The Heartbreaker of Echo Pass by Maisey Yates

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

EVERSINCEHISrealization that he loved Iris, ever since his realization that he wanted her to be his wife, Griffin had been trying to figure out the perfect time to bring it all up. He had been trying to figure out the perfect time to take her to the house. And then he realized there wasn’t going to be a perfect time. And you couldn’t wait for things.

It was crazy, because they’d known each other just over two months. And he was pretty certain that a lot of people would think this was too quick.

But he’d lived several lifetimes in his thirty-eight years. And in the last five years he’d lived none.

Until her.

And in these two months he had fit years worth of healing and joy, pain, regret and finally hope. Why would he wait another minute to tell her everything he felt? It didn’t make any sense.

So he told her they needed to head up to the cabin to do a few things, and had managed to tear her away from cleanup at the bakery just a little bit early. He was grateful that things were structured so they could still see each other, even while she was working seven days a week, all day every day. But that had been her goal, given that she felt she needed to keep the business open as often as possible, and there was no way she could afford an employee.

He could pay for one. That was the thing. He had a lot of money. And honestly, all the better reason to get them married and joined together. So that they could join their finances. So that the bakery really was hers too.

He was thinking he was going to sign it over to her. So that it could be hers. But he would be there, to back her every step of the way. He wanted to join everything he was, everything he had with her. He had never been so confident in anything in all his life.

When they got out of the truck, he took her hand.

“What?”

“I just want to... I’ve never shown you. Not really. I got mad at you, and I chased you away, and I didn’t really show you.” They went up the path, and she was silent, as he led her to the building site of the house.

“This is going to be the front door.” He led her through a big wide open space. “We’ll have a big wide one. One that makes you feel welcome.” He showed her the big, expansive rectangular cuts in the wall across from them. “The living room. There will be a fireplace there. All made of rock. And you’ll just see mountains. Just mountains. And not another living soul.” He turned her around so they were facing the other wall. “And the kitchen. While you’re standing at the sink you’ll be able to see all these trees. Just nothing but pine. All that wilderness.” They walked across the open plywood floor, to a hallway that led down to another mass of space. “Master bedroom, bathroom. Two walk-in closets. And this is my favorite view. Because here you can see just through the trees and off the mountain, down to the valley below. To Gold Valley. And you know why they call it that, don’t you? Because when the sun spills over the mountain and down to the fields and houses and Main Street below, it’s like it’s covered in gold. It’s magic.”

“This is beautiful,” she said, muted. “But I’m not sure why... I mean, I love it. You’ve done an amazing job.”

“I’ve been working on it alone. So it’s taken all these five years to get this far. Though, to be honest, I didn’t work on it solid the whole time. But I didn’t care when it was finished. Because truth be told, I couldn’t imagine a life here.” He met her gaze, conviction blazing in his chest. “But I can now. That’s the thing, Iris. I can now. I can see exactly what kind of life I could have here.” He swallowed hard. “But it won’t be by myself.”

“Griffin...”

“I know it’s convenient to live above the bakery, but I don’t want you there forever either. I want you here. I want you here with me. I thought that I was here building a monument to the past. I was devoted to my grief like a monk devotes himself to the church. But I... It’s not what I want anymore. I couldn’t see a future, because it didn’t matter. I could barely see the hand in front of my face. Every nail and board in this place was done in a kind of blind faith I didn’t realize I was living. That someday I would want to live here. That someday I would have a reason to really be... Living. I didn’t know that. I didn’t think of it that way. And some time in the last two months it shifted. And I wasn’t building it just for me anymore. I thought of you while I hammered these nails. And I thought of being here with you, living here with you. Building a life with you. And right now, standing here, my only regret is that when I took you up to the top of that hill and shared that picnic with you, I didn’t tell you I loved you then. But I wasn’t ready.”

He took in a breath. “Realizing that I was in love again... That’s been a special kind of grief, Iris, because I’ve had to let go in some new and different ways. But it’s not moving on or forgetting the past. It’s moving forward. Because time does move forward, no matter how you sequester yourself up in the top of the mountains, it’s true. The people that you care about all live life without you. You can freeze yourself, but you can’t freeze the world. And truly, there’s no point to it. I was lying to myself. Thinking that if I stayed up here I wouldn’t have to accept it. That I wouldn’t have to accept anything. But I do. And I have.”

“Griffin,” she said. “I understand that you’re... That you’re hurting. And of course you are. And I want to be there for you. I do. I can... I can help heal you. I understand what it’s like. To lose like we did, and I know it isn’t the same, but...look, helping isn’t the same as...loving. It’s not.”

“No, don’t you understand? I don’t need you to help me heal. It’s not that. I don’t want for us to just hold hands while we walk into a different life. I don’t want to do that and then say our goodbyes. We’re not each other’s medicine. I think we could be more than that.”

“I don’t know what to say. I don’t know... I don’t know.”

“Just say that you love me.”

“I don’t understand why you think you love me. I mean... I don’t understand.”

“I just do. It’s that simple.”

IRISLOOKEDAT GRIFFIN, and terror streaked through her. She could not for the life of her figure out why this was happening. Figure out why this beautiful, wonderful man was telling her that he loved her. And why it made her want to run away. Why she had to run away.

“I need you,” he said.

And that rooted her feet to the spot. And she had to wonder, if that could be enough.

He doesn’t really love you. Not like that.

He can say whatever he wants, but he loves you because you cook for him.

He loves you because you’re steady.

Because you’re everything you’ve always been.

He loves you the same way Mom loved you.

When you can do what you’re told. When you can help.

She felt like her heart had been torn open, every disloyal thought she’d ever kept buried, deep in the sea of her uncertainty, coming flooding out. She couldn’t do anything about it. Couldn’t do anything to change it. It was... It was terrible. More than terrible. And now that it was careening around out in the open like that, in endless torment, there was nothing she could do to stop it. Nothing at all.

And it hurt.

It hurt worse than anything ever had.

Second.

Less.

He was beautiful. And he was first. And he was perfect.

Maybe being needed was enough. Maybe it could be enough.

Because that was the kind of love he meant, and he might not think so, but she knew.

Because other love just wasn’t for a girl like her.

She’d wanted to be the one for someone. Someday. Deep in her heart she’d always wanted that. She’d been a romantic, and she’d been starving to feel...to feel like she was the one who mattered. Not just useful. Not just the one who could take care of people.

This wasn’t what she’d dreamed of.

But now he was all she could see and looking at him hurt.

With tears pooling in her eyes, spillover from that flood happening in her soul, she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him. She kissed him like she was drowning in everything. Like she was drowning in all these feelings that were rolling through her. Because she was. And he was like a lifeline.

And he was the tide.

Her temptation, her salvation. Her danger and her rescue all at once. This man.

He was everything.

What would it be like to be everything?

She felt so small and dirty even considering that. So sad and silly. But it didn’t change those thoughts echoing inside of her. So she kissed him. To silence them. To silence herself.

He wrenched her T-shirt up over her head, out there in the open, in this half built house that had been started for someone else. But he had her in here instead. And he’d said so many things. So many beautiful, flowery things, and she was certain that he believed them. Certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that Griffin thought everything he said was true. Because he was a good man.

That was the problem.

If he’d been a liar, if he’d been manipulative, it would be easy to walk away. If he’d been any of those things, she wouldn’t be clinging to him. She wouldn’t be kissing him. She wouldn’t be trying to lose herself in the pleasure that only he could offer her. Only him.

So when he unsnapped her bra, she didn’t stop him. No, she clung to him, to his shirt, to his broad shoulders, as they kissed each other deeper, longer. Rough, calloused hands roamed over her body, his large palms cupping her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples. It was everything. And so was he.

This brilliant, singular moment in time a gift and the glory that she would never take for granted.

Because Iris Daniels had waited her entire life for magic like this.

But she should have known that it would cost more than she had to give. Eventually it would, that was the problem. Eventually she’d fail him and she’d see how thin it all was.

She’d felt this already, with her mother. And she just couldn’t stand it, not anymore.

She should have known.

She pushed her hands beneath his shirt, her fingertips skimming the hair roughened ridges of muscles on his abdomen, all the way up to his broad, perfect chest. She made quick work of his T-shirt so that she could look at him, so that she could drink him in hungrily. So that she could marvel at him. He wanted her, that much was true. Needed her in many ways, she knew that too. She could glory in that. Because the fact remained that while she might have reservations about the way that he cared for her, he did want her, not anyone else.

You were the only one that came up the mountain.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and then opened them again, because she would keep her eyes open while she did this. Because it didn’t matter what he felt deep down, not right now. It was about what she felt. And she did love him.

Oh, she loved him with everything she was.

She had never been in love with another person. And she didn’t know if she ever would. She had never even wanted another man before she’d met him. He held a claim on her. Body and soul. Like a shackle that she had no hope of escaping. And she hadn’t wanted this. No. Finding her way to him... No.

It was supposed to be about the bakery. It was supposed to be about sex. It was supposed to be about growth. And it wasn’t about any of that. The most important part of this entire road seemed to be Griffin, and there wasn’t anything that she could do about that. There wasn’t a damn sorry thing that she could do to make anything else loom larger than the mountain that loomed before her now. All muscle and heat and desire. Everything.

To her.

And so she clung to him, her hands resting on that chest, feeling his heartbeat rage against her palms.

She clung to him.

And she kissed him. With everything that she had. Everything that she had ever been before, everything she ever would be. She kissed him.

Then she moved her hands down to the buckle on his jeans, undid it slowly. She teased herself, tormented herself with the revelation of his body. He was so beautiful. There had never been a man this beautiful. She was sure of that.

This man. Her man. Her mountain.

Like a rock, so hard and brilliant. So good. Created by God’s own hand, and there was no denying it, because nothing but a divine creator could have ever produced something so perfect. He was like that.

His hands made her feel small and strong all at once. Made her feel cared for, and made her feel like she was in the gravest of danger. She was so very aware of his strength. And so very aware of how gentle he could be. He was like that.

He made her feel like an endless world of possibility existed beyond them, between them. He made her feel like she was the only one in the world, for just a moment. Until she remembered that she shared him with the life he should have had by rights. He was like that.

And she hated that she wanted there to be something more. She really did. She hated that she needed there to be something more. Because a better woman wouldn’t. A better woman would know that it was good and right that he continued to love the wife that he lost in the way that he did. That it was a sign of his strength that he had gone to a mountain for five years and buried himself in his grief. But he had continued to build this house for her, in the place that he had promised her.

Yes, a better woman would be okay with all of that.

She would know that it meant he was good. She would know that it meant he was strong. She would know that he deserved his grief. That he deserved to carry that love, and that she deserved to have it.

Iris knew all those things. She knew them all and still felt them chafe against her, and that was what made her bad. But then...

Everyone had always had such confidence in her supreme goodness. In her ability to give and give and give. Her mother, her father, everyone had acted like it was God-given. Like she was just a caretaker. No. That wasn’t it. It never had been. She was just afraid. Afraid that if she didn’t do that, if she didn’t break herself open and pour out, over and over again, that she wouldn’t be anything. That she wouldn’t be enough.

And she was afraid of it now. With him.

She wasn’t good. She was a coward. She was selfish. She had just never been given the chance to be. And oh, now she had it. Now she felt that, coursing through her veins. So this was maybe what it meant to be thirty-one years old and faced with a declaration of love that she knew had an asterisk behind it. Because she was on her own now. And she was free.

And maybe this was the journey that she had to go on. This journey to realizing that she had never been a beacon of anything.

But she had been protecting herself, but not from the world. From the rejection of the people that she loved the most.

And now, kissing him, touching him, feeling small and mean and petty, she wanted to protect herself again.

But she shut her brain off. She shut her brain off and she gave herself this moment, because she needed it. She needed him more than she needed anything in the entire world. More than she needed to breathe.

He got on his knees and tugged her jeans down, kissing her thigh, her stomach, teasing her. He sat down on the pile of clothes that they had left there on the ground, and he brought her down over him. His jeans, spread out beneath him, offered a cushion for her knees as she straddled him, the slick heat of her coming into contact with his arousal.

And he brought her down slowly over him, and she arched her back, bringing her breasts right into contact with his mouth. His beautiful, perfect mouth. He played a symphony of pleasure there, looking at her, sucking her, making her his.

She was his. And it wasn’t fair.

He owned her. It was so deep. So real.

She was his. And he would never be hers. Not really. She would always share pieces of him with the universe. Pieces of him with people who weren’t here.

Pieces of him with a woman that he would never hold again. And he’d said that he never thought of her. He did.

But she couldn’t blame him if that was a lie.

She couldn’t blame him.

Was it a lie?

He has never lied.

No. He hadn’t. And she didn’t believe that he would. Again. Not on purpose.

But if she had asked her mother directly, to her face, do you have a favorite daughter, her mother would’ve said no. But it was written in her actions. Her every single one.

And that broke her.

But then, his wicked hand came up to tease her, torment her, and he filled her, absolutely and completely, his each thrust up inside of her easing the pain in her mind, if only for a moment. They were connected now. They were here. And it was real and physical and guttural. And whatever they felt, whatever emotions were out there, unable to be grabbed, unable to be contained, they didn’t matter, not right now. Because what they had right now was real. It was raw, and it was something.

She had been Iris Daniels, locked up in a box for longer than she cared to admit.

Afraid.

Whatever thing she had been afraid of, afraid she’d been. And she had never imagined that she would make love to a man on the floor of a half built house, with the sky brilliant and blue and the trees swaying overhead, with uncertainty clamoring in her heart.

But she was this woman.

And if she was this woman now, maybe she could be this woman forever. Maybe. Just maybe.

Maybe it was possible.

His thrusts became erratic, the cords in his neck standing out as he pushed them both further, faster, higher.

Pleasure gathered low in her belly, and when he thrust deep inside of her on a growl, pulsing, crying out his pleasure, she did the same. They went over together, sweat slicked and delirious with pleasure.

He brought her backward, laying himself down on the bare wood, letting her rest over his chest.

“Iris,” he said. “You have to know how much I need you.”

She did.

She did.

She extricated herself from his hold, her stomach pitching, because she felt ill. She brought herself to her feet with shaking knees. “I know you do. And I know you think it’s love. But I can’t do this, Griffin. I can’t.”

“Iris...”

“No. You don’t understand. I was supposed to change my life. I was supposed to get independence. And instead I’m... I’m obsessed with you. I’m obsessed with this and obsessed with when I can see you again, when I can touch you again. It’s nothing like it was supposed to be. I feel... So small and so stupid. I did exactly what I said I wasn’t going to do. I fell for the first man I slept with. At the worst time. And you’re my landlord and...”

“Is it so bad to fall for me?”

“Yes,” she said, every small, petty thing that she just thought rising to the surface, but she tamped them all down, because she was too ashamed to say them. She was awash in shame.

All the shame she had felt for years. Years and years, as emotions had bubbled up inside of her she could never give voice to. Because how could she?

“Why,” he said, his voice fierce. “Why is it so bad?”

“Because. Because we were helping each other out of a tough place and that’s all it was and help isn’t love. But that’s the thing. You just...you needed help. And when you don’t need it anymore you’re going to see that this wasn’t what you wanted. When you don’t need me you’ll move on.”

“I don’t believe that’s the problem,” he said, his face like stone. “You tell me what’s really going on.”

“That is what’s going on,” she said. “I feel for you. I do. And I care. I’m not saying that I don’t. But, Griffin, we are two very broken people, and I can see the merit in us walking each other out into the light, but dammit, at a certain point we have to be honest with ourselves.”

“What about, Iris?”

“We’re playing house,” she said, her voice breaking.

“Who’s playing?” he asked, his voice rough. “This is real, Iris.” He hit his fist on the wall. “This house is real and what I feel for you is real.”

Iris wanted to hide from the intensity in his eyes, from the demand there she was so sure she couldn’t meet.

“I think you believe that. Because I don’t think you would lie to me. But you...” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. She just couldn’t. She would rather hurt him in a thousand different ways. Tell a thousand different lies than say what was really in her heart. Because she was embarrassed by it. Sick with it.

She didn’t want to beg.

Didn’t want to beg for him to love her most and best because...oh she’d begged her own mother for it and she couldn’t ever forget that.

Why can’t you just love me as much as you do Rose and Pansy?

I do. You’re such a big help.

And she’d heard the truth in those words.

I do when you’re such a big help.

He said nothing. He only stared at her.

“No, Griffin, it was fine when we were supposed to be friends. Friends helping each other. Because what is our time around the dinner table going to look like? The anniversaries that we have to mark. The things that we remember. And we’ll just pass it all forward. If we have children... Griffin, neither of us are going to be able to handle that. Because you’re going to be afraid you’re going to lose me, that you’re going to lose the child. I’m going to be afraid that somehow we’ll leave them behind. There’s reasonable, and then there’s baggage no one can carry.”

And she’d love him. And try and try and he’d realize when she couldn’t be as useful as he needed her to be that it wasn’t love like he’d felt for Mel. That maybe it wasn’t love at all. And she couldn’t bear it.

“Stop carrying it,” he said, his voice hard. “That’s a choice you can make. It’s a choice that I’m making. Because you know what? They didn’t give it to us. We gave it to ourselves.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. That’s not what it means when you say you have baggage. Nobody chooses to pick it up.”

“Yes, you fucking do. You choose it every day. And I have. Believe me, Iris. I have gotten up in the morning and I have picked the heaviest ones and I have put them on my shoulders and I have carried them around. I know what it means to choose sorrow. I know what it means to choose grief. To choose to live my loss rather than living the love that I had. I know what that looks like. And I know what it looks like when you choose to remember the good instead of only marinating in the bad. I know what it feels like. Yes, you have a choice. To be what happened to you, or to find a way to be you. You don’t have to carry the darkness.”

“Fine then,” she said. “It’s me. And if it’s me, then you should feel free to be rid of me.”

“I don’t want to be.”

“You don’t have a choice.” She scrambled, putting her clothes on, a sick weight settling in her stomach. “I can’t. None of what you’re saying rings true for me and I don’t even think it’s going to be true for you tomorrow. I think you want it to be true. I think you want to be healed. But I don’t think you are.”

“I’m not broken,” he said. “I’m not because I refuse to be.”

“We don’t get to make a choice.”

“We do. And I think that’s what scares you. You could live whole, right now, with me if you wanted to and you’re running out of excuses. You’ve got nothing but fear.”

“I’m being smart. And I was the virgin, Griffin, you’re the one who should have known better.”

“You know what I know? I know how dangerous it is to have a life you love. I know what happens when you lose it. So when I stand here and I show you the life that I want, the life that I want to have, you better damn well listen to me. And you better understand what it costs. Don’t you tell me what I feel, what I don’t feel. Don’t tell me I’m not smart. I know I’m not smart. I am wildly, incredibly hopeful. I have faith. And you know how much it cost me to find it? I had to piece together bits of a tattered soul that I wasn’t even sure had enough left to it to make a damn thing. And now I want a life. And I want it with you. That is brave. It isn’t easy. There is nothing easy about it.”

“No. And I want easy. I don’t want this.” She stumbled back, out of the house. There was only one car. Dammit. Dammit all. She hated everything. She really did. Everything was a mess. It was a disaster. She started walking down the driveway.

“Don’t you dare.”

“I’ll call my sister.”

“The hell you will, Iris Daniels. Get your ass back here. You are not walking down the road by yourself with no cell service for God knows how long.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Somebody has to. In all your ranting, did you ever stop to think of all the ways I took care of you? I have earned the right to tell you what to do. Because I actually know you. Because I actually did take care of you. Because I actually care. I didn’t just let you take care of me with a serene smile on your face. Keep on scrubbing my floors. Keep on giving to me. Did I let you get on your knees and pleasure me with your mouth and give you nothing back? No, I didn’t.”

Heat assaulted her, shame. More shame.

“I gave to you. And I would keep on giving to you. These are just more lies you’re telling yourself because it makes you feel safe. That’s all it is. You’re afraid. What happened to the woman who brought me a plate of cookies? You can’t even look me in the eye now.”

“She was just a dumb virgin,” Iris said. “She didn’t know anything. She thought that she could just go out in the world and make it all happen. But I know better now. And I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

“Why are you standing there acting like I just smashed your heart with a hammer when all I did was offer you a home, love, my heart?”

“Because you don’t mean it. You don’t mean it. You’re in love with your wife. And you should be, Griffin. It’s fair. But this house is hers. And your heart is hers. And whatever you say to me, I know that’s true. I know that you think you want something new. I know that you think you want me. But how can I ever know that when you look at me, you won’t wish it was another woman walking down the aisle toward you? Is it going to be the wrong wedding photo? Is it going to be the wrong baby in my arms? It’s not fair. None of it is. I know that.” Shame lashed at her and pain that was unimaginable. “I just think you want to replace them.”

“I don’t,” he said. “Believe me that has been the hardest thing that I’ve had to contend with in this whole thing. To be certain that’s not what I’m doing. To be certain that I’m not putting a Band-Aid on anything. But I’m not playing games with myself.”

“I just can’t... I just can’t.”

“I can’t do anything to convince you. I can’t do anything but tell you the truth the way that I always have. And you know what, it’s not fucking fair. It’s not fair that I had to lose them. And that losing them is going to make me lose you. But until you grow up a little bit, I don’t think we can make it work. But I will drive you down to town.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Get your ass in the car. Consider this your plate of cookies. You rescued me when I needed it, now let me do the same to you. And before you say anything, no, you don’t deserve it. It doesn’t matter, though. Because that’s how love works.”

She got in the truck mutely, and the entire way down the mountain tears fell silently down her face. She had never felt so small. She had never felt so low.

And it was all done at his expense.

He dropped her in front of the bakery and she stared at it. She would lose it now. Of course she would.

Why would he continue to rent to her after all of this?

But when she stumbled inside and dropped to her knees and gave in to the anguish in her heart, it wasn’t the bakery that she cried over losing.

It was Griffin.

And no matter what she told herself, she couldn’t make it otherwise.

IRISFELTSMALL and sad. She didn’t know what to do about her current situation. She was having trouble getting out of bed. But she still had a bakery to run. And she didn’t know quite how she was supposed to do it. What she hadn’t expected was this to feel like she was dying. But it did. She knew grief. She knew it well. She hadn’t thought that simply choosing to walk away from a person would make you feel like that. Like it was final and terrible, like you had lost in such a deep and momentous way. But she did.

Ever since he’d gone it was like she’d been watching their breakup on an endless loop in her mind.

And when it wasn’t that, it was her relationship with her mother. Uninterrupted and raw. And she was angry. Really, really angry.

She’d been a kid, and she’d needed her mom to let her know she loved her unconditionally.

And she was also sure her mom hadn’t realized how Iris felt.

She was angry that time hadn’t been sufficient for them. That they’d never been able to sort it out. That it...simply was.

She managed to get the bakery open, but she was an hour late. She kept expecting Griffin to come in like an avenging angel and hand her an eviction notice. She almost hoped that he would, because then she could see him. But he didn’t. The days bled together into a kind of gray haze, making a mockery of the sun that was outside. The sun wasn’t real. She didn’t feel it. She didn’t feel it in her bones, on her skin or in her heart. The sky looked clear, but everything in her felt foggy, so she couldn’t make it seem to matter.

She was mad at him. For not coming.

And on the fifth day, she got a letter in the mail with Griffin’s company name on the top, and a visit from her brother.

The bakery was empty, the early afternoon lull, after lunchtime and before people were done with work, leaving this couple of hours slow. She stared at the letter, not wanting to open it. And then she looked up at Ryder.

“What exactly is going on?”

“What?”

“Don’t give me that. Not while I’m looking at you. You look like a tragic panda that got punched in both eyes. You haven’t been sleeping. We haven’t heard from you. You want to tell me what’s going on with you and Griffin?”

“I don’t. I never did. That’s the thing. You inserted yourself into my life, you brought him over to the house, you did all kinds of things without asking me. I didn’t want you involved. Any more than I wanted him to be overly involved with us. I just didn’t want it. But you didn’t ask. You just stuck yourself right in the middle of it. And I resent it, Ryder. I do. I didn’t say that you could. But you did anyway. And now you’re here, demanding to know what’s going on. I don’t want to share. I never did.”

“You never do,” he pointed out.

“Pot, kettle,” she said,

“Maybe. You’ve always been a tough nut, Iris. You’ve always been self-contained. And I haven’t done the best job of communicating with you, because I’m bad at communicating. If I was better at it, I probably would have ended up with Sammy a lot sooner than I did.”

“It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. It’s my fault. It’s...” Tears filled her eyes and she looked at the letter. “It’s my fault. But I don’t know what to do about it. I panicked. He said that he loved me.”

Ryder paused. “And that panicked you why?”

“I... I’m embarrassed.”

“Iris, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Yes there is. Our mother and father died in a way that must’ve been terrifying. Really terrifying. And I’m here with my two feet planted firmly on the ground. I’m acting like love is the scariest thing that I could ever come into contact with.”

“Because love is scary. It is. Tell me what’s higher stakes than your own heart in this world? I mean sure, we can worry about our physical health. We can worry about our bodies. But when it comes to... Everything, tell me what’s more important than the people you care about, and the people who care about you? Nothing. Of course it’s scary.”

“Well, I made it worse. I made it terrible. It’s my fault and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m miserable. And I’m... I’m not brave. And I’m not good. I feel like you all think I am. Like I’m this bastion of light and hope, and I’m just not. I took care of everyone because I was afraid. I took care of everyone because I was scared that if I didn’t, I wouldn’t matter. Because I didn’t...” She closed her eyes. “I told him that I was angry that he loved his wife. That he didn’t love me first.”

Ryder looked at her, long and hard, and she felt herself shriveling up. Felt herself shrinking. “I know,” she said. “What kind of person does that? What kind of person is jealous of a dead woman? It isn’t fair.”

“It isn’t fair, but it’s how you feel.”

She wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. She wanted to shrink up small and be like the little girl she hadn’t been allowed to be. She wanted to howl and pound her fists against the floor. She was already broken by the submission. Already broken by what she was. She wanted to make it bigger, brighter, bolder.

She wanted him to understand. Just how messed up she was. Just how messed up this was.

“I’ve always come second. And I chose to. I let myself. But I felt like I had to. I felt like if I didn’t, none of you would love me. I felt like...” A tear fell down her cheek. “I felt like if I didn’t, Mom wouldn’t love me.”

“What?”

“I don’t like to talk about it. I don’t like to think about it. We all lost her. We all lost her and Dad. And I think they were good parents. I do. But the other girls... The other girls were work, and Mom needed help. And if I didn’t help her she would get mad at me. Then I... I wanted to be cared for the way that she cared for them. But as soon as I was the oldest, as soon as I wasn’t the baby anymore, I just had responsibilities. And I didn’t get to be cared for. Rose was so much work. Pansy too. And I was good. But there’s no reward for that, Ryder. There is no reward at all, except that nobody notices you. Except your sister thinks you should be with a boring man in khakis, and your mom doesn’t have time to bake with you and everybody depends on you because they know they can, but you can never fall apart. You can never freak out. And then everyone moves on without you. When they can’t use you anymore. When there’s no point to you. And I’m just... I’m starting from second place with him, and I hate it. I hate all of this.” She took a deep, ragged breath. “She was never happy with me when I wasn’t helping. And Rose and Pansy didn’t have to help, they just got to be. I couldn’t bear living a whole life with him trying to work my way up to that first, best love that he had, not when I already know I can’t measure up.”

Ryder looked at her like he didn’t know what to say. And why would he? Everything that she just said was so vile and poisonous she could barely stand to listen to it, much less have the sentiment live inside of her.

“Iris,” he said, his voice rough. “I had no idea you felt that way.”

“Because I didn’t tell anyone. Because I don’t know how to talk about it. Because I don’t want to say anything about... About Mom. Because I don’t want to admit that I’m angry with her. I’m angry with her for dying before we could work that out. Before we could get to where maybe we’d have a better relationship. When the girls had grown up and she didn’t feel quite so stressed. I... I wish that we would’ve had time, and we didn’t. And now I’ll just never know.”

“I’m not an expert. And I’m not going to claim to be. But I think you might be mad at the wrong dead woman.”

“What?”

“Griffin’s wife. I think she’s the wrong dead woman to have bad feelings about. I think it’s easier, maybe, to feel bad about her. Because you didn’t love her.”

“No, I know that I’m angry at Mom...”

“You’re putting it on him, though. You know it’s not fair, but you’re trying to split that pain up anyway. Did you ever think that second love isn’t second best? Because when you’ve been hurt, when you’ve been really hurt, loving isn’t the easy way out. Believe me. Sammy and I had to go through this. She’d been hurt so badly by her parents that choosing to be with me was hard. It was more than hard. And making the choice was brave. Really and truly brave. And as far as he goes... I can’t imagine the pain he’s been through. He told me his story, and I... It kills me. As a husband, as a father, to know he went through that. What it must take to decide to go on. That’s not second-rate love, Iris. That is brave, first-rate love. That is deep. He must love you an awful lot.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she couldn’t stop them. She felt so afraid. Like she was trembling inside. “Maybe I’m not worth it, though. I mean, maybe that’s it, Ryder? Maybe I’m not worth that. He should find somebody else. He should find somebody that’s better. He should find somebody that’s not so...”

“Not so what?”

“Me,” she exploded. “Someone who’s not me.” She took in a shaky breath. “There is nothing about me that is special. There is nothing about me that’s up to... Up to this. And I won’t be able to be enough. And then he’s going to realize that...”

“Iris, let me tell you something. Whatever you felt before. Whatever Mom made you feel. You don’t earn love. Not real love. It can’t be bought. It can’t be borrowed. You can’t work for it like you’re hoeing the yard. It can only be given. And all you can do is accept it. That’s it.”

“No,” she said. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“It just is. It’s the way of it. The way of things. Maybe it doesn’t make sense. Maybe it seems too good to be true. But that’s just the thing. When you find someone that seems too good to be true, and they stand in front of you and they say they love you, you take it.”

“But what if...”

“There’s no what-if. You’re already living the what-if, kiddo. You don’t have them. You’re broken. You’re not safe.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I bet this is my eviction notice.” She tore the top off the envelope, and with shaking hands pulled the papers out that were inside.

But it wasn’t an eviction notice. Instead, it was the title to the building. With a place for her to sign.

“Griffin...”

“What?”

“He... He’s signing the building over to me.”

“I knew I liked that guy.”

“But I don’t deserve it. Not after everything I said to him. Not after how... How many ridiculous things I’ve thrown in front of him just admitting that I don’t think I’m good enough. All the things I said to him...”

“That’s love. You can’t earn it or buy it, and you can’t chase it away all that easy either. Remember how I was when Sammy left? I was a mess. I went to find her, didn’t I? And all was forgiven. On both our ends. Because we chose love over fear. Or anger. Or anything else. A man who sends that out... Well, I bet you he’s willing to do the same.”

Iris sat with that for a long time. And then at four o’clock, two hours early, she turned her sign, got into her car and began to drive toward Griffin’s place. She didn’t know what she was going to say. She didn’t know what she was going to do. But she just needed him. She needed him.

And when she got up to the top of the mountain, she saw that his truck wasn’t there.

Looked around. She couldn’t hear the sound of his hammer.

She ran up to the front porch, walked into the cabin, which of course wasn’t locked. The icebox stood open and empty, the bedding on the mattress gone.

There were no boots by the door. Panicked, she ran down the steps, down the trail toward the horses.

And saw that they were gone too.

Griffin was gone.

And he might have left her a bakery, but he had taken her heart.

And she didn’t think that she would ever get it back.