It's Never too Late

A man so honorable he’d confessed that night that he was falling for her.

She needed to confess, too. So badly.

And to find out what would happen if he touched her like he’d implied he wanted to.

“Is there a college there you can transfer to?” She was grasping. But if he qualified for a scholarship at Montford, surely he could get one at a state school in West Virginia.

She had to look up his scholarship. But not until she looked at the others. In the order she would have normally looked at them. She was splitting hairs, but somehow the distinction mattered. She was going to look Mark up, but only as though he was a normal scholarship student. Not as if she’d found out something about him because of their friendship and was acting on that. “I can’t transfer,” Mark was saying while Addy was busy thinking about all of the people he’d grown up with—about Ella—and wondering how long it would be before someone said something to Mark about Nonnie’s house being sold.

Nonnie had sworn her to secrecy, but there was no way an entire town would keep her secret.

More likely, as soon as the new owners took possession, Mark would find out, just as everyone else in town did.

In the meantime, Nonnie had told her the house stood vacant with a For Rent sign still out front. “I can’t quit school, either,” he continued. “A condition of accepting this scholarship was that if I fail or drop out, I have to pay back every dime already spent, so that there’s a full scholarship available to offer to someone else. Just with this semester’s expenses, I’d owe more than my truck is worth.”

He’d be in Shelter Valley for at least four years. Adele had a year—at most. Probably more like another month or two—if the escalated threat was anything to go by.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to afford to stay long enough to get my degree.” The words flew out of her mouth. Adele again. Lying. In a lame attempt to warn him.

He’d said he was falling for her. Her body was falling for his, too. Like tipping over the edge of the highest peak on a roller coaster.

“You could get a job. You’re studying horticulture—have you checked at the nursery outside of town?”

“Not yet. I’m fine for now.” She’d already told him that she’d saved enough so that she didn’t have to work.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.

Mark didn’t deserve this.

“I like you more than I’ve ever liked a man before in my life.” Adrianna, Adele, it didn’t matter who was talking. The words were the absolute truth. And they felt right.

His glance was intimate. She could feel it clear to her toes. And everywhere else, too.

“That sounds promising.”

“I’m just not ready for anything more than friends.” So true. And he’d be in Shelter Valley for a long, long time. She was out of there as soon as she was done with Will. She had to be.

In her psyche, Shelter Valley was synonymous with her father. She’d gotten that much out of counseling. And her recent nightmares, the visions haunting her, the breakdown she’d had out here on the patio with Mark, were all proof that she was not psychologically healthy here.

Shelter Valley was not a shelter to her. The town imprisoned her in a past that could debilitate her.

“I’m not asking for more than friends.” Mark’s reply was slow in coming, like he was choosing his words carefully.

“But tonight you said—”

“I said that I’m falling for you. Not that I’m asking you to do anything about that.”

“I just...” Be honest where you can. You have to give him that. The little voice inside of her blared inside her mind. To keep her word with Will, she had to lie to Mark. Except where it didn’t involve Will.

“I’m...not opposed...to something between us,” she said carefully, growing moist in intimate places as she revealed herself. “I also know that I can’t get involved in a relationship right now. I don’t want to lead you on and then not be able to follow through.”

“Define relationship.”

Holding the edges of her robe together at her throat, she stared at him.

“You said you can’t get involved in a relationship,” he repeated her words back to her. “But we already have a relationship. We’re two people who are relating—even if it’s just as neighbors.”

She frowned. He was confusing her. No, he was asking for a clarity she didn’t have. And there was so much she couldn’t say.