shook his head adamantly, feeling the flush of heat spread up his neck. “I don’t regret staying away, Lucy.” And he didn’t. His father might not have trouble looking people in the eye, knowing the part he played in one of the town’s greatest tragedies, but Scott would rather give up everything he loved than build his life around a lie.
“Well, if you can’t do it for yourself, then do it for me!” she said, her eyes suddenly filling with tears as fury blazed bright.
Scott cursed inwardly, feeling the strain of her emotion, the weight of his burden. After a long pause, he said tightly, “No promises.”
Lucy relaxed her stance. She nodded slowly, saying nothing more as she reached out to take his arm. It took everything in him not to break down then and there, to tell her everything. To shed the weight he had carried for so long. To divulge every last detail of what his parents told him that awful night—what their family had done to the Porters. Those poor Porters.
“Come into the bakery,” she said to him. “We’ve got a special event as part of the opening week and I don’t want you to miss it.”
Scott hesitated. “You’re not working at the diner this morning?”
“Not if I can help it.” Lucy bent down to clip a sprig of blue hydrangea from a whiskey barrel planter. “I barely spent an hour at Sweetie Pie without being interrupted yesterday, they were so lost without me at the diner. I’m hoping things go a little smoother today.”
Without another word, she pushed through the front door, frowning until Scott forced himself to follow. His pulse skipped when he saw Emily standing behind the counter, looking just as pretty as the day before. She met his gaze with a small smile and something deep within his gut stirred. He looked away, around the crowded room, noticing that nearly every table was filled. There was a cheerful buzz to the room, a soft tinkling of music in the background, and the sweet aroma of pie and coffee to make everyone, including him, feel at home.
Home. He hadn’t thought of that word in a very long time. It was a vague idea of something he wasn’t sure he had anymore. He hadn’t dared to think of Maple Woods as home since he’d left, and his condo in Seattle was just a place to live.
“Emily!” Lucy called to Scott’s horror. His breath locked in his tightened chest. “Mind getting Scott settled? I’ve got to check on that order of strawberries. We should have had them an hour ago.”
Emily’s face blanched and she darted her gaze from Lucy to Scott and back again. “Sure,” she murmured as she finished plating a slice of pie for an impatient customer.
Scott turned to his sister. “I came in here to visit with you, Lucy,” he said quietly.
“Emily will take good care of you. If you let her.” Lucy winked.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he shot back.
“I’m just saying that Emily makes a damn good pie,” she said airily. “Last I checked, that was the purest way to a man’s heart.”
Scott chuckled in spite of himself. “Lucy! Please!”
“What? I seem to remember you being awfully smitten with her at one point. I always thought you were going to marry her, in fact.” She lifted an eyebrow and turned away from him with a coy shrug, shutting down the conversation.
Scott shook his head and reluctantly walked over to the display case, sparing an awkward smile for Emily. Guilt and shame haunted him, and he tried desperately to shrug off the unwanted feelings.
“Hi.” Emily’s soft voice dragged him from his darkening thoughts and he quickly recovered, perking up as he let his gaze roam over her pretty face. His stomach tightened as his attention lingered on the smoky gray eyes and that plump, upturned mouth stained a shade of red that excited him more than it should.
“Hey.” He stared into his mug as she filled it to the rim. Just the way he liked it. His breath hitched as he caught sight of her feminine curves beneath the apron she wore, and he tried to recall what it had felt like to hold her waist and feel her body against his. The memory was so close, but just out of reach.
She held his gaze, not betraying any outward interest, and Scott felt a flicker of disappointment. She was being hospitable. Playing her role. Doing her job. He wanted to pull her into a back room, somewhere they could talk, and explain everything. He wanted to atone for the pain he had caused, to make it up to her—somehow. He searched her face, imagining her sweet expression crumbling before his eyes as he delivered the crushing news, and his gut twisted. He couldn’t do it, he just couldn’t, but to never tell her...
“So, I don’t see you for twelve years and now it’s twice in two days,” she said, shaking her head on a sigh. “The pie must be even better than I thought.”
Scott grimaced at the edge of hurt in her tone and took a quick sip of the steaming coffee. “Lucy invited me in,” he began. “I don’t want to upset you. I can leave if you want.”
Fire sparked her eyes. “Leave?” She chuckled, a soft icy sound that pulled at his chest. She really did hate him, and who could blame her? “Leaving seems to be something you’ve had practice with,” she said evenly.
Scott drew a ragged breath and ran a hand over his face, every inch of his heart aching to set her straight, to tell her the truth. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
“Believe it or not I had my reasons.” He cleared his throat and finished the rest of his coffee. His body temperature was starting to rise. He needed to get out of here. Even his father’s office would be better than this place. Anything was better than seeing that hurt expression in Emily’s eyes.
Emily leaned a hip against the counter and folded her arms. “I’m all ears.”
The knot in his gut tightened. Not now. Not like this. Not ever. Emily could never know what he had done, the part he had played in her misfortune. The losses she had suffered at his hand. “It was a long time ago, Em,” he finally said.
After a beat, she gave him a withering smile and slapped a hand over his empty mug, pulling it toward her. “You’re right,” she said, before turning her back on him. “And I stopped holding my breath before you’d even crossed the state line.”
He scowled. “You don’t mean that.”
“Is it really so hard to believe?” She snatched a rag from under the counter and began scrubbing furiously at the polished wood counter. “We were kids, Scott. It was a fling, it was fun, and then it was over.”
“Emily.” She couldn’t mean those harsh words. She couldn’t. They’d been in love. “It wasn’t a fling.”
She stopped scrubbing, but her hand remained clenched on the rag. “Maybe it wasn’t. But it was just as meaningless in the end.”
She turned on her heel and walked away before he could open his mouth to reply. From the entrance to the kitchen, Scott saw Lucy smiling at him, her eyes full of hope. He wrapped a hand around his neck and rubbed at the tense and aching muscles.
If Lucy thought she was playing matchmaker here, she was doing a very bad job of it.
* * *
The nerve of that man!
