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“No one’s twisting your arm,” she threw back at him.
His lips thinned furiously before he turned, shoved open the front door and stalked outside into the driving rain.
All the pain of the past—the lies, the treachery, the mental anguish of the days after the fire—burned bright in Tessa’s mind. Denver had walked out on her before. And now she, because of Mitch, was linked to the fire. No doubt he blamed her. No doubt he thought she had known the truth all along.
“I’m sorry, Tess,” Mitch said, biting his lip and rubbing a hand over the bruise already showing on his chin. “I should’ve told you a long time ago. I should’ve gone straight to the sheriff. God, it’s been hell.”
She saw him more clearly then, the relief that seemed to wash away his scowl, the pride that held his chin upward. Obviously Mitch had suffered every day since the accident.
“It’s all right.”
“It’s not, Tess! Two people died. People Denver loved.” He blinked rapidly. “It cost so many people so much. But it’s over. Thank God, it’s finally over.” Standing, he forced pride back into his shoulders. “I think I’ve got a few phone calls to make.”
“Can’t you wait till morning? Give yourself time to talk to an attorney.”
His green eyes were calm when they met hers. “I’ve waited seven years. It’s time to face the music.” Wincing, he reached for the phone.
But Tessa snatched the receiver from his fingers and slammed it back in the cradle. “Just stop and think a minute—call Ross Anderson.”
“Forget it, Tess. This time I do what I should’ve done seven years ago. Don’t you have a few things to do, to get ready for tomorrow?”
Tomorrow—the wedding!
“I don’t know if there will be a wedding,” she whispered, shaken to her roots. She ran quivering fingers through her hair while her mind spun out of control, trying to sort out everything that had happened in the past ten minutes—as well as the past seven years. “Denver and I have a few things to iron out,” she said shakily. She force
d her shoulders square, took in a deep breath and told herself it was now or never. “Will you be all right?”
Mitch smiled tiredly. “Better than I’ve been for seven years.”
“I’ll be right back,” she said. “Don’t do anything foolish.”
“I can handle it, Tess.” He reached for the phone and waved away the protest forming on her lips.
“Okay, Mitch, do it your way.”
“You just worry about McLean.”
“That I will,” she vowed, thrusting open the front door and dashing down the rain-slickened steps. Wind tore at her hair. Rain drizzled relentlessly from the sky to run down her neck and cheeks. Squinting, she scanned the yard. Denver was nowhere in sight.
Maybe he’s already left, she thought, her heart thudding painfully.
Then she saw him. Tails of his shirt flapping in the wind, his hair ruffled, he sagged against the bole of an old apple tree near the burned-out remains of the stables. She took off running, her heart in her throat. This time she wasn’t afraid. This time she would force the issue. This time, come hell or high water, she was going to put out those last smoldering ashes of the fire no matter how long it took!
“What’re you doing here?” he growled as she dashed through the wet grass.
“Looking for you.”
“Why?”
“Because we need to talk.”
His face was lined and strained, his shoulders set. He didn’t look at her, just glared at the ugly black timbers. “What did you know about the fire, Tessa?”
“Nothing more than I told you.”
“Your brother didn’t fill you in?” he asked sarcastically.
“Not until tonight.”
