“Ian, I want to apologize. I know it’s too little, too late, but I want you to know how sorry I am for what my father did. And for letting him get away with it. I’ll always have to live with the fact that he never had to pay for what he did, because of me.”
Though he’d intended to remain standing, Ian lowered himself into the chair behind his desk, resting his elbows on the stack of folders. The mention of Ross Kinley, the architect of all this misery, roused a sharp flare of hatred in Ian for the man he’d never be able to confront. The dozens of times over the years that Ian had chatted casually with Ross at the hardware store or the post office, he’d never caught a hint of unease in the older man’s eyes.
But it wasn’t fair to punish Faith for her father’s crime. “It’s water under the bridge now,” Ian said, though his entire history with her now stood in a new light—one of deception—and he wasn’t quite ready to embrace her apology.
He expected to see her expression ease, but instead she leaned forward, gripping the edge of his desk, her eyes imploring. “I just need you to understand. My mother was so sick. I was terrified that our family would be pulled apart, and I wouldn’t see her again before she died.”
“I do understand, Faith.” Ian recognized the fear she described—he’d experienced it himself, and seen it realized the day he lost his mother, suddenly and permanently. “But the thing is, once we grew up, you could’ve come to me and told me. You could’ve told the police. Even after your mother was gone, you continued to protect your father.”
Faith slumped back in the chair, dropping her gaze. He saw her lower lip quiver for a moment, before she pressed both lips tightly together, fighting for control of her emotions.
“I know,” she said bleakly after a moment. “I’m not making any excuses for that. I was a coward. I’m not expecting forgiveness, at least not right now. But please find it in your heart to forgive Brooke. She loves you. I think she always has. And she’s suffered so much over this.”
Leaning back, Ian pushed his chair back from the desk, putting a little more space between them. The mention of Brooke’s name made his pulse throb in his throat, and he cleared it quietly, hoping to settle the emotional storm triggered by thoughts of her. There was no point in letting grief engulf him; Brooke was no longer part of his life, and he’d already wasted too many years yearning for her.
Faith stood abruptly, reaching into the pocket of her jacket. She pulled out a plastic bag and slapped it onto his desk blotter. “She asked me to give these back to you.”
The light of his desk lamp sparked off the silver bracelet and necklace tangled inside the bag. Ian stared at the jewellery, the depth of his loss washing over him—the two women who had worn it, who had meant the world to him, were both gone, leaving him only this jumble of metal ornaments.
“I loved Brooke, too,” he admitted. “That’s why her betrayal runs so much deeper.”
Loved.
Didn’t he love her still? Lying awake at night, he couldn’t stop images of her vibrant gaze and the feminine curve of her smile from floating through his mind, making him welcome sleep and the titillating dreams of her that followed—only to awaken in the morning alone, a painful hollow sensation invading his chest. He couldn’t forget the warm, contented, safe feeling of being with Brooke, or keep himself occupied enough not to miss her every moment of the day.
“She was protecting
me
,” Faith insisted, drawing him back from his thoughts. “After the accident, she wanted to call the police, but I begged her not to. And when she came back to Eastport, and you started seeing each other, she wanted to tell you the truth. Again I made her promise not to tell you, for my own selfish reasons. But she was planning to tell you after the party, and I know she would have, if Andrew hadn’t butted in. Please forgive her, Ian. She misses you so much.”
Blowing out a long breath, Ian scrubbed his palm over his face as he considered her words. Faith’s request wasn’t an unreasonable one, but what she failed to understand was that forgiving Brooke would be the easy part. As much as his heart ached for her, he didn’t think he could look into those radiant dark eyes again and know that he could trust her.
Resting his hands on his desk, Ian rose to his feet. “Thanks for coming by, Faith.”
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, recognizing that there was nothing left to say. She simply nodded. “Thanks for listening, Ian. I’ll see you around.”
Chapter Eleven
It was almost five o’clock by the time Brooke found herself alone at the bakery. Customers had been arriving at a steady rate all day, some taking their purchases home and others lingering to enjoy a fresh-baked treat with a cup of coffee or tea, and Brooke had earned nothing but praise for both the fare and the homey atmosphere. She hadn’t expected to take so much pleasure in interacting with the customers, some she’d known for years and others who were new to her. Julianne, the nineteen-year-old she’d hired to help her, had proven herself indispensible. Now that she was gone for the day, Brooke felt grateful for the chance to catch her breath as the afternoon drew to a close—even if it meant she was the one left to scrub cherry stains off the countertop next to the cash register.
The bright red goop was just beginning to give way when the bell above the door jangled. Glancing up, Brooke froze. She blinked several times, suspecting fatigue was stirring her imagination. But it
was
him approaching the counter across from her.
Soft green eyes locked with hers across the counter, and her heart gave a heavy thump, spreading warmth beneath her breastbone. Setting down her washcloth, she offered a small smile.
“How’s business?” Ian asked, his expression unreadable. The anger had left his eyes, at least.
“It’s only opening day,” she said, her smile widening into a grin, “but it’s great. I practically sold out.”
“I knew you would.” His mouth curled up at the corners, inciting a pang of longing within her. “I have something of yours,” he added, setting the clear plastic bag she’d given to Faith on the countertop between them.
Brooke stared down at the jumble of jewellery inside the bag, sudden anxiety gripping her. “I thought Ted was going to return them to you.”
“I didn’t ask you to return them. They belong to you.”
As her gaze rose to meet his, her heart began to pound more fiercely, making her head swim for a moment. How could he think she’d want his mother’s jewellery now? “If you’re still trying to punish me, you don’t need to bother,” she said tightly. “I feel wretched enough as it is.”
“I’m not trying to punish you.”
Brooke glared at him, struggling to keep her composure as emotion welled within her. “Then why are you here?”
Ian didn’t answer at first. Resting his hands in his pockets, he strode around the cash register to join her behind the counter. “I wanted to congratulate you. I’m happy you decided to do this.” He glanced at the racks of baked goods behind them. “Does it feel right?”
Brooke exhaled slowly, the kind sincerity in his tone easing her nerves. “It does. If you hadn’t suggested it, I probably would’ve gone back to Toronto—and been miserable.”
He settled his soft gaze on her, one eyebrow quirking. “You’re not miserable now?”
She lifted one shoulder halfheartedly; no doubt she looked it, the torture of standing two feet from him, unable to touch him, giving her the aspect of someone grappling with despair. She took a moment to think about her answer, deciding on honesty; she was through with hiding things from him.
“I’m miserable about having hurt you,” she began slowly, tugging absently at the strap of her apron. “And I miss you so terribly; it’s like a constant ache that I can’t shake off. But I did this to myself. And I’m glad you know the truth now about your mother.”
He nodded once. “I’m glad I know, too. I was angry for a while. I felt betrayed. But then I realized something.”
“What’s that?”
Ian took a small step closer to her. “I realized that you were just a young girl when this happened, and you did what you thought you had to do to protect your friend. I realized how scared Faith must have been. I kept secrets of my own for the same reason; I didn’t tell anyone about my mother’s problems because I thought I was protecting her. And I was afraid of what would happen to me. I know that you and Faith have carried a terrible sense of guilt all these years, blaming yourselves in part for my difficult childhood—even though it wasn’t in any way your fault.”
Brooke gripped the strap of her apron tighter, holding in her breath as she listened to his words, her heart drumming a violent rhythm against the walls of her chest. She shook her head briskly, struggling to absorb the implication of everything he’d just expressed to her. “But I should have told you months ago.
Years
ago. I should’ve made Ross Kinley pay for what he did.”
“It wouldn’t have made much of a difference, really. He didn’t exactly live out his final years in peace and comfort. Anyway, I’m not going to waste any more time and energy on anger and bitterness over a past that can’t be changed.”
Hope began to gather within Brooke. “Are you saying you forgive me?”
Ian nodded. “I forgive you.”
“Thank you, Ian. I’m so relieved.” An amazing sensation of lightness rose in her chest, bringing with it a well of emotion that emerged in a sharp, shuddery breath. As much as she longed to enfold herself in his arms, she held back, offering only a broad smile; if forgiveness was all he was willing to give her, she could be happy with it.
She paused, clamping her lip between her teeth before she ventured, “Do you think we can be friends again?”
He took another step closer, closing the space between them. “You know very well we’re much more than that.”
Sudden heat flooded her veins. “I wasn’t sure if you were still able to feel the same way about me.”
His mouth curving into a sensual smile, Ian raised both palms to gently cup her face. Holding her gaze with his own, he spoke in a gentle, tender tone that rippled warmly down her spine. “Brooke, I’ve loved you almost as long as I’ve known you. You’ve touched places in my heart that no one else ever has, or ever could. Do you think I could stop loving you now?”
Longing to touch him, Brooke slid her arms around him, the solid warmth of his shoulders under her hands reassuring her that his presence wasn’t a dream or a hallucination. Ian McCarthy really was there, telling her he loved her and wanted her. Tears caught in her throat as she struggled to speak. “I love you so much, Ian. Can we start over?”
The deep green of his eyes glimmered as he answered. “We don’t need to start over; we need only continue from where we left off.”
Gathering her against him, he bent his head to cover her mouth with his. Overwhelming love and sweet desire swept through Brooke, and the unsated need for him that she’d had to endure these past few weeks flared to life at once. Responding with deep, urgent kisses, she clung to him, determined never to let him go now that she had him back.
“My darling Brooke,” he whispered as their lips parted, then continued to press tantalizing kisses to her cheeks and forehead. “I didn’t want to ask you this before you’d made up your mind on your own whether you wanted to stay in Eastport. I see you’ve made that decision, even in the face of what happened between us.”
“Ask me what?” she asked, her voice buoyant with happiness.
“If you’d be my wife. Marry me, Brooke.”
She sucked in her breath, blinking rapidly in astonishment. “You want to marry me? After everything that’s happened?”
Ian drew her closer, his voice quavering as he continued. “All these years, all I’ve ever wanted was a home where I could feel I belonged, and to share it with someone who truly knew me and would love me unconditionally. You’ve given me that, and it more than makes up for the mistakes you made.”
Her throat tightening with emotion, Brooke felt a tear roll down each cheek, tasting them as they came to rest on her lip. Unable to choke out an answer, she could only nod her head vigorously.
Ian’s mouth pulled into a wide smile. “I’ll take that as a yes.” As he enfolded her in his arms she settled her cheek against his shoulder, closing her eyes, delighting in the steady, strong beat of his heart against hers.
“Can you close up early?” he asked, smoothing a hand down her back.
“I’m closing in ten minutes anyway. Help me tidy up and we can go to your place.” She smiled against his shirt.
“After all, you have a particular talent for washing up, and when we work together it tends to lead to more appealing activities.”
A chuckle rumbled through Ian’s chest as he tenderly stroked her hair. “Lead the way.”
“Just hold me a little longer,” Brooke said, pressing joyous kisses to his ear and neck, reluctant to leave the warmth of his embrace even for a few minutes.
* * *
Light slanting through the bedroom window cast a glow over the pale blue sheets rumpled across the mattress. Ian hadn’t made his bed that morning, but it hardly mattered; they both knew the bedding would be a tangled mess soon enough.
For now they stood beside the bed, facing one another, the arrival of this moment striking them with sudden hesitance. Ian moved first, grasping the fabric of Brooke’s shirt with both hands to pull it upward and peel it off over her head. Tossing the shirt carelessly onto a chair, he reached for her, curving his hands around the bare skin of her back. She shivered as he stroked upward, sliding his fingers under the clasp of her bra. Hunger deepened in his gaze as he released the clasp and the bra slackened, the straps sliding down her arms.