The Keeper of Lost Light

I frowned. “Okay…but what does that have to do with this letter?”

Leo took a breath, like he was bracing himself. “He…he disappeared. Not long after this letter was dated. Just vanished, without a trace. No one ever knew what happened to him.”

The cold prickle at my neck intensified. “You think this is connected. You think my grandfather had something to do with his disappearance.”

“I don’t know,” Leo said quietly, still not meeting my eyes. “But the timing…it’s too close to be a coincidence.”

I stared at him, my mind racing. “You knew. All this time, you knew there was some connection between our families. Some…some betrayal. And you didn’t say anything.”

Leo flinched. “I didn’t know for sure. It was just…family stories. Rumors. I didn’t want to believe—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Elias. I should have told you sooner.”

“Yes,” I said, the word sharp with hurt. “You should have.”

The silence stretched between us, heavy with all the things we weren’t saying. The letter lay on the floor between us, a silent accusation.

“I think,” I said finally, my voice tight, “I think you should go.”

Leo hesitated, his hand reaching out as if to touch me—then he pulled back, nodding stiffly. “Right. Okay.”

He turned to leave, stooping to pick up the letter. He held it out to me, but I shook my head.

“Keep it,” I said flatly. “I think you’ve earned it.”

Leo’s face tightened, but he didn’t argue. He slipped the letter into his satchel and walked out of the library without another word.

I stood there for a long time after he’d gone, the dust settling around me, the weight of the past pressing down like a physical thing. The resort’s decline, my grandfather’s secrets, Leo’s grandfather’s disappearance…it was all tangled up together, a Gordian knot of guilt and betrayal.

And I had no idea how to even begin unraveling it.

Fortsett...

The next few days passed in a blur of recrimination and regret. I threw myself into the resort’s restoration with a single-minded focus, as if stripping wallpaper and refinishing floors could somehow strip away the taint of the past. At night, though, the doubts crept in, insidious and relentless.

*He knew,* the thought whispered in the dark. *He knew all along, and he didn’t tell you. How can you ever trust him again?*

I pushed the thoughts away, but they always came back, stronger each time. Finally, on the fourth day, I couldn’t take it anymore. I drove into town, to the historical society, and found Leo hunched over his desk, just like he’d been that first day.

He looked up as I entered, his expression guarded. “Elias. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I need to talk to you,” I said tersely, closing the door behind me. “About the letter.”

Leo sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know what else I can tell you. I’ve already said I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

“That’s not good enough,” I snapped, my voice rising. “You had information about my family—about my grandfather—and you kept it from me. You let me…you let me fall for you, knowing this was hanging over us.”

Leo’s eyes flashed. “I didn’t *let* you do anything, Elias. You made your own choices. Just like I made mine.”

“Your choice was to lie to me,” I shot back. “To pretend you cared about the resort, about Seabrook, when all you really cared about was your own family’s vendetta.”

“That’s not fair,” Leo said sharply, standing up. “I *do* care about this town. I care about preserving its history. And yes, I care about what happened to my grandfather. But that doesn’t mean I set out to hurt you.”

“Then what does it mean?” I demanded. “What am I supposed to think, Leo? That it’s all just some big coincidence? That you being here, now, with me…it’s not part of some scheme to get back at my family?”

Leo stared at me, his expression a mix of anger and hurt. “Is that really what you think of me? After everything?”

“I don’t know what to think,” I said, my voice cracking. “I don’t know who to trust anymore. My father lied to me for years. And now you…”

“I’m not your father, Elias,” Leo said quietly. “And I’m not my grandfather. I’m just me. A guy who cares about you, despite all the complicated history between our families.”

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. But the hurt was too fresh, the betrayal too deep.

“I think you should leave,” I said dully, looking away. “Just…go, Leo. Please.”

I heard him sigh, heard the rustle of his clothes as he gathered his things. “Okay,” he said finally, his voice flat. “Okay, Elias. I’ll go.”

He paused at the door, his hand on the knob. “For what it’s worth…I really am sorry. For all of it.”

And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him with a terrible finality.

I stood there for a long time, the silence of the historical society pressing in around me. The weight of my father’s legacy, of the resort’s decline, of the secrets and lies that seemed to haunt every corner of this town…it all came crashing down on me in that moment, a crushing burden I wasn’t sure I could bear.

*This is it,* I thought dully. *This is the Thornfield curse. We ruin everything we touch.*

I sank into Leo’s chair, my head in my hands. The future stretched out before me, a long and lonely road. The resort, the town, my own heart…all of it felt broken beyond repair.

*How do I fix this?* I wondered, the question echoing in the empty room. *Can I fix this?*

The answer seemed to hover just out of reach, a glimmer of hope I couldn’t quite grasp. But for now, in this moment, I could only sit with the weight of my failures, the ghosts of the past whispering their accusations in my ear.

Fortsett...

I don’t know how long I sat there. Long enough for the light to change, for the shadows to lengthen. Long enough for the hurt to crystallize into something harder. Resignation, maybe. Or resolve.

I was still sitting there when the door opened again. I looked up, not expecting Leo. Not with that look on his face.

He stood framed in the doorway, a sheaf of papers clutched in one hand. His eyes were bright, almost feverish. “Elias,” he said, his voice rough. “You need to see this.”

I blinked at him, my mind slow to catch up. “What are you doing here, Leo? I told you to go.”

“I know,” he said, stepping into the room. He crossed to the desk, spreading the papers out across the surface. “But I couldn’t. Not until you saw this.”

I stood, warily, and looked down at the papers. They were old, yellowed, the ink faded but still legible. Letters, mostly, and what looked like some kind of ledger. “What is this?”

“Proof,” Leo said, his voice trembling slightly. “Proof that my grandfather was innocent. That he wasn’t the one who embezzled from the resort.”

I stared at him, my heart starting to pound. “What? How?”

“It was in the archives,” Leo said, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I found it after you left. Letters between my grandfather and your great-grandfather, Elias. They were working together to try to save the resort. The embezzlement…it was someone else. A man named Silas Crowe. He was the one blackmailing your grandfather.”

My head was spinning. “But…why didn’t your grandfather come forward? Why did he disappear?”

“Because Silas threatened him,” Leo said, tapping a finger on one of the letters. “He said he’d hurt my grandmother, my father. My grandfather couldn’t risk it. So he ran.”

I sank back into the chair, my legs suddenly weak. “And my father? Did he know?”

Leo shook his head. “I don’t think so. The letters…they were hidden. I think my grandfather sent them to your great-grandfather for safekeeping, but he died before he could do anything with them.” He looked at me, his eyes pleading. “My grandfather was trying to help, Elias. He wasn’t the villain in this story. He was a victim, just like your family.”

I closed my eyes, the weight of the past pressing down on me. All these years, all these secrets. The misunderstandings that had festered into wounds that never quite healed.

“I’m sorry,” I said finally, my voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry, Leo. I should have trusted you. I should have believed in you.”

Leo’s hand came to rest on my shoulder, warm and solid. “I’m sorry too. I should have been more open with you. I shouldn’t have let the past come between us.”

I reached up, laying my hand over his. “It’s not too late, is it? To start over?”

Leo’s smile was slow, but it reached his eyes. “No,” he said softly. “It’s never too late.”

The master suite was just as I remembered it from my childhood, the ocean view from the tall windows as breathtaking as ever. The renovations were nearly complete, the room a perfect blend of old-world charm and modern comfort.

Leo stood by the window, silhouetted against the setting sun. He turned as I entered, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “It’s beautiful, Elias. You’ve done an amazing job.”

“ We’ve done an amazing job,” I corrected, crossing to stand beside him. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Leo’s hand found mine, our fingers interlacing. “I’m glad I could be part of it. Part of…this.”

He turned to face me fully, his free hand coming up to cup my cheek. The kiss was soft, sweet, a promise of things to come. We took our time, exploring each other with a newfound reverence, a newfound tenderness.

When we broke apart, we were both breathing hard. Leo’s eyes were dark with want, his lips swollen. “Elias,” he murmured, my name a prayer on his lips.

I took his hand, leading him towards the bed. The resort’s future was still uncertain, the road ahead likely rocky. But in that moment, with Leo’s hand in mine, the past finally laid to rest…I knew we could face whatever came next.

Together.

The Seabrook Grand reopened to the public on a bright summer morning, the salt-tinged air filled with the sound of laughter and music. Leo and I stood on the front steps, watching as the town gathered to celebrate the resort’s rebirth.

“It’s a new beginning,” Leo said, his arm around my waist. “For the resort. For Seabrook. For us.”

I turned to look at him, this man who had become my partner, my heart. “Yes,” I said, leaning in to brush a kiss against his temple. “It is.”

The future stretched out before us, a blank page waiting to be written. And for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t afraid to turn the page.

À suivre...