His response was to dip low and kiss me, sad and slow. “How do you feel?” he asked as he pulled away.
“Like shit.”
“Is it wrong if I say good?”
I shook my head. “I guess I actually was having a nervous breakdown.”
“I think you were more than entitled.”
I nodded and looked out at the river. “I’m glad you didn’t get eaten by an alligator during yours.”
Porter chuckled and pulled me against him so he could kiss my temple. “So, what now?”
I sucked in a deep breath. “Now, we go home and, I guess, plan a funeral for my baby.”
His face turned pensive. “I want to be there for you, Charlotte, but I know this is personal. So you have to tell me what you need.”
Pushing to my feet, I dusted the back of my jeans off. “I need a glass of wine. I need to call Brady. And then I need to figure out how to move forward with my life. And I want you there for all of that. However, I know you need some dry clothes and to go home to your kids.”
“Charlotte,” he whispered in apology, rising beside me to his full height.
“It’s okay. And that’s not me pretending.” I took his hand and intertwined our fingers, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t I drop you off now? Go home. Start on all of that crap—”
He tugged on my hand. “I don’t think you need to be alone.”
I stared at him impatiently. “You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say start on all of that crap and then come back to your house for that glass of wine tonight after your kids go to bed.”
His eyes flared, but a classic Porter Reese smile split his face. “I approve of this plan.”
“Good. Now, get naked.”
His chin jerked to the side. “I’m sorry. What?”
“I said get naked. There is no way you are getting inside Betty White with wet clothes.”
“I’m almost dry!” he defended.
I smiled—on the day when it should have been impossible. But such was life with Porter.
“Then you can almost ride in my car.”
He groaned.
Minutes later, I laughed as he dug through my trunk, looking for the roll of paper towels that I’d told him were back there.
And then, ten minutes later, after he’d wrapped my driver’s seat up like a mummy, we both climbed inside and headed toward his house, leaving a mountain of guilt on the side of that Georgia road.
As Porter drove to his house, I looked at my phone. Two missed calls from Tom. Two from my mom. None from Brady. Assuming he already knew, I didn’t find this surprising. I made a mental note to text Mom when I was on my way home. She’d pass the info on to Tom.
Porter and I rode in silence. All the words had already been spoken. Well, all except the three that screamed inside my heart. But that wasn’t the day for professions of love.
The sun was just starting to go down. Those words could wait for another sunrise.
And, for the first time in ten years, I had hope that there would be a lot of sunrises in my future.
“What time do you think you’ll be back?” Porter asked when he turned into an upper-middle-class subdivision.
I leaned forward and stared out the windshield as rows of tall houses started to appear in front of us. They weren’t huge like his brother’s plantation home, but they were definitely nice. Plush, green grass covered the front yards while tall, dark privacy fences lined the backs. And, from the basketball hoops to the minivans, the place screamed family.
My stomach fluttered, but I didn’t allow the panic to set in. This was where Porter lived. There was nothing scary about that.
“Um…what time do your kids go to sleep?” I asked.
“Usually nine, but my mom probably let them stay up until midnight last night, so they probably—” He abruptly stopped talking at the same time his eyes narrowed on something in front of him. “What the fuck?”
I followed his gaze. Two police cars were parked in front of a redbrick two-story just around the bend.
“Is that your house?”
Porter didn’t reply as he punched the gas, not slowing until the bottom of my car scraped the bump on his driveway. I cringed at the sound.
He didn’t bother cutting the engine before he was out of the car and racing up the sidewalk.
Confused, I stared at his back.
And then the confusion got a whole hell of a lot worse when Tom emerged from inside of his house, a murderous glare contorting his face. His hand shot out and fisted the front of Porter’s shirt as he shoved him against the brick wall beside the door.
What the hell?
Slinging my door open, I jumped from the car. “Tom!” I yelled, storming up to the porch.
His irate eyes never lifted to mine as he snatched a pair of cuffs from beneath his blazer.
“Get off me,” Porter growled, shoving back before righting himself.
Charlie came jogging out of the house, an older woman with a pale, round face following him. She stopped in the doorway, her mouth opening and closing without actually saying anything, panic dancing in her blue eyes.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Charlie said, grabbing Tom’s shoulder. “You cannot arrest him. You have nothing to go on.”
“Bullshit!” Tom snapped back. “I have enough.”
I stepped around the arguing men, my mind reeling, unable to keep up with the chaos. “What the hell are you doing?” I barked, pressing a hand against Tom’s chest while doing my best to separate him from Porter.
“Get out of my way, Charlotte,” Tom demanded.
“Not until you tell me what’s going on!”
His cold, icy gaze swung to mine, and then his whole demeanor gentled as he said, “Lucas isn’t dead, babe.”
My stomach dropped, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I stumbled, my back colliding with Porter’s front, his arms immediately hooking around my middle.
“What?” I gasped.
“Do not do this until you’re sure, Tom,” Charlie demanded.
“I’m sure. It’s him. You know it as well as I do. Same blood type. Medical history. Everything.” Tom’s jaw clenched as his gaze flicked over my shoulder to Porter, a menacing snarl forming on his lips. “We have reason to believe that Lucas could be alive and that your boyfriend back there knows where he is.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Porter thundered.
But not a single, solitary word escaped my throat.
My old archnemesis, Hope, made sure of that.
Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never harm me.
Lies.
Syllables and letters may not be tangible, but they can still destroy your entire life faster than a bullet from a gun.
One word.
That was all it took to ruin us all.
“Dad?” the little boy called on a broken cry, rushing from around his grandmother and slamming into his father’s side.
Seeing as how Porter was flush against my back, it was my side too.
I moved my arm on instinct, but as I dropped it back down, it brushed against the child’s back.
I stared at Tom as his eyes got wide, and then they got soft.
Soft the way he looked at me. Soft the way he looked at my mom.
Soft the way he would look at my…son.
Chills exploded across my skin, and my nose began to sting.
Slowly, I slid my gaze down to the little boy at my side. He was staring up at his father, fear etched in his face.
I’d seen Travis before, but right then, with hope tinting my vision, I was looking at him for the very first time.
My straight, raven hair.
His father’s dimpled chin.
He wasn’t a baby anymore.
He was standing there.
Air in his lungs.
A pulse in his veins.
Alive.
One word.
“Lucas,” I breathed.
To be continued in…