outright sobs if she let herself take in the magnitude of what had just happened.
He better not try to text me. But then she remembered that Burke was holding her phone in his pocket.
On came the replay. The horrific recollection of tonight’s events. Justine had told herself she was being paranoid when she’d spotted Brittany and her crew huddled by the tree. Even if Becky had told her it was all a sham, Brittany—with all her callous cruelty—wouldn’t stoop so low as to publicly out her.
She’d been wrong. But it was so much worse than a mere engagement ruse, because Burke…
The pain sank deep enough to make her retch—to bawl or vomit, she wasn’t sure which. Either felt possible in that moment.
The country song played a bit louder now, and Justine inwardly thanked Frank for his kindness. Why couldn’t she have just liked him? He was decent and good. A hard worker and a loyal friend. He would never skip town over boredom and take off to the city. And Frank would never dream of doing something as hideous as buying and selling the town’s very own falls and replacing it with some air-polluting, view-robbing factory that would make Piney Falls feel like a dump.
On one condition, she’d told him. Just one. That he hadn’t had anything to do with the buy or sale of that land.
He flips properties for a living. Had she forgotten that? Justine couldn’t say she had, it was just that…he’d never told her he planned to do that very thing right in her hometown. A place she loved and cherished and—even in her job for the town—worked to preserve.
She thought back on the way Foster had questioned her at the city building today. He’d accused her of being in on it. Did that mean she’d missed a chance to alert the city? Had a notice come in while she was away at the Benton’s cabin?
With all the catchup work she’d done at the office, Justine had yet to make it through the stack of neglected mail that sat in her inbox. She’d spent most of her time responding to emails and organizing a committee for the upcoming New Year’s Eve party.
Sparks of hope kindled in her chest as she realized it might not be too late. Sometimes—not always, but sometimes—she’d get a letter to post a notice about a potential change to the town. The land wasn’t city or public property, it was private. Private property that, for years now, the family all but donated to the town. She’d see if there was a notice among her unread mail.
For now, Justine had to sit with the fact that Burke Richards Benton, in all of his flirtatious fun, passionate kisses, and touching heart-to-heart talks, had been swindling her all along. He’d probably known, when she said she worked for the city, that he could take advantage of the fact. Distract her, take her out of town, even, so that nothing would interrupt his plans to make a quick buck.
A layer of confusion settled over her as she tried to make that scenario fit. It was the one Brittany fed to the entire town, wasn’t it?
So why couldn’t she get herself to eat it?
Because it was a wretched taste of humble pie, that’s why. Who wanted to believe that the man they’d fallen in love with was capable of something so cruel?
Her body ached against the complete…wrongness of it all. “Could you take me home, please?” A sob threatened to spill through the request, but she could wait. She could.
Frank was already slowing the truck and pulling over to the side of the road. “Anything you’d like,” he said gently. There he was, being so generous and kind.
“Frank?” She spoke as he turned the truck around. “Thank you.”
It was over. That horrible phrase—just three short words—haunted Justine every second of every minute of that drive home. Curling her chest forward, as if she could somehow shield her heart from the insult, she rested against the window as he drove.
Would she ever see him again? Would she ever want to?
Yes. She wanted very badly to see him, to sink into his strong embrace as he told her that she had it all wrong. Things weren’t anything like they seemed. He did love her. He hadn’t been lying to her. He’d just…Her shoulders drooped with an added layer of dread. How could she even fill in that blank? He forgot? Yeah, right.
They were in front of her house already,