The Heartbreaker of Echo Pass by Maisey Yates
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ITHADBEENa long damned time since he had peach cobbler. He wished he could enjoy it more. He sat at the kitchen table of his childhood home, and looked up at his mother, who was staring him down. His father was beside her, leaning against the countertop, holding a mug of coffee. Mallory sat next to him at the kitchen table, with her own bowl of cobbler, a scoop of vanilla ice cream melting over the top.
Jared was lying on the couch in his parents’ living room, and he could hear the sound of whatever stupid game he was playing on his phone filtering through.
“I’m going to go in there and crush that thing,” he muttered.
“His phone?”
“His head.”
“You’re mean,” Mallory said, looking at him with eyes that were an identical color to his own. “You’ve only been here for a day, and you’re already being mean.”
“Not to say we aren’t glad you’re back,” his father said. “But you know, some explanation might be nice.”
Griffin looked up. “I didn’t think much was required.”
“Well, you don’t look much happier than the day you left,” his mom said. “I was hoping that...”
He sighed and pushed the bowl back. “It’s complicated.”
“How is it complicated?” Mallory asked. “I thought you were going to bring Iris to see us.”
“Iris doesn’t want to come back with me. Because Iris doesn’t want to be with me.”
“She said that?”
“Yep,” he responded.
He got up and went over to the counter, and took another scoop of the hot cobbler and put it in the bowl. “I told her I loved her, and she rejected me.”
“So you came home then?” his dad asked.
“Yes. I came home then. What’s the problem with that?”
“Seems to me you haven’t learned anything,” his dad said.
“How is that?”
“You ran instead of talking things through last time. Now you just ran back home. But it’s the same thing. You’re running from state to state, from your biggest problems.”
“Dad...”
“It’s true. There is no negotiating to be done for Mel and Emma, I get that,” his dad said, his voice breaking on their names. “No bargaining. But you got this girl, and sounds like you had a problem. But she’s not gone.”
“She was pretty definitive.”
“But she’s alive. And so are you. There are going to be hiccups. Going to be problems. But you got to stay and face them.”
“I thought you wanted me home,” he said.
“I do,” his dad said. “But you know, I’d like it if you were home happy.”
“I was happy,” he said. “It was the damnedest thing. She made me happy.”
“Then you need to try again,” his mom said.
“Right,” he said, turning to look at Mallory. “So, you’re from a different generation. Practically a different generation than me. If a woman says she doesn’t want you, what do you do?”
Mallory looked up, a strange, hollow look in her eye. “You know, if you love her, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to say it more than once.”
“I did say it more than once.”
“I just... If you love her, maybe you should make her reject you a couple of times.”
“Really?”
“Well, running feels better than having to do all the chasing. I bet.”
He gritted his teeth. Her loser boyfriend had nothing to do with any of this. But then... He did wonder. He got up and walked out of the kitchen, out to the front porch. His dad followed. “What happened? I mean, tell me the story.”
So he did. Because he hadn’t talked to his old man like this in years. Maybe not since he was a teenager and they had gone out and ridden horses together. Maybe not in all that time. He told him about Iris and how she had come up with cookies. How she had given him back something he hadn’t thought he would ever have again.
“She’s hurting,” his dad said. “Sounds to me. Scared. Because all that stuff she said to you, that’s what scared people do. You want to know. You said some pretty awful things to us when we offered you love. When we tried to pull you back. It’s what happens when someone isn’t ready to accept the love that’s on offer.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“No,” his dad said. “It doesn’t. But you think about it, Griffin. Think back really to what happened when you left. The ways we tried to help you, and all the ways that you rejected it. Pain doesn’t make sense. Fear doesn’t make sense. It just is. It’s only when it quiets down that you can start to listen to other voices. Don’t you think you’ll want to be there so that once hers quiets down... Yours is the voice she hears?”
“So why didn’t you come after me then?”
“Because I had a sense that you needed to listen to your own voice. And it sounds to me like to an extent you did. Now I’m just here to guide you a little bit the rest of the way. You’ve been through things that I haven’t been. You’re a strong man, Griffin. Hold out here. Be as strong as she needs you to be.”
“I’ll go back,” he said. “And when I come back here to visit you, I’m going to hope that she’s with me.” Purpose filled his chest. His heart, his soul.
He would be there. When she was ready. And somehow it all became clear. He didn’t actually need to go after her. Because one thing 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.
SHEHADMADEthe 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 girls. Not in the same way that they were.”
His hold on her tightened. “Iris. You’re my girl. And you are more than enough. Don’t ever doubt that I was just waiting for any old person to come up that hill. It had to be you. With your cookies and your determination. With your innocence and your fire. With everything you are. I have been in love before, Iris. But it wasn’t the same journey. It wasn’t the same at all. It was easy. Everything fell into place. This has been hard. Brutal. And it means more to me than anything ever has. Because I know the cost of losing something. And now I know what it feels like to lose you, and I just... But my dad reminded me that it wasn’t final. That you were still here. Do you believe in fate?”
“I try not to,” she said. “Because it seems kind of impossibly cruel when you’ve lost things the way that we have.”
“I have to believe there’s something bigger. I just do. Otherwise I don’t think there’s any way to go on. So fate, the hand of God, whatever you want to call it, it led you to me. I know it did. But fate can’t do everything on its own. We have to do the rest. We have to be brave. Our hope has to be stronger than fear. Our light has to be brighter than the darkness.”
“I love you,” Iris said, her voice small. “I love you with everything that I am. Do you think that will be enough? Because I’m really scared. I’m going to have to learn a different way to think about myself. I need you to be patient with me. You have given me nothing but goodness and honesty. You have given to me. In ways no one else ever has. It’s not more work you have to do. It’s just... Work I have to do.”
“No,” he said. And her heart stuttered. “It’s not work you have to do. It’s work we’ll do. Together. Because neither of us are alone, not anymore. You are singular, and you are special. And my love for you is second to nothing. And I will tell you that and show you that every day for the rest of my life.”
“Thank you,” she said. “For not giving up on me.”
“You’re the one who had to march up the mountain every day and deal with me. You’re the one who didn’t give up on me. Iris, you’re the one.”
Her heart expanded, so full she thought it would burst. She believed him.
“You’re the one, sweetheart,” he repeated. “The only one who could have ever pulled me out of my exile. The only one I want. The only one I love. Everything I am, everything I’ve become, wants this life. This life with you.” He slid his thumb across her cheek. “Iris, my love for you is like nothing else I’ve ever experienced. It is singular, and you are special. It’s true, I was married before. But when I make you my wife, you will be my only wife. I’m not holding on to anything but you.”
“I want that life you told me about. When you walked me around the house. I want that. With you.”
“And we’ll have it. I’m ready. I’m not holding anything back.”
“Me either.”
“Just let me know what you need from me.”
She looked at his face, his stunning, handsome face. “I’m just going to love you. And you just have to accept it. So long as I can do the same.”
That simple. That hard.
Iris Daniels had wondered if there was a formula just changing her life. Maybe not a formula. Maybe a recipe.
For chocolate chip cookies. And love.
“It’s a deal.”
And then he kissed her, and she forgot about everything else but how much she loved him.
