More Than Anything (Broken Pieces 1)

Her legs turned to rubber, and she sank slowly down onto the bed, feeling wobbly and disoriented. How could he love her? Where did that come from? Yes, he had constantly asked her out, had often tried to talk to her, but she had known it was just to offer an apology for his behavior that long-ago night.

And this past week, despite his assertion that he was here to offer support to Libby, he had spent more time with Tina than with the other woman. But how did that translate into love? How could it?

She became aware of movement in the room on the other side of the wall. Thumps, knocks, and Harris’s heavy tread on the floor. Then muffled masculine voices. Greyson was up. She couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, especially once the voices faded, probably because they had left the room.

She wasn’t sure what to do next. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Harris. She didn’t harbor any antipathy toward him, not anymore. Immediately after learning about the bet, she had been hurt, confused, and angry. After she had discovered her pregnancy, that confusion and pain had festered into blistering resentment and all-consuming rage. But as the years had passed, the resentment and anger had faded into regret and a hollow pang in her heart every time she saw him.

His presence had stopped reminding her of the bet; instead he brought to mind the baby she had loved so dearly and lost. And that soon became the main reason she had continued to avoid him. He reminded her of Fletcher, and too often, remembering her baby gave her nightmares of the horrific moment she had found him lying cold and unmoving in his crib.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, caught up in her thoughts, before she became aware of doors opening and shutting next door. Followed by two sets of masculine footsteps on the porch. Tina pushed her hair out of her face and padded to the front door. Wondering what was going on. It was only seven thirty in the morning; where could they be going?

She stood at the front door, her ear shamelessly pressed against the wood. More talking, farther away. She went to her front window and peeked through the lace curtain, feeling like a voyeur.

Both men were standing beside Harris’s rented 4X4. They appeared to be having a very intense discussion. Tina couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen them in such earnest conversation with each other.

Greyson was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt—still so weird to see him outfitted like that—and Harris was fully dressed in ripped jeans, a T-shirt, and his fur-collared denim jacket. As she watched, the two men embraced, and her jaw dropped. That was new. She couldn’t recall them ever hugging before.

She was still mulling over that unprecedented show of affection between the brothers when Harris swung into the driver’s seat of the car and dragged his seat belt over his chest.

Wait. Was he . . . ?

He started up the car, and before Tina could so much as blink, he was reversing down the drive. Greyson stood watching and lifted his hand to wave as the car turned, once it had exited the gates, and drove off.

Tina flung the door open as Greyson turned back, and he lifted startled eyes to meet hers.

“Where’s he going?” she asked bluntly.

Greyson, who looked haggard and despondent, shrugged helplessly. “Home.”

“What?”

But he didn’t say goodbye. The ridiculous thought was the first thing that came to mind, and she felt a sharp pang of hurt at the realization.

“Why?”

“I think you’re better able to answer that question than I am, Martine,” Greyson pointed out gently.

“Will he return?” she asked, not sure why she felt such overwhelming panic at the thought of Harris not coming back.

“Doubtful. He’s flying out to Australia on Wednesday.”

She swayed, and Greyson grabbed her elbow to steady her.

“Easy there,” he crooned. He pushed something into her hand, and Tina stared uncomprehendingly down at the object in her palm.

“He wanted me to give that to you,” Greyson explained, and Tina’s fist closed tightly around the pendant. She would think about it later. She had more immediate concerns now.

“He told me he loves me.” The words emerged before she could stop them. She didn’t know why she had said it, just knew that she wanted to see if it sounded as ridiculous out loud as it did in her head. She waited for Greyson to laugh at the words, but he continued to merely stare at her somberly.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he said.

“How can he love me? He barely knows me!” She heard the anger seeping into her words and embraced it. She’d rather be pissed off at him for throwing this curveball than confused and frightened.

“He knows you,” Greyson said placidly, leading her up the steps to the swing.