Page 67

“It’s your birthday,” Hannah said simply. “We couldn’t let you be alone on your birthday.”

That set off another round of tears. Carefully, Morgan let go of the kids with one arm and reached for Hannah.

Hannah stepped into her embrace, holding tight. “Happy birthday,” she whispered.

“I can’t tell you how much I needed this visit,” Morgan said when she finally pulled back, swiping at her cheeks with the back of her wrist.

Wes believed her. The need was etched into the hollow beneath her eyes, in the way she kept one hand wrapped possessively around each of her children, as if afraid they might vanish. Watching the four of them together, he suddenly felt like an intruder on something raw and holy.

“You remember Wes,” Hannah said, turning slightly so Morgan could see him. “He was coming down this way from Shelter Springs so we hitched a ride with him.”

“Wes has a big truck and I got to sit in the back next to his dog named Kodi,” Carter said.

Morgan laughed, the sound rusty but real. “I feel like the luckiest woman in the world,” she said, reaching out a hand toward Wes. She squeezed his gloved hand. “Thank you so very much for bringing them to me.”

Heat crept up the back of his neck. He had done nothing, really. Driven a truck, carried a bag. Tried to ignore his reaction to Hannah. Yet Morgan looked at him as if he’d given her something priceless. He could see no self-pity in her expression, only gratitude.

He thought of how much space bitterness had taken up in his own life, how long he had let anger and regret define him. Standing here in this room, facing a woman fighting for her life who still somehow managed to feel lucky and grateful, Wes felt painfully small.

“You’re welcome,” he said quietly. “I was happy to do it. I’ll get out of your way now and let you enjoy your birthday party.”

“You can’t stay and have a cupcake with us?” Hannah asked.

“I’m afraid not. I don’t want to leave Kodi out in the truck too long, and I’ve got an appointment to pick up a fireplace.”

Hannah smiled at him with eyes that looked suspiciously wet.

This was all so much like her. Always wanting to help, to shoulder part of someone else’s burden.

He had not let her help him and had resented her efforts and her naive belief that her love could fix everything.

As he gazed at her, a chilling realization slid over him with terrifying clarity.

He had never stopped loving her.

He had told himself he had moved on with his life. But he had only buried his feelings underground, dormant all this time like flower bulbs in winter, waiting for the smallest bit of warmth to coax them back to life.

One look at her face lit with joy for someone else and he realized how foolish he had been.

The idea of leaving her again—of driving away from Shelter Springs, from her laughter and this fragile, unexpected sense of belonging—made his stomach knot.

He’d walked away once and told himself it was for the best. Standing here now, gazing at this bright, joyful woman, he had no idea how he could possibly do it again.

He forced himself to look away. “I’ll swing back and pick you up in a few hours. Will that work?” he asked.

“Yes. But you don’t have to do that. We can find an Uber or Lyft to take us to the hotel.”

“No need,” he said. “I’ll see you after I run my errand.”

“Thank you for getting us here safely. It was a hundred percent worth it.” She leaned in and brushed a quick kiss against his cheek. It was light, almost casual, but his skin burned where her lips had touched.

In an instant, a rush of images flooded him. Her mouth under his, the sound of her laughter in the dark, her body tangled with his on a summer night years ago when the future had seemed wide open to them.

He stepped back before she could see too much in his face.

“I’ll see you in a bit,” he managed.

He walked out of the room feeling oddly unsteady, as if the floor had shifted beneath his feet.