Only His (Fool's Gold #6)(81)

“I didn’t hurt you. I hurt someone else a long time ago. What I did had nothing to do with you. But you did hurt me. You extrapolated from an event you had no part of and used that as an excuse to walk out. We both have our own demons to deal with. Which one of us is going to get hurt next?”

She waited for him to yell at her, to escalate the fight. Instead his shoulders slumped, as if he’d just been loaded down with a weight he couldn’t carry.

“Don’t,” he said quietly. “Don’t do this, Jo. I know you’re pissed and you have every right to be. If I could take it back, I would. If I could not screw up, I would. You’re not my dad. I get that. But at first, I was so surprised by what you said. I thought…” He shook his head. “I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought. I can’t convince you. You’re going to see what you want to see.”

He started to the door, his steps uneven. When he got there, he turned back to her.

“You’re wrong about one thing. It’s not that I got mad and handled it badly. That could happen to anyone. It’s what I did next that says who I am. I wanted to leave town—I asked Tucker for a transfer to another job. But I couldn’t go and I couldn’t let go. I worked it through. While I hurt you, it wasn’t on purpose. I’ve admitted my mistake, I’ve learned from it and I’m doing my best to apologize.”

He opened the door. “I’m not the best-looking guy around and there are plenty richer. But I’m still a good man who loves you. I even like your damn cat. It’s not the screwing up that defines a person, Jo, it’s what he does afterward that says who he is. You know that better than anyone, because you’re the one who said that to me.”

With that, he walked out.

She heard his steps on the porch, the slight hesitation in his stride from his limp. Then that faded and there was only silence. Something warm brushed against her leg and she reached down to stroke Jake. The cat stared up at her, his yellow eyes seeing far more than usual.

“Don’t,” she whispered to herself. “Don’t say anything. I can’t forgive him. I can’t let him back in my life. What will he do the next time?”

There was no answer—only silence and a hard, thick pressure on her chest. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, could only feel the emptiness that was her future.

Even as she wanted to go to him, her mind screamed out that she couldn’t trust him. That he would hurt her again and no one was worth those tears. Her heart whispered that, yes, crying was inevitable. It was impossible to feel love without also feeling pain. But the price was worth it. He was worth it. That if she let him go, she would regret it for the rest of her life.

The need to protect herself battled with the hunger of her heart. Twisted and torn, her heart fought rational thought. Then she was moving. She flung open the front door and raced across the porch. She hurried down the steps, along the path until she reached the sidewalk. Frantically she looked in both directions, trying to figure out where he was.

Then she saw him nearly at the end of the block.

“Will!”

She called out loudly, aware that it was late and she wasn’t being a good neighbor, but unable to stop herself. The figure in the distance paused.

She ran toward him, nearly flying as she covered the distance. When she got close, he held out his arms and welcomed her home.

She flung herself at him and hung on as if she would never let go. He held her even tighter. Once again she couldn’t breathe, but this time it was for the best reason of all.

“Will, I…” she began.

He silenced her with a kiss. “Later.”

“But I have to tell you—”

“No, you don’t.” He released her from the hug but kept his arm around her. “Come on. It’s cold and you’re not wearing a jacket.”

She stepped in front of him and grabbed him by the shoulders. “I’m trying to tell you I love you and all you can say is I’m not wearing a jacket?”

He smiled then. A slow, sexy smile that made her stomach turn over and every part of her burn.

“I love you, too, Jo. Let’s go home.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

TUCKER HEARD A FAMILIAR sound from outside the trailer. Tires on dirt and gravel. Funny how he could pick out those particular tires from all the others. Not funny in a good way, though, he thought, wishing the construction trailer had a back door.

With nowhere to run, he was forced to stay behind his desk and hope for the best. After all, he was a grown man. He could stand up to what was outside. He didn’t have to be afraid.

But all the logic in the world didn’t stop him from wincing as he heard footsteps on the stairs, followed by the turning of the handle. He braced himself for the onslaught.

The door opened and Mayor Marsha stepped inside.

“Good morning, Tucker,” she said cheerfully.

“Ma’am.”

She was as well dressed as ever, in one of her suits, the skirt hitting exactly at the middle of her knee. Her white hair was in that puffy do she seemed to like so much. Despite the warmth in her gaze, he knew this wasn’t a social call.

He stood and walked toward the coffeepot. “The gold is all excavated,” he said, pouring her a cup.

“Cream,” she said when he held it out.

He added cream, stirred, then took it over to her.