Chapter Seventeen

Roarke…

Because there are things you don’t know.

That’s what I’d been about to say to Hannah, but with what end? She’ll either want to know what that means, when I have no answers, at least not yet, or she’ll think it’s an excuse for cheating, which I didn’t do. Why would I cheat on the woman who was my everything? With the road before me, her taste on my lips, and by my side, this is my dilemma, but it’s one I have to solve. Hannah is here now. I can’t let her go again, I won’t. I just have to figure out how the hell I do that without destroying everyone else.

“Shouldn’t we wait on the tow truck?” Hannah asks as I pull us onto the highway.

“It’s Nick Wright doing the towing. I told him where to look and what to look for.”

“Nick,” she says. “Oh wow. I thought he vowed he was never going to end up in this”—she roughens her voice up and imitates Nick—“Godforsaken small town for the rest of his life.”

“Apparently the city was a ‘rat trap of humans,’” I say, quoting Nick. “His words, not mine. His father retired and moved to Florida. He came back and took over the garage.”

“His father left? I’m in the Twilight Zone.”

“There’s a lot that’s changed,” I say, solemn now because of the recent losses that hit close to home for me and for her.

“Jason’s parents,” she says. “I didn’t know about the plane crash when it happened, or I would have come back for the funeral. I did call him when I found out.”

“He told me.” I glance over at her. “It mattered to him. He went through a rough patch after they died.” I turn us down the country road leading to Sweetwater. “They didn’t have life insurance, and they had a pile of debt. He was just coming off an injury, and he hadn’t been in the big leagues for long. He used all of his money to pay off the bills and then stayed to protect the families that count on the ranch. The good news is that Jessica helped him see a path to play ball and take care of the ranch.”

“Which is fabulous, but there was no life insurance? And debt? That doesn’t seem like his father.”

There’s so much about our families that none of us knew or understood, I think, but that’s part of that story I can’t tell without consequences.

“Welcome to Sweetwater,” she says, reading the sign as it comes into view. “I can’t believe I’m back.”

I can’t believe I let her leave in the first place, and as much as I’d like to say there’s no looking back, only forward, I can’t. If our path was that simple, I would have chased her down and married her years ago. I pull us into the Sweetwater Bed and Breakfast parking lot, which is basically a historic house painted white with a massive porch that sits next to a restaurant, which is also a bar.

Parking, I kill the engine. “Sue is going to be elated that you’re here, but I’m telling you right now, if you don’t go see Martha and try her cookies, she’ll hunt you down.”

“I’m not ready for that,” she blurts without further explanation, but she doesn’t have to give me one. Jason’s grandma baking for us all is a part of our past, a part of the history she left behind when she left me. She looks over at me. “Can you take me to see Snowflake first?”

Animals always gave her comfort, as they do me. It was one of the things that drew us together. I know this woman, and there’s so damn much heartache in her, heartache I failed to save her from, that it cuts me. “Yeah, baby,” I say softly. “I can take you to see Snowflake. She would like that.” And so would I, I add silently. “You want to check-in first?”

“Yes. Yes, let me check-in. Of course, this is the beginning. This first day back in Sweetwater, I’ll be all the gossip of the small town.” She opens her door and climbs out. By the time I’ve grabbed her bag, I’m at her side of the truck and she’s holding up a hand in stop sign fashion.

“I just realized that if you go in there with me, I’m not the gossip. We’re the gossip. Everyone will think that we’re back together.”

“And just to be clear,” I say, stepping closer to her. “That’s a bad thing?”

“Yes, it’s a bad thing. For all I know, you have a girlfriend I could piss off, too.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend who isn’t you.”

“I’m not your girlfriend.”

“No. You graduated to fiancée before I lost you.” I don’t give her time to reply. I ask the question that’s tortured me, on and off for years. “And you, Han. Do you have a boyfriend? Someone who replaced me?”

“No one,” she says without hesitation. “You made sure of that, and I don’t like it.”

“I’ll try not to be as pleased as I am about that comment, considering you did the same to me. Actually, no, I won’t. Let’s go register so you can meet Snowflake.”

“No, Roarke. No. I don’t want you to go in there with me.”

“Everyone is going to talk about us anyway. This is Sweetwater, remember? Population of less than ten thousand. We just drove into town together. We’ll be spending time together. Do you really think we’re going to avoid that speculation?”

She sighs. “No. Of course, we won’t. We’re already the talk of the town. Let’s just go inside.”

“Look at it this way. Sue’s good practice for my grandmother.”

She groans. “Oh God. I love her, but she’s going to try to marry us off again, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” I say, and not unhappily. “She will.”

“Is she the fireball she always was before?”

“Times ten. She’s doing Pilates now with Martha. She says it’s taken years off her attitude and body.”

“Wait. What? We have Pilates here now? Seriously?”

I don’t miss how she used the word “we” like this is her place again, her home. The way it should be. “We do indeed, and I promise you, you’ll be recruited. Jessica now goes with Ruth and Martha.”

I crinkle my nose. “I’m not Pilates material. I don’t bend.”

I arch a brow. “Am I being goaded to comment or should I keep my mouth shut on that topic?”

“Keep your mouth shut because aside from it getting you in big trouble, the kind you know you don’t want, you’ve now made me feel like I can’t go see Snowflake. Martha and her cookies are with Jessica, and both are waiting for me.”

“They’ll give you a pass to see Snowflake.” I motion to the bed and breakfast. “Let’s get this done so you can start singing.”

She smiles at that, a warm smile, and we fall into step together. The walk is short, free of locals, thankfully, and we climb up the wide wooden steps and enter the house directly into a huge living room with a desk, just to the right of the door, where Sue is sitting. Sue, who is a robust sixty-year-old, hops to her feet, which isn’t much of a hop, since she’s barely five feet tall. “You’re here! I can’t believe you’re here, honey!”

She rounds the desk, and I watch as Hannah is embraced, followed by a head-to-toe inspection. “My God, you’re more beautiful than ever. You look like Angelina Jolie. Don’t you think so, Roarke?”

Hannah looks nothing like Angelina Jolie. For one thing, Hannah’s shorter with more curves. She’s got brown hair a shade lighter. Her green eyes brighter, sweeter. And her face isn’t long and thin, it’s heart-shaped with adorably full cheeks, but I agree on one point. “She’s more beautiful than ever, yes,” I say, glancing at Hannah. “You are.”

Those adorable cheeks heat. “Thank you, Roarke.”

Sue claps. “You two are just too perfect together.” She hands Hannah a key. “But I get it. The town is small. People talk. Staying here, instead of his place, gives you some privacy.” She winks. “I won’t tell anyone if you’re never in your room.”

“We’re not back together,” Hannah explains quickly. “We’re—” She struggles for words and looks to me for help. “We’re—”

I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Go on. We’re what?”

She scowls at me. “Not getting along.”

Sue laughs. “Oh God. I miss the way you two get on.” Her phone rings. “I better get that.” She squeezes my arm. “I’m so excited about a Christmas festival right here in our town. I have ideas. More later. You two go on up to the room if you like.” She grins. “It’s a king-size bed for a couple who’s always been into king-size fun.”