Page 36 of Loving You Always

“I’m supposed to trust that you…that she—” He stopped, breathing through his nose and out through his mouth once, a huff of anxious air that deflated his chest. “Okay. You’ll let me know if she’s not healing right? If she needs anything? Financially, medically—anything?”

“She won’t need anything.”

“You will let me know.” He bolstered the words with a stony glare that set terms of his own.

“I’ll let you know. She does care about you, you know.”

That was a crumb, a bone thrown, an insult to what he had with Kerris.

“Shecaredabout me the day she married my best friend, so forgive me for not putting much stock in that.” Walsh’s bitterness and regret popped out like a jack-in-the-box. He tried to tuck them both neatly away before continuing in a more even voice. “Do we have a deal, or what?”

“And you won’t contact her until I contact you?”

“This won’t work.”

“Walsh, you let her do the work on herself now, or sign up for a lifetime of trouble.”

Walsh stiffened, his nervous movements slowing to nothing. There was that word—that elusive word he’d never thought would ever apply to him and Kerris.

“Did you say ‘a lifetime’?”

“If you play your cards right, maybe.” Mama Jess rationed a tiny smile for the first time since he had banged on the door.

With just a nod and without another word, Walsh stood and walked down the porch steps toward the dark Mercedes idling in the driveway, his pace not rushed despite the rain pelting his head and shoulders. He’d forgotten Uncle James was even waiting. His tunnel vision had blocked that out. Blocked out the fight with Cam. Blocked out Jo’s disapproval and disappointment. Single-mindedness had possessed him, but he came back to himself with every step he took away from the cottage and toward the car.

Kerris had months of rehab ahead of her, and probably needed some therapy for all she’d been through, Amalie and Cam notwithstanding. The road ahead of her for the foreseeable future was rough, and more than anything, Walsh wanted to walk it with her. But he got it. She needed to do this alone. He made a promise to himself, and even though she couldn’t hear it, a promise to the girl behind that door. This would be the last time he walked away from her. After this, never again.

After this, she owed him a lifetime.

Chapter Twelve

Walsh stood on the steps of theotherhouse where he had grown up. This one, a three-story townhome in TriBeCa, had stood empty since his parents’ divorce. Walsh had loved growing up in New York City, just as much, if not more than, he’d loved growing up in Rivermont.

Martin came down the stairs and into the foyer to face Walsh.

“Thanks for coming, son.”

Remembering what he was here for, Walsh reached inside his suit jacket pocket for the small bag he’d retrieved from Uncle James to pass on to his father.

“No, problem, Dad. From the estate.” Walsh extended the bag, watching his father’s features twist with pain before shuttering into the aloof mask he usually wore. “I was surprised you chose to meet here instead of the office.”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about a few other things.” Martin almost reluctantly took the bag. “And this seemed like the best place to do it.”

Walsh considered the gleaming hardwood floors, the wide windows, the curving staircase. He had slid down that banister, much to his mother’s horror.

“I haven’t been here since…wow, since the divorce.”

“Me either, very much. I’m at the apartment most of the time. I’m considering selling.”

“Selling the house?” Walsh was surprised by the tight lurch of his stomach. “Why would you do that?”

“You just said it. You haven’t been here since the divorce, and neither have I. The better question is why haven’t I sold it yet.”

Martin glanced at the bag in his hands, denting his forehead with a frown. He turned his back to Walsh, walking over to look out the window to the street, running his index finger along the silk rope holding the ends of the velvet bag closed. Martin shook his head, clearing his throat and turning to glance at Walsh.

“I fucked up, Walsh.”

Walsh wanted to rush over and clamp his hand over his father’s mouth, stopping him from going any further, even though he longed to hear what he would disclose.

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