“Thanks, Jenna!” Kasey zigzagged around her and pounded into the hallway.
Toby reached for the screwdriver and eased it out of her hand. His eyebrows rose. “You okay?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” Jenna located the stirring stick and dipped it into the lighter paint. “I meant to tell you, you’re doing a great job with her. I really respect what you’ve done—accepting the responsibility of a guardian is not an easy thing.”
He kneaded his temple with his hand. “The option in the will was for me to be her guardian or for her to go to foster care. I couldn’t do that to her.”
“Like I said, I really respect that—respect you.”
“That means a lot.” He sounded hoarse. He cleared his throat and then bent over to straighten a drop cloth. “Thanks for spending time with her today. I can tell she really looks up to you.”
Jenna got up and brushed off the back of her jeans, just for something to do. “She’s a great kid.”
“My cousin wasn’t the best mom. The night that...” He looked away. Jenna traced the line of his strong profile with her eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “She left Kasey on her own a lot. Sophia was still into partying.” He shook his head, as if the words hurt coming out. “That night she left Kase all alone. She drank too much—way too much. They think she just fell into the lake off the walkway and was too toasted to even try to swim.”
“I’m so sorry.” Jenna laid her hand on his forearm. Holding back in that moment would have felt wrong. Friends comforted each other. That’s all the gesture meant. “I know you always cared about Sophia.”
“She was the only cousin I had on either side of the family.” He pushed at the drop cloth with his toe. “But I’m disappointed in how she treated her daughter. Kasey saw a lot of neglect at her hands. It sounds like the fridge was often bare.”
Jenna added pressure to where her hand rested on his arm to make him look at her. “Kasey never has to face that again. Not with you. You’ll always take care of her. I think she already looks at you like a father. She really loves you.”
“She’s attached herself to you, too. Back at the bunkhouse, she talks about you all the time.” He scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “You know, I’ll miss her not being there with me.” He picked up Jenna’s hand and cupped it between both of his. “I’m doing the right thing for her though, right?”
She worked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Tobe,” she breathed. “You know you’re welcome in the house whenever you want. Your family is here.”
“Is it?”
His thumb skated in a gentle circle over the back of her hand. The tenderness in his eyes flashed heat through her veins. Despite the bad blood between them, if he leaned in right now, she’d let him kiss her. Correction: if he got too much closer, she was liable to bunch her free hand into his shirt and yank him toward her. Toby Holcomb was dangerous that way; he always had been. He—his presence alone—did something to her.
Kasey chose that moment to tromp back into the room. She held up a blue jersey with Holcomb printed on the back. “Look, Toby. Jenna has a whole drawer of your stuff.”
Jenna let out a squeak and scuttled away from Toby as if his touch suddenly burned her. She snatched the shirt out of Kasey’s hands, but the girl’s startled expression shot guilt into Jenna movements, making her slow down. Surely Kasey hadn’t intended to embarrass her, but opening that drawer, letting Toby know a drawer like that even existed, was akin to taking a crowbar to Jenna’s heart and peeling it open to reveal her most guarded secret. She still loved Toby. Always had. Always would. No matter what.
Talk about hopeless.
“Not that one, sweetie.” Jenna clutched the shirt to her chest. She peeked over at Toby, and her throat spasmed. If his wide eyes were any indication, he recognized his old high school jersey.
Jenna bounced her gaze away. “That’s the...it’s the wrong drawer. I’ll get you something else.” She pivoted to leave and stumbled over their painting supplies, tipping forward. Moving faster than she would have believed possible, Toby was at her side, his hands on her upper arms, making sure she didn’t fall down.
“Careful there.” He hung on to her arm until she allowed her gaze to collide with his. Her stomach did a flip-flop as he searched her face, his mouth open, incredulous. “You still have all that stuff? The things I gave you?”
Jenna brushed his hand away. “I’ll be back in a second.”
He let her go, but she felt his eyes on her as she left. Seconds later in her bedroom, Jenna closed the door, pressed her back into it and slid to the floor. She pushed her forehead into Toby’s old shirt and focused on making her breaths even. Once she felt more in control of her emotions, she pulled herself back to her feet and crossed over to the second dresser in her room. She couldn’t be upset with Kasey. The girl hadn’t been trying to humiliate her. Logically, depending on how she had judged the distance, either of Jenna’s two dressers could be described as closest to the door. Jenna should have just fetched a shirt herself.
She tugged open her Toby drawer, refolded the shirt, traced her fingers over the name and finally placed it back inside. The drawer held gifts he’d given her—letters, pictures and a few of his old shirts that he’d lent or given her at one time or another when they were teens. A smart woman would have parted with all these things a long time ago.
She slid the drawer closed.
Apparently, Jenna wasn’t very smart.
* * *
Toby paced the hallway.
Dishes clanked in the sink, and sweet notes of cinnamon hung in the air from the apple dumplings and vanilla-bean ice cream they’d wolfed down a few minutes ago. Jenna was in the kitchen clearing up dinner, and Mr. Crest and Kasey were locking horns in a game of checkers in the front room. A tiny cry of “King me!” let him know Kasey was doing just fine in there.
The floor groaned beneath his feet.
Jenna had shooed them all out after dinner, insisting she didn’t need help.
But he needed help.
Jenna’s laughed wrapped its way around his heart and squeezed. “Are you going to come in here, or are you pretty satisfied to wear a hole through those floorboards?”
Busted.
Toby swung around the edge of the doorway, into the kitchen.
“Every piece of this old house creaks.” Jenna leaned against the counter near the wide sink, arms crossed, hair up in a high ponytail and a dish towel tossed over her shoulder. Stunning.
His mouth went dry, and for a moment, he couldn’t have spoken even if his life depended on it. Before him stood a woman who was kindhearted and encouraging, who welcomed an orphaned child into her heart without any questions, cared for her father with unmatched devotion and gave up her career pursuits to return home. When the situation called for it, she lasted ten hours on her feet doing manual labor in the orchards without uttering a single complaint. She could scrape paint and fix steps with more gusto than he could and later whip up a meal that tasted better than any restaurant he’d ever been to.
For the first time in a long time, Toby felt like he was home.
Being around Jenna gave him hope again. Toby wanted to be the person she had long ago believed in. Jenna was the only person who ever saw beyond his football-player facade and popular-guy swagger to get to know and appreciate him as he was instead of who he felt like he had to pretend to be.
She arched her eyebrow. “Are you going to tell me what you’re thinking? Because you’ve been standing there for—” she played like she was looking at a watch on her wrist “—a good two minutes and still haven’t explained the reason behind all that pacing.”
Oh, right. He’d been staring longer than was polite.
He worked at a nagging muscle in his neck. “Kasey came home with a note from her teacher.”
She crossed to the tab
le and sat down, patting the spot at the head of the table. “Continue.”
He tugged the slip of paper from his pocket and laid it on the table so Jenna could read the short note. Then he dropped down into the chair.
Jenna rolled her shoulders once. “I still don’t get what your question is. This has a number and says ‘Call me.’”
Toby dropped his hands, palms up, onto the table. “What does it mean?”
Jenna’s lips quirked, and she drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “One would assume she wants you to call her.”
“Great.” He sent her a smirk. “From now on you should go by Sherlock.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me, bucko, but you’re the one who came to me for advice.”
He could toss back another flirtatious comment or he could say what was on his heart. Toby had spent a lifetime faking his way through conversations, through relationships. But being back at the orchard had given him a sort of mental rewind button, allowing him to rethink the last ten years of his life. For once, he wanted to be himself—completely and totally himself—and say the truthful thing that came to mind.
“Well, that’s because your opinion is the only one that ever really mattered to me.”
Jenna’s smile dropped. She laced her fingers together and studied them. “Did Kasey know anything about it—about what Leah wants to tell you?”
So much for being real. His mood nose-dived.
If she was going to act like he hadn’t said that, so would he. “See, that’s the weirdest part. Kasey said she’s still a little shy at school but she hasn’t gotten into trouble or had any problems with anyone.”
But was Kasey struggling and he hadn’t noticed? Toby should have known he’d crash and burn at being a guardian. Everything he touched crumbled. Why had he expected anything else?
Jenna’s posture relaxed. “Okay, but last weekend, didn’t you ask Leah to keep you updated and to let you know if she noticed anything about Kasey? She’s probably honoring that. Maybe she spotted something about Kasey and she wants to make you aware of it. If so, that’s good. Call her.”
Self-doubt rattled against his rib cage. “Here’s the thing—what if I don’t know how to deal with whatever she has to tell me? Sometimes I wonder if it’s better to not know something. Then you don’t have to deal with it.” Although, could he convince himself that was true anymore? No. Even if he ignored a problem, in the end, that was dealing with it. Just badly. Besides, managing his life that way hadn’t gone well.
Jenna rubbed her thumb over a pattern in the wood grain. “Why would you want to fake your way through something so important?”
“I... I’ve been faking my way through my entire life.” That burned coming out. He swallowed hard. “You know that.”
“Toby.” The way she said his name, so soft and sad, seemed to hold every emotion under the sun, from frustration to pity.
He shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to Kasey. What if I mess everything up?”
She dropped her chin into her hand. “I mean, do any of us ever actually know what we’re doing, about anything? Honestly, I would guess that a lot of parenting is praying your way through situations you don’t have a clue how to handle.”
“Pray your way through situations you don’t have a clue about.” He shook his head and wagged his finger. “You know, I think that’s going to be my life motto from now on.”
“It would do me well to adopt it, too.” She blew out a long stream of air, stirring wisps of hair that had worked their way out of her messy ponytail.
It took every ounce of his self-discipline not to reach over and cup the side of her face. Skim his fingers over to the soft skin he was sure to find in the place where her jaw met her neck. Lean across the distance and taste the lingering sweetness from dessert on her lips.
He was a mess. Three days of Jenna talking to him, joking with him, and he was a goner. Where had his resolve to act businesslike with her gone? The feelings coursing through him would only muddle up everything he was working toward. Kasey loved the Crests, loved her new bedroom and loved living on the orchard. Acting on emotion could cost them their home, his livelihood. It was too steep a price, especially when he still didn’t know why Jenna had been angry with him or what had happened to her in college.
Toby fisted his hands and tucked them under the table.
She straightened her spine and crossed her legs. “I’m going to sit here until you make that call.” She pretended to examine her nails. “I’ve got all night.”
Her mannerisms tricked a breathy laugh out of him. He fished his phone from his pocket and punched in the number. It rang twice.
A female voice answered, “Hello?”
“Hi. This is Toby Holcomb. I’m looking for Miss Vincent, Kasey’s teacher.”
“I’m so glad you called. Please, call me Leah from now on, all right?”
He peeked over at Jenna. She moved her hand in a “get on with it” motion.
“Did you want to tell me something about Kasey?”
“All things considered, Kasey is doing excellent. The counseling group I suggested for her seems to be helping her cope.”
He might as well ask about the one thing he’d been wondering about. “She keeps talking about a boy named Alex. It sounds like he’s in that after-school group, too. Do you know who that is?” Kasey was only seven, but Toby knew how important childhood friends were and the sort of impact the right—and wrong—people could have on a young person’s life.
“That’s probably Alex Atwood. He’s adopted and only recently came to town. He’s a year younger than Kasey.”
He knew the name Atwood. The patriarch of the Atwood family, Sesser, was a business tycoon who made his wealth from real estate he owned, sold and rented throughout a vast region spanning the lower-west region of Michigan, wrapping around the lake, reaching all the way to Chicago, where he had large holdings. Sesser had one daughter, Claire, a pretty redhead who was a few years older than Toby. Alex must be Claire’s son. That solved, it was time to steer the conversation back to discovering why Kasey’s teacher had requested he call in the first place.
“Miss Vincent?”
“Leah.”
“Right.” He ran his fingers through his hair and tugged. “So Kasey is doing well?”
“Toby, I didn’t have you call to talk about Kasey.”
“You didn’t?”
“I wanted to ask you out on a date, actually. Kasey told me you’re not married.”
“I’m flattered, but I’m...” His eyes went right to Jenna’s. He took a rattling breath. “I’m taken.”
Miss Vincent groaned lightly. “Well, that’s crummy, but I’m glad I asked. You never know unless you ask, and all that. I hope this doesn’t bring about any awkwardness between us. I just figured, well...you’re Toby Holcomb. In the flesh, you know? I had such a crush on you in high school and watched all your college games so I could fangirl over you.”
Had they known each other? Was he that oblivious that he didn’t remember? “We went to school together?”
“I’m three years younger. I don’t think we’d ever spoken to each other until last Sunday. But I always had a thing for you.”
Except she didn’t have a thing for him. Only for the fraud who had walked the hallways of Goose Harbor High School. Whatever her idea of Toby Holcomb was, it wasn’t him.
After another minute of pleasantries, they hung up.
Jenna cocked her head. “I only heard one end of that conversation, but did she just ask you out?”
He nodded.
“Leah’s very nice.” Jenna laced her fingers together and placed them in her lap. “Can I ask why you told her you were taken?”
“Because I am.” He shrugged. “Like you and I were saying the other n
ight, my family is here. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Of course—that makes sense.” She braced her hands on the table and nodded. “You’re taken by your commitment to Kasey.”
“Right. Kasey.” He snagged Jenna’s hand. “Besides, I’m not interested in dating anyone.”
“You don’t want to date?” Her voice faltered. “Not at all?”
He shook his head slowly. “It’s not even on my radar. I don’t think I’ll ever date anyone.” Did she understand what he was really saying? I’ll be here. I’ll stay with you. After your dad... I want to be your best friend again, forever.
“Do you want to... It’s late, but do you want to...?” She glanced over her shoulder to the door that led outside.
Toby squeezed her hand once and let it go. “I’d love to sit on the back porch with you tonight.”
And every night after that.
Chapter Eight
Streams of sunlight blotted across the floor of the Crest Country Store. Jenna trailed her fingers over the antique wooden countertop. Along with many of the shelving areas of the store, it had been constructed out of reclaimed siding from the original barn located on the Crest property when her great-grandfather purchased the plot. She pressed her palms flat against it, feeling all the worn grooves. Her history.
Her future, too.
Each day it became easier to give up on the dream she’d worked toward with all the online courses she’d taken to earn her degree. Tucked away on the far edge of Goose Harbor, she’d never become an award-winning journalist. It had been a silly goal all along, really. Her disposition wasn’t suited for chasing stories or wiggling information out of people. No one would describe her as a go-getter. Yet it splintered her heart to let go of writing all the same.
She released a loud puff of air and pressed her palm to her forehead.
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