Half Moon Hill (29 page)

Now Amy was patting her hand. “Well, you’ll just change categories, that’s all. Don’t worry—everything will be fine. And with Jenny, too.”

Rachel blinked, still in shock. “I don’t see how. I mean, we’ve been friends our whole lives and this feels . . . big. What if we don’t forgive each other? What if we can’t? And what if I have this baby and she can’t handle being around it—or me?”

D
uke washed his hands in Anna’s downstairs bathroom sink, same as he did every day when he finished work on the house. Then he looked in the mirror. At his scar.

Anna had accepted him with it—hell, more than accepted him. She’d made him feel human again. And Lucky hadn’t blinked—though he’d seen it right after the accident, too. Tessa had even gone so far as to make light of it. And no one at the Dew Drop had seemed to notice.

But how would people react if he walked into some fancy party at that old lady’s house on Blue Valley Lake? Wouldn’t that be different? A dark bar was one thing—but wouldn’t a guy with a jagged scar on his face stand out a lot more, be a lot more out of place among the fine folks of Destiny, on a bright summer afternoon, all of them drinking their punch and eating their deviled eggs and apple pie?

Funny, he’d gone to more than one event last summer related to Lucky’s wedding, and he’d gone to Mike’s wedding, too—and he hadn’t given a damn what anyone thought of him. Even then, before the scar, he’d known he’d probably stand out in the crowd, but he’d been good with who he was and he’d figured if anybody had a problem with him, they could fuck off.

So what’s it mean if you’re so damn concerned with what they think of you now?

That you don’t like who you are anymore?

He took a deep breath, let it back out.
You hit the nail on the head.

Not that it was a surprise. A guy doesn’t take the steps he’d taken if he had his shit together. But maybe he’d thought he was doing better—
getting
better—until Anna had tried to press him into going to that party this afternoon and he’d acted pissy about it.

Now he felt bad. She was so brave, and so good to him in so many ways. He was sorry he’d been snotty to her. Even if she was pushy as hell sometimes, she didn’t deserve that. What she deserved was a stand-up guy.

Looking back to the mirror, he took another deep breath. And he wished he had a decent shirt to put on, but most of his stuff was in a storage locker in Crestview, so a clean gray T-shirt would have to do. He was thankful he’d been washing some stuff in Anna’s laundry room and wouldn’t smell like lake water.

Twenty minutes later he’d taken a shower and put on clean clothes.

One last look in the mirror.
It’s not a big deal—it’ll be fine. Do this for Anna.

Walking out the door, he got on his bike and took the curvy roads down to Blue Valley Lake. Fifteen minutes later he’d wound his way there; it was easy to spot the house where the party took place due to the cars lining each side of the country road.

It was
less
easy to stop and park, but he did. And his stomach went hollow as he put down the kickstand, but he didn’t hesitate—he got off the bike and walked up in front of the cute little house and made his way around to the side where he could hear people talking and laughing.

One more deep breath—he’d just walk in and find her. And Lucky and Tessa. And it would be as easy as she’d said. And even if it wasn’t . . . well, it felt like the right thing to do. Because he was pretty sure it would make her happy to see him there.

He approached the white archway that appeared to lead into the party, then paused to steal a glimpse inside. Just to get the lay of the land.

And what he saw nearly made his heart stop.

Anna stood talking with some tall, clean-cut, good-looking guy—who looked way more like someone she should be with than he did. She was smiling up into his eyes and he was leaning close, saying something near her ear that made her laugh. Duke’s gut pinched tight.

“Did you see Jeremy Sheridan?” he heard a young girl’s voice say nearby—then he glanced to his right to see two teenagers talking. They hadn’t noticed him. “He’s home from Afghanistan and he’s standing right there talking to Anna Romo. She’s so lucky! My mom said he’s some kind of hero, that he saved a bunch of people’s lives or something. And OMG, he’s sooo cute!”

As he shifted his gaze back to Anna and the “war hero,” Duke’s stomach sank. He’d been right the first time. He didn’t belong here and it had been stupid to come.

Maybe he’d been stupid about a lot of things, in fact.

Glad no one had seen him yet, he turned around, crossed the yard to where he’d parked his bike, and started back toward Half Moon Hill.

“May one at least ask to what darkness you are returning?”

Gaston Leroux,
The Phantom of the Opera

Seventeen

H
e was probably riding too fast, but he didn’t care. The curves in the road, the wind on his face—they were good distractions. Not that he wasn’t thinking about what he’d just seen. The image had burned itself into his brain.

He wasn’t angry. Just . . . well, maybe the right word was
hurt
. Disappointed. He and Anna had no ties, no commitment—she was free to do what she wanted, the same as him—but he just hadn’t expected this. He’d just thought things were good between them. Good enough that he’d spilled his guts to her, told her everything. Good enough that . . . well, he’d just thought maybe it was something a little . . . special. And that it would last longer. Hell, the truth was, even if he’d beat himself up for letting himself feel so close to her, maybe somehow he’d also started believing that he could learn to be a better man for her.

Damn, he’d been foolish. Foolish to let himself get emotionally involved. Foolish to think he’d ever stood a real chance at that anyway. And he didn’t blame her—he knew she wouldn’t intentionally do anything to hurt him—but hell, how could he ever compete with a guy like the one she’d been standing there with?

They were only standing. They weren’t making out or anything. Only standing. Talking.

But that didn’t matter. It had been easy to see romance brewing, easy to see that the war hero was into her and that she looked pretty into him in return.

Jeremy Sheridan. He knew the name. It was Tessa’s brother.

And hell—didn’t that make it all just perfect? For Lucky’s sister to end up with Tessa’s brother? Sounded like one big happy family. And a guy like that . . . it made sense in other ways, too. He was more what Anna deserved, more the kind of guy she fit with. He would be good for her—way better than Duke could ever be. They’d looked . . . perfect together. Perfect gorgeous woman with the perfect handsome guy. One who didn’t have calluses on his hands or darkness in his heart or a jagged scar on his face.

And even as he pulled into the driveway, his tires flinging a little gravel, he knew maybe he was blowing this out of proportion.
Way
out of proportion. But this had been a wake-up call.

You and Anna—it’s easy while you’re up here alone, nobody else around, in your own private little world with her.
But in the real world, the two of them together just didn’t make sense.

So it was best to just back away now, while he still could, before the pain of it got any worse.

A
nna’s day had turned out far better than expected.

As she drove toward home, the warm night wind in her hair, she smiled thinking of Amy’s big surprise. And also appreciating how full of simple wisdom Amy sometimes was, especially for someone who hadn’t spent much time outside the small town of Destiny.

Wow. The people of Destiny really were enriching her life. There’d been a time when she couldn’t quite have imagined that.
Funny how things can change.

She also thought about Jeremy Sheridan. The truth was, he was just her type. And he seemed like a great guy. But the further truth was, she was in love with another man and she hoped that man would be waiting for her with open arms when she reached the big Victorian house that had really begun to feel like home now.
Just since Duke?
Was sharing the house with someone making it that way? She wasn’t sure and decided not to examine that too closely. She simply looked forward to being with him.

It caught her off guard to see the house completely dark when she pulled in the driveway. She’d expected lights on, a friendly, welcoming glow through the windows. That’s when she realized his motorcycle was no longer parked behind the bushes next to the garage where it had sat unmoved for days, ever since their visit to Lucky’s house and then the Dew Drop. Her stomach sank.

Still, she approached the house with . . . hope. Or confidence. There would be some explanation inside—a note saying where he’d gone. Or . . . maybe he was just asleep. It was early for that—not yet ten—but he’d been working awfully hard lately, so maybe it had caught up with him and he was just tired. And he’d moved the bike somewhere . . . for some reason.

Stepping inside the quiet house, she flipped on a lamp in the foyer, then made her way to the kitchen, turning on lights along the way and keeping an eye out for a note or anything else that might explain where he was. Finding none, though, she then climbed the same stairs they’d recently made love on, and headed to her bedroom. Her cat followed her the whole way, meowing his head off, but she ignored him.

Her bed lay empty, untouched.

As did every bed in the house, she discovered as she checked each guest room.

Stepping back out into the shadowy hallway after looking in the last, she drew in her breath, let it back out, tried not to feel abandoned, or panicky. Though she knew then where he must be. He must have gone back to the cabin.

So she would go there, too.

She took a flashlight to help her find the way—and keep her from tripping over anything or spraining an ankle. The woods felt eerie in the dark—every sound made her uncomfortable, and she worried about things she couldn’t see.

But she also thought of Cathy following this same trail through the darkness to take care of Robert when he was sick. And wasn’t this the same in a way? Duke wasn’t ill, but if he felt the need to come back out here when he’d said he’d be at home waiting for her, he was obviously troubled.

Seeing the dim glow of the lamp she’d spotted next to his sleeping bag when she’d been here before somehow heartened her.
At least he’s not gone, at least he didn’t just disappear from your life.
She didn’t realize until that moment that she’d actually harbored that worry, and something in it was deeply frightening.
It would be that easy. He has nothing to hold him here. You could just wake up one morning to discover he’d cleared out completely and you’d never see him again.

Her first fears had been right, valid—it was dangerous to love someone. It gave them so much power over your heart. And it was even more dangerous to love a loner like Duke Dawson. David Dawson. Whoever he was. In certain, special moments, she thought she knew—she thought she understood him completely. But right now, she didn’t feel like she knew him at all.

Don’t think that way. It’s fine. He’ll be glad to see you. And whatever brought him back out here will be . . . will be . . . Well, he’ll explain it away. Somehow.

Her movements suddenly seemed loud to her, and remembering Duke’s comment about that once upon a time made her think—know—surely he heard her coming. But no movement stirred around the cabin; no one opened the door to greet her.

So she knocked on it. Then said, “Hello?” trying her best to sound cheerful. Pressing on the door where the handle had once been, she tentatively pushed it open.

Duke sat at the table in the dim lighting sharpening a knife on a whetstone. Anna couldn’t help thinking how ominous a sight it made, and that if she’d found him like this when they’d first met, she’d be terrified. Now, she figured it was probably a knife he used for scaling fish or something—but seeing him like that reminded her, grimly, of who he was. There was an undeniable darkness within him. And she’d thought maybe it was leaving him—she’d been so arrogant as to think she might even be the one conquering it—but she knew now, instinctively, that she’d been too optimistic.

“Duke?” she ventured when he still didn’t look up.

Even now he only deigned to toss a quick glance her way before returning his attention to the knife. “What are you doing out here, Daisy?”

“That’s what I was going to ask
you
.” She feared her voice came out timid, just like in the beginning with him. Another thing she’d thought was long gone.

The quick shake of his head was barely perceptible. “Just felt like getting some fresh air, that’s all.”

But she wasn’t going to be timid with him—not anymore, not after everything they’d shared. “You could open the windows at my house the way we do most nights.”

He still didn’t look at her as he spoke. “Just felt like sleeping out here and . . . spending a little time on my own. Don’t make such a big thing of it.”

She drew in her breath at the accusation. She hadn’t made a big thing of it—but it
was
a big thing. “I’m not—but it’s just . . . not how things have been lately.”

Now he finally turned a steely gray gaze on her. “Look, Daisy, I just wanna be alone tonight if that’s all right with you. So just go back to the house, go to sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning. Okay?”

His tone, everything about the moment, sent a chill through her despite the warmth of the night. “Okay,” she replied softly.

And then she stood there, thinking there would be more.
Because there
should
be more. There just
should
. A goodnight. An apology. A reminder to be careful. Something—anything—softer.

But as painful, awkward seconds passed, she realized nothing else was coming. That was it. Just the cold dismissal.