he knew, when Iris wasn’t listening to fear, she would hear her own voice loud and clear. And she would know what it was she wanted.
“Thank you,” Griffin said.
“You’re my son,” he said. “And I would’ve given anything to take this from you. To take all the pain on myself.”
Griffin understood that. And he believed it.
“I know.” He shook his head. “I’ll be back again. Sooner than I was last time.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
He frowned. “Why do you let that asshole into your house?” He knew his dad knew exactly who he was talking about.
His dad sighed. “Because if I don’t, then I won’t see your sister. I wish I would have put a stop to that back when they were sixteen.”
“He’s useless.”
“She doesn’t see it yet. And like I said, fear can’t be the loudest voice.”
“You think she’s afraid?”
“What things look like without the things she’s used to. Yeah.”
“You’re pretty smart, did anyone ever tell you that?”
“No. I’ve been waiting thirty-eight years for you to tell me. I’ll take it now.”
He stepped forward, and embraced his father. Then he went inside and gave his mother a hug. And gave one to his sister too. He knew what he had to do.
He had to go home. Not here.
Home to Gold Valley.
Home to Iris.
* * *
SHE HAD MADE the trip every day. Every single day. And this time, when she arrived at the top of the hill, when she arrived at the top of the cabin, his truck was there. She held the plate of chocolate chip cookies close to her chest, and tears streamed down her face.
He had come back.
She had known that he would.
She started to take a step forward, but then the cabin door opened and she saw him. And her knees went weak. She dropped down onto them, the dirt and rocks biting into her knees. “Griffin,” she said. She held the cookies down in her lap, shaking as she cried.
“Iris,” he said, coming down the stairs, sinking down to the ground with her and wrapping her in his arms. “Iris. Don’t cry.”
“I am crying,” she said. “I can’t help it. Because I can’t believe that you came. I can’t believe that you’re here.”
“I just got back.”
“I’ve come every day. With different cookies. They’re all over the counter inside. A plate for every day that I’ve been up here looking for you. To tell you that I’m sorry. To tell you I didn’t mean what I said. I was afraid. I was so afraid. I have spent all my life feeling like I wasn’t enough. Like I wasn’t the one. The special one. The pretty one. I’ve been good and serviceable and I was afraid that I was just that to you. And it hurt me. But mostly, most of all, I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to keep you. That I wouldn’t be able to keep you with me once you realized that I wasn’t everything you thought I was. Because you’re right, it’s got nothing to do with coming after your wife. I know you loved her. And you’ve never lied to me, not once. And I know you wouldn’t. My brother says that loving after tragedy is brave. The second love isn’t second-best for that reason and as soon as he said that I knew. And I knew it was true. It’s just that I... It’s me. It’s not you, it’s not her. It’s me. You know, the day before my mother died, I asked her to bake cookies with me. But she was too busy. Too busy with Rose, and she needed me to read Pansy a bedtime story. And she was just too...”
Iris took a shuddering breath, her whole body aching. “Griffin, I asked her once why she didn’t love me as much. She said she loved how I helped.”
“Oh, Iris. Sweetheart.”
“I just was so afraid our relationship was too...buried in that. And at the same time I wanted you to need me and I hated it because it...it made me feel like it wasn’t love. But then if you didn’t need me you wouldn’t want me and...”
“Iris, if you never did another thing for me but breathe beside me, I’d love you forever. It’s just you. Being with you.”
Iris heaved a sob. “I needed to hear that. I really did. I... It’s so silly and I can never fix it. She needed me to take care of myself. And I didn’t feel like I was one of her