Come to Me Softly (Closer to You #2)(30)
Author: A.L. Jackson

Aly leaned back. Her green eyes shined with all I’d run from for so long. “Maybe that’s the only reason you need.”

Then one side of her mouth quirked up, all soft and playful, like she was tossing all the heaviness aside. Because my girl was just cool like that, like she knew exactly what I needed and when I needed it. She grinned. “Besides, we get to have Thanksgiving dinner together. Can it really be all that bad?”

I laughed a little and dragged my fingers through my hair. “Um, yeah, Aly, it might just be that bad. You do remember what we have to tell your parents today, don’t you? Pretty sure your dad isn’t going to welcome me back with open arms after we deliver our little piece of news.”

“I do remember. And I also remember I’m not twelve anymore,” she countered. Her eyebrows disappeared into her bangs, her eyes widening as if she was trying to tell me just how ridiculous she thought I was being, worrying about her parents’ judgment, when really, this was just about us.

But she had to know better than that.

I’d done some foolish shit in my life, but I was no fool, and Aly was just acting naïve. I hadn’t seen her dad, Dave, in years, not since he caught me sneaking out my father’s door in the middle of the night. I’d been off to find my next fix, just a couple of days before it’d all completely gone to hell and I’d been sent away. He made it clear then I’d never be welcome in their house again. Hatred had poured from his mouth as disappointment and disdain, giving me a warning to stay away from Christopher . . . to stay away from the rest of his family. He almost spat when he told me I was no longer considered a part of it.

That was almost seven years ago.

How much had changed since then?

Subtly I shook my head and unbuckled my seat belt. I seriously doubted his perception of me had changed all that much—that was for sure.

“Come on,” Aly encouraged, cracking open her door. “Let’s go hang out with my family. I think you might have forgotten how great they really are.”

I opened my door and began to climb out. “I haven’t forgotten, Aly.” Ducking down, I captured her gaze, looking at her seriously, hoping she would see she was taking this a whole lot more lightly than was wise. “But you can bet they haven’t forgotten about me, either.”

I followed Aly up the sidewalk. Christopher was waiting for us at the door. He cocked a single brow at me, like he was asking me if I was ready for what was about to happen.

I shrugged, because I was about as ready as I’d ever be.

He rapped once at the wood and opened the door. “Happy Thanksgiving!” he sang all off key and obnoxious as he swung the door open wide.

Aly glanced over her shoulder at me. Joy sat prominent on her features, softened her eyes, and parted her lips, and a tiny giggle seeped from her mouth, like maybe she appreciated her crazy brother just as much as I did for breaking up the tension, for trumpeting our arrival like we were ushering in a celebration rather than stepping into a field of land mines like I was pretty sure we were.

From somewhere inside the house, Aly’s mother, Karen, squealed. Five seconds later, she came barreling around the corner. She yanked Christopher into her arms, squeezing him and rocking him almost violently side to side. “There you are!” She pulled back, all this mischief running through the brown of her warm eyes. She fanned herself. “I’ve been slaving away in the kitchen all day. It’s about time you all showed up to give me some help.”

I stifled a chuckle.

Maybe I really had forgotten she was that way. Funny. Casual. Kind like her daughter and roguish like her son. Laughter from years ago rang in my ears, the way she and my mother would sit for hours and just laugh and talk about what seemed like nothing at all while we played away our days.

Something strong pushed out from the inside, and my heart beat a little too hard. I stepped away, awkwardly hanging back at the door as she playfully swatted Christopher’s chest and turned to drag Aly into her arms. This hug was both tighter and softer than the one she gave Christopher. Something serious passed between the two of them while Karen Moore held her daughter in her arms.

I shifted on my feet, doing my best not to lose my shit as I watched the tender affection transpiring in front of me.

The last time I had seen her, Karen Moore had sent me over the edge. All the forgiveness and love and relief she’d poured out over me had been far too much when it’d been the last thing I wanted.

Now I stood on her threshold, treading dangerous ground as I walked headlong through her front door.

What the f**k was I thinking? Coming here?

That was the problem, though. I no longer knew what was right, my fate, where I was supposed to end up—because somehow I’d received a pardon from my penance and I still didn’t know what the hell to do with it. Was it right I was accepting all this goodness or was I just adding another check mark to my sins?

But how could Aly be that? How could she be wrong? All I could see when I looked at her was a gift.

Karen ran her hand over the back of Aly’s head and down her back, staring at me over her shoulder when she did. Wide brown eyes spoke to me, glistening with all the same welcome she’d showered me with on the day I’d run.

Or maybe there was even more there, like she saw all the questions running through my mind and she was telling me this was right and this was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Slowly she untangled herself from Aly. She never took her eyes off me as she stepped closer. Her movements were almost tentative, though filled with all this cautious purpose as she edged in my direction.

Then Karen Moore wrapped me in her arms.

With her gentle touch, a blink of agitation lit in my nerves, sparked that shame and remorse always lying in wait. But I held it in and let her hold me.

And shit, maybe it seemed impossible that I could, but somehow I forced myself to return it.

Truth was, I had always cared about her. She’d been like a mother to me, never hesitating to encourage me when I needed it or to set me straight when I was stepping out of line.

Closing my eyes, I just let her rain that old affection on me. With it came a downpouring of all the old memories of her and this house and everything that had taken place behind its walls.

Some of those memories I welcomed. Others I shunned. Because I just wasn’t ready to go there yet.

Didn’t know if I’d ever be.

“Welcome home,” she whispered near my ear, like it was our greatest secret, like maybe she knew if she said it aloud it would cause me more pain than I could handle. “You don’t know how happy I am you’re here . . . that you came back to her.”