Taken by Storm (Give & Take) - By Kelli Maine Page 0,63

get cleaned up and changed into dry clothes.

Maddie lumbered up the stairs behind them. He knew the adrenaline rush from the past hour had taken a toll on her. He glanced over his shoulder. Her dark hair dripped water down her arms. Her T-shirt clung to her wet skin, and he’d never once seen her look more beautiful.

She lifted her eyes to his, reached up and placed her hand on his back.

For a moment, huddled close to his father with Maddie’s delicate fingers touching him, his world had righted itself. He wasn’t the lone, black sheep begging for acceptance in a family that had been saddled with him twenty years ago.

He didn’t know this man beside him, but he felt a connection he’d never experienced before. A connection that ran blood-deep. MJ had always wanted to feel this with his grandfather, but could never get beyond the shame and scorn that hung over his head from being the bastard child of the son the Old Man despised.

Merrick patted his shoulder when they reached the second floor landing. “Did Rachael give you the big room on the end?” He pointed down the hallway.

“Yeah.”

“Go ahead and get changed. I can make it to the third floor with Rachael’s help.”

“Okay.” MJ didn’t want to let his dad out of his sight, and it made him feel foolish. “I’ll see you back downstairs.”

Merrick smiled, and it was like looking in a mirror. MJ saw his own dimples in his father’s cheeks. “If you don’t come down,” Merrick said, “I’ll come find you this time.”

Even though they were only talking about meeting up in the lounge, MJ knew Merrick meant he’d never lose him again. It was a certainty MJ knew by the sincerity in Merrick’s voice and the determination set in his eyes.

He watched as Rachael helped Merrick up the next flight of stairs. If he leaned against her, she’d crumble under him. MJ was six foot two and Merrick was a few inches taller and built like a linebacker.

Maddie rubbed her hand across his lower back, stealing his attention away from his dad. She’d never looked at him this way before, with awe and wonder. “I’m so proud of you,” she said. “You have everything you’ve ever wanted.”

He turned to her and gathered her wet hair off of her shoulders. “Not everything.”

Her eyelids fluttered as she dropped her gaze. MJ brushed a few locks of hair off of her forehead and placed a kiss on her damp skin. “Let’s dry off.”

He left Maddie outside her room and strode down the hall toward his own with thunder rumbling overhead and lightning flashing outside the windows.

Maddie came to his room as he was tugging a dry T-shirt over his head. She stood in front of a chest of drawers studying a framed, hand-drawn map of the island hanging on the wall. The paper was yellowed and creased under the glass as if it had been folded in quarters.

MJ walked over and stood behind her. “It’s really old. Think it belonged to Archie?”

Maddie laughed. “Archie? I don’t know. It could’ve been his.”

He looked closer. The name of the island and the directional markers on all four sides were written in calligraphy inside banners drawn with scrolled edges. “Hey, the hotel’s labeled Weston Estate at Turtle Tear.”

Maddie stood on tip toe to get a better look. “Must have been when Ingrid and Archibald lived here with their family, before they turned it into a hotel.” Her finger darted out, pointing to a huge tree in the center of the island. “Look at the heart with their initials on this tree! This is on a beam in the ceiling of—”

“The tree house bedroom,” MJ finished. “I saw it too. I had no idea who A.W. and I.B. were then though.”

“I didn’t either.” Maddie gazed at the map with an intense expression. “By this map, it looks like the tree stood very close to where the tree house is built.” She turned and looked at him, her eyes calculating. “Rachael thinks Ingrid’s grave is near the tree house. I wonder if she was buried under this tree.”

MJ loved the way she held on to uncertainties, mysteries, couldn’t let one go until she figured it out. She’d always been that way, and her curiosity had gotten them in plenty of trouble growing up.

“You should tell her,” he said, leaning close and breathing in the fresh, rain-soaked scent of her hair.

The windows and walls creaked and groaned from the pressure of