felt like family.
At the end of the evening, they said their goodbyes, and she and Hayes started the walk back to her cottage. Once they were away from the crowd, she stopped.
He took a few steps before realizing it, then turned back to look at her. “What’s wrong?”
“Hayes, I know it’s been a while since you saw me in person, but I’m still the same old Prudence. And I know you better than anybody.”
“I know, Pru.” He took a step toward her.
“So, I know if you’re not telling me what’s going on, you’re not telling anyone.”
He looked away.
She took his hand. She wanted to press a kiss to his palm but decided that was a tiny bit over the line of friendship. Instead, she squeezed it and forced his gaze. “You can talk to me, okay?”
He didn’t move. For a moment, it seemed like he wasn’t even breathing. Then, finally, he nodded. “When I’m ready.”
She shoved away her disappointment that he didn’t instantly trust her with whatever it was he battled, but gave him one quick nod. “I’ll be here when you are.”
Chapter 5
The Rules
How did she do that? How did she, unlike everyone else in the world, read him like he had his emotional life’s story written on his face?
Hayes had tried to pretend everything was fine. He’d tried to pretend he wasn’t haunted by the images that kept him awake at night, that he was unfazed. He’d been pretending for almost three months now.
But Pru had still seen through him.
Nobody else had. Only her. He supposed that’s why she was his best friend. Still, he couldn’t talk about it. He knew she wouldn’t forget, that she’d always be wondering until the day he told her—which may be never—maybe he would just get over it and the joy would return to his eyes or whatever had to happen to make her think he was okay.
He was Hayes McGuire. He was always okay. This time would be no different.
Unless it was.
Now, after hours of standing out in the cold, warmed from the inside by the mulled cider, they walked back to her cottage in the darkness.
The island was perfectly safe, and still, he found himself inching closer to Pru, as if she needed to be protected from something unknown.
From something he’d witnessed but couldn’t process.
When really, he was the one in need of a safe haven.
“So, what are the rules?” she asked now as they rounded the corner onto her street.
He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and wished he’d brought a pair of gloves. It was stupid of him not to. A chill raced down his back. “The rules of what?”
“Noni Rose,” she said with a knowing smile.
“You’re gonna help me?”
She shrugged. “I gave it some thought in between the fifth and sixth verses of ‘Silent Night.’”
He grinned at her. “I knew you couldn’t resist.”
“I can’t leave poor Peggy Swinton in your hands. I don’t know what Aunt Nellie was thinking, you’re the least romantic person I know.”
“Thank God,” he said. “I could kiss you right now.” Oh, heck. Where had that come from? “I mean, I’m thankful. Very thankful.”
Her eyes had widened when he said it. It was barely detectable, but he’d noticed. It was there. That was such a stupid thing to say. A great way to make things awkward and run her off.
Idiot!
“And I resent the fact that you think I’m not romantic,” he said. “I’m plenty romantic.”
She looked straight ahead and muttered a nearly silent, “Uh-huh.”
They reached her front door, and she pulled out her key, opened the lock, and led him inside. The box sat on the table where they’d left it. Inside was his future as a matchmaker.
If Hollis or his dad or any of his friends ever found out about this . . .
“The first thing we need is an oath of silence,” he said.
She stood at the stove, where he only now realized she’d put a kettle on to boil. He’d forgotten how much she loved hot cocoa. Even in the summer, she drank it extra hot with a dollop of whipped cream.
“I see you eyeing my kettle,” she said.
“I was doing no such thing.”
She raised a brow. “So many lies tonight, Mr. McGuire. I know how you feel about my hot cocoa.”
He took off his coat. “I feel absolutely indifferent about this drink.”
“Lies.”
He plopped down on the couch. “I’m not sleeping very well.”
From behind him, he heard her clinking around in the kitchen, pulling the whipped cream from the