When We Let Go by Delancey Stewart (read with me .txt) 📕
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- Author: Delancey Stewart
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Maddie shook her head. “No, I understand. I’m not sure I could have done it if it were my brother.”
“But now, the time felt right,” I said. “And it’s been a year. Too long to ignore her wishes.”
“I’m sorry, Connor. For your loss, and for sending the police.” Maddie’s eyes shone in the fire’s glow.
“I would have done the same,” I said, sliding off the stool and returning to the stove. If I sat there any longer, I’d burst into tears, and that wasn’t really the image I wanted her to have of me.
“So a year ago, when you tried … that must have been when John Trench saw you?”
“Turns out that spot isn’t as secluded as I thought,” I said. “But when he found me, I was falling apart. I … Catherine was my whole family. My whole world.” I stared at her a second, wondering if she could understand. “I know it’s stupid, but I feel like I should have known that she was sick. Like maybe I could have done something if I’d known early enough.”
“Why don’t people around here know about this?” She asked. “Wasn’t there an obituary? Or a notice or something? Didn’t her friends come up?”
“She and I … we weren’t good at connecting with people, I guess. She had a few friends. I called them, but there wasn’t a lot to do once she was gone. I was about all she had, too.”
“Wasn’t there anything in the papers about you, though? You’re kind of a celebrity.”
“Connor Charles is,” I conceded.
Maddie raised an eyebrow and one side of her mouth tipped up. “What do you mean?”
“I wasn’t born Connor Charles. It’s a pen name. My real name is Christopher Connors. And he’s not famous at all. So no one cared. No one ever did care much about either of us.” I couldn’t help tossing that in, though I knew it sounded pathetic.
“So the thing with Amanda …” she said. “Was there anything more to it? More than just … tutoring, or whatever?”
“There wasn’t much ‘whatever’ at all. She asked a lot of questions. She was a bright girl.” I cleared my throat. I didn’t like thinking of her in the past tense. “She IS a bright girl.”
“So the stuff about the relationship?”
“Out of the blue.” I sighed, leaning onto my elbows on the counter. “I’m sorry … this is a hard topic. I’m just … I’m worried about her. And I’m not allowed to be.”
“You’re not allowed?”
“Because I’m a suspect.” I hadn’t talked to anyone about this who wasn’t interrogating me, hadn’t confided my side of it all in anyone. It was an immense relief. “Because I’m not supposed to care. Because I’m supposed to be a sociopathic maniac who’s holding her in some secret underground cell here at my house of horrors.”
Maddie watched me for a long second, then shook her head lightly and motioned toward the stove. “I think the deal on offer here tonight was supposed to be dinner.”
“You’re right.” I said, the mood shifting instantly and the dark aura that had settled dissipating as I returned to the stove.
“Can I help?”
Maddie did not strike me as a woman who cooked, but I also liked her sitting there, watching me with that alert perceptive gaze. “There’s not much to do, really.”
“Or you think I can’t cook.”
“Make no mistake. I’m doing the cooking here tonight.”
“And I’m just here to watch?” she asked.
“And to eat,” I said. “And for decoration.” I couldn’t help the words—they were true, and I shot her a direct look to ensure she knew I meant them.
“Decoration, huh?”
I winked at her and grinned, and appreciated the way the mood had shifted since I’d told her about my sister and about Amanda. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was that she now understood something more about me, something that explained her fears away.
“I didn’t mean to make it a joke,” I said, picking up the conversation as my compliment still floated between us. “You’re beautiful, Maddie. I’m sure you know that.”
She smiled as a warm embarrassed blush scaled her cheeks, making her even more beautiful than before and setting my own pulse pounding.
The atmosphere had changed since his revelations. The mood had deepened somehow, but it was more comfortable. I watched him cook, turning the wine glass between my palms. Connor was gorgeous, and every word out of his mouth tonight, every emotion passing through his eyes, told me he wasn’t capable of the things people suspected him of. And if he wasn’t capable of any of that? How painful must it be for him to bear these accusations? The looks and the talk in town … My heart sank with the realization of what he’d borne through these last few weeks, and how he’d had to bear it totally alone.
And the ways in which I’d contributed to it.
Connor turned back to me, not quite meeting my eyes.
There was no proper way to answer his compliment, so I just smiled as a warm embarrassed blush scaled my cheeks.
He leaned in toward me, resting one elbow on the counter as if about to share a secret. “I hope you won’t mind me saying … that Scottish guy? He must be a complete idiot.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. It’s nice to hear it from someone else, actually. He is,” I confirmed.
“How could he ever let you go?”
“I don’t think it was hard, actually …” I didn’t really want to discuss Jack. Things had finally veered out of uncomfortable territory, and I didn’t want them heading back in that direction. I finished the wine in my glass.
“Are you ready for this incredible wine you brought?” Connor had the bottle I’d brought in his hands, and was pulling clean glasses from the cabinet.
The irony of discussing Jack while poised to drink his expensive wine was not lost on me. “I’m ready.”
Connor poured and we toasted one another. And when my phone buzzed with Miranda’s check-in text, I quickly replied, telling her that everything was fine and no more checks would be needed.
Dinner was phenomenal. Connor was an amazing cook, and once the questions that had lingered between us were answered, it felt like we were starting on a clean page.
“Are you sorry you didn’t save that wine for some important occasion?” Connor was finishing the last sips of his second glass.
I shook my head. “Not even a little bit. I’m glad I got to share it with someone who could appreciate it.” I smiled at him. “I’m glad I didn’t open it by myself and drink it with ramen, having no idea what a crime I was committing.” I mentally slapped myself for bringing up the word ‘crime,’ but Connor seemed to take it in stride.
We sat together on the couch before the fire, closer than we’d ever been. Our legs pressed together on the couch, and his hand rested lightly on my knee, his fingers moving slowly back and forth. It was comfortable, but a thread of tension wove between us and I realized I wanted him to lean in, maybe kiss me. An anticipation I hadn’t felt in years circled through me and as much as it made me slightly giddy, I was enjoying the sensation.
“Do you ever feel like we’ve known each other a long time?” Connor asked, squinting an eye as he turned to look at me.
I thought about that. There was something very familiar about him, but I couldn’t necessarily say it was because I felt I knew him. I hadn’t really begun to feel like I knew Connor until tonight. “I’m not sure.” I smiled, not sure if I should admit what was on my mind. “There’s something about you that is really familiar. But I wonder if it’s because I’ve always had kind of a thing for men with red hair,” I said quietly.
His eyebrows went up and then a sexy smile spread across his face, making a dimple appear on his cheek. “Is that right?” His hand on my knee became more assertive, the pressure firmer, the thumb moving in a circle along my thigh.
Connor leaned nearer, and I wasn’t sure if he was going to kiss me, but I knew I wanted him to. He paused there and then pressed his forehead to mine, neither of us speaking. The fire crackled behind us as we sat, breathing the other in. Neither of us moved, electricity flinging between us, our lips so close to touching that I could almost feel it—a phantom kiss.
Being this close to Connor was overwhelming. There was that scent—cinnamon and pine,
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