Page 64 of I'll Carry You

“Well, what did you expect to happen? The girl wasn’t going to be thrilled to find out you lied to her.” Mildred gave an exaggerated shiver and looked over her shoulder. “My warm bed is calling me back. Glad I could help.”

“Mildred, this isn’t funny.” Jason’s eyes narrowed at her. “I don’t know what to do.” The hurt in Jen’s eyes, the way she’d looked at him with a mixture of contempt and confusion. She believed the worst about him.

And the thought of that was eating a hole inside his stomach like battery acid.

The night before, she’d been in his arms and said she liked him. He didn’t know what he was doing with her anymore. He’d thought he could rid himself of the attraction to her with one night, but it was like she branded his skin with her touch.

And the whole situation with the inheritance . . . he’d made a nightmare out of it. “What do I do?” He didn’t mean to ask aloud, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mildred pursed her lips. “Apologize. Then leave her alone. Kevin loved her, and he let her go. So can you.” Mildred yawned, reaching up and clearing a cobweb from the light beside the door. “Why don’t we have lunch in a few days? Before you go back to Chicago. You can tell me all about how it went.”

Jason nodded and stepped back from the door as she shut it. He set his hand on the closed door, fighting the urge to knock and ask her to let him inside. Mildred’s advice had been concise but also something he didn’t want to hear.

But we don’t have that sort of relationship.

Yet here he was on her doorstep.

He hurried back to his car, the engine still making mechanical clicks as it cooled. He was no more a doting grandson than she was a nurturing grandmother who offered a warm embrace when he needed to vent.

Jason finishedoff the breakfast smoothie he’d gotten from a juice bar and tossed it into the trash bin outside. The smoothie hadn’t helped the feeling of nausea that had settled in his stomach since the night before.

He’d gotten a lousy night of sleep, tossing and turning most of the night. When dawn had come, he’d wanted nothing more than to send Jen a text message and see if she was still working at the guest lodge. She’d been so close all night.

Instead, he’d waited until nearly ten to leave his cabin, which meant he’d been starving by the time he reached Main Street.

Running his hand through his hair, he released a tense breath. The quaint buildings of the historic street were decked out in Christmas tinsel and lights, the crisp air of the last few days of fall laden with the scent of pine and sugar from baked goods somewhere. He smirked.Probably Bunny’s Café.

“What am I even doing here?” Jason murmured in a low, almost inaudible tone.

He zipped his jacket higher.

Striding past his car, he headed down Main Street, unsure of where to go. Jen was probably working, and he’d done enough to her. Space was probably a good thing until he could figure out how to apologize to her.

Then came the hard part: telling her about the inheritance. Given how she’d reacted to the news about Kevin, he no longer had any confidence that she would take it well.

Once you tell her, she’ll be out of your life for good.

Jason’s gaze fell on one of the few buildings on Main that didn’t exude the holiday cheer surrounding them. Instead, the building seemed more like he felt: bleak, dark, empty. The windows still had the remnants of vinyl lettering from some sort of mailing and copy center, but that business was long gone. But across the doorway and windows on either side, the historic name of the building was still there, stamped in wood.Price’s Hardware.

“There’s even this old hardware store that used to belong to Colby’s great-grandfather. It would be perfect.”

Jen’s musings about the building where she longed to have a bakery had slipped past Jason in terms of impact.Colby’s great-grandfather.Hell, that could have been her grandfather for all he knew, though the phrasing wasn’t quite right. But she hadn’t meant her grandfather. She’d meant his.

He had exactly one memory of his mom’s father, and he didn’t know how old he’d been. Just that he was sitting at a dusty old counter and had fallen, hitting his head. But his grandpa had scooped him up, set him back on the counter, and given him a lollipop.

He couldn’t have been very old. Mom’s father died when he was three.

Jason crossed the street, heading straight for the building.

He couldn’t picture Mom’s father if he tried. But Mildred had said he looked like the Prices, and he imagined someone looking like him, palm on that brass-handled door. Day in, day out, going to work.

Does Mildred still own it?

He knew nothing about this part of his history. Nothing about who that man had been.

If Mildred owned it, would she be willing to sell it? He peered through the glass. Jen was right. The place was a wreck. The walls appeared to have been taken down to the studs, then covered with thick plastic. Wires hung down from the ceiling.

This was where Jen wanted to have a bakery?

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