Page 114 of How to Keep a Secret


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“You could come, too.” Something in his tone made her heart rate pick up.

“No time. We’re working hard to get The Captain’s House ready for rental.” The moment she said it she felt like a coward.

They both knew her refusal wasn’t only because she was busy.

“How’s that going?”

“It’s a lot of work, but we’re getting there. We’re going to move in to the Sail Loft for the summer.”

“And you’re fine with that?”

She wasn’t fine with that. Every time she stepped onto that wretched path she imagined her father’s white, hairy buttocks pumping into some woman. It made her feel physically ill, but that wasn’t something she intended to tell her mother. There was a limit to how much sharing was appropriate.

She smiled, aware that it was a thin, unconvincing effort. “I’m fine with it.”

Scott didn’t return the smile. “Are you sure? Because you had quite a phobia about—”

“That was a long time ago. You cured me of that.” She interrupted him before Cal could arrive and the details of her sexual hang-ups could be broadcast around the island for everyone to chomp on. “And by the time I’ve finished with the place, it won’t look anything like it does now. Mom has cleared it out, but we haven’t started making it habitable. We need a new kitchen and a partition in the main bedroom.”

“I could build that kitchen for you.”

She’d rejected the idea when her sister had suggested it because she didn’t particularly want to be working in such close quarters with him, but now she realized that if he started work immediately he’d be finished before she was ready to begin work on the furnishings. “Would you have time?”

“I’d need to juggle a few things here but yes, I could do it.”

However mixed up she felt, she recognized the generosity in that gesture. “You’ve been kind to my mother. I haven’t thanked you for that.”

“I didn’t do it to earn your gratitude.”

“Why did you do it?” It was something she’d wondered about.

“She needed help.”

He had an affinity for people in trouble, she knew that. It was a trait that made it inconveniently hard to hate him.

She wondered why he hadn’t noticed she needed help when she found out she was pregnant.

“I’m glad you were there for her.” She paused. “There was so much I didn’t understand. So much I didn’t know. I wish she’d told us.”

“I guess most of us have things we prefer to keep to ourselves.”

She knew he kept plenty to himself. “I should go—”

“You’re looking better. You’ve put on a little weight since I saw you last.” His gaze shifted from her face to her body and she felt the atmosphere snap tight.

He hadn’t touched her, and yet her skin tingled with awareness.

“You’re telling me I’m fat?”

“No, but it’s good to know the wind isn’t going to blow you away. That first day at the ferry—I was worried about you.”

“I’d lost my husband, and my home.”

There was a long silence. “Was he good to you?” His tone was raw. “Did you love him?”

At eighteen she would have thought that question would have a yes or no answer. Now she knew differently.

There were so many different types of love. There was the love she felt for her child, so intense she knew she would die for her if necessary. Then there was the love she had for her sister, a bond so powerful that nothing would ever break it, and the love she had for her mother.

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