Page 96 of The Embers That Remain

A surprised laugh escaped him. “Fair.”

“But I do know this.” I reached up and cupped his jaw. His eyes immediately closed for a brief second, and he leaned into my touch like he’d been starved for it.

“I know that every time life got hard, somehow it was still you.”

When his eyes opened again, they were suspiciously bright.

“It was always you, Lane.”

His throat worked. Neither of us spoke for several seconds. The sun slipped lower across the horizon as the pond shimmered gold. For the first time since he’d found me here, hope began to replace the ache inside my chest.

I smiled through tears, because suddenly the future didn’t feel like something waiting to blindside me.

“What if we stopped pretending we’re strangers?”

His expression became almost unbearably vulnerable.

A tear slipped down my cheek. “What I’m trying to say is, what if we stopped running from this?”

For one long moment, he simply stared at me. Then he shook his head once in disbelief. “Cali . . .” The sound of my name seemed to break him apart. His hands framed my face, careful, like he couldn’t quite believe I was real.

“Baby,” he whispered, forehead falling against mine, “I’ve been waiting fifteen years for you to ask me that.”

A sob-laugh escaped me. His smile broke wide.

“So yes?”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Hell yes.” And for the first time in a very long time, the future didn’t scare me. It felt like I was finally coming home.

Forty-Seven

Cali

Have you ever had that feeling like you were being watched? Not the creepy kind where you don’t know who’s staring at you. No. I knew exactly whose eavesdropping little eyeballs were tracking my every move across the yard. I glanced toward the farmhouse. Sure enough, Grandpa and Jace were plastered against the living room window like two raccoons caught raiding a trash can. And judging by the way they ducked out of sight with all the subtlety of two teenagers caught breaking curfew, they’d been there a while.

Wonderful. I kept my expression neutral as I trudged inside. The second the door shut behind me, both heads snapped toward me with wide eyes. Subtle. Very subtle. I made it all the way to the kitchen before they magically appeared beside me, because apparently privacy was no longer a thing. Grandpa was at the table, while Jace leaned against the counter, attempting the world’s weakest version of casual. This boy wasn’t winning any Oscars. Both wore the same guilty-but-nosy-as-hell expression.

“Cali girl,” Grandpa exclaimed. “Are you neckin’ with that boy?”

Heat raced up my neck and straight onto my face. At the exact same moment, Jace coughed. The two of us were apparently choking for completely different reasons.

I froze. Because for a second, he wasn’t Jimmy. He was my grandpa, the same grandpa who would’ve asked me that same embarrassing question back then.

“Ew.” Jace pointed at him. “First of all, nobody says neckin’ anymore.”

Grandpa shrugged. “Worked fine in my day.”

“Your day also involved black-and-white television,” Jace remarked.

I snorted as I grabbed a loaf of bread and began making a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” I said finally.

“Now, honey,” Grandpa said, completely ignoring me, “if your grandma was here, she’d be telling you to make sure you’re using protection.”

I dropped the butter knife, heat blazing across my face. Across the room, Jace coughed so hard he had to brace himself against the counter.

“Grandpa!”