Page 32 of Lost Truth
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At Percy’s cottage, Hayden told himself to keep his hands off Cady, but at her trembling, he ignored his warning and circled his arm around her as they walked to the door. She didn’t object to his touch. In fact, she moved closer to him, firing off all of his senses. There really was something about this woman that got to him, and he couldn’t put a finger on it. It wasn’t tangible. It was, well, mysterious and fantastic.
Problem was, he didn’t know what to do with it. Since his parents died, he’d been unable to trust loving someone again, and he’d controlled everything within his power. It took him a good year after he met his teammates before he began to trust the affection he’d developed for them and to believe he wasn’t going to lose them too. Not like the fear ever totally went away. It was there. Mostly dormant, but it surfaced at times to remind him to be careful. Like now with Cady.
Could he set aside his fear as he’d done with his teammates for a woman who might share every day of his life with him? A woman he would undoubtedly be closer to than to his best friends? His family?
Crazy thinking.Maybe he shouldn’t be alone with her and should’ve asked Abby to stay with them instead of going back to the inn. Too late now.
Cady broke away from him to insert the key in the lock. Her hand shook as she pushed the door open. A musty scent wafted out, a testament to the challenge of owning a home located near the ocean that wasn’t aired out on a regular basis.
Cady shook her head. “The place has lost my dad’s unique scent. It smells like he’s gone and feels so final.”
Did that make things easier for her or more difficult? Her expression became unreadable, and her body language warned him not to comment.
She stepped inside and hesitated in the entryway, where an open layout unfolded before them. The dining area anchored the front of the space, while the living room stretched across the back of the cottage. Spanning nearly the entire width of the living room, large glass sliding doors offered a sweeping view of the ocean. Tucked to the left was a simple yet functional kitchen.
Cady’s eyes lifted to his, searching for something—comfort, understanding, anything. “I know Dad didn’t live here long, but he brought as many of the furnishings from my childhood home as would fit here, and the memories of time with him are so vivid.”
Helpless to ease her pain, he stayed close, silently offering his presence, ready to move if she so much as reached for him. “I can only imagine what you’re going through.”
She hesitantly met his gaze. “I’m sorry, that was insensitive of me. What happened to your family’s belongings?”
“I don’t actually know.” He didn’t like how his voice was so low, thick with feeling, indicating he was about to lose control, so he paused and breathed before telling his story. “They immediately assigned a social worker, and she brought me back to the house to collect my things. My parents didn’t have a will, but the worker let me choose a few items to take with me.”
At the memory of the day, he curled his fingers into fists and let the nails bite into his palms. “Problem was, I wasn’t allowed to take as much as I would’ve liked. I asked if we could put some things in a storage unit, but they rejected that request. It cost money to pay for the unit, and I wouldn’t have any until the estate went through probate, if then. And as it turns out, they had barely enough money to pay off their debts and outstanding bills, leaving nothing for me.”
She loosened his grip with a tender touch, then enclosed his hands in her own, grounding him. “I’m so sorry, Hayden. That must’ve been hard.”
A hard swallow caught in his throat, and he hesitated, gathering the strength to speak again. “It was, and it’s something that stuck with me.”
She studied his face for a long time, and opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but closed it and turned to the room. “Dad kept his journals in his nightstand, but we cleared out those drawers when he came to live with me. If we start in the office, we could find something in his desk or filing cabinet. Or even on the bookshelves.”
With a reassuring nod, Hayden conveyed his full confidence in her strategy. “Lead the way.”
Closed window blinds cast the room in shadows portraying a heavy, almost suffocating atmosphere. A masculine energy radiated from two dark leather chairs positioned before an imposing desk that dominated the center of the room. Beside it, a sturdy wooden filing cabinet stood as if guarding the space, while two overflowing bookshelves flanked the window like silent sentinels.
She opened the blinds and flooded the room with warm rays of sunshine. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll start with the desk, and you can do the bookshelves.”
“Sounds good.”
She pulled out a vintage wooden chair from behind the desk. He stepped to the bookcases and started combing through stacks of paper, looking for any possible lead. The grating sound of desk drawers scraping open and then slamming closed broke the silence in the room as they each continued their search.
“Oh. Oh!” The pain in Cady’s voice had him spinning to look at her. She clasped a hand over her mouth.
He rushed to her, not just to offer his support, but to learn what she had discovered. “What is it? What did you find?”
She held up a butterscotch candy. “When I was a little girl, I would always get pencils from the middle drawer and sit on the floor next to Dad and draw while he did paperwork. He always tucked my favorite butterscotch candy in the drawer as a surprise for me.
“Sorry.” She glanced up, heat rising up her neck as she didn’t like being caught in such a moment of vulnerability. “You probably think I’m crazy reacting over something as simple as a piece of candy.”
“Not at all.” He flashed her a comforting smile while he perched on the corner of the desk. “My experience with grief says it’s the little things that are sometimes the hardest to overcome. But I also know, as time passes and memories fade, you become afraid you’ll forget so much about your loved one, and you’ll welcome the little memories.”
She tilted her head. “I can really see that happening. I want to think I won’t forget anything about my dad, but I know it’s natural for memories to fade.”
Maybe he wasn’t supposed to try to help her. It continued to stir up the painful memories of losing his parents, leaving his emotions so raw that saying anything felt like it might lead to that lack of control he so desperately craved. And yet, she was the first person he’d ever wanted to talk with about his parents. But before he said something he might not come back from, he swallowed the words, and simply nodded.
His lack of reply seemed to trouble her, and she inhaled a deep breath. “We should get back to work.”
