Driftwood Bay (Hope Harbor #5) - Irene Hannon Page 0,79
at my school, and they asked me to delay my trip two days while they rounded up subs.”
As the truth slammed home, his pulse stuttered.
If Jeannette hadn’t agreed to stay behind, she would have died too.
He gripped his mug to steady his fingers. “I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been through.”
“Don’t try. It’s not a place you want to go.” Her voice hitched, and she motioned to his roll. “That’s g-getting cold.”
“I can nuke it again.” But he wouldn’t. His appetite had vanished. “You told me a couple of weeks ago that you moved here because you needed a change of scene—now I can understand why.”
“Most people back in Cincinnati didn’t—but there was nothing left for me there except memories that made me sad. And I had the financial resources to start over somewhere else. I was the beneficiary of several insurance policies and wills, and those funds—along with the settlement money from the plane manufacturer—gave me the seed money for this place. Literally. Plus a fair amount to spare. Financial stability is one problem I never have to worry about.” She took a tiny sip of coffee. “So now you know my story.”
Yeah, he did.
And more—including the reason she shied away from relationships.
If you didn’t care for people, you couldn’t get hurt. Letting anyone—or anything—get too close could lead to loss . . . and pain.
As Button’s demise today had affirmed.
Could the timing of that have been any worse?
If there had been any softening in Jeannette’s resolve to keep her distance from others, the kitten casualty would convince her to shore it up—unless he did some fast talking and offered a compelling argument for a different course.
“After hearing your story, I can understand why you want no involvements.” He watched her as he spoke.
She met his gaze straight on. “I hoped you would. That’s why I shared it with you. And please don’t try to convince me to change my mind. The life I’ve created works for me.”
“Does it make you happy?” He kept his manner conversational. Nonjudgmental.
“I’m . . . content.”
“In every way?”
She gave him a wary look. “What do you mean?”
“I can see why keeping people at arm’s length is safer for your heart—but it’s kind of like that old saying about boats. While they’re safe in harbors, that’s not what they’re built for. I think that’s true of the heart too. It can’t fully be alive without love.”
Her chin rose a fraction. “It can’t be broken, either.”
“But like a ship that never sails, a heart that’s never used isn’t living up to its potential. Especially one as caring and giving and loving as yours.”
Several beats passed, and when she spoke at last her tone was sad—but firm. “I appreciate what you’re saying, Logan. And I’m flattered. But I’ve thought this through long and hard—and I still choose loneliness over the risk of loss.”
He had no comeback for that.
With time—and tenacity—it was possible he could convince her to change her mind and give love another chance.
But perhaps that was selfish. Who was he to tell Jeannette how to live her life? After all she’d been through, after all the deliberation she’d given this, it was possible her choice was the best one for her.
Even if his instincts weren’t buying that.
“Can I say I’m disappointed?” He tried for a smile but only half succeeded.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should. And if you ever change your mind, I’ll be right next door. All you have to do is ring the bell.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Well . . .” He stood. What more was there to say? “I think I’ll take this home and heat it up later, after I take that walk on the beach.” He picked up the cinnamon roll and slid it back into the bag she’d left on the counter.
She followed him to the door. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“I’m sure you will. It’s a small town.”
He turned toward her, intending to say a simple good-bye—but at the longing in her eyes, the breath jammed in his lungs.
Sweet heaven.
Did she have any idea what a powerful invitation she was sending?
Not likely, since it didn’t match her words.
Yet the unconscious message came straight from her heart.
And he couldn’t ignore it.
His fingers crimped the top of the bag.
Maybe they were never destined to be anything more than neighbors.
Maybe she’d stick by her decision to avoid relationships and remain forever in the solitary world she’d created, with only her lavender plants for company.