Broken Ground: (Broken Series Book 1) (39 page)

I nodded with a confused frown, emptying my pockets, placing everything on the nightstand, and plugging in my phone.

"Well, Gran was the one that told me. She called me to find out if I knew where you were, and we talked for a while." She held up a hand with a raised brow. "Now, don't get mad at her. She didn't tell me anything I didn't already know at that point. Not about you anyway. But she did talk about how worried she's been, how much she wished you and I would work things out, how she thought maybe I could help you deal with some things."

I wanted to be angry, wanted to object to being discussed like an obstinate child but I couldn't. Gran was right, again. Damn, I hated having to admit that, even to myself, but I'd known all along that Ali was destined to be a catalyst in my life. I just never thought it would be to such a staggering degree. Sighing, I tipped my head toward the box. "So, that's a box full of things I need to deal with?" I turned and squinted at it. "Must be the first shipment. No way does that cover it all." I stared at it and wondered if Pandora would have opened her infamous box if she had known in advance the unfathomable pain that awaited her.

I said as much to Ali, a wry comment that was meant to be funny.

When I turned to her though, her expression was anything but amused. She smiled sadly and came over to crouch in front of me as I sat on the bed. She dropped the toothbrush on the nightstand and reached up to touch my face, tears pooling in her eyes. "Do you remember what happened the second time the box was opened?" I shook my head, genuinely not able to recall. Ali swallowed forcefully and whispered. "After all the pain and horror was unleashed, all that was left in the box was hope. And hope healed them."

As I stared into her shining emerald eyes, I knew hope for the first time in my life.

THE NEXT FEW
weeks were some of the best of my life. I was making things right, little by little, and working toward a real future. After so many years of just coasting through my life, hesitant to make major decisions for fear of choosing wrong, I was stepping up and taking control.

I'd taken control of the Marissa situation, moving carefully and singularly until the problem was resolved. I hadn't told Spencer yet, choosing to wait until the weekend when we would both be at Gran's for a family dinner. He'd be pissed that I didn't let him help, but I wanted to fix my fuck up on my own for once. I was hoping he would be so relieved not to have Marissa's accusations hanging over his head that he would forgive me my subterfuge.

I told Ali about Shepard and Marissa working together and somehow managed to garner her promise to stay out of the situation. She said she trusted me to handle it, and she hoped that Holden got what was coming to him. She was behind me one hundred percent, and I loved her so much for that.

I'd also taken action to neutralize Keith, which initially pissed Ali off, but I eventually managed to persuade her to indulge me. I hoped he was smart enough to back off, but I was fully prepared to deal with him either way. He wouldn't get away with sabotaging Ali's career. My investigator had been building quite a case against him these last few weeks. When the time came, the little bastard wouldn't know what hit him. Ali may not want the job anymore but when she left, she'd leave with a clean slate.

Lauren had been a non-issue since the day she accosted us in the parking lot. We never found out what lie she told her uncle to explain the marks Ali left on her face, but he never mentioned it to either of us, so we assumed he was still in the dark. She continued to work at night and spent days helping her uncle, becoming nothing more than a distasteful afterthought in our otherwise serene existence.

And serene it had been. Ali and I were happier than I ever could have imagined.

My favorite days with her were still Saturdays. That was the day we went together to Gran's property; I still wasn't used to calling it mine. I'd admitted to Ali a week or so ago that bears probably weren't a huge threat with all the construction noise but I told her in my most convincing voice that she should probably still stick close to me, just in case. She'd nodded emphatically and said it was probably best, all the while fighting a grin.

So, every Saturday morning Ali stood by the lake painting while I worked on my project in the barn. By mid-afternoon, we would stop for a bite to eat that usually ended with our bodies entwined — either in the lake or under our willow — before we each decided we'd worked enough for the day.

I still swam laps in the pool every morning and sometimes she sat on the edge, dipping her toes in the cool water while she watched with that slight smile of hers that I knew was an indication of her contentment. Other times, I would enter the cabin afterward to the smells of breakfast cooking and find her with Talia, sitting in the kitchen sipping coffee together. I'd staunchly refused to let Talia move out, and I was glad of it. Seeing them together made me happy and not in a creepy ménage kind of way. I liked that they supported each other, that they made each other better. They were more like sisters than any real sisters I'd ever known, and the feeling of family was comforting.

One morning in particular, I walked in from my swim and they were laughing at something the old guys from the diner had done. Talia had the most hilarious stories of their shenanigans. I stood at the top of the stairs and smiled, ruffling my hair with a towel so it wouldn't drip on the floor. Ali glanced over and spotted me, still chuckling. "Clay, you've got to hear this one. I've never laughed so hard in my life."

I wiggled my brows and smiled. "Never? Not even when we found that unusual ornament in the tree?"

Her face turned red, and she giggled into her hand while Talia looked between us with a frown. "Ornament? Tree? Christmas is a long way off, what the hell am I missing?"

"Nothing!" Ali and I said in unison, laughing.

Turned out, Talia's story was just as funny as Ali said. Apparently, one of the older gentlemen who frequented the diner had taken to trying to scare Lauren whenever she waited his table. Last night, he'd really gotten her when he plunked his false teeth into his water glass and then asked for a refill. To hear Talia tell it, Lauren screamed like a little girl and dropped the glass into his buddy's lap. It was made even more hilarious when she told us the first gentleman had burst out laughing, announcing to the entire diner that the teeth in his friend's lap was probably the most action he'd had since before Pearl Harbor.

I laughed so hard I nearly fell out of my chair.

Whoever that old guy was, I wanted to buy him a damn drink. Pure genius.

I had no remorse for taking pleasure in Lauren's misery. She was just getting a little cosmic justice for deliberately dropping our dinner order in the floor the previous week. I'd watched her smirk at Ali, hold the containers up in front of her and then gleefully let them fall. Yep, karma was a bitch or, in this case, a feisty old man with a damn good sense of humor.

Talia said she had a million more stories like that from the diner and offered to share a few of her favorites.

I asked if she minded giving me a few minutes, then excused myself to shower and change. I was halfway through my routine, head tilted back to rinse the shampoo from my hair when the glass door opened, and Ali stepped in. I peeked at her with one eye and snickered. "I'm not going to be hearing those stories this morning, am I?"

She reached out and took my quickly awakening dick in hand, stroking firmly as she sunk to her knees. "I'll give you the Cliff's Notes version. Later."

THAT AFTERNOON, AFTER
the crews left for the day, I installed my project with Ali's help. Even though the ornate oak entry door would have been best suited for the front of the house, I chose to place it as the back door. The rear of the house faced the lake, though it wasn't visible through the dense trees. I was sure my mother would have liked that. The back door also opened into the massive rustic kitchen that I knew my mother would have loved. The table I'd used for the project would have been perfectly suited for the room, but I wanted a permanent placement, one that made it part of the house not just a piece of decoration. A part of my mother would always be there in the house. That was the only thing I could do for her now.

Maybe with this final tribute, I could begin to let her go.

Ali stood a few paces away, watching me run my hands over the door frame, the trim, the antique glass knob that had been in the first box Gran had brought, the one with all the things my mother had collected for the house. I'd managed to go through its contents with just enough forced detachment to make rational decisions about what items could still be of use, leaving the paperwork I'd found at the bottom for another time. It hadn't been easy, but I'd done it.

The other box, the one at the cabin, was a different story.

Ali had offered to go through it with me, and I'd reluctantly agreed but after looking at some of the pictures inside, I'd decided to hold off for a while before tackling the rest. Several of the pictures were taken at the lake, ones she'd taken of me and a few that I'd taken of her. Those were the ones that hit me the hardest. Ali understood my reluctance and didn't push. She knew how hard this was for me and she also knew that it was going to take some time.

I was moving forward, even if it was at a crawl.

I reached out and grasped the glass knob, giving the door a push. It swung smoothly and silently on its heavy hinges, revealing the warm interior of the mostly-finished kitchen. The house itself was coming together nicely. The kitchen was closer to completion than the other rooms, most of which still needed drywall and flooring. The electrician was making some adjustments, and once he was finished, the walls would go up, the flooring would go down, and the final details could be addressed.

It wouldn't be long now.

Although Ali and I were mostly inseparable, neither of us had talked about what would happen once the house was finished. I'd been considering some options that would keep her with me, with the company, but I knew that I had to be mindful of her stubborn streak and aversion to being 'saved' or 'kept'. I hadn't found a tactful way to broach the subject, so I'd kept silent, taking my cues from her.

That wouldn't fly with Gran, though. Whether we wanted to or not, we would be discussing it come the weekend. Gran would no-doubt grill us about our future plans at the family dinner she'd insisted we attend. While the thought of her meddling would usually annoy, this time she might be doing me a favor.

Ali was hardheaded, but Gran had years of experience getting her way by any means necessary.

It would be a battle for the ages.

AS A WAY TO
mentally prepare for our trip to Gran's that weekend, I asked Blake to hold down the fort while Ali and I slipped away for a little fun. Just one day where she and I had nothing to focus on but each other.

The fact that I was doing a bit of scheming notwithstanding.

If it worked out, great. If not, I'd still get my way.

My mind was made up.

I woke Ali with soft, slow kisses that morning, leaning close and whispering in her ear. "Wake up, slugger. We've got to get going."