“Not a serial killer, but you proposed grand theft auto, so I’m thinking a life of crime is still a high possibility.”
His grin stretched, and he shifted me back into my seat, ordering, “Buckle up, Buttercup.”
I followed his directions, and as he pulled out of the parking lot, it was me who was reaching to hold his hand.
* * *
My mouth fell open as he turned down the long, oak-lined driveway, a huge, white, old-South plantation house appearing on the horizon. It had gorgeous top and bottom wraparound porches that made my mouth water and a brick horseshoe driveway that all but required you to fill it with guests.
“Is this your house?” I breathed, sitting forward in my seat so I could peer up at the extraordinary weeping willows on either side of the house.
He chuckled, lifted my hand to his mouth, and kissed my knuckles. “Sorry to disappoint, but no.”
“Then where are we?”
He grinned, releasing my hand to turn my car off. “Somewhere.”
“Any chance I’m going to get arrested for being here?” I asked, opening my car door.
On the drive over, the rain had slowed to a drizzle. During those same fifteen minutes, Porter and I hadn’t talked much. He’d stolen glances at me out of the corner of his eye, a smile pulling at his lips each time. And I’d clung to his hand, lamenting the moment I had to let it go.
“A small one.”
“Fantastic,” I deadpanned.
He walked over and hooked an arm around my shoulders, pulling my front into his side. Then he kissed the top of my head. “Relax. It’s my brother’s house. We aren’t going to get arrested, but we are absolutely going to break in.” He released me and took my hand, dragging me after him.
I jogged to keep up as he trotted up the front steps. The house was dark, but the front porch light came on when we reached the front door, scaring the shit out of me.
Porter laughed as he dug into his back pocket and pulled his wallet out. “Chill. He’s not home. If he were, this whole place would be lit up like Times Square. I swear the man is incapable of turning a light off.” He slid a single loose key out and then passed his wallet my way. “Hold this.”
I nodded, and as I took the well-worn, brown bifold from his hands, a thought hit me.
The lock clicked, and he stealthily pushed the door open only to stop and stare at me without entering. “Did you take money out of my wallet?”
“Yeah,” I answered curtly, shoving a handful of twenty-dollar bills into my back pocket before returning his wallet.
He blinked. “You low on cash?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
He blinked again, his lips beginning to twitch. “So is there a reason you’re robbing me?”
“Oh, I’m not robbing you,” I said, peering into the semi-open door and glancing around the dark foyer. “I’m taking back what you owe me.”
“What I owe you?” he repeated, incredulous.
I had a feeling the house was equally as gorgeous on the inside as it was the outside. I couldn’t see much but a stone entryway butted up against dark hardwood floors. The ceilings were high, and I could barely make out a breathtaking split staircase that would have made Scarlett O’Hara froth at the mouth.
Pushing the door wide, completely forgetting I was trespassing, I stepped inside.
“I’m sorry. How exactly do I owe you money?” Porter asked behind me.
“For the upgraded security system,” I replied absently, staring at the massive crystal chandelier above us.
His hand hit the small of my back as he got in my space and forced my gaze to his. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he whispered, humor dancing in his eyes.
“After you came barreling into my office a few weeks ago, Greg and Rita insisted we put a lock on the door up front. Now, the receptionist has to buzz you through to the back. It was well over a grand to install, so consider this your down payment.”
He barked a laugh and placed his hands on my ass. One slipped into my back pocket, where I felt him retrieve the money. “You forget, sweetheart, you came barreling into my office tonight. And, while I will never in a million years put a security system on my door to keep you out, I’m gonna need that cash to pay to soundproof my office.” He nipped my bottom lip.
I kissed him and then mumbled, “Who says I’m coming back?”
His handsome face softened. “I hope like hell you don’t ever come to me the way you did tonight. But, if you do, I’ll always be there. Door open. Light switch poised. Darkness waiting.”
My stomach fluttered and something in the back of my throat prickled. I didn’t respond, but I tipped my head back and kissed the underside of his jaw, praying that it somehow conveyed how grateful I was for what he had just given me.
“Come on. I want to show you something.” He took my hand, pure Porter, and led me through the dark house, moonlight serving as our only guide to a porch complete with a pair of white rocking chairs and a hammock tied in the corner.
He moved to the swaying ropes and sat before gathering me in his arms and pulling me down on top of him. I went willingly, resting my head on his chest and relishing in his warmth as he wrapped his arms around me.
He pointed over the balcony railing. “There’s a pond back there.”
I lifted my head to look but couldn’t make anything out in the darkness. I settled back on his chest, listening to his heart thumping in my ear, as I said, “This house is gorgeous.”
“Tanner bought it about two years ago. I was in a bad place back then.” He stopped then amended, “A worse place, anyway. He was worried about me, and I swear to God he never let me out of his sight. He used to come over and sit with me while I stared at the wall, replaying that day in the river over and over, desperately trying to make it change.”
I knew that feeling all too well. My lungs burned as I listened to him intently, my hand reflexively twisting in his shirt. He pried it away but only so he could intertwine our fingers.
“You need to understand: I’ve always loved the water. We grew up tubing and skiing on Lake Lanier with my family. But, after that day with Catherine, I could barely even take a shower without the water slicing through me. It had been over a year, but the hate inside me was getting worse. Well, on a particularly bad day, Tanner dragged me to look at this house he was thinking about buying. I took one look at that pond and lost my fucking mind. Like, I’m not kidding, Charlotte. Lost. It. It was beyond freezing, but fully clothed, without even emptying my pockets, I ran into that pond, cussing and screaming, slamming my fists against the surface as if I could hurt the water as much as it had hurt me.” He swallowed hard. “I needed the pain to stop in a bad way.”
Tears were in my eyes as I curved my body into his side. I hated how much Porter and I shared. At the same time, it filled me in unimaginable ways.
“That was me tonight,” I confessed.
He nodded, acknowledging my words, but he didn’t let it veer him from his story. “Tanner followed me in. Floating beside me on his back while I lost my shit. When I’d finally exhausted myself, we were both shivering uncontrollably and he forced me to the shore, where we collapsed on the ground. Staring up at the sky, I asked him, ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’ And my dumbass, clueless, little brother, whose greatest difficulty in life had been deciding what woman to sleep with on Friday night, looked at me and said the most profound thing I had ever heard. ‘You’re done holding on, Porter. But you have no fucking idea how to let go.’”
I gasped and my body turned to stone as the words permeated through me. That was exactly how I felt. Like I was hanging on the edge of a cliff, my fingers slipping, my aching and exhausted body dangling above the promise of a future, while my little boy’s dark-brown eyes stared at me from above. How was I supposed to make a choice like that?
“Porter,” I breathed. “I don’t know how to let go of him.”
His fingers sifted through the back of my hair, and he pressed his lips to my forehead and whispered, “Nobody does, Charlotte. I still don’t. But Tanner bought this house, and every summer, the minute it gets warm enough, I walk into that pond and try to learn.”