want to be alone.” He’d been alone most of his life and he’d been fine, but lately, being with Julie, made it harder and harder to consider being without her.
She studied him for a few long seconds, her face serious, and she finally nodded. “Yeah, I just need to get my books. I’ll be right back.” She limped into the bedroom and came back a minute later with her arms full. She sat in the corner of the sofa and got situated. Troy took the spot next to her, glad to have her presence with something so important in his hands.
Part of him felt guilty for intruding on his mother’s most private thoughts, and Troy had a good sense of what might be in these pages because he’d lived with the same fear and pain as she had. Though the boy in him didn’t want to relive any of that life, the detective, the man that wanted answers and solved puzzles, had to know the truth.
The owl hooted again outside and the sound seemed like a warning.
Troy intended to start at the beginning, he really did, but the book appeared to open itself to a spot closer to the middle. One sentence jumped out at him from the top of the page. It made his heart skip, his breath stop. It changed his life forever.
...if he finds out about Troy’s real father.
A wave of chills lifted the hair on his neck.
* * *
Julie couldn’t help but notice Troy’s reaction to something in the diary. He froze. His eyes widened, then narrowed as he scanned the page. Then he flipped back a page looking for something before he flipped forward again, his expression even more dark and serious than usual.
It was the shock in his eyes that cut straight to her heart. Knowing that something upset him made her ache. But he didn’t say anything and she didn’t want to pry. It was personal. She wouldn’t grill him even though that’s exactly what she was dying to do.
He moved off the sofa, concentrated on the words in the book, obviously scanning then going back through the same few pages. Forward and back. Finally he went to the beginning and started reading, his back to her as he stood at the slider doors, as if the smallest thing might have him running for his life.
What was she supposed to do? Pretend as if she didn’t know something was terribly wrong? Concentrating on researching her character was a joke. But still, Troy didn’t move. Not for more than ten minutes. Finally, he took a seat at the table in the dining area off the kitchen.
Julie kept her eyes on the cross-cultural psychology book, but the words didn’t register as she debated what to do. She forced herself to read the text. It took fifteen minutes to read the first page, which consisted of only three paragraphs. Battling the urge to close the book and ask Troy questions, she continued with her research. An hour and a half later, when she finished for the night, Troy was still buried in his mother’s diary, the same dark expression on his face. It was late. Nearly ten and they hadn’t eaten so Julie went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Cooking had never been her strong suit, but she felt obligated to make something. It wasn’t as if she could call for a pizza in this small town.
Though it was summer, the temperature had dropped and the air had cooled significantly, so Julie picked something easy and appropriate for the mood. Grilled cheese and canned soup. It took only a few minutes to get everything ready. She took it all to the table.
“I thought you might be ready for something to eat,” she said pouring him a glass of water from a pitcher she’d found in the kitchen.
He barely glanced up. “Yeah, thanks.”
Okay. Well, she was starving, so she wolfed down her soup and sandwich in minutes, and when Troy had still made no move to eat she got up, rinsed her dishes and stuck them in the dishwasher. It didn’t take a genius to see where the rest of the night was headed. She couldn’t really turn on the TV because she didn’t want to disturb him. Maybe she should just turn in. She was tired.
She stopped behind him and set her hands on his shoulders. “I’m going to call it a night.”
“Okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” But his head never