Or maybe that was just ridiculous. Liam had his apartment. Mae had hers. Heath was on the run; he couldn’t just come back to suburbia.
What a clusterfuck the entire thing was.
Shoving all of that out of my head, I walked carefully up the steps of Norma’s house and knocked quietly on the door. A light popped on in the front bedroom, and when the door crept open, it was with a double barrel shotgun pointing in my direction.
I blanched at it. “Jesus, Norma. It’s me. Rowe.”
“Oh. Come in. I’ll put Old Betsy away in the safe. What the hell are you doing here at this time of the night? I’d already gone to bed! You trying to give an old woman a heart attack?”
I closed the door behind her and watched her lock the gun in a safe in her bedroom. I wasn’t sure if it made me feel better or worse. “No, I’m sorry. But I do need to talk.”
She eyed me, shrugging on a flowered robe from a hook in the closet and wrapping it tightly over her pajamas. “Well, then, out to the kitchen you go. If it’s serious enough for a conversation in the middle of the night, then it requires milk and cookies.”
A smile twitched at the corner of my mouth. “It’s not even 9:00 p.m. And you’ve been living with a four-year-old too long when you start thinking all things can be solved with warm drinks and snacks.”
She shot me a sidelong glare. “You’d be surprised at the things my cookies can fix.” She pointed to the kitchen table.
I dragged out a familiar chair. I’d sat at this table many a time over the years. Both with Rory, and without. My heart still gave a pang, remembering her sitting beside me at this very table, her hand on my leg beneath it, while she introduced me to Norma for the first time.
I was surprised to find it was no longer a pang of longing. But more like a fond memory. One that made me smile but didn’t feel like my insides were being torn apart.
She put a pot on the stove, filled it with milk, and then organized a tray of cookies. She set them down in front of me. “Ripley and I made them yesterday. I think he snuck some extra sugar in when I wasn’t watching, but they’re still good.”
“Kid does have a sweet tooth. He’s in bed?”
She nodded, taking the seat opposite mine. “He had a big day at daycare. He crashed as soon as I got him out of the bath. But enough small talk. Tell me what’s going on.”
I let out a wobbly breath, not sure how to broach the subject, but knowing Norma respected brutal honesty. “Zye’s out of prison.”
Her hand froze in the middle of reaching for a cookie. Then she shook her head. “No. He can’t be. He still has years on his sentence.”
“The prisons are all overcrowded. He got early release. He’s out, Norma. I saw his parole paperwork this afternoon.”
Her fingers trembled, and I took them in mine, rubbing her hand gently. She knew what he’d done and the danger he represented. I didn’t need to explain any further. She stared around at the little house she’d owned for a lifetime. Rory had grown up here. Her childhood drawings were in frames in the hallway, right alongside Ripley’s. “I need to leave,” Norma stuttered. “I can’t stay here. He knows this house. He’ll come for Ripley, and I’ll be damned if that animal is getting a hand on that boy.”
The milk boiled and splashed over, but it didn’t seem to register with Norma. I put her hand down on the table and stood to turn off the burner, moving the milk off the hot stove top but not bothering to pour either of us a mug. No amount of warm milk was going to make this better.
“I came to ask if you’d let me take him.”
Her gaze snapped to mine, her eyes wide.
I swallowed down the nervous lump in my throat. “Please, Norma. I love him. I can protect him. I’ll take him out to the cabin until Zye loses interest.”
“And then you’ll bring him home?”
I felt as if a steel band was wrapping around my heart. I knew I couldn’t give him up twice. If I took him now and made a home for him in the cabin, tucked him in at night, prepared all his meals, and held him when he was hurt… It would kill me to give all that up again. But it wasn’t my call to make. I stared down at the tabletop. “If that’s what you want.”
Norma’s hand was like a rattlesnake. It shot out fast and gripped mine so tight her short, clean nails left indent marks in my skin. “Don’t be stupid, boy. You know that’s never what I wanted. Ripley is your son. My daughter chose you, and she chose damn well. You’re a good man, Rowe Pritchard, and I hate that you seem to forget that.”
I shook my head, unable to handle praise I didn’t deserve. “I’ve done things—”
“None that change who you truly are. I see you. I know why Rory chose you. Ripley was always meant to be yours. I stepped in while you were hurting, but I’m not what he needs. Not on a day-to-day basis. I’ve prayed to the good Lord you’d come to see that, and now you have.”
She smiled, and this time, it was filled with relief.
“This is the only home he remembers. I’m just his fun uncle-type figure. I don’t know how to be a dad.”
She patted the side of my face. “Silly boy. You already are one. You’ve proved it over and over again by sacrificing everything for him. You think he doesn’t see it? He adores you. We both do. The home you give him will be the one he needs. You’ll see.”
I swallowed hard, fighting off the lump in my throat. I still wasn’t sure I believed I deserved her admiration and trust, but when I closed my eyes, I heard Mae echoing the same thing, and Heath promising support.
Somewhere, I knew Rory was smiling.
“I need all his things. As much as I can fit in the car. I don’t have anything at my place.”
Norma nodded and pushed to her feet. “He doesn’t have a lot, but you can take whatever you can find.”