“Is that what you think I owe you?” I squinted so hard it hurt.
“We loved each other, Lizzie.” He took one confident step toward me and stopped.
“That was a lifetime ago. We were thirteen, Kel. Then someone died, and life changed.”
Bee squeaked. I had no doubt Dillon, Allie, and Bee were listening. Honestly, I didn’t mind. I was certain Dillon was there just to be sure I didn’t need his help. If Dillon and I were building trust, then here was his chance to get to know a little more about Elizabeth Reardon.
Kelton shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “That didn’t mean we couldn’t talk.”
“So, are you saying you would’ve still loved me, even though my sister was the one who pulled the trigger?”
Another squeal filtered out from inside, followed by Dillon shushing them.
“You wouldn’t have looked at me any differently? Your parents wouldn’t either? Your brothers?” I wasn’t sure I could face his family. Something as tragic as what had happened changed people.
His gaze dropped to his booted feet.
I went to the other side of the porch. Five feet was way too close to Kelton. “Yeah, I thought so. Your family will always blame mine. My presence in your life would always remind them of that day. It was best to cut all ties with you.”
He inched closer, maintaining the distance between us. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t even Gracie’s fault.”
I used the porch rail to support me. “In part, I agree.” My dad had always taught us not to touch a gun, especially when he’d learned that Mr. Maxwell had been schooling the boys in how to shoot. “I saw how determined Karen was to be like you and your brothers. She wanted to do everything you boys did, including shooting and hunting. When I think back, part of me gets angry with your dad. He didn’t bother to teach Karen gun safety. If I recall, his reasoning was that girls shouldn’t handle guns. The other part of me gets mad at my sister. She knew not to go anywhere near one.” I gripped the rails on either side of me, feeling as though I’d just discarded seven years of anger, hurt, and sadness that had been targeted at the Maxwells.
He swung his pensive gaze out toward the street. A lady bundled up in a heavy coat, hat, and scarf cleaned the snow off her car.
He threaded his fingers through his hair. “Why are you in Boston? Have you been living here long?”
The past week had felt like a lifetime, especially the last twenty-four hours. “Where are you going with this?” I wasn’t sure where or how I wanted this conversation to go.
He stalked over to me.
I dug my palms into the railing, tensing every muscle in my body. My pulse beat in my ears, growing louder the closer he got. The tips of his boots touched mine. I dropped my gaze, afraid to meet those damn blue eyes that caused my insides to do funky, sexy things.
His military-style boots were unlaced at the top, his jeans were ripped at the knees, and his red briefs peeked through a hole just under his right pocket.
Lord, you’re not helping me.
His cold fingers landed underneath my chin. “Look at me, Lizzie.”
Oh, hell no.
Steam blew out of my nose.
“I’ve missed you,” he said softly, his thumb moving back and forth on my chin as his chest rose and fell rapidly.
My brain became fuzzy as he continued to hold my chin between his fingers. Every emotion I had for Kelton was locked in a box and stored away. Yet, at that moment, the way he continued to rub my chin, light and soothing, the closeness of his body, his warm breath breezing over me, and his hands on my face, was too freaking much.
I pried my hand from the rail and pushed against his hard abs. He didn’t move. I tried again.
“I’m not leaving yet,” he said in a husky voice that sent an electrical charge to the center of my heart.
He grasped my wrist before dragging my hand over his heart. I was catapulted back in time to when we’d stood on my front lawn the day we’d moved. He’d given me my half-heart necklace. Then I’d asked him where the other half was. He’d taken my hand, pressed my palm to his heart, and said, “Right here.”
His cinnamon breath shattered the memory. I quickly checked to ensure the charm I’d never taken off was still hidden beneath my shirt. When I lifted my gaze, time stopped. He was looking at me the same way he had when we were thirteen—with love stamped in his eyes.
I swallowed several times to try and get the lump in my throat to go down.
Then he slowly dragged his thumb over my lips. “They’re still as pink as ever,” he said, his gaze on my mouth.