Calder watched me, seeming to take in my words and turn them over in his mind. After a minute he said, "Your deep compassion. That's what makes you glow."
I breathed out a small laugh. "That's what makes you glow."
A look of hurt passed over Calder's face despite the small smile he gave me. "Sometimes I wish we didn't glow so brightly."
I reached over and touched his cheek. "Me neither. But we do. We earned it. So let's make the most of it. Let's go out and find some darkness, Calder Raynes. Let's light it up."
He laughed softly and grabbed my hand and kissed it.
He leaned back in his seat and stared out the front window for a minute. "Hector tried to kill me." A shaky breath escaped his mouth. "But he saved my life, too. Once upon a time, regardless of his motives, he ended up saving me from a sure life of hell with the monster who was my real father."
He stared out the window for another minute as I waited for him to organize his thoughts, his emotions.
"I don't know what to do with that. I hate him to the depths of my soul for what he did to me, to you, to all those innocent people, and yet . . ." he shook his head and looked over at me, his whole heart in his eyes, "what fell into Hector's heart when it broke, Eden? What things did he have attached to him that became part of the fabric of who he was when he broke open?"
I creased my brow, my eyes searching his face. "Shame, grief, rage," I said. "It's hard to even imagine. Add in some insanity and just a touch of charisma . . ." I took a deep breath. "We'll never know completely what was in his mind, and I have to think that's a good thing. If we understood it, it would make us like him."
He nodded. "Yeah . . ."
"I think . . . I think, Calder, that we have to figure out how to forgive, not for the people who wronged us, but for us. We can't keep bitterness attached to our hearts because eventually, it might become part of us—so deeply ingrained we can't work it back out. I think we have to focus on the beauty we've been given in this life, and make that the thing that defines us. Because people defined by bitterness end up destroying themselves from the inside out, and eventually they destroy everyone who tries to love them, too. That's not going to be us."
Calder looked at me, love clear in his expression. He leaned over and gathered me in his arms. "You're so damn smart. You must have had a really good life teacher."
I laughed and sniffled. "I did. And he was hot, too. I wanted to do dirty things to him."
Calder smiled and nuzzled in my neck. "Maybe you can describe that to me in more detail when we get back home."
I laughed softly and pulled away, smiling into his face and brushing my thumb over his full bottom lip. "I will." My expression went serious. "I love you, Butterscotch. You have the most beautiful heart of anyone I've ever met. And maybe you feel like a mess sometimes, and life is a mess sometimes, but the way I see it, you're the beauty that came from the mess."
Calder let out a breath and leaned his forehead on mine. "I love you, Morning Glory. It's always been your heart that kept me alive. Your love. Your sweetness. I painted you to keep you alive, and that's what kept me breathing, too."
I looked into his tender expression, loving him so deeply I could hardly breathe. I kissed him softly on his lips.
We got back on the road and Calder made a phone call to the police. He asked for Detective Lowe and when he got on the phone, he took a deep breath and told him everything we'd discovered on our trip. I sat listening and squeezing his hand. Detective Lowe must have been stunned because there weren't many pauses on Calder's end where he was just listening. I heard Calder tell the detective we'd be home around three. A small, white lie. One last statement—I knew we'd be okay—but it'd be nice to have a few more hours to prepare. Plus, we needed to fill Xander in before the police. He deserved that.
We pulled into my mom's driveway at noon.
The sun was high in the overcast sky and the air had dropped quite a few degrees since we'd left. When we got out of the car, no cameras came toward us, no journalists came running. I breathed deeply. One lone car door opened and closed and we looked back to a young man in jeans and a brown leather jacket jogging slowly toward us.
"Hey," he said, a friendly smile on his face. "Sorry to bother you guys." He ran a hand through his hair and looked down as if he was a little embarrassed. "I know you get harassed all the time. It must suck."
Calder chuckled and pulled me into his side, draping his arm over my shoulder.
"I just, uh," he held out his hand, "my name is Ryan Scott and—"