“I’m sorry for any trouble I’ve made,” he said. “I was hoping … maybe you could send me an email now and then.” Footsteps thundered down the hall overhead. “Tell me what those guys are up to? I’d like to keep in touch, if you’re willing.”
“Why?”
Ben searched for the right words, but all he could think of to say was “They’re my brothers.”
She thought this over, then tilted her head in agreement. “Sure.” She pointed toward the low table beneath the phone that had always stood in that spot, though the phone had changed since Ben was last here. “Leave me your email?”
Ben bent down and printed it in block capitals. He flipped the page, tore off another sheet, and asked, “What’s yours?”
She gave it to him, and he pocketed the paper.
“Thanks for breakfast.”
“It was my pleasure.”
He made a face, and she smiled faintly. There hadn’t been much pleasure in it for anyone.
“Take care,” he told her.
“Drive safe.”
He let himself out, easing the screen door closed behind him. The morning was bright and clear. In the distance, the lake appeared unusually calm. His father emerged from the barn with a veil and gloves in his hands, heading toward the hives.
He didn’t look at Ben, and that was fine. Of all the people in the world who were disappointed in him, his father was the one whose opinion he cared about the least.
May was five hours away. If he drove fast and said the right words, he might get lucky enough to see her smile by nightfall.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Ben rang the bell on the front porch of May’s parents’ house, mentally crossing his fingers that the green sedan in the driveway belonged to her and not some random relative.
She hadn’t been at home when he checked. He didn’t have her new cell number. If she wasn’t here, he wouldn’t know where else to look for her, and—
Allie abruptly yanked the door open.
She wore a baseball cap and pajamas, with oversized rabbit slippers on her feet. Sunglasses covered half her face and completely hid her expression. She rubbed her hand over her lips, smearing them into a gruesome shape.
&nbs
p; “No, don’t talk yet,” she said. “I’m trying to decide on my line. Like, do you think ‘Well, well, well’ is good, or do I need to say something more caustic than that to the guy who ripped out my sister’s heart and stomped on it just—” She looked at her bare wrist. “—twenty-six hours ago?”
Ben decided it was a rhetorical question. “Is she here?”
“She might be.”
“How much does she hate me?”
“I think she would cut your balls off with the kitchen shears if she could manage it.”
Ben winced. He’d expected that, but it hadn’t prevented him from hoping for a softer reception than he deserved. “You, too, huh?”
Allie shrugged. “I’m in a more forgiving frame of mind, since I’ve recently treated people I loved abominably, myself.”
It dawned on him that Allie wasn’t supposed to be here in her pajamas. She was supposed to be on her honeymoon. While he was still processing that, she said, “How about one of the things you do for me is not ask?”
“I can do that. Listen—”
“Allie?” Nancy’s voice came from the kitchen. “Is someone at the door? Your waffle is getting cold!”