Lakeside Reunion

“Lindsey.” He spoke in a soft, patient tone that warned she wasn’t going to win this one.

“Stephen, why are you here? Why do you even care? We’re history. Remember?” Her voice cracked on the last syllable. She cleared her throat and looked at him.

Stephen rubbed the back of his neck and gave her a half smile that his grandma used to claim could charm the gruff off a goat. “I’m not stalking you. My son fell and hurt his arm. And what happened between us doesn’t mean I don’t care … about your mom.”

“I’m sorry about your son. I hope he’s okay.”

“Thanks. He’s a tough kid.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Let me know if I can help. With anything.”

Lindsey shrugged off his hand. Eyes blazing, she glared at him as if he was something disgusting she found on the bottom of her shoe. “You can help by not touching me! You have no right. You lost it the day you chose her over me. I’m sorry she d-died. No one should have to deal with that. But still … you have no right.”

Her words ping-ponged off the walls in the corridor and hovered over them like dust-covered cobwebs. Heat scorched his cheeks as if she had physically slapped him. He was only trying to help. Problem was, she didn’t want his help. He needed to get that through his thick head.

Lindsey clapped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes, but not before he saw the welling tears. She sagged against the wall.

Stephen shoved his hands in his pockets to prevent himself from reaching out for her again. Her vulnerability sucker punched him in the gut. Seeing her was an answer to many whispered prayers, but he had hoped for different circumstances. Grinding his teeth, he prayed for strength. For years, he fought to keep her memory from crippling him. Now he was going to be tested?

He forced himself to breathe. He had to fix this. Make it right. Rubbing a thumb and forefinger over his eyelids, he dropped his voice to a whisper. “You’re right. I’m … sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“No, I shouldn’t have said that. It was mean and hurtful.” A tear squeezed between her lashes and drifted down her cheek.

“Don’t worry about it.” He lifted his hand, then hesitated, not sure if she’d slap his hand away again or not, but she looked as if she needed a friend. He thumbed away her tear and let his finger linger a second longer than it should have.

Lindsey turned her face away from his hand and took a step sideways. She tripped over a large potted plant next to the water fountain.

Stephen grabbed her before she fell. Before common sense could kick in, he drew her against his chest. “Take it easy.”

He breathed in the fruity scent of her shampoo, craving the fragrance like a junkie desperate for a fix.

They belonged together.

Only they didn’t.

He had no claim on Lindsey anymore. He chose another woman. They shared a child.

The overcooked coffee he drank while waiting for Ty’s X-rays to come back soured in his stomach. A yearning for the past tangled with regret and blew through his veins, nearly dropping him to his knees.

He shouldn’t be hugging Lindsey. For a moment, though, it felt so right. Holding her for even a brief moment edged out a sliver of longing.

She leaned against him. Then, almost as if she realized what she was doing, she stiffened and pushed out of his embrace. Her warmth evaporated, leaving him with a sudden sense of loss.

“Thanks for your help, but I—I just can’t … can’t deal with you right now.” Without a backward glance, she fled down the hall.

A viselike grip constricted his chest. He didn’t want her pity. Or her gratitude. He wanted something she would never trust him with again.

Her heart.

Chapter Three

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

How could she have let him get under her skin like that?

Of all the …

No.

Stop thinking about him.

As if she could.

She needed something, anything to take her mind off this morning’s fiasco in the hallway. But like a thief in the night, images of him crept through her thoughts. Why did he have to be so nice? Made it harder to hate him. She sighed. She didn’t hate him. She couldn’t. But still, her heart couldn’t take being around him so much.

Lindsey snatched a worn Ladies’ Home Journal off the low table in front of her and flipped through it. Not caring about another diet tip or fashion secret, she tossed it back on the table. The nubby fabric of the cushioned chair embossed the backs of her legs. She shifted positions and grabbed a different magazine. Halfway through, she realized she had no interest in learning how to land a tarpon or tie saltwater flies.

Dropping the fishing magazine on the empty seat beside her, Lindsey stood and paced. The wall clock showed ten minutes had passed from the last time she checked.

Grandma peered over the top of her bifocals at Lindsey. “You’re going to wear a path in the carpet.”

Lindsey stopped and crossed her arms over her chest. “How long does it take to operate on a broken leg?”

Grandma clucked her tongue and shook her head. “Patience, dear. These things take time.” She dropped her knit ting in her purse and rubbed her joints. Standing, she smoothed her pink sweater over her hips. “I’m going to see if Granddad wants to take a walk. Why don’t you come to the cafeteria with us? It’ll take your mind off the surgery for a little while.”

Lindsey’s stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten anything since last night’s slice of cold pizza and a couple of slurps of tea left from the lunch she set down and forgot about. But she couldn’t leave. Just in case. “Thanks, but I’ll wait here in case there’s any word.”

“Okay, then. Can we bring you anything?”

“Good news about Mom?”

“All in due time.”

“I’d trade my favorite designer handbag for a chai latte and fresh blueberry muffin.”

“Not sure if the cafeteria has any of that fancy tea, but I’ll check.”

“Thanks. If not, I’ll be fine.”

Grandma pulled Granddad away from the sitcom he was watching. They left the surgical lounge, arm in arm.

Now that she was the only one in the room, the canned laughter from the wall-mounted television sounded too loud. Lindsey snatched the remote and shut off the TV.

Her thoughts roamed free as the conversation with Stephen replayed itself for the hundredth time. Then her klutzy trip over that blasted planter landed her in his arms.

She breathed in the faint scent of his cologne that lingered on her sweater. It signaled memories—sunrise picnics at the lake, long walks in the park, stolen kisses in her backyard.

What was she doing? Acting like a sixteen-year-old with her latest crush. Ridiculous. She had more important things to worry about.

Her cell phone chimed. She dug it out of her purse. The low-battery signal flashed. Great. Her charger was back at the inn.