Page 17

Jules

T he last time I stood on the stoop of my grandfather’s estate—terrified to go inside—was when I finally managed to get away from my captor and make my way back home.

I’d stood here, tears in my eyes, so scared to face the man who raised me.

Odie had been the first one to find me. He’d told me that I should have just stayed gone because all I was going to do was “break the old man’s heart all over again.” I still remember the joy that I’d felt at seeing him again… and the crushing pain when he’d looked at me with disgust.

Tears burn in the corners of my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. Instead, I clench my hands into fists at my sides and let that sadness turn into anger. Anger, I can manage. Sadness will take me to a dark place I never want to be again.

“Are you doing okay?” Riley asks me.

He’s standing on my left side, Romeo beside him.

The dog was silent on the private plane ride over here and still doesn’t make a sound even as he sits beside his owner.

The minor closeness we’d found over the last two days is gone.

I’d pushed him away, craved distance because he was getting too close.

It’s probably good Odie called. Otherwise, I might have spilled all of my secrets to a man I barely know.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with. There’s a spare key underneath that pot,” I tell him, gesturing to the planter with hydrangeas that are now dying.

Not that I’m surprised. Odie never saw the point in plants that didn’t serve a purpose.

Or people. Taking a deep breath, I shove those thoughts down and wait as Riley lifts the pot with one arm and retrieves the key.

After replacing the planter, he steps forward and unlocks the door.

As soon as it swings open, an assault of fresh anger washes over me. The place is trashed. Glass from photographs that once hung on the wall has been broken all over the tile floor.

The plants my grandfather had inside have been ripped from their pots, the dirt left on the floor.

“I take it the house didn’t look like this the last time you were here?” he asks.

“No. I can’t believe Odie didn’t bother to put it back. My grandfather was so neat. He loved order. Organization.” I step inside, my shoes crunching on the glass.

Riley bends and lifts his dog. “I don’t want him cutting his paws,” he says when he sees me watching. “I left his boots in the truck.”

“He has boots?”

He nods. “So do we.”

I smile despite the mess in my heart. “Fair enough. What do you want to see first?”

“His bedroom,” Riley replies.

“Not the study?”

He shakes his head. “The police would have combed the scene. They likely checked the bedroom too, but it would have been less thorough.”

“Okay. Bedroom it is. Right this way, Mr. Hunt.” I move further into the house, recalling the way it looked on the morning of his death.

“You need to eat,” I tell my grandfather as I place a plate of eggs in front of him. He folds the newspaper and smiles up at me, the corners of his green eyes crinkling.

“I’m in no shape to starve anytime soon.”

“Not true. You’re withering away right before my eyes,” I reply with a smile as I sit down beside him, my own plate in front of me.

“Girl, you take such good care of me. Don’t you ever get bored of this old man? Don’t you want to find love of your own?”

If only he knew how terrifying it is to even think about letting anyone that close to me again. “Nope. I never get tired of taking care of you.”

“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” he replies with a kind smile then bows his head. “Lord, we thank You for this food. Please let it nourish our bodies and guide our steps as we move through the day. In the name of Jesus, we pray. Amen.”

“Amen,” I reply, feeling that pang of emptiness that I do whenever we pray or talk about God. It’s not that I don’t believe; it’s that I’m too far gone for grace. That chance left a long time ago. Something Odie never fails to remind me of.

The front door opens. “Grandfather, are you here?” Odie’s voice carries through the house, and nerves twist in my gut.

“In the dining room,” he calls out.

I take a deep breath. One day, Odie and I will work through the past—I hope. But I doubt today will be that day.

Odie steps into the room, the same disappointed expression he always wears on his face. “Jules,” he greets.

“Hey, big brother.” I smile, but he just shifts his attention from me to our grandfather.

“I need to talk to you about some stuff with that organization you asked me to look into. Find Me?”

“Find Me? What’s that?” I ask, turning to my grandfather.

“Nothing you need to be worried about,” Odie replies. “Can we talk in private?”

My grandfather’s expression is so saddened. So torn as he looks between me and Odie.

I force a smile. “I’m done anyway.” I collect my plate and get to my feet. “It was good to see you, Odie.”

“Yeah,” he replies, taking my seat without even looking in my direction.

The dining room looks exactly the same as it did that morning. Apparently, whoever tossed the house didn’t think they’d find anything worthwhile in what was always the heart of the home.

I run my fingers over the back of my grandfather’s chair, noting the thin layer of dust that has already formed. Why didn’t Odie at least have someone come in and clean? Is he haunted by what happened here too?

The drying rack in the kitchen still holds the skillet I cooked eggs in that morning, and the coffee pot still contains dark liquid—though it now has a thin layer of fuzzy mold growing over the top.

I can’t do this. Closing my eyes, I rest both palms against the kitchen counter and take a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, Grandfather,” I whisper to the empty house as the hole in my soul expands.

After a few minutes, I force my attention back to the house. Riley is already upstairs, going through Grandfather’s things, and if my room is still intact, I’ll be able to grab some clothes and a black dress for the funeral tomorrow.

My abdomen hurts, though the pain is somewhat lessened today, making movements a whole lot easier. Though, as I ascend the stairs, I grip the baluster to steady myself as I climb toward the second floor.

When I reach the top of the stairs, I avoid looking to the left where my grandfather’s study is. Instead, I walk down the hall toward my bedroom, letting my gaze briefly land on the open door that leads to his bedroom.

Has Riley found anything yet?

Or is it going to be another dead end?

My door is open, and through it, I can see that it’s untouched. So, at least, there’s that.

It’s strange how everything in here looks the same when my life has been turned completely upside down. Everything is in its place—yet nothing is.

After crossing toward my closet, I pull open the doors and reach in to retrieve a black dress I wore to the funeral of my grandfather’s best friend last year. Now I’ll wear it to his. My heart breaks all over again, and I have to pause a moment to take a deep breath.

I shift my attention away from the closet then lift the book on my nightstand. A worn copy of my favorite, Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers. It’s one I reread multiple times a year.

A reminder that happy endings do sometimes exist for people who’ve made all the wrong choices. At least, they do in fiction. Real life? I’m not so sure.

“This is your room?”

I glance up at Riley as he comes into my room. Romeo trots along beside him, sniffing the ground and circling my room. “It is.”

“It’s nice.” He crosses over to a group of photographs on the wall. I should feel like he’s intruding, but having him here in my space feels right somehow. It grounds me in this moment and frees me from the onslaught of memories that have assaulted me from the second I walked in.

“Is this you and the infamous Ferris wheel birthday?” he asks, pointing to one of the photographs.

I set the book aside. The picture is one of me and my parents, all of us smiling happily in front of a Ferris wheel. My mom died a year later. “Yeah. That’s my mom and dad,” I tell him.

“You look just like your mom,” he tells me with a smile. “She’s beautiful.”

My heart does a little flip, even though I know he didn’t mean it as a flirtatious compliment but rather a kindness to ease some of my pain. “Thanks.”

“Who is this?” He points to a photograph of me when I was ten, standing beside Odie’s mom. We’d just left a pageant she entered me in, and I’d been smiling happily beside her, wearing a frilly white dress.

“My stepmom,” I tell him. “She enrolled me in beauty pageants. That was right after I won.”

“Really?” He smiles. “I didn’t take you for the beauty pageant type.”

I laugh softly. “I wasn’t. Even back then, I didn’t care for them. But they made her happy, and I loved her.”

“She was kind to you?”

“Very. Treated me like her own daughter. I remember being so scared when I first met her and Odie, yet she just welcomed me right into the family.”

“And Odie?”

“He was less than thrilled,” I admit. “But I think that had more to do with him grieving the loss of his dad. He’d passed two years before she met my father.”

Riley doesn’t respond, but I don’t miss the tension in his shoulders.

“You don’t like him.”

“Who?”

“Odie.”

Riley leans back against the wall and crosses his arms. “I told you, I don’t care for bullies,” he replies. “And Odie is a bully.”

“If you knew half of what I put him through, you’d understand.”

“ Nothing you did is worth being treated as less than a human.” Riley’s tone is low and serious. When I meet his gaze, I note it’s just as solemn.

If only you knew.

“Are you ready to see the study?”

“Only if you’re ready to show me. I need you to walk me through what happened that night. Every single detail,” he adds.

I swallow hard, a lump forming in my throat. “I can do that.”

“If it gets too hard, we can take a break, but I need to know, okay?”