Page 85 of Silent Partner (Pine Falls 3)

I twisted the swing again and again and again. Tighter and tighter, like the knots in my stomach. I let the swing go again and furiously twirled until it stopped. If only my life had a mechanism to make the twirling stop. But I felt as if I would spin in pain forever.

I don’t know how long I stayed out in the snow, but it was long enough that my hair became wet and clung to the sides of my face and my hands began to sting from the cold. Still, I refused to go in. I kept twisting and twirling, searching for the answers I was sure would never come. I hoped the cold would at least numb me enough to take the edge off the hurt. It didn’t. To make it worse, the sounds of a vehicle tearing down the dirt road, followed by the slam of a car door, filled my ears. Please don’t let it be anyone to see me. I was tired of talking to people. Don’t get me wrong, they had good intentions—Grandma, Grandpa, Ariana, even Jonah. But I’d heard enough about how sorry Dani and Brant were. I had no doubt that they were. My head understood how devastated they had been, thinking Brock was dead. We had all been in shock and were mourning him once we’d received the news of his death. Of course it had been all-encompassing for Dani and Brant. Really, I got that. They had incurred a huge loss, and I did feel sorry for their pain. I wanted to have understanding, and maybe eventually compassion, for the choice they had made in the heat of the moment. But I had a gaping hole in my heart. I felt so sucker punched by it all that I still couldn’t catch my breath.

My hopes that the visitor wasn’t here for me were dashed when I heard the nearby crunch of snow. I lifted my feet and spun so fast I barely caught a glimpse of him walking my way. When the swing stopped, it felt as if my heart stopped as well. He wasn’t supposed to be home yet. I wasn’t ready to face him. I knew that when I looked at him, all I would see was him and Dani together. Together in the most intimate of ways. Ways we had never shared. Ways that made me his second choice.

I gripped the ropes tighter and closed my eyes, silently willing him to leave, all while knowing he wouldn’t. I kept my eyes shut, not knowing what to say to him even though I’d been running mock conversations with him nonstop in my head. They’d ranged from simply saying a quiet goodbye and walking away to raging at him.

As he neared, I shut my eyes tighter until stars appeared.

“Kinsley,” his gravelly voice hitched, and I felt his hand on my cheek, which was stinging from being wet and cold.

My eyes popped open, and my look warned him not to touch me.

He didn’t heed the warning as he knelt in the snow, ruining what was probably a $3000 suit. He rubbed my leg as snowflakes landed on his lush eyelashes. His eyes begged me to hear him out. What could he possibly say to make this all better?

“You’re shivering and wet. Let’s get you inside where it’s warm,” he said kindly.

I shook my head. I didn’t want any comfort—including his.

“Kinsley,” he said my name so benevolently. “I’ve practiced this speech a hundred times, and I still can’t find the words to convey how sorry I am. I never wanted to hurt you. Please believe that.”

If only it were that easy. “You see,” my worn, scratchy voice got out, “my head believes that, because you and I were never in a relationship. And I know that you and Dani were consenting adults, free of any attachments. But,” my voice wavered, “my heart doesn’t understand any of this, and it hurts. So, I would appreciate it if you just left me alone right now.”

He rested his warm hand on my cheek. “I can’t do that.”

“Please,” I begged.

“Kinsley,” his voice cracked, “I love you.”

I almost fell off the swing. I’d wanted to hear those words from him forever, but not like this. “Please don’t say that,” I pleaded.

He steadied me before pressing his lips against mine, and for a beautiful second, the hurt faded, but it was an illusion. All of it.

I turned my head away from him. “Don’t.” I held on to the ropes for dear life.

“I love you,” he repeated. “I’ve loved you for a long time,” he said, as if he had said it a thousand times. As if he meant every word.

“Then why didn’t you call me that night?” my voice broke along with my soul.

He exhaled loudly and sunk to the ground. “That night . . . ,” he said in hushed tones. “That night is such a blur. All I wanted was my brother back. I called Dani because I knew she was in the same pain I was. You have to believe me—I didn’t mean for it to go the way it did.”

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