Fall Into You (41 page)

Charli had no idea what the hell had gotten into Grant. They’d exited the interstate
twenty minutes earlier, and despite her questions, he hadn’t let her in on where they
were going or what was about to happen. If he thought they were going to go have some
last wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am before they parted, he had another think coming.

But his demeanor was anything but sexual. The man who seemed to always be the epitome
of cool control couldn’t stop shifting in his seat or flexing his fingers. She wanted
to reach out and touch him, soothe him in some way, but she feared he might actually
leap off the seat.

“Grant, please tell me what’s going on. You’re starting to make me nervous.”

But before he had the chance to answer, he turned the truck down a narrow side road.
A ranch entrance gate framed the road, and a sign with a
W
hung from the overhead cross post. What the hell? She leaned over to get a better
glimpse of the sign. But the minute they passed under it, Grant seemed to deflate
like a tire rolling
over a nail, as if he’d been holding his breath since they’d exited the interstate.

They passed a mailbox. Reflective letters on the side of it glinted in the sun—
Waters
.

Oh, shit.
Anxiety welled up in Charli like a flash flood. This was his family’s place.

Grant pulled to the side of the road, a large two-story farmhouse looming in the distance,
and turned to her, his blue eyes pleading with her before his words did. “I know that
I shouldn’t have dragged you here with me without telling you. It isn’t fair. This
is something I should have the guts to do by myself.”

“Grant…”

“I’ve done everything on my own for as long as I can remember. No fear, right? But”—he
gave the house a long look, his hat blocking his face—“I think I need your help with
this one, freckles.”

The quiet desperation in his voice reached inside her and clamped around her heart.
There was no way she could deny him what he asked, not when he sounded so damned lost.
She reached out and put her hand over his clasped ones. “Tell me what you need me
to do, cowboy.”

He looked over at her then, every emotion coloring his eyes. “Just go in there with
me. Be by my side. I know I’ve fucked this up.
I’ve
been fucked up. And maybe things can’t be fixed.” He lifted his hand and traced his
thumb over her lips, stirring an ache deep in her bones. “But for the first time in
years, I have the urge to try.”

Her throat worked as she wrangled in her emotions and tucked them down. She didn’t
want to read too much into what he was saying. He wanted to face his family and had
asked for her to help. That’s it. Nothing had changed from two nights ago in her bedroom.
She looked up the long driveway. “I’m here for whatever you need, Grant.”

The drive up to the house was brief, but by the time they climbed out and stood facing
the door, Charli had butterflies the size of buzzards
flailing around inside her stomach. How was she supposed to do this? Grant hadn’t
seen his family in years and she was going to be some stranger tagging along with
him. Talk about awkward.

But she’d seen how much it had cost him to even ask for her help. He was a man built
on pride and control. This was uncharted territory for him, and no matter how uncomfortable
this turned out to be, she wasn’t going to let him traverse it alone.

Grant rang the bell, and soon the hollow sound of footsteps on wood broke through
the country air. The door swung open and a woman with the same dark hair as Grant
filled the doorway. Charli held her breath. In the space between seconds, Charli saw
the recognition dawn, the relief in his mother’s eyes, then the tears.

“Hey, Ma.” Two words, but Charli heard the regret and apology heavy in Grant’s voice.

Without a word, his mom stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her son, her hands
pressing along his back as if checking to make sure Grant wasn’t an apparition.

Charli moved back a little, not wanting to interfere with the reunion. Her own tears
burned her eyes, the scene a potent reminder of what she no longer had in her own
life now that her dad had passed, but she kept them at bay. This was Grant and his
mother’s moment.

Mrs. Waters pulled back from the hug after a long minute and looked up at her son
with dewy but shrewd eyes. “Well, it’s about damn time, you stubborn boy.”

That actually pulled a quiet chuckle from Grant. “I’m sorry, Ma. Would it help if
I told you you’ve gotten even prettier in the last few years?”

“Flattery didn’t work when I caught you tipping cows when you were a teenager. It
ain’t any more effective now.” She stepped back and straightened her checkered blouse,
but her flip words couldn’t mask the relief in her stance. “Tell me you’re staying
for a little while.”

“Not sure yet.” Grant put his hand out to Charli, and his mom’s gaze slid her way,
apparently noticing her for the first time.

Surprise flickered over her features. “And who’s this?”

Grant’s hand closed around Charli’s, and he tugged her to his side. “Ma, this is Charli
Beaumonde, the girl I love.”

Charli’s gasp was covered by his mother’s own matching one. He gave Charli’s hand
a squeeze, hoping he hadn’t just screwed everything up worse. The words hadn’t been
the ones he’d planned, but when his mother had asked who Charli was, the truth had
tumbled out like a drunken confession.

And the internal backlash of guilt and grief he’d expected from such a declaration
didn’t knock his knees out from under him. Instead, a strange calmness seemed to overtake
him, like being submerged in warm, still water. A smile grew in him, one that came
from a place he hadn’t accessed in a long while.

His mother recovered first, extending her hand to Charli. “Well, my goodness, Charli.
I can’t tell you how nice it is to meet you. I’m Georgia Waters.”

“Thanks so much, nice to meet you, too.” Charli shook his mother’s hand, her words
smooth and polite. But Grant could tell Charli had automatically fallen back into
professional reporter mode—the place she went when she was off balance.

He was going to need to get her alone to explain himself, to tell her how he felt
in the right way. But he knew his mother wasn’t going to let them out of her sight
anytime soon. Already, she was ushering them inside and rattling on about how she
hadn’t been expecting company and would’ve had food ready if she’d known. But of course,
she had a lasagna in the fridge and was preheating the oven before he and Charli had
settled onto the chairs in the large, eat-in kitchen. He suspected the scouts had
stolen the
Be Prepared
motto from his mother.

Being in his childhood home after so many years had an onslaught of different emotions
clattering through him. How many times had he sat in this kitchen while his mom prepared
a meal, his dad stealing nibbles of stuff when he thought she wasn’t looking. This
had been a place of warmth in his life, a safe haven, the people in it had meant everything
to him.

But it’d also been the place he’d courted his wife, where they’d lived before getting
their own home. And it’d been the house everyone had gathered in after Rachel’s funeral.
The site of too many pitying looks, too many she’s-in-a-better-place pats on the arm.
So he’d let himself close the door to it, shut out the very people who maybe could’ve
provided him comfort after the unthinkable happened.

For all these years since he’d left, he’d been surrounded by people but always alone.
He’d thought it’d been the noble thing to do, a punishment for his sins, a way to
save his family from dealing with the ugliness of his grief, his anger. But as he
watched his mother piddle around the kitchen, casting surreptitious looks his way,
as if to make sure he was still there, he realized how selfish his behaviors had been.

He hadn’t been noble; he’d been a coward.

He peeked over at Charli as she answered a question his mom had asked. She hadn’t
looked at him since they’d entered the house. She’d kept up steady conversation with
his mother, but her fingers were busy fiddling with the cloth napkin she’d grabbed
off the table. If it’d been made of paper, the whole thing would’ve been shredded
by now. She was freaking out. Elegantly. But freaking out nonetheless.

He’d handled things all wrong and needed to talk to her, but there was one more thing
he had to do first. He picked his hat up off the table and stood. “Ma, you mind keeping
Charli company for a little while? I need to take a walk.”

His mother, who’d been digging through the pantry for Parmesan,
peered over her shoulder. Her all-knowing eyes met his. “Sure, son. Take all the time
you need. Lunch will be a while still.”

He walked behind Charli’s chair, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. He’d asked
her to be by his side today, but this was the one last thing he needed to do all by
himself. “Thanks, freckles.”

She nodded, and he left her there in the kitchen, slipping out the side door and staring
down the expanse of land behind his family’s farmhouse.

He rubbed his thumb along his wedding band, secured his hat atop his head, and set
off on the path that led to the back corner of the property.

Someone was waiting for him.

Charli stared out the kitchen window in the direction Grant had disappeared. He’d
been gone for a while, and uneasiness had crawled under her skin and set up camp there.
Maybe she’d fallen asleep on the drive to Baton Rouge and was in some alternate dream
world. Had Grant really said he loved her out there on that porch? She couldn’t even
process that. Or the fact that somehow instead of being on the way to saying good-bye
to Grant for the last time, she was sitting in his family’s home, listening to his
mother call up Grant’s siblings to insist they come over.

Charli paced away from the window, walking over to the glass hutch in the corner of
the room, trying to look like she was just browsing the knickknacks in the kitchen
instead of running off nervous energy. She let her eyes drift over the family photos
displayed on the shelves. Photos of children playing outside, family portraits, some
old, some more recent. One that had to be Grant when he was a teen, basketball tucked
under a gangly arm. Then her eyes hit one that definitely was Grant, his arm around
a pretty blonde with a shy smile.