights of great sex and a twenty-year-long crush.

It seemed like minutes had gone by when the sconce beside the door turned on, casting a soft glow over the wind chime. It played a gentle tune with another passing breeze, and I held my breath as the door was unlocked and opened.

Melanie stood there on the other side, clutching the doorknob. Her lips parted, and her eyes widened as she pressed her body against the doorjamb and exhaled deeply, her shoulders slumping.

She opened her mouth, only to release a small, unintelligible sound. I tipped my head, confused, and she waved a hand in the air before covering her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut as tears slipped from between her lashes.

She swallowed against a sob and swayed on her socked feet. In a hurry, I laid my hands on her shoulders, keeping her steady.

This wasn't at all how I’d expected it to go as her cries escalated to wails, and I pulled her against my chest. She balled her fists and leaned into me, her tears muffled against my coat.

I held my arms around her, leaning my chin against the top of her head as I tried to control her trembling while finding it impossible to steady my own.

Her arms slid around my waist as her cries ebbed with the tide in my heart. She rested her cheek against my chest and took a deep, cleansing breath.

I looked over her head into the house. Their bags—still packed—were beside a flight of stairs.

The sounds of the TV drifted outside. The combined scents of a cinnamon-infused candle and food—pizza maybe—wafted toward my nose, and my stomach growled, reminding me I hadn't eaten in hours.

Small shoes were lying in a pile next to the door, toys were scattered around the floor, and the couch was draped with a rumpled blanket, looking used and worn and every bit as welcoming.

The entire image before me beckoned, whispering tantalizing promises I longed to cling to.

This was a home, full of love and life, and I craved to call it and the people inside mine more than I had ever craved anything before.

She just needed to tell me she wanted this as much as I did, and I would live the rest of my life serving her and her boys with the same strength I'd used to serve my country.

I would work for them, fight for them, protect them, do anything they needed me to do for them …

She just needed to invite me in.

Her weight leaned against me, her breaths steady and sure. I remembered that night twenty years in the distant past, when all I had wished for were things to be different. For her to be single. For me to be free to stay.

“If things were different,” I heard her say, the look of desperate longing alight in her eyes.

“If they were,” I had replied, and I'd thought about that all this time later. If they were, if they were, if they were …

Look at all that wouldn't have happened.

Laura. The girls. The sunrises and the house on the water.

Those three beautiful, incredible boys inside this house.

We would've missed out on so much life and experience.

We would've missed this . This undeniable certainty that all we'd ever gone through was all meant to lead us back to each other, to a time when there was nothing left to do than simply be .

With one last sigh, Melanie took a step back to bring her gaze back to mine.

She didn't smile, just stared, and I stared back, wondering what she was thinking about, wondering where she went in those moments, as the lighthouse played its brassy tune and the odd, abrupt scent of cigarettes mingled with the cinnamon drifting out from the confines of her home.

Her bottom lip wriggled, and she clamped it between her teeth, regaining control as she took a deep breath.

Then she seemed to nod as she took one, two steps backward, never taking her eyes from mine as a smile spread across her lips.

She pressed her back against the door, opening it wider and wider until the path inside was clear.

And she tipped her head, nudging in a silent request I heard loud and clear.

With only one thing left to do, I raised my fingers to my mouth and whistled until I heard my four-legged best friend jump from the open window of my truck.

He ran across the street, up the driveway, and straight into the house like he owned the place.

I guessed it was because he knew exactly what I already knew myself to be true.

There wasn't any room left for reluctance. Not when we were invited in.

Not when we were finally, finally home.