Page 68 of In This Moment

“We’ll play it by ear, see how you feel. We’re adaptable people, and so is Graham. You can be honest with us. We’ll never judge you for it, or ask anything you’re not capable of giving. Should you ever need help with anything, all you ever have to do is ask.”

Halfway through the woman’s diatribe, Rebecca’s chest hitched, and her ribcage cracked open. Hot, outlandish tears fell unbidden onto her cheeks. She’d met these people mere hours before, had only tidbits of conversation with them, yet they treated her as if she was a part of their family.

And it hurt. So badly, it hurt. Yes, Vallantine and its townsfolk were home, and yes, she had her besties. But she had zero family to speak of left. They were gone. All gone. Buried in the Vallantine Cemetery with the town founders and everyone else who’d been a part of the community. Sometimes, the emptiness inside her was a cavern. Endless. Bottomless. Hopeless.

Overwhelming.

Arms came around her. Comforting. Just like Gammy’s had been. They absorbed the pain instead of taking it away or shrugging it off. The scent of rosemary surrounded her as sobs wracked her sore, tired, aching body.

After she didn’t know how long, she straightened, mortified. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

Mrs. Roberts smiled, tucking Rebecca’s hair behind her ears, and wiping her cheeks with a tissue she’d produced from who knew where. “No need for apologies. You did nothing wrong. We all need a good cry now and then.” She took a step back to give Rebecca breathing room. “Besides, it was my fault, poking at wounds, and especially after you’ve exhausted yourself out here.” She glanced next door and back again. “I think I made my son freak out a smidge.”

Rebecca glanced over, and yup. There stood Graham at the property line, arms crossed, and expression wrenched between who-do-I-need-to-murder and oh-crap. The poor man.

She pathetically waved. “I’m good. Your mama is torturing me with stories from your early writing days. It’s terrible. Please take her home.”

Mrs. Roberts laughed, and patted Rebecca’s cheek. “Oh yes, you’ll do nicely.” She strode back to Graham’s yard, said something to him Rebecca didn’t hear, and then went into the house.

Moments passed. Long moments where he seemed so tense, a feather would snap him in half.

Finally, he shook his head and walked toward her. He studied her expression a beat, and shook his head again. “Go in the house. I’ll finish this.”

“But—”

“Go. Ten minutes, and I’ll be right behind you.”

“I can do it.”

“I know.” A swallow worked his throat. “I’m fairly certain you could solve the energy crisis or relocate Stonehenge if you set your mind to it. Can and should are two different things, and in this case, you don’t have to. I’m here. I’ll finish.”

She sighed, her shoulders sagging. Guilt battled with pride until she realized she was too tired to care or act. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem.”

“My hero.”

“And don’t you forget it, but let’s not go overboard.”

“I like your mom.”

“She’s fond of you, too.”

“And your dad.”

“Same answer.”

She chewed her lip, still hesitant. She was unable to read his mood. He seemed to be straddling angry, tired, and confused. “Are you mad at me?”

Closing his eyes, he furrowed his brows. A shake of his head, and he opened his eyes, emerald gaze piercing. “I am many things. Mad isn’t one of them.”

Anything more would be poking the bear, so she went inside. But instead of showering, taking pain pills, or warming her heating blanket to help her muscles later, she stood by the window to watch him.

And she fell in love with him.

Right then and there, perhaps weeks ago. She hadn’t a clue, yet she was consciously, vividly aware of it now. She was in love with Graham. No questions asked, he’d demanded to finish the garden, recognizing she’d been stretched beyond her means. He’d researched her condition so he could better understand her triggers. He’d given her a job and reins at the office to help them rebuild the once great newspaper. He got along well with her friends and shared the same interests. He was funny. He was sincere. He was smart. He was sexy. He was charismatic, brave, and honest. He made her chest burst with emotion whenever he was near, her girly bits zing with only a kiss or glance. He simultaneously took care of her while allowing her to stand on her own.

She’d never been in love before. It was kinda scary, actually. Enlightening, exciting, freeing…and terrifying. What was she supposed to do?

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