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He stood, easing and stretching the kinks from sleeping on the sofa. The last few days rushed back to him. The hurricane. Helping Carolina. Staying here because River Street was flooding. Carolina insisting, I don’t need your forgiveness. I don’t forgive you.
He’d thought forgiveness had been the way to get back together with her.
Apparently not.
Was he an arrogant, high-on-his-horse ass? Should he apologize?
Carolina was right. He loved her, admired her, but he didn’t respect her and couldn’t condone what she’d done.
What would his father… He rubbed his face, his hands rasping against his beard. Learning Dad’s secret had smashed his moral compass. He almost wished Mom had kept his dad’s infidelity to herself. Then he wouldn’t be so…unsure of his actions.
He moved to the window and stared into the courtyard. The sky was an angry gray mass. Every plant, tree and bush twisted with the wind. Branches, leaves and battered flowers covered the pathways and clung to the bushes. And this was only the leading edge of the storm.
A man bundled in a rain jacket ran through the courtyard. A gust pushed him to Fitzgerald House.
Time to start the day. He tried to be quiet in the bathroom. In the kitchen, he made coffee, hoping it would stop the small headache building behind his eyes.
As the coffee brewed, he flipped on the weather channel and straightened the sofa, trying to make it look like he hadn’t slept there. Not that he’d gotten a lot of sleep. His brain had spun from Carolina’s accusations.
Would he have used her…indiscretions…against her? He’d never been in a relationship, no girlfriends had lived up to his dad’s honor. But the pedestal he’d placed his father on had crumbled. He rubbed his hair. Yeah. He probably would have thrown her mistakes in her face.
And Carolina didn’t believe they were mistakes.
Did it matter who was right? Was being right worth never holding Carolina again?
He checked the fridge for ingredients. Then cooked sausage patties, setting them in a warm oven before cracking eggs.
Taking his coffee into the living room, he watched the storm coverage. The ticker scrolling across the bottom announced that power was out to a hundred thousand people along the coast.
A door opened down the hall. Then the bathroom door.
He waited.
Carolina moved around the corner.
His exhaustion disappeared. She didn’t smile, but just seeing her, brightened his day.
And he’d screwed everything up. “Coffee’s ready.”
She nodded to the TV. “Anything new on the storm and when it will pass through?”
She was probably hoping he’d leave. “They think it will move through by tonight. Electricity’s out on Tybee and the other islands. River Street is still flooded.”
“That’s normal.” She shoved back her hair and smothered a yawn.
He ached to comfort her. “You should get more sleep.”
“I’m…fine.” She headed to the kitchen.
“I’m sorry.” He followed, stopping next to her as she pulled out a mug and poured coffee. “You were right to call me on my attitude.”
She doctored her coffee and glared over the rim of the cup. “I’m done talking about this.”
He had to get through to her. Losing her was worse than living without honor. “We’re good together.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You mean sex?”
“No, I mean…” What the hell did he mean? “Getting through life. Helping each other.”
“I’m not sure you’re good for me.” Her shoulders curled in around her chest. “I don’t have the emotional energy for this.”
“You can’t fight for love?”
“I have to take care of my mother. Who knows what’s happened with her house. My half sisters hate me. I’m unemployed.” Her blue eyes, so filled with pain, stared up at him. “I’m empty.”
“From what I saw yesterday, your half sisters don’t hate you.” She’d worked side by side with the Fitzgeralds and they’d had a crying/hugging fest in the kitchen.
She shrugged.
“Wait.” He held up a finger. “You lost your job?”
“Last week.” She shoved curls off her face. “Abby’s not renewing my contract and doesn’t want me tending bar.”
“That’s…” Just what he would have done. “I’m sorry. But don’t push me away when I could help.”
“And you’d hold that over me, too? I don’t need that kind of help.” She turned to the cupboard and pulled out plates. End of conversation.
He couldn’t let her bear these burdens alone. His mother begged him to see Carolina’s actions from her perspective. Walk a mile—and all that. Carolina had done everything for her mother.
