Page 99 of The Candlemaker

My finger shook as I entered my information into a contact card in her phone, changed some of the settings, and then sent the image to myself. “Thank you.”

She took her phone back and sat down beside me, the two of us watching the spin of the tide.Pregnant.It changed things, but not everything. Not why I’d come back. Now how I felt.

There were a million things I could say—even more that I wanted to say—but this moment was hers. She’d given me the photo. She’d sat right beside me. She wasn’t pushing me away for the first time in a week even though I probably still deserved it, so that was why I stayed silent. Because this conversation was going to be on her terms.

I lost count of how many times the waves rose and broke on the shore before she spoke over them.

“When I realized about the baby, I was in shock. I guess I must’ve forgotten to take my birth control one of those mornings, or who knows, maybe it just didn’t work,” she began and sighed. “I took the test, and the first thing I did was call Lou. She…well, I think she was more shocked than I was.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at my lips and then disappeared at her next words.

“My first thought was that I had to tell you. I was still upset, but I had to tell you. And then Lou told me she’d offered you more money for the inn…and you’d accepted.”

My heart beat like the walls of my chest were closing in—violent and feral and desperate to exonerate itself to escape. But I didn’t want this to turn into a conversation about me and why I left. My reason didn’t matter if she didn’t believe I wasn’t going to do it again.

“I did,” was all I said when I felt her looking at me, waiting for my confirmation or denial.

She looked away quickly, but not before I saw how her face blanched and she clutched her legs tighter to her.

“After that, I was pissed. I was angry and it was still early. Anything could’ve?—”

“Don’t,” I interrupted. The thought was already clear in my mind, I didn’t need to hear her say it. If she’d miscarried and been alone…if I never knew…

She exhaled slowly and admitted, “I don’t know that I was ever going to tell you, Chandler. Honestly, I don’t. Especially if you hadn’t…”

“Come back?”

Frankie made only a soft sound as a reply and then drifted to silence again.

“This wasn’t what either of us planned…what either of us wanted,” she said and crossed her legs. “And I want to be clear that I don’t need anything from you. I’m not asking for anything. You don’t have to have any part in this?—”

“Don’t do that, Frankie.”

“Do what?”

“The thing where you push people away to prove you’re independent.”

She blustered and stood. “I’m not pushing?—”

I rose with a growl and grabbed her arm, hauling her back to me. Her gasp was soft and fractured when she landed against my chest, her palm gripping my shirt but lacking any kind of pressure to push me away.

“I get that you’ve been the strong one, Frankie. I get that no one asked you to do it, but everyone admired you when you did. When you became the strong sister for Lou when she was timid. For Kit when he was broken. For Jamie and the rest of your family so they didn’t need to worry. But let me tell you something, baby, I’m not here to tell you you can’t be strong, I’m here—will be here to show you you don’t have to be alone.”

Her lips parted, her pulse fluttering like a wild bird trapped in her throat.

I shouldn’t have reached for her—shouldn’t have pulled her close. It was a selfish thing after months of fantasizing about her. And now that I held her—felt her warmth and softness fitted right to me—I didn’t want to let her go.

“Chandler…”

My hand slid up her neck to cup her cheek, my thumb stroking her cheek like I could wipe the blush from her skin. The breeze tangled around us, and cinnamon swept into my nostrils, my head dipping lower to feed on her scent.

Her gaze drifted to my mouth, her tongue sliding out and wetting her lips. An invitation. A dare. The flameinside me surged and turned every inch of me hard in a second. I wanted her so fucking bad. For months, I’d wanted her like this. And it was more than desire. More than passion. It was the whole of her warmth. The heat of her boldness. The strength of her compassion. She’d set me on fire, and now all I wanted was to burn and burn and burn.

“Frankie,” I groaned, my fingers sliding to her chin and lifting her mouth to mine.

Her breath caught, and she stepped back. I didn’t want to, but I released her.

“You left,” she said, doing her best to hide the way she panted. “Without a word.”

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