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So she didn’t care for him.
All that giving—all that loving—it had been about therapy, Logan thought dully, feeling as though someone had hollowed him out with a sharp knife.
She hadn’t slept with him because she loved him but because she cared about his rehabilitation. She felt sorry for him and wanted to help him get over Catherine. What they’d shared had been a sacrifice on her part.
Not love.
Somehow he made his lips move. ‘So, that’s it, then?’
‘Of course. We should just forget it ever happened and you should get out there and start seeing other women. No guilt. No regrets. You know it’s what Catherine would have wanted. Life is so fragile, Logan, you should snatch happiness whenever it presents itself.’
He had.
Last night.
‘Yes.’ He watched as his fresh chance at happiness melted away in front of h
im. ‘Evanna—’
‘I really have to go.’ She backed away and waved a hand. ‘I just didn’t want you to feel awkward or embarrassed or anything—I wanted you to know that everything’s fine. Fine. No problems.’
She was babbling again, the way she always did when she was nervous, and Logan wanted to drag her into his arms and tell her to stop talking and just kiss him the way she’d kissed him the night before.
But before he could move she turned and walked quickly towards the gate, leaving him staring after her.
Now what?
Now what was he supposed to do?
She’d kept saying that everything was fine. Fine. When everything was far from fine.
After two nights without sleep and a ridiculously busy day during which she’d successfully managed to avoid Logan, Evanna was sitting in her kitchen, wondering whether she even had the energy to drag herself to bed, when the back door flew open and Kyla marched in.
‘Is it true?’
Tired and jaded by the events of the weekend, Evanna looked at her warily. How much did she know? ‘Is what true?’
‘That you’re selling the cottage.’ Kyla slammed the door shut behind her and glared. ‘When did you put your house on the market?’
‘Oh.’ Evanna blinked several times, surprised at how fast the news had travelled. ‘How did you find out?’
‘Ed Masters is the only estate agent on the island so it wasn’t hard,’ Kyla said, her tone sarcastic. ‘And I happened to be taking bloods from him today.’
‘Word travels fast. I only saw him a few hours ago.’
‘He was my last patient of the day. So it’s true? You spoke to Ed before you told me?’ Kyla put her hands on her hips. ‘You’re selling your cottage and you didn’t think it was worth mentioning? Buy a new lipstick or a pair of shoes, fine. That’s information that I don’t need to know for a couple of days. But selling your house? What’s going on?’
‘Well, of course I was going to tell you, but—’
‘When? After you’d moved?’
Evanna lifted a hand to her forehead, which throbbed and pounded with relentless ferocity. ‘Kyla, I don’t need this. I’m tired and I’m…’ Miserable, lost, confused. Her hand dropped to her side and she closed her eyes briefly, blocking out the reality. She still couldn’t really take in what selling the house really meant. She was leaving Glenmore. ‘Yes, I’m selling the cottage.’ Saying the words aloud had a finality that unlocked the misery inside her.
‘Why? What’s happened? You love Glenmore. You love your cottage.’ Kyla waved a hand and her long blonde hair bounced around her shoulders. ‘You’ve done up every inch of this place exactly the way you like it. It’s taken every penny of your salary.’
‘Yes.’ She didn’t need to be reminded exactly how much of herself had gone into this house.
‘So why are you selling your house. Your home?’
