Calmer. Stronger. More settled.
Better to be realistic.
Better to be mature.
Rory left downtown, traveling to Front Street, and then over the railroad tracks, intending to swing by the apartment complex he’d be bidding on later this morning, the one between Chance and Farrell Avenue, close to the Catholic church and the primary school.
The most direct way to the apartments would be down Chance, but Rory made a point of avoiding the street because there was a house on Chance he didn’t want to see again. That house was the last place he’d been before his life had changed forever.
It crossed his mind as he idled at the corner that he hadn’t helped the pain by burying it so deeply. He’d suppressed all memory and emotion as if nothing bad had happened. But how was it possible to erase a tragedy like the one that had taken place at his home?
So even though he’d smashed the past, it found a way to creep back in through dreams, and dreams that turned to nightmares.
He could go months, even years, without one of the dreams, but eventually, he’d wake up, clammy and sick.
Why hadn’t he been there when it happened? He might have given his family a chance or at least saved one of the younger ones.
One day he’d be man enough to take a drive down Chance and face the boy he’d been.
And maybe, God help him, he’d one day forgive himself for not dying.
Chest aching, eyes burning, Rory eased his foot off the brake and passed Chance, taking a right on Farrell instead, driving down the narrow residential street until he reached the empty apartment complex built in the 1960s.
The complex was beyond ugly. Not ugly like the ugly concrete high-rises in urban areas, but the ugly of indifference. This two-story sixteen-unit complex had been built for poor people, folks who apparently didn’t merit a green space or a playground.
His narrowed gaze swept the graffiti and boarded up windows. The parking lot was nothing but buckled metal.
He wished he hadn’t come. He didn’t like anything about this complex, but the building inspector had said the foundation was solid and the majority of the walls intact. Electrical and plumbing would need some updating, but the majority of his costs would be in new windows, new doors, new finishes.
On the plus side, multifamily apartments were a solid investment. Fewer apartment buildings were being constructed now than in the past due to the soaring building costs, and with a staggering number of baby boomers heading into retirement, seniors wanted flexibility and options, which made apartment living attractive. At the other end of the spectrum, young adults weren’t confident enough about the economy to want to purchase their own homes, making them ideal candidates for apartment living.
Climbing out of the truck, he walked around the property, careful not to step on any of the broken bottles littering the snow-covered lawn.
If this complex was on the other side of the train tracks, over by the high school, it would have been snatched up by an investor. The apartments between Main Street and Bramble were in a desirable neighborhood, but this neighborhood was important, too. This neighborhood had a school and church and good people in it. Renovated, this apartment building would lease.
Renovated, this complex could be fantastic. Sixteen families would have a decent place to call home.
Wouldn’t that be worth it?
Wouldn’t it feel good to give something back?
That was the question that always motivated him to action. Wouldn’t it feel good to do something good?
Wouldn’t it feel good to be someone good?
Could this eyesore be the answer he was looking for?
Sadie knew a split second before the door opened that he was there. She’d never called it a sixth-sense, but she did have a special awareness when it came to him.
And then the front door to Marietta Properties swung open and Rory’s big frame filled the doorway, his shadow blocking the sunlight.
Her pulse skipped as he walked toward her, wearing his trademark black felt hat, his honey-brown sheepskin coat open over a dark blue denim shirt.
He was so very appealing in every way. Even though she didn’t want to feel this spark, it burned inside of her... awareness, hope, desire.
She’d liked him for so very long. He’d been part of her heart forever. She’d begun praying for him the night his family died, and she’d prayed for him every night since. Twenty-two years of prayers. Twenty-two years of believing that love and faith could help, and heal, and that love and faith would bring him home, and maybe give him peace.
“Turning in the key to the rental house?” she asked, trying to sound calm, not easy when her stomach was lurching, and her pulse was leaping.
She didn’t love him anymore.
She didn’t.
But she could still want the best for him.
She could still want him happy.
“No, I’ve decided to extend my stay. Your website said it’s available through the holidays, so I’m going to book it through Christmas Day.”
“You’re sure?”
“I called Natalie already, and she said I just needed to swing by and take care of the paperwork.”
“I see.”
“You don’t know anything about the paperwork, do you?”
Rory had been appealing this morning at the café with the shadow of a beard, but now with a clean jaw, he looked devastatingly attractive, even more handsome now than he had as a teenage boy, and he’d been the hottest guy at their high school, with his thick, shaggy dirty blond hair, piercing blue eyes and that gorgeous face of his, chiseled jaw, lovely mouth, and just a hint of a cleft in his square chin. Girls had adored him, not just because he was a great athlete, but because he was kind. Polite. Chivalry personified.
And that was even before the terrible thing that happened on their ranch.
Everyone in Marietta called Rory a hero for saving his brother Quinn, but Rory never viewed himself that way. McKenna told Sadie that Rory blamed himself for not saving the others.
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