Page 118 of The Candlemaker

Sometimes a light isn’t the only way out of the darkness, and sometimes words aren’t the only way of an apology.

“Thanks, Tom,” I said over the lump in my throat.

“Don’t thank me. Just go get your girl.”

My foot settled harder on the gas pedal. “That’s my plan.”

I hung up with Tom as I pulled onto the highway north, the invisible string tugging stronger toward Frankie.Toward home.I went to set my phone in the cupholder, and something crunched underneath it. Muttering a curse, I fished out what was jammed in there, and my heart stumbled when I realized what it was.

The label.

I’d shoved it in there the night I’d left Frankie’s mom’s house five days ago, too upset and frustrated to care about a stupid jam label that was supposed to dictate my future—a future it seemed to be indicating would be free of Frankie.

But this time, when I looked at the scrawled word, I read it differently.Freedomwasn’t freedom from Frankieor a relationship, it was freedom from the weight I’d been carrying all these years. The burden to prove I was better. The expectation that I didn’t just have to be the best, but I had to destroy what was left of my father in the process.

And that was all because of Frankie.

She wasn’t just my heart or my soul or the mother of my child or my future, she was my freedom. She made me free to feel. Free to live. Free to love. And I’d almost fucked it all up.Again.

I reached for my phone once more, my thumb hoveringover her name, itching to call her now and beg. For forgiveness. For her future. For mine.

But it wasn’t enough.

I scrolled down and tapped on another contact instead, my jaw locked tight until the line picked up.

“Hello?”

“Lou, it’s Chandler. I need your help,” I said and didn’t want her to agree before telling her exactly what I was thinking. “I need to borrow the inn.”

“Is this another one of Frankie’s schemes? Because I don’t want to be involved in any more plans. And I don’t want my inn involved?—”

“No, it’s not.” I cut her off. “This is all me. Frankie has no idea. And it’s not a plan. It’s a proposal.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Frankie

“Lou,pick up your phone. You can’t just cryptic text me like this, you’re worrying me,” I scolded into my sister’s voicemail, locking the door to my shop with shaking hands and then opening up her text message again.

You need to come to the inn right away. It’s an emergency. Don’t tell anyone else.

I tried not to think of how many times I’d made my sister or my brothers or my cousins feel the exact same way I did now with my many dramatic requests over the years. But this was different. Lou always tried to solve problems on her own, and if she couldn’t, she was very discerning when she decided to ask me for help because she knew, well, she knew me.

My pace picked up as I got closer to the inn, reaching to a jog when it came into sight.

From a distance, I saw the gate was ajar, and my stomach turned. And then I saw it—the flickering in the front windows like there was a fire inside.And not a good kind.Itwas too dark to look for smoke, and all I could think was that Lou was inside—in danger. I started to run. The front door was left open, too, requiring no effort to push through it.

“Lou?” I called into the space, panicked. “Lou, where are you? What’s going on? Lou?—”

The swivel of my head stopped at the living room. I hadn’t been inside since the day Chandler left, but it wasn’t the beautiful remodeling and careful restoration of the space that caught my breath. Nor was the inn on fire like I’d feared.

It was Chandler standing in the center of the room where the air mattress had been, surrounded by dozens and dozens of candles.His and mine.Sweet cinnamon and spiced masculine. A combination I hadn’t considered.Ours.

“Chandler.” I found my voice, and even though my heart hurt to see him, especially in this place, I managed to step just through the threshold of the room. “What…what are you doing here?”

“I’m here for you, Frankie. I love you.”

I bit into my tongue to stop the cry my heart wanted me to make. “Chandler, I told you, this isn’t going to work.” I scrambled onto the excuses I’d given before like a life raft in the middle of a storm. “I’m not saying you can’t be here or be a part of our baby’s life, but I can’t…I won’t let us come in second.”

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