Page 56 of Tragic (Lark Cove 3)

Then he shocked me by opening the door to his past. I forced myself not to squirm in the chair as he told me about his hometown and that his mother still lived there. For a fleeting second, I thought he might actually confide in me. Maybe he invited me over to unburden some of the weight from his past.

Foolish thoughts.

Kaine Reynolds was the most closed-off person I’d ever met. In no uncertain terms, he made it clear. His past was his secret. Check.

As we sat on the porch, I refused to let his silence bother me. After all, he had invited me to dinner. That was something. Little wins were often just as important as the big victories.

So I told him about my job and my brother. I carried on a mostly one-sided conversation until it was time to eat.

Then my damn phone rang.

Why was it so hard for me to just ignore Adam? Of all the nights and times to call, he’d picked the worst. Yet still, like an idiot, I’d answered.

I always answered.

Adam immediately began bitching about his director. I listened. Whenever Adam was having a hard time at work, he came to me. For years, I was proud to be his sounding board. He couldn’t afford to complain to coworkers or cast mates. The gossip mill on Broadway was worse than an all-girls boarding school. It had been my duty as his wife to listen.

Old habits died hard.

When I finally got a word in edgewise, I told him I was busy. Then came the questions.

Doing what? Are you on a date? You’re not seeing someone, are you?

Was I seeing someone? One glance to the dining room table where Kaine was pretending not to listen and the Yes, I am just slipped out.

Adam exploded, and after the second accusation of betrayal, I hung up.

It took me the week of my vacation to realize I’d let Adam’s feelings control me for too long. I had every right to see someone. I had every right to have casual sex with my neighbor. Because I wasn’t married anymore.

Adam hadn’t come to terms with our divorce, and I’d realized after about five hundred miles of open road, neither had I.

Too bad my realization had come weeks too late. I’d let Adam’s phone call set me off-kilter. I’d retreated into myself and ended my fling with Kaine.

I owed him an explanation. Since I’d gotten back from my trip, I’d looked out my window toward his house twenty times, knowing I needed to cross the line. But I couldn’t seem to force myself in his direction.

Instead, I’d walk out the door and into my house, inspecting every little detail of the remodel. Last night, I’d borrowed the crew’s industrial vacuum and cleaned each bedroom of wood splinters, sheetrock dust and fallen nails.

The foreman had told me this morning it was unnecessary. I’d pretended not to hear him.

That vacuuming had distracted me for over an hour of thinking about Kaine. Of missing his late-night visits to the camper. Of missing his spicy smell on my sheets and the flecks of sawdust he often left behind.

I’d realized another thing on my road trip—I was not made for casual sex.

My bruised heart was on the line and it required careful relationships, not callous.

Friendship was the most I should offer Kaine.

My phone rang in my pocket and I dug it out. Mom had told me she’d call to catch up and I was excited to talk with her. But Adam’s name flashed on the screen instead of Mom’s smiling picture.

I hesitated over the button that would decline him. Then I pushed it.

“Ha!” I cheered with a fist pump. “Go, me.”

Adam hadn’t called me since my dinner at Kaine’s place. I certainly hadn’t called him. I’d been dreading it the first few days, and after a week, I’d let myself hope that maybe the calls were over.

I should have known better.

My phone rang again, his name returning to the screen. And once again, I hit decline, this time without hesitation.