She pressed her body to mine as her lips touched my cheek, then my neck. “You’re sweet for being so worried though.”
“Someone has to worry about you,” I muttered, burying my nose in her hair and taking a deep breath. “And Noah.”
“We’re fine,” she assured me as her fingers tangled in my hair and curled to grip the back of my neck. “As long as you’re here, I know we’re fine. And if I’m not worried, you shouldn’t be either.”
Resignation didn’t come easily, but I pretended as I sighed and nodded. The bathroom door opened, telling us that Noah was done in the shower. Ray released me from her grasp and kissed my lips before heading in the direction of his room.
I helped myself to some dinner and sat at the table as the sickening churn of foreboding made itself at home in my gut. The fork poked around at the ravioli, blazing trails through a sea of sauce, while I thought about Ray and her willingness to trust despite the hell she’d been through. How could my presence alone give her so much confidence in that asshole staying gone?
“He must’ve been exhausted,” Ray said, breaking through my thoughts. “He told me about his time at Jay’s house and could barely keep his eyes open.”
I glanced up to watch her approach. “Yeah, he had a good time,” I agreed, nodding. Then, I held her gaze firmly in a proverbial grasp and said, “Ray, please do me a favor and promise you’ll keep that door locked whenever you’re here.”
Her eyes filled with an exhausted disdain toward my paranoia, but neither of us could prove whether it was simply unfounded worry or a premonition. So, she relented with a reluctant nod.
“Okay. I promise.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll get you a key, so you can let yourself in when you want.”
She said it like it was as obvious as the sky being blue, but the impact of the statement struck my heart with warmth. It said, You belong here. It said, I’m in this for the long haul.
And as I abandoned my ravioli to kiss her and pick her up and take her to bed, I found I’d not only forgotten about the door—now closed and secured with the lock—but also my nerves over seeing Billy’s mom.
But after we made love and Ray fell asleep and I had to head back home to feed Eleven, the worry was back in full swing to control my brain for the rest of the night, leaving me unable to sleep or focus on my book. And all I could think was, Man, I really wish I had that TV now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A GOOD MAN
Billy’s mom was already sitting at a table in the middle of Black & Brewed when I arrived at River Canyon's only coffee shop. Rearranging the napkins on the table, crossing one leg over the other and back again, she was fidgeting uneasily, and I was the anxious creep, watching her discreetly from the big picture window at the front of the shop.
I was already worried about this meeting. The paranoia of what she might say had kept me up all night, and I had dragged my feet through the workday in tense anticipation over facing her again. But now, seeing that she was just as nervous, with her foot jittering as it dangled over her right knee, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go inside at all. I could text her and apologize, lie and say something else had come up. I could carry on with my life, never spending another moment in her presence, and I'd probably be okay with that. Only probably though, but the odds were good. We had left things at a happy place the last time we saw each other, so why push my luck?
With my mind made up, I began to back away from the window, ready to retreat home, where it was safe and secure. Eleven needed to eat, I needed to shower, Ray would be home soon, and she'd be making dinner. Yes, it was a good plan. It was a comfortable plan …
But David Stratton. What about that? Don't you want to know what Billy's mom has to say about him?
“Fucking hell,” I muttered through gritted teeth just as Officer Kinney's heavily tattooed brother, Ryan, walked by.
“Ya all right?” he asked, raising a brow at my clenched fists and stiff jaw.
“Yeah, sorry.” I ran my fingers through my hair, hoping I looked presentable enough. “It's just been a long day.”
“I hear ya.” He clapped a hand against my shoulder. “Hope it gets better.”
“Thanks.” I mustered a half-hearted smile as he walked away, and when he was out of earshot, I muttered, “Unlikely.”
No, no, no …
I gave my head a quick shake and uncurled my fists. Why was I being like this? I had absolutely no idea what Billy's mom had to say. I knew she wanted to do it here, away from the town our lives had both changed in, but that didn't really mean anything, did it? Maybe it was simply that she didn't want the risk of someone who had known him—Levi maybe—to get wind of her gossip, which was understandable, wasn't it?
So, with the assuredness that this was going to be in fact fine, I propelled my feet forward before I could talk myself out of it again. The door pushed open easily to greet me with the music of River Canyon's famous Devin O'Leary and the Blue Existence, and there was Billy's mom, springing to her feet to greet me.
“Soldier, hi.” Her hands lifted as I approached, and I let her press her palms to my cheeks. “You look tired. Are you okay?”
God … her compassionate soul wrapped around mine like a rediscovered old blanket, and I fought the urge to close my eyes and weep under its comfort.
How starved I had been for maternal affection. I’d never noticed until being in her presence again, and I remembered all over again how desperately I’d wished she could’ve been my mom instead.
“I didn't get much sleep last night, but I'm okay.”
“You're sure? Are you sick?”
No, just terrified.
“Really, I'm okay,” I repeated with a reassuring smile. “Thanks for coming all the way out here.”
She returned the smile and let it linger on her lips for a moment or two as she studied my appearance, a veil of nostalgia and sadness falling over her gaze. I swallowed, strangely uncomfortable now under her studious stare. I smiled uneasily, glancing away toward purple-haired Kylie behind the counter, when Billy’s mom began to speak.
“Some days, it’s easy to forget he ever existed outside of a dream, just to get by, and it feels like he was never really mine,” she admitted, her voice nothing but a whisper below the sound of John Mayer, now playing over the speakers. “But somehow, seeing you and remembering you two as little boys, I know he was real. Because if you can exist in those memories and now here, in the real world, then … I know he must’ve existed at one point too. I just wish I could have seen him like this, like … like you.” She swallowed as her eyes drowned. “All grown up …”
My throat was choked with an uncomfortable emotion, and I glanced back at her with pleading eyes. “Mrs. Port—”
“Please, call me Laura.”
Then, she laughed, brushing away her grief-driven confession. She sat and gestured toward the chair across from hers.
“This place is lovely,” Laura commented, lifting her hand and gaze to address the shop and its exposed beams and dark woodwork. “Really, the whole town is. I honestly don't think I've ever been out this way before, but it's very nice. Quaint.”