Much Ado About You(43)

His gaze sharpened, and I realized belatedly how that sounded. It sounded like I was asking him on a date.

“Or you know what would be even better, I’ll buy you dinner at The Anchor. To thank you for setting this”—I gestured to the van with the stalls—“up.”

His long study of me was discomfiting to say the least, and I shifted from one foot to the other. Finally, he looked toward The Anchor with an expression bordering on disappointment. “Aye. Sounds good.”

Worryingly, his tone suggested otherwise. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, to take away the sudden weariness I saw in him, but he beat me to it with a tight smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He moved past me without another word, and the amount of uneasiness I felt at his abrupt departure was kind of melodramatic.

“Roane . . .” I followed him as he made his way to the driver’s-side door.

He glanced over his shoulder and then stopped. His expression was shuttered, which was completely unlike him. At my silence he frowned. “Evie?”

“We’re good. Right?” I was confused by his sudden change in demeanor.

My friend studied my face, and as he did, his hard countenance slowly softened. He walked back to me, and I found my whole body loosening with relief as he clasped my face in his hands and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. I could feel every inch of his calloused fingertips on my skin and closed my eyes, much too in love with the feel of his hands on me. “We’re good,” he whispered. “I’m sorry if I was a bit abrupt with you. I’m tired today.”

“Can I do anything?”

Resting his forehead against mine, he chuckled, but it wasn’t a happy sound. I brought my hands to his strong arms, curling my fingers around his biceps. For a moment we just held each other. I imagined we looked sweet, affectionate, peaceful. But on the inside my heart was racing like crazy as I fought the battle to ignore our attraction to each other. I even shook a little, feeling as though I might shatter with the force of my restraint.

Deep down I knew why Roane had been disappointed only a mere few seconds ago. I knew why his laugh was weary and unhappy.

He wanted more than I was giving him.

And he deserved to have everything he wanted.

Truthfully, I was flattered and excited that I was what he wanted.

However, if I gave in to the desire, I knew I’d lose myself instead of trying to find myself without him.

Perhaps this friendship was unfair to him.

On that thought I pulled out of his hold and couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “You know, I know you have a lot going on, so we can do dinner some other time.”

Roane’s strong fingers gripped my chin, forcing my head up, my gaze to his. He looked somewhere between knowing and annoyed. He bent his head toward mine and I tensed, panic flaring at the thought of him kissing me.

Not just panic.

Stupid, stupid thrill rushed through me too.

I held my breath as his gorgeous lips neared mine.

But he halted, just a hairsbreadth from my mouth. His breath fanned across my lips, making my eyelashes flutter. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Evie Starling.”

Just as abruptly as he’d captured my chin, Roane let me go and strode away. As I watched him jump into the van, my heart hammered hard in my chest.

Now why did his last words to me sound like more than a promise to meet me for dinner?

Shaken by everything left unsaid between us, I was thankful Viola had invited herself to a “sleepover.” I discovered she could be bright, bubbly, and vivacious, but there was a serious, sensitive side to her.

We’d been laughing together in my living room over a British soap they’d introduced me to. The television show was ludicrously depressing. Then, out of nowhere, as the credits rolled, Caro said, “Aunt Helena is going to be so mad at me when I return home.”

Viola immediately reached across to grip Caro’s hand in hers. “You don’t have to go back there, Caro. Mam and Dad will let you stay with us, and I’ll go get your things so you don’t have to see Helena.”

Caro’s lips trembled at the idea. “I—I couldn’t. The imposition . . .”

“It’s no imposition. Caro, you’re a good person who deserves to be happy. You know that, right?”

Viola’s words seemed to trigger something in Caro, and I knew as she suddenly burst out into heartbreaking sobs that Viola had seen something the rest of us hadn’t.

It wasn’t just that her aunt had dominated Caroline, taking control of every aspect of her life. She’d done it by making Caro believe she wasn’t worthy. That she wasn’t good. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks as Viola made soft hushing sounds, pulling Caro into her arms. She pressed her cheek to Caro’s head and rocked her like a baby.

Wiping at my tears, I got up and crossed the living room to sit down beside them. I took Caro’s hand in mine and held back my wince when she squeezed it with all her worth.

“Let it out, Caro. Let it out,” Viola whispered.

Just like that our girls’ night took a turn I hadn’t expected.

And as Caro’s story fell from her lips in broken words, I was done taking it slow.

My plan had been to gradually get Caro to a point where she felt comfortable enough to leave Helena. But now I realized why Roane hated the woman so much. This girl was wounded in places no young woman should be. Only abuse could do that. I had known on some level that Helena’s control over Caro’s life was wrong. Yet the word “abuse” had never entered my mind. Until she shared her story.