Page 83 of The Lightkeeper

Instead, I paused in the doorway and said low, “I don’t know, Frankie. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Maybe the answer wasn’t anything, but from the look on her face, maybe it was everything. Maybe the shift from believing there was nothing I could do to being unsure what I was going to do was the biggest change there was.

And maybe that was why she helped me load the rest of the boxes into my truck without any more questions.

When I returned to the lighthouse, Frankie’s car was gone, and I didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried. Sure, there’d be no more questions, but that meant I was alone again and not with my own thoughts, but with hers.

Give us the chance to fight for you.

She would’ve fought for you.

She loves you.

“Fuck,” I muttered,pushed open the door, and stopped just inside the threshold.“What the…”

My paints were strewn across the living room like someone had riffled through every bottle to get to the ones at the very bottom, and as I did a slow turn through the room, I realized why.

The bright colors were at the bottom. The bold colors.The brave ones.Reds and yellows and oranges and purples. The colors of the brightest dawn.

I took in the slashes of those brave colors painted over the brown and faded wallpaper inside the house, the wordsChasingDawnpainted with my sister’s commanding strokes over and over and over again.

Chasing Dawn.

Chasing the light.

Chasing Aurora.

Maybe I did know what to do after all.

Chapter Twenty

Aurora

“Dad?”I called when I heard something clatter to the ground.

When the muffled curse followed, I pushed out of my seat and rushed to the kitchen where I’d thought he’d gone for a glass of water. Instead, I found him in front of the pantry closet, climbing on a step stool, a plastic spice jar rolling on the floor where it had fallen.

“What are you doing?” I exclaimed and grabbed his arm, forcefully guiding him back down.

“I needed a new jar of jam for my toast,” he huffed, moving aside to let me get it for him. “I’m not an invalid, Aurora.”

No, Richard Cross was a lot of things—stubborn, thoughtful, independent—but invalid was very last on the list.

He’d recovered phenomenally from his heart attack and subsequent surgery. I couldn’t believe that he was ready to go home only three days after it happened, with only a handful of diet and exertion restrictions. It was probably why I’d overdone it, playing nursemaid to the point of annoyance, but I’d almost losthim.And I was desperately trying to avoid thinking about the other man I did lose.

“You just had a triple bypass last week, and your doctors told you to take it easy.” I picked the jar from the top shelf, the weight of it—the feel of it achingly familiar in my hands.

I didn’t have to look—probably shouldn’t have—to see that it was Maine Blueberry jam from Stonebar Farms.

“Aurora?”

“When did you start buying this?” I asked thickly, like it mattered.

“Well, after you mentioned meeting the owners in Friendship, it caught my eye in the store, so I decided to try it. Pretty darn good stuff.” He smiled at me, the white scruff of his beard coming in thicker since he hadn’t shaved in a few days.

My throat tightened, and I nodded, too afraid to speak. Dad would know in an instant something was wrong. As it was, it was only because of my worry over him and his health that I was able to hide the pain of a broken heart.

I’d never… not been smart.

---