Chapter 102
She cringed. “Don’t tell me you’re doing this because you feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t pity you.” His tone was firm, but there was something else in his gaze.
She cocked her head to one side and studied his expression, trying to pin down exactly what that was she saw in his eyes. “No, you don’t pity me,” she murmured. “It’s something else.” And he wouldn’t quite meet her gaze. Her own emotions went sour in her stomach.
“It’s guilt.”
Blecch. That was almost as bad as pity. “But what do you possibly have to feel guilty about?”
“Candace.” He leaned forward a little. And despite what she’d said earlier, there was a tinge of pity in his gaze. “Can we not talk about this right now? There's so much going on and I don't want either of us getting more upset than we already are,”
She gave him a pointed stare, knowing he was right but still pissed that he wouldn't answer her question.
Before she could say anything else, he said, “It looks like we’re about to land. You better make sure your seat belt is on.”
And once again, he’d effectively ended the conversation. He was remarkably good at avoiding the things he didn’t want to talk about. She spent the drive from the airport thinking of what to say to Nolan. He was silent as the car wound its way from the airport through town to an isolated stretch of beach dominated by a promontory jutting out over the ocean.
The house where they were going to stay managed to look both impressive and historically quaint. Without another house around for miles, it looked like something out of the gothic romances she’d read as a teenager. Was there a pirate ship moored just around the point? Or perhaps waiting in the house she’d find a brooding English lord, complete with a mad wife hidden in the attic.
Her musings might have amused her, if it hadn’t been for the weight of Nolan's silence. Perhaps the image of the brooding lord was more apt than she thought. But did that make her the stupidly innocent young miss? Or worse, the mad wife in the attic?
She suppressed a giggle, feeling every inch the crazed Victorian lady. That kind of helplessness would drive her insane, too. If Nolan had any news about her brother, he wasn’t sharing it.
By the time she’d gotten settled in one of the guest rooms, her stomach was twisted in knots. She left her hastily filled suitcase on the floor instead of unpacking it into the chest of drawers. She didn’t plan on being here long enough for that.
She ignored the lure of the mosquito-netting-draped four-poster bed. If there was news of her brother—good or bad—she needed to know it. It was time she faced up to the truth.
_______
Back in Quinley, Michelle was worried. She almost couldn't believe that Andrew had gotten himself, and now Candace, into such a big mess. But she wasn't too surprised. How well did she really know her brother, who had basically been away from them for the past five years.
Candace had texted to update her. Apparently she and Nolan were in the Celestria Islands trying to track Andrew down. Candace had reassured her that all was going to be fine, but she couldn't help but worry and silently pray that her sister was right and not just saying things so she wouldn’t worry. Just when things were coming together in her life she had to deal with this. It was exhausting
She pushed out of her office building onto the sidewalk, needing some air and with her thoughts racing in different directions, she turned her face up into the late-afternoon sun, embracing the last of its rays.
“Oof.”
She jerked up her hands, bracing herself as she slammed into a hard surface. Or a hard chest, she realized, when strong hands clasped her arms, steadying her.
“Hey, stranger.”
Glancing up, she met Stoner's dark gaze and beautiful smile. She stilled, waiting for that familiar warm, melting desire that the sight of him brought. When she'd first seen him, it’d encompassed her, but now, standing in his embrace…
Nothing.
Nothing except for a twinge of guilt for leading him on and perhaps a little sadness because Stoner had been good to her. And, dammit, it would’ve been less complicated for her to love him instead of her best friend.
“Hi, Stoner.” She smiled, stepping back out of his hold. “What are you doing here? It’s good to see you.”
“You, too. I've been trying to reach you on the phone but my calls and texts have gone unanswered.”
She lowered her eyes. How could she tell him that she'd been ignoring him because she was shacking up with his brother and had simply been hoping that he'd get the hint. Cowards way out, yeah she knew.
He didn't seem angry about it though. His gaze dropped down over her, and in spite of her newfound revelation regarding her lack of feelings toward him, she still blushed. Because, well, a handsome man had just checked her out. She was in love with another man, not dead— Holy shit. She was in love with Nick.
She’d loved him for a long time. But in love with him? Terror streaked through her, screaming like a freight train on greased wheels and no breaks. For her, the transition wasn’t shocking. She’d meant it when she’d told him he was the best man she knew. No man had ever understood her, supported her, believed in her...loved her like him. But now that they were intimately involved, she couldn't help but notice that he’d never said that word to her… At least not in the way she'd want him to now that she realised her feelings for him had intensified to this level.
Just because he wanted her and he’d been inside her—repeatedly—didn’t mean he’d suddenly developed deeper feelings for her. Her stomach bottomed out, her heart thudding. What did this mean for them? Because if he rejected her...told her that he didn't feel the same way. Would she survive that? Would their friendship survive that? She didn’t know if she could be around him, loving him, when he didn’t feel the same way. It would hurt too much.
“Michelle?” Stoner cupped her elbow, and she jerked her gaze back to him from over his shoulder, where it’d wandered.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She exhaled a trembling breath, shaken by her self-revelation. “I’m fine. I’m sorry, what were you saying?”