Not when I have hope again.”

Hope.

Hope.

The hot tears blinded her, falling fast, too fast. She’d lived so long without hope. She’d looked so long with pain. “I can’t fall in love with you all and then be sent away.”

He dipped his head, kissing her cheeks where they were wet. “Won’t ever send you away. We are yours. You are home.”

 


 

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

 

She couldn’t say yes.

She didn’t say yes.

It had all sounded so perfect, but that’s what scared her. It was too perfect to be true.

The great sex, the laughter, the beautiful words in Brock’s cozy moonlit bedroom.

It was a Christmas Hallmark movie and God knows, she didn’t watch those. They were so sweet and hopeful they just made her sad.

So she told him no, telling him as kindly as she could, that as wonderful as his offer sounded, she couldn’t accept. It was all happening too fast. But if it was meant to be, they’d find each other later, and try again when the timing was better.

He’d listened in silence. “Better timing? What does that mean?”

“It means...” her voice faded. Her stomach hurt, so full of short sharp pains that it felt as if she’d been eating barbed wire. “It means... I’ve known you not quite two weeks, and your kids just six days, and we can’t risk hurting them, or each other, by being impulsive, no matter how romantic it seems.”

He’d said nothing for a long time and then he rolled away and sat up on the edge of the bed, his big muscular back to her, his powerful legs on the floor. “Yeah, Mr. Romantic, that’s me.” And then he’d rose and walked to his bathroom, closed the door and took a long shower.

Harley had returned to her bed on the third floor, her room frigid, her sheets icy cold.

She’d cried into her pillow.

Cried because she’d hurt him and cried because she’d hurt herself. It was brutal telling him no, brutal telling her heart no. But she had to keep focused on facts and the big picture.

They hadn’t known each other long.

He had two children who were so vulnerable right now. His children didn’t need drama. They’d been through so much. They should be protected. Surrounded by stability, security.

She was doing the right thing, saying no. Her head was sure of it.

But that didn’t stop her from crying.

 

 

 

In the morning she was up at five. It was dark outside. It’d be dark for at least another hour and a half.

She took a quick shower and then dressed, tucking her pajamas and vanity bag into her suitcase. She was totally packed now. When the new housekeeper arrived, Harley would just grab her suitcase and go.

They’d keep the goodbyes brief. No big emotional scene. Nothing drawn out. She was Dutch. She could do this. Quick, crisp, clean.

That’s the way goodbyes were meant to be.

Her kids came to mind, their bright eyes and big smiles as they’d left her that last morning, smiling, waving, saying they loved her. Saying they’d see her soon.

Talk about a quick goodbye. They’d walked out the door and she’d never seen them again.

Life was brutal that way. Life was capricious and hard and harsh. Harley couldn’t rush into hard and harsh, she couldn’t go there again...

Or could she?

She thought of Mack and Molly and how they’d spent their entire life wondering what it’d be like to have a mom. They were just babies themselves and still in need of so much love and TLC.

Could she face her fear for them?

Could she face her fear to love their dad?

Harley wished, hoped, but didn’t know. And yet she had to know. She had to believe.

But the confidence wasn’t there inside of her. She wasn’t sure of anything right now, too caught up in the emotions sweeping through her.

Hope, wish, dream, need.

Heartbreak, loss, pain, grief.

Which was bigger, which was stronger?

Love was stronger, but was there enough love here? Was there enough love to mend their hearts and make them work?

How would she know? How could she know?

Leaving her suitcase by her bedroom door, she turned off her bedroom light and headed downstairs.

 

 

 

In the kitchen, the fire was already crackling and burning.

Dark, rich coffee brewed on the counter.

Brock was up.

And knowing that made her want him, but she couldn’t waffle and send mixed signals.

Taking her time, taking things slow was right. Being careful and thoughtful was best.

And yet... and yet... part of her yearned to just run to him. Run and say, forgive me. Keep me.