downward as the conversation moved on, as if she were still troubled by the tragic story.
Fitz tried not to look at her. Tried not to think about her. Tried not to want her.
Knew he’d have to try even harder.
IT WAS LATE THAT EVENING when Fitz returned to his place. He had just gotten ready for bed when his phone rang.
He didn’t use email, so the pay-as-you-go phone was his only means of contact. He liked it that way. Usually the only calls and texts he received were local—from folks in Azalea. But the number that flashed on the screen now wasn’t local.
Fitz knew who it was.
He stared at the phone for three rings before he finally picked it up. “Hey, Hal.”
“Hi, Fitz. I wasn’t sure if I’d catch you,” Hal Rayburn said.
“You did.”
“How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. Just fine. What about you?”
“Can’t complain.”
There was a slight pause on the line. Then Fitz prompted, “Did you need something?”
“Just checking in. It’s been a long time. Wanted to make sure you were still doing okay.”
“I’m fine.”
“And you still don’t want to come back home?”
“I am home. This is my home now.”
“I know after what happened, you needed to get away. But it’s been seven years now since... since everything. Your family wouldn’t have wanted this.”
Fitz’s throat hurt. So did his chest. “No. they would have wanted me to head up the company and keep multiplying the family fortune. But that’s not the life I want anymore. I know you don’t understand, but I’ve made my decision and I’m not going back. If you don’t want to manage the foundation, I can find someone else—”
“Of course I’m still going to manage it. Your dad was my best friend. But he’d want his son to be happy. So would your mom and sister.”
All three of them had died. His father, mother, and sister—as well as his sister’s boyfriend. In that private plane crash seven years ago. Fitz had been the only one not on the plane that day because he’d been buried in work and had backed out on the trip at the last minute.
“I am happy,” Fitz told Hal on the phone. “As happy as I’m going to get.”
“I did want to mention...”
“What?”
“I’m planning to retire next year. Near the end of the year probably.”
Fitz licked his lips, processing that piece of information. “I’m sorry the foundation will lose you, but you’ve put in a lot of years. You deserve to take it easy for a while.”
“That’s my plan. But I’ll need someone to take over for me.”
“Yes. Maybe you can help with the transition. I’m sure we can hire someone else to—”
“I was wondering if maybe you’d want to.”
Fitz grew still. Said nothing.
“I know you didn’t want to seven years ago, but a lot of time has gone by.”
“I told you I like it here.”
“You could stay there. You could do all the work from Virginia. You wouldn’t need to work from an office or keep a regular schedule or change your whole world. It’s your family’s money. Don’t you want to see the good it does in the world?”
Fitz’s throat ached. So did his chest. He cleared his throat. “I don’t think so, Hal. I told you I didn’t want anything to do with it.”
“Yeah. I guess I was hoping that might have changed now that more time’s gone by. I know you’re afraid to live life again, but—”
“I’m not afraid. It’s just not what I want.”
Fitz was pretty sure Hal didn’t believe his abrupt declaration, but the other man didn’t argue at least. He shifted the topic. “And you really don’t want to do anything with that house in Azalea you had us buy and restore? I’ve got the renters in there now, but we could—”
“No. It’s good. Let them rent it as long as they want. There’s nothing we need to do with the house now. It belonged to a friend of mine. I just wanted to make sure it didn’t get torn down. I keep thinking he might want to buy it back one day, and I want to make sure it’s there for him if he does.”
Hal paused for several seconds. “That sounds almost sentimental. Are you finding your heart again?”
“It has nothing to do with my heart,” Fitz lied. “It’s just a thing I could do for a guy who’s done a lot to help me out. I know you feel responsible for me because you were friends with my dad, but you really don’t have