All They Need - By Sarah Mayberry Page 0,14

time. A love that was strong enough to withstand the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune and then some.

He looked into Hayley’s eyes and tried to imagine the two of them twenty years from now. He tried to imagine their children. He tried to imagine the two of them dealing with the tectonic shift that his parents were experiencing.

And it just wasn’t there. He couldn’t see it. Hayley was his dear, dear friend. But she was not the woman he wanted to marry.

His chest was suddenly tight. He was about to hurt her—the last thing he’d ever wanted to do.

He looked at her hand in his, her skin very pale in comparison to his, trying to find the words. “Hayley, I care for you a great deal. You’re one of my best friends. The past year has been great. Really great. But marriage is a big step. And I don’t feel even close to ready to take it with you.”

She was very still for a moment. “One of your best friends.” He could see the disappointment and hurt in her face.

Flynn stared at her helplessly. If it was in his power, he’d flip a switch and love her with the same fervor that she apparently felt for him. But it wasn’t, and he didn’t.

“I’m sorry. There’s been so much going on…?. I never meant to create expectations.” His words sounded lame, even to himself. He’d fallen into a relationship with her, allowed her to move in, shared his days and his nights with her, but he’d never once thought about where they were going, or wondered what she thought their relationship was about. He’d been too busy flailing around in his own crap after his father’s diagnosis—winding down his own company, stepping up to take over the reins of the business, trying to support his mother, trying to do anything and everything to ease his father’s distress.

“You didn’t create expectations. I did.” Her voice was heavy with tears but she was doing her best to hold them in.

“God, Hales, I’m so sorry.” He pulled her into his arms, guilt a physical burn in his chest.

She might be prepared to let him off the hook, but he wasn’t. He’d been selfish, taking comfort where he could find it. Not thinking about the consequences. Not thinking about tomorrow at all.

She rested her head on his shoulder but didn’t try to return his embrace. After a moment he let her go. Her eyes were filled with tears and she brushed them away with her fingertips.

“I’m sorry,” she said, not quite meeting his gaze. Then she stood and rushed from the room.

Flynn heard the bedroom door click shut. He mouthed a four-letter word, angry with himself, angry with the situation. He fell back against the cushions and raked his fingers through his hair.

He had no doubt that right now, Hayley was howling her eyes out on the bed they were supposed to share tonight. He swore again. He was a bastard. A stupid, selfish, thoughtless bastard.

The urge to get up and go gripped him, to walk away from the cottage and the scene that had played out, but he didn’t move. The least he could do was be here if Hayley needed him. The very least.

MEL SPENT THE first half of the afternoon repairing the rotten windowsill. Her thoughts drifted from topic to topic as she chipped away the damaged wood with a hammer and chisel, but she kept coming back to Flynn and his girlfriend.

They were an attractive couple, with his dark good looks and her pale skin and fiery hair. They were socially well-matched, too, both bringing equal clout to the table. No one would look down their noses when they arrived at functions or events. No one would whisper behind their backs or laugh and speculate about how long their relationship would last and what, exactly, Hayley had done to land her man.

The chisel slipped and Mel’s breath hissed out as the sharp metal sliced into the fleshy part of her thumb. She sucked on it for a second before inspecting the wound. Blood welled, but it was a shallow cut. She’d live.

She went inside for a bandage and returned to finish the repair, replacing the excised wood with builder’s filler. Afterward, she made the ten-minute drive to her parents’ place to help her mother finalize the invitations for their upcoming thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. She stayed for an early dinner, then drove home.

She was in the bedroom, ready to pull on