words were barely whispered air, but to him, it sounded like she sang them and trumpets blew.
“Thank you, E.”
She raised her head and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Now you have to forgive yourself and give life a real chance.”
He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her closer, needing to express his feelings, but not trusting his lousy words. Instead, he held her so close he could feel her heart beat and each breath go in and out.
“Declan,” she whispered.
“Evie.” He smiled.
“Are we good now?”
“We’re a hell of a lot better than we were.” Inching back, he looked at her. “Thank you.” He touched his lips to hers. “Thank you for being so…Evie.”
He felt her smile as he kissed her lightly, tasting tears that could have been his or hers. It didn’t matter.
After a moment, he opened his eyes and stared at the wall behind her…at the burn pattern of black in the brown wood.
She turned to follow his gaze, then blocked his view. “Don’t look at it.”
“I have to.” He stared at the scorched wood. “I have to face that fire, because if I don’t, it’ll consume me for another twenty years. That fire took enough. It took all those years. All that possibility.”
It wrenched his heart to think they could have been friends, lovers, partners, spouses…parents.
“Maybe it’s not too late,” she whispered.
Holy hell. Maybe it wasn’t.
Chapter Thirteen
Dogs. If anything had changed about Bitter Bark in the last twenty years, Evie realized, it had to be the number of dogs. And tourists.
There was an abundance of both in Bushrod Square, surprising for a Wednesday morning. This place had definitely grown from a sleepy small town in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains to a bit of a tourist mecca, not unlike Asheville and Boone. But the difference here was that most of those tourists came with a four-legged companion, which only made the whole town even more appealing to Evie.
The change surely meant a huge boon to businesses that catered to animals, like Kilcannon Veterinary, where she was headed now to see two of Molly’s patients. Since she was early, Evie took the time to stroll through the square and soak up an early autumn morning in what would always feel like “home” even if she lived in Raleigh the rest of her life.
In the middle of the square, she paused to look up at the statue that stood dead center. Thaddeus Ambrose Bushrod cast a mighty shadow—over the town and her life. Here she was, the last of her line facing the first.
“Sorry, Big Bad Thad,” she whispered. “As a Royal Navy man, you can appreciate my favorite quote. That ship has—”
“Evie?”
She spun at the sound of a woman’s voice, feeling a rush of warmth to her cheeks. “Oh God, I’ve been caught.”
“Talking to your great-great-great-grandfather? There are few things I respect more.”
Who would know how many greats there were? Evie studied the other woman, somewhere in her mid-fifties, with brown hair, glasses, and the look of a librarian. Of course—a librarian.
“Nellie Shaker?” she asked, remembering the woman known as Bitter Bark’s top historian. “How nice to see you.”
“And you, Evie.” Nellie came closer to offer her hand, which turned into a quick hug.
“Yeah, I was talking to a statue,” Evie admitted with fake sheepishness, pointing her thumb over her shoulder. “So, guilty as charged.”
Nellie smiled up at the bronze giant. “He was a great man who started a great town. Nothing wrong with thanking him on the way past.”
“Well, I wasn’t exactly thanking him,” she confessed. “How are you, Nellie? Are you still running the library and making sure the children of Bitter Bark pay their late fees?”
She laughed. “I am, and I’ve been the head of the Historical Society for almost a decade. So, that’s why I share your love and respect”—she pointed at Thad—“for this man right here.”
“Good for you.”
“I heard you’re going to be in town for quite some time,” she said. “You know what that means?”
Oh God. Was this going to be yet another person encouraging a romance with Declan? They’d made huge progress on Monday, but by silent agreement, they were taking things slow.
“I’m not sure. What does it mean?”
“You’ll be here for Founder’s Day on October 22nd.”
“I will be,” she said. “Is there still a parade?”
Nellie’s face fell. “Not since your grandmother died. Your grandfather seemed to lose interest.”
“Oh, he doesn’t get out much, I’m afraid.”
“Well, we do a lot of dog-related events now,” she said. “But that