When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys #2) - Emma Scott Page 0,104

shook his head. “Christ, don’t say that, River.”

“Why? Because there was an accident? I know you think it was your fault—”

“Wasn’t it? You wouldn’t have been on that road if it hadn’t been for me.”

“I wouldn’t have a lot of what I have now if it weren’t for you. But I know you don’t believe me, and I don’t have time to stand here arguing with you about it. Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Just come.”

“River—”

I moved close to him, as close as I dared. “Do this for me. I know you want to take off and…disappear. Don’t. Not yet.”

Holden held my gaze, longing burning deep in his green eyes. “Okay.”

We drove back to my house, Holden following behind in the sedan. I waited for him in the driveway as he walked up slowly, glancing around.

“What are we doing?” he asked as I led him into my house.

I took his hand in mine. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

He stopped, pulled back. “River, no…”

“Please,” I said, tears blurring my vision. “Please.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw and he nodded.

We took the stairs up to the master bedroom. Holden gripped my hand tightly as I opened the door. Dazia was there with Mom. They both looked up as we came in, their eyes widening.

“Hey, Daz,” I said. “Where are Dad and Amelia?”

“Getting pizza for dinner. They needed a drive. Aaaand I just remembered I have to make a call.”

She smiled gently and went out. The two people I loved most in the world were finally in the same room.

“Hey, Mom, this is Holden Parish.”

She smiled, something like recognition lighting her eyes though she’d never seen him before. Her gaze went to our clasped hands, then back to us, and her smile widened.

“Hello, Holden. It is so very lovely to meet you. At long last.”

“You too, Mrs. Whitmore,” Holden said gruffly.

“Nancy, please.”

“Holden is my boyfriend,” I said. “We’ve been seeing each other since…well…?”

“Homecoming?” Mom asked with a sly smile. She appraised the two of us and shook her head. “Gee, River,” she teased. “You couldn’t find someone the least bit handsome? Not even a little?”

Holden dropped his head, a laugh or a cry hitching in his throat.

I swallowed and held Holden’s hand tighter in mine. “You once asked me about my heart, Mom. How you wanted it to be beating and alive and full. Now it is. With him. And no matter what happens, I’ve been happy.” I looked to Holden. “I have.”

Holden shook his head at me, his eyes full.

The room was thick with love and pain, grief and hope.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Mom said gently.

I nudged him. “She’s talking to you.”

He blinked, surprised, and I hated how long he’d gone without knowing the love of a mother that he couldn’t recognize it when he heard it.

She’ll love him too. Always.

Holden approached my mother and she took his hand that had been in mine.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I haven’t done anything…” His voice was thick.

“You make my son happy. That’s a gift. The greatest gift I’ll ever receive.”

Holden shook his head, shoulders trembling.

“Oh, honey.”

Mom extended her thin arms to him, and to my shock, Holden bent and put his around her. She held him, and I saw her eyes close against his shoulder.

After a few moments, he stood up stiffly. “My apologies. I usually have more personality than this.” He wiped his eyes and smoothed his coat. “It was extraordinary to meet you, Nancy, but if you’ll excuse me…”

He strode out, shooting me a tear-filled look as he passed.

“He’s beautiful,” Mom said.

“He’s a handful,” I said. “But I love him. I wish I’d told you sooner.”

“You told me. That’s all that matters.” She held her arms to me and I hugged her carefully, inhaling her, begging my cells to remember what this felt like. “I love you, River.”

“Love you, Mom.” Tears choked my throat and burned my eyes.

She took me by the shoulders, mindful of my injury. “Go. He’s waiting for you.”

“He might not stay. I’m losing both of you.”

“You aren’t losing me, honey. Please don’t forget that.” Then she smiled, so beautiful in her happiness. “And he’s not gone yet. There’s always hope.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

I paced the hallway outside the Whitmore’s bedroom until River came out, shutting the door quietly behind him.

I whirled on him. “Why did you do that?”

“You know why.”

I stared, the Alaskan cold chewing up and spitting out the warmth I’d had from being in Nancy Whitmore’s presence for only a few minutes.

“Jesus, River, you bring me into that room? With your