Page 45 of Romeo

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.

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