“Hey.” Austin peeks his head around the corner, hovering over the threshold as if he’s a vampire in need of an invitation. When I fail to respond, he asks, “You doing okay?”
Stupid as it is, disappointment rushes in from every corner until I could drown in it. I hoist my smile, unwilling to cause him any more distress. “Yup, I’m fine. No need for concern.”
He shrugs, carefully inching his way into the room as if my grief is contagious. “Can’t help it. I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be,” I say, brushing off his discomfort. “I’m fine. Couldn’t be better.”
That’s a lie, but there’s nothing my brother can say or do that will change it, so the truth is better left unsaid. This is something I need to work through on my own. No one can help me with it. As difficult as it is for them, they can only sit by and watch me flounder.
“You haven’t left your room in days.” Anxiety flickers in his eyes as they search over me, looking for obvious wounds. Luckily—or maybe unluckily—they’re all on the inside, away from prying eyes.
The only emotion my brother knows how to emit is anger. He’s never been the touchy-feely type. So him being here, checking on me, speaks volumes.
“Did Mom tell you that we might move back?” he asks, sidling closer to the bed before gingerly settling at the end. As he does, the mattress sinks beneath his heavy weight.
“She mentioned it the other day.”
“Guess she had the phone conference and her boss said the position is hers if she wants it.” He tilts his head, carefully assessing my reaction. “What do you think about that?”
It’s bizarre he even has to ask the question. Stranger still, there isn’t a ready answer tripping off my tongue. The decision to leave Hawthorne should be a no-brainer. Our bags should be packed and our return to Chicago imminent. And yet, here I am, conflicted about the decision. The thought of walking away from Kingsley sends a hot rush of pain flooding through my entire being. The sensation of not being able to breathe takes hold. As if I’m being choked from the inside out.
“I’m not sure,” I force myself to admit. I’m almost afraid of Austin’s response. He’s been gunning to leave Hawthorne since day one.
It’s a surprise when he confesses the same. “Me, neither.” His broad shoulders collapse as uncertainty flickers across his expression. “Is it weird that I can’t remember what life was like a couple of months ago?”
A mirthless chuckle escapes from my lips. “Not really. In a strange way, it’s like we’ve lived here forever.”
“And most of it has sucked ass.” One side of his mouth hitches with reluctant humor.
“Yup,” I agree, “it has.” No other period of my life has been riddled with so many traumatic experiences. I should want to put them behind me and move forward.
His brows beetle together as if my answer is just as startling. “You’re not sure you want to leave?”
I shake my head as a slight smile lifts my lips. “That’s totally messed up, right?”
He plows a hand through his hair. “Probably.”
“I thought you would be ecstatic to get the hell out of here.”
“I know.” He shifts his body toward me, looking as perplexed by the revelation as I am. “Have you ever heard the old saying—you can’t go home again?”
I jerk my head into a tight nod as my belly prickles with unease. “Yeah.”
“In a weird way, it feels similar.” Sadness and bewilderment flicker across his face as he stares at his entwined fingers. “Too much has happened, and it feels like no matter how much we try, nothing will ever be the same again.”
As painful as the admittance is, he might be right. Returning to Chicago won’t bring our father back. It won’t wipe away the grief and sadness that make up my entire being. And it won’t erase my feelings for Kingsley.
But is staying in Hawthorne the answer?
It’s a complicated question without a solution.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Later that evening, I lie in bed and stare sightlessly at the ceiling. No matter how hard I try, sleep evades me. I toss and turn, my mind filled with chaos. Questions that don’t have obvious answers. Grief that has no immediate outlet.
Unable to stand another moment, I throw off the covers and jump from bed. I pull on a sweatshirt and leggings before grabbing the afghan that has been tossed over the back of the chair in the corner and beeline to the patio door.
I’m going to the only place that has any chance of soothing my soul.
As soon as my bare feet hit the deck, the crisp breeze slaps at my cheeks, instantly cooling them. The scent of fresh pine and dried leaves that carpet the ground drift on the air. For a moment, I shutter my eyes and inhale deeply, allowing the scent to work its way through my body. Once it’s released back into the world, I close the door, ready to escape the stifling confines of the house. From the corner of my eye, a sleek black object catches my attention and I ground to a halt. My gaze falls on the telescope that had been set up on the Rothchild balcony near my bedroom. Drawn to the expensive piece of equipment, I reach out, trailing my fingers over the smooth metal of the scope. My chest tightens as thick emotion clogs it. At every turn, Kingsley throws me off-kilter. He’s an enigma I can’t wrap my brain around.