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“You didn’t have to. You overreacted because you automatically assumed Meg was going to lie to you the same way Ella did.” The older woman takes a step forward and scoops my black-stained hand up in hers. “You need to stop blaming others for what happened, Craig. You need to stop blaming yourself.”
Words can’t get past the thickness of my throat as I struggle to keep my composure. I breathe in, breathe out, until I can manage to choke out, “I couldn’t save her.”
“Oh, honey...” Nancy stretches up and hugs me to her. “You couldn’t save Ella, no matter what you did. What happened to her was a tragedy, but you couldn’t have changed the outcome. But, maybe she saved you.”
I pull back, barely holding back the tears brimming my eyelids. My eyes are narrowed. “How?”
Her mouth curves into a soft smile as she stares up at me. “She gave you Ellis, didn’t she?” Nancy pats my hands and steps away from me. “You walked away from everything when your son came into your life, Craig. But now it’s time to actually start living. Ella would want that. For you, and for Ellis.”
She’s right. And the rightness of her words resonates through me so completely that I can barely breathe with the weight of it. I’ve tried so hard to do everything perfectly for so long now, in order to live for Ellis and his needs, that I’ve forgotten how to live for myself, too, pushing away everything and everyone in the process.
I bend down and plant a kiss on Nancy’s cheek, then side-step around her to flip the Open sign in the window to Closed.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her eyes wide.
“Living.” I give her a wink as I grab my truck keys from the top shelf of my toolbox. “I’ve got to go find Megan.”
Chapter Eleven
Megan
Harold has been a phenomenal boss since I started here at the Chronicle. Since it’s a small newspaper, we work pretty closely with each other on just about every aspect, and I would like to think I’m getting the hang of it quickly.
And I’d still believe it if it weren’t for my complete lack of ability to concentrate on anything other than Craig Connelly.
Every word uttered through his clenched teeth, every flash of anger that shone in his eyes when he looked at me—I just keep replaying the entire conversation over and over in my head, hearing him tell me how I lied and how I played him and hurt him and ruined everything.
I could have prevented this whole sordid thing if I’d just ignored Aunt Nancy’s jabbering about him, if I’d ignored the sexy, chocolate-colored eyes that stared into me instead of at me that first day I met him when my car broke down.
My car. I’ve spent the past four days trying to work up the courage to go find out how close I am to getting it back. As the thought wields through my head, however, I’ve convinced myself that Craig is holding it ransom, purposely not calling me about it because he knows I’ll eventually have to come to him.
Well, that’s not happening. He can keep the goddamn thing for all I care.
“Megan, what are you still doing here?” Harold comes around the corner from his office, turning to stare up at the clock on the wall. “You could’ve left almost an hour ago. I didn’t realize you’d stayed.”
Not wanting to admit that I had nothing better to do with my time than work, I quirked a half-smile up at the older man. “Just wanted to get this page design out of the way before I called it a night. I’m almost done.”
“Thank goodness. That’ll get that boy off the front step, then, I’m sure.”
“Boy?” My gaze flew toward the front door, despite not being able to see through it. “What boy on the front step?”
Harold points a finger toward the door. “That Connelly boy’s been perched on that stoop since closing time. I was just coming out to see what he wanted when I realized you were still here.”
“And what makes you think it’s got anything to do with me?” I ask, my eyes narrowed.
My boss gives me a knowing smirk. “Megan, this is a very small town. People talk, you know.” He points towards the door again. “Now, go talk to him, will you?”
Aunt Nancy. God knows who she’s been talking to while trying to fix this. I should’ve known better than to confide in her about Craig’s angry outburst, but I’d needed some solace and sympathy, and she’d certainly given me that. Maybe it wasn’t my aunt at all. It’s all just as plausible that the neighbors heard us in the driveway, if their windows or screen doors had been open.
“I’ll fix this,” I advise my boss.
“Good,” he says. “Lock the door on your way out? I’ve got some family coming to stay at our place tonight, and I can’t be late or Elaine will never let me hear the end of it.”
I chuckle, nodding. “No problem. Have a good night.” I’ve only met his wife once, but I don’t doubt that people would want to avoid her bad side. The woman’s polite and all, but she’s definitely a firecracker, too.
I start packing my things up and shutting down my computer after he leaves. It takes no time at all for the mere knowledge of his presence on the other side of the door to urge me towards it, opening it.
Sure enough, Craig is huddled down on the first step, hands wrapped around his knees, hat pulled down low over his face to block out the setting sun on the horizon.
