Page 56 of Wreck Me

“What was it you said about their meaning? The delicate and the grotesque?”

She swiveled her good eye to look at him in some astonishment.He remembered her exact words?She nodded. “I believe I also called them omens of death, so hopefully that’s not what that one was.”

“As long as Mick isn’t here to play people-bowling, there shouldn’t be any mortal woundings today.”

This time they both laughed, hers an airy giggle, and his a deep rumble. It seeped into her soul and instantly settled it, theway a good long walk in the woods did, or a weighted blanket, or a successful day of home repairs.

Home repairs?He was the reason she no longer had a home to repair!

With her eyeball no longer screaming ‘invader!’ at her, she was more aware of her surroundings, which, in this case, was Nico. His scent, his heat,his Nico-nessencircled her fully. Too fully. She could probably use the excuse of her ailing eye to sink into his arms one last time, feel that amazing combination of steadiness and softness. How she longed for it, but no. She continued walking, pulling her arm from his in the process.

After a few more steps, she was high enough to begin to see the plot she now owned. There was the ocean far below. There was the small boulder that had aided in nearly merging her forever with the landscape. There were the two majestic orange wingback chairs that…

Ginny froze mid-step. “Are those…?”

“The very ones. Check them out.”

He didn’t need to invite her. She was already quick stepping toward them like a kid with the key to a candy shop. “They’re just like in the pictures!”

He barked a laugh that echoed to the next ridge over. “Theyarethe ones in the pictures.”

Ginny ran her hand along their backs, feeling the cut velvet upholstery and taking in the richness of the color. She’d thought they were straight up orange, but they were a glorious, subtle burnt orange. It wasn’t like her to be so attracted to furniture, but she’d been searching for these for five fruitless years, and they were even more beautiful in person than she had imagined. She gasped as a terrible thought struck her. “But is your mom…?”

He'd caught up with her and was standing a few feet behind the chairs. “Mom’s fine. The chairs are on loan for the day.Though someday I promise they’ll be yours if you still want them.”

Ginny crouched down, admiring their carved, lion paw feet. “Look at the detail. A master made these.”

“I wish I knew where my mother got them. She doesn’t remember any more, of course. But one thing we do know is—they’ll look great inyour house.”

His emphasis on the words “your house” caught Ginny’s attention, and not in a good way. She sent him an arched brow. “What house?”

A grin spread across his chiseled features as he made a palms-up, swiping gesture. “Look around. Are the chairs the only new thing here?”

Feeling disconcerted, Ginny slowly straightened and gazed about. She’d been laser-focused on the chairs, but she noticed now that a tidy, two-inch deep and six-inch wide trench was dug into the dirt about ten feet in front of her. Following the line with her eye, she saw that the trench turned left, ran straight for a bit, and then branched off, with the first section continuing straight and the other heading at a ninety-degree angle due north. The new line was met by additional shallow trenches, while the outer line made a large rectangle. Like ancient hieroglyphs on hillsides, something about the lines and shapes rang mental bells.

The smile melted from her face as she realized both what this was and its utter cruelty. “This is the outline of my house and its walls! Is this a joke? Did you bring me here just to upset me?”

“No, I?—”

He sounded panicked rather than triumphant, but the door in her heart that had been trying to creak open slammed shut anyway. “I’m leaving.”

“Wait!Pleasedon’t go. Give me that one minute. If you’re still upset after I explain, I promise you can push me right off the cliff.”

Ginny dropped into the right-hand chair but kept her gaze on the sea and hills. “Your terms are acceptable.”

Nico sat gingerly in the other chair. “I brought you here to see if you would not only accept my apology in the form of this lot, but let me make amends, true amends. If you agree, I will rebuild your house, right here on your lot, exactly as it was or with any changes you want. You get final say on everything. It will be one hundred percent your house.”

Though earlier she had wished for a breeze, she was now grateful for the still air. The lightest puff would have knocked her sideways. “Rebuild it?”

“It’s the least we can do.”

“We? Your brother agrees?”

“Absolutely. He feels terrible too about what happened, though the fault was all mine. I hadn’t told him about our cookout, or your injury, or mom’s visit – any of that. He didn’t know we’d agreed to move the house. I’m always telling him he needs to take more initiative. Unfortunately, he followed my advice this time.”

Sadie spied a single gull flying high overhead. “I’m guessing rebuilding the house was Vince’s idea then, and you reluctantly agreed?”

“It was my idea but believe me when I say that I would have agreed to anything. I’ve been tormented by what happened, by what I did. At first, I thought it was a mix of guilt and pain about my dad – what you said about me trying to erase him by erasing the house. I figured I’d give you the lot and we’d be even. And if we weren’t, well, that’s life, that’s?—"

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