Page 6 of See It Through

I raised my eyes to Hannah, finding her watching me intently. Neither of us was going anywhere, so I took a long pull of my coffee, hoping it’d perform a miracle and stave off my headache.

Hannah raised her chin the same way her mother had the night before.

“You’re in pain?” she asked, seeing right through me.

“Got a headache coming on.” I absently touched the scar that disappeared into my hair.

With a sharp nod, she swiveled away from me, marched to the cabinets, then returned to the island a moment later, thrusting a bottle toward me.

“Here.”

A bottle of painkillers rested in her open palm. Something warm swept across my chest, there and gone before I could fully register it.

I took the bottle from her and shook out a couple pills, swallowing them with my coffee. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

“Thanks.” I rattled the bottle before setting it down. We’d danced around what we needed to talk about long enough. It was time to face what was going on here. “So, am I right that you work here at Graham’s house?”

“Yep.” She backed up until she could hitch her bottom on the counter behind her.

“Okay.” I palmed the crown of my head, mulling it over. “I’m not gonna rush you to get out. It’ll take a while to sell the place, so you’ll have time to find another place to work. But you’ll have to make those arrangements as soon as you can.”

Her lips pressed together as I spoke, and once I was done, she burst out laughing, full and loud. Bending in half from the force of it, she slapped her thigh and everything. I’d have thought it was hysterics from the reality of having to find a new office, but that wasn’t what this was. I didn’t knowwhatthe hell it was other than Hannah being greatly amused by something I said.

Finally, she straightened, her laughter petering out. Her cheeks were rosy, and she swiped the tears caught in her thick, sooty lashes.

“Oh, Remington,” she drawled. “You really have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, do you?”

“Thought I did.” I pressed my hand against the snakes slithering in my belly, sure I was about to hear how my dad had screwed me over one final time. “Care to explain what I got wrong?”

“You’re going to have a hard time selling this house when it’s not yours.”

A curtain fell over what I thought I knew, the reason I’d come, leaving me in the dark.

“What’d he do?” I gritted out.

Hannah smiled at me, but it wasn’t exactly cheerful. There was too much melancholy behind it for that. I could only guess she was sad over Graham’s death, which I couldn’t begin to understand. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing worth missing now that he was gone.

“He left instructions that Henry should be allowed to live in his cabin for the rest of his life or as long as he wants to stay. And this house…it isn’t yours.”

She shot me a mirthless smile, and I braced myself for the rest.

Chocolate brown eyes danced with mine. “It’s ours, Remington.”

My stomach bottomed out as my plan of getting in and getting out flipped on its head.

All I could say was, “Call me Remi.”

Chapter Four

Hannah

I walked into myparents’ house and took a deep breath.Home. My mother’s cooking, aged wood, the remnants of a fire in the hearth, and something that had no name but belonged only here. If this scent was the last thing I smelled before I died, I’d be at peace.

Once I kicked my shoes off and made sure the hems of my jeans weren’t muddy, I walked into the kitchen, greeted by a tableau that made me smile. My dad at the large farmhouse table, shucking corn. My mom chopping watermelon. Phoebe at the stove, stirring something in a large pot. I went straight for my dad, who put down the ear to tap his ruddy cheek. Bending, I gave him a peck, and he patted my arm.

“Good day, Han?” he gruffed gently. My father was a big man, tall and robust. Strong from manual labor and soft in the middle from genetics and the rich recipes my mom liked to test on us. He could squash a grown man’s head in his baseball-glove-sized mitts, but he had never been anything but tender and careful with us kids. In his late fifties, silver traveled through the sides of his hair and crinkles lined the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t seem old. As far as I was concerned, Lachlan Kelly was invincible and always would be.

“Weird day,” I answered.