explaining that, you took the suspension?”
“That’s right.”
She processed, scenting the piney aroma from the trees hugging the firepit. Nothing felt…right. Something was missing. She sat up straight, scooting to the end of her chair to face him fully. “Why are you home, Sullivan?” she asked.
His brows drew together. “You already know why. To get my head right.”
She considered all this again, but something seemed off. “I know what you told me. A bar fight led to a suspension, and you came home to deal with your past because of the fight. But to avoid all of that, all you had to do was tell the truth about what happened. So, again, why are you here?”
Their gazes held before he looked back at the fire. It seemed like he wasn’t going to answer her, but then she almost wished he hadn’t. “When I sobered up that next day at the police station, I knew I was on my way to becoming him.”
“Your father?”
“Yes,” he said slowly.
Clara’s heart squeezed painfully, her breath all but gone.
Before she could even think up a reply, he added, “Of course, not completely. I still think the guy I hit deserved it. But I realized I became the very thing I hate. I pushed all the bad shit down deep enough that I felt nothing. Just rage. Until it all exploded.” He turned his head again, torment swirling in the depths of his eyes, and said oh-so softly, “My dad did that until there was nothing left of him, until only rage lived in the spots that were once good. So, that’s why I’m here, Clara. To face the shit that makes me feel uncomfortable so that doesn’t happen to me.”
The world seemed to slow as coldness swept across her. Not knowing what to say, she looked to the fire because, just like that, the years vanished. This was the Sullivan she did know, and she, behind all the hurt and worry for Mason’s well-being, loved this man. But he was drowning in the dark misery and desperately wanted a way out, but unable to find it.
“Clara.”
His soft voice pulled her focus to his warm, gentle eyes.
“I’m sorry for leaving you the way I did.” His voice blistered. “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to be what you needed.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and nothing could stop them from rolling down her cheeks. For as long as she could remember, she’d wanted an explanation, an apology. Now she had those things, but only one truth remained: they’d both done their best in a terrible situation that no one deserved. As much as she wanted to blame Sullivan for leaving and breaking her heart, she couldn’t. Her aching heart reached for him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to help you.”
Everything around Clara vanished. The firepit gone. The trees gone. Only a deep-rooted, forgotten love remained.
At whatever crossed her expression, emotion touched Sullivan’s gaze as he reached for her hand and said softly, “Clara—”
The backdoor slamming closed snapped Clara’s hand away before Sullivan could take it. Immediately, she was hit by the smoky aroma of the fire. Unexpected heat flooded her, and she couldn’t decide if she was happy for the interruption or not.
“Who’s ready for S’mores?” Maisie asked on her way toward the firepit with Hayes by her side carrying the metal marshmallow sticks.
“Me,” Clara said, jumping out of her chair to sit next to Maisie. But, no matter the distance between them, she felt Sullivan’s heated stare, right down into her soul, begging her to come back.
7
Hours after Sullivan left, Clara tucked herself away in bed, but she couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning, feeling like she needed to hear what Sullivan had wanted to say before Maisie interrupted them. She considered calling. But that didn’t seem like enough. Instead, with Amelia keeping an eye on a sleeping Mason, Clara hopped in her car and hit the road. When she pulled into the long driveway leading to Sullivan’s apartment, the gravel crunched beneath her tires. She rolled to a stop off to the side of the weathered red building. The house to the right was bathed in darkness. Old man Bart, sound asleep.
Raw emotions led her feet as she exited the car and then headed up the steps of the barn. When she reached the worn old door, she froze, a million thoughts crossing her mind. The night lay still around her. I need to say more. I don’t hate you. I hate your father for what