Page 81 of Confessions

“So I’ve heard,” he said cryptically.

“Well, I’ve at least come to terms with what happened. You’d better, too.”

“Why? So you can marry the bum?”

Her spine stiffened. “No. It’s over with Hayden.”

“You wouldn’t do anything as stupid as marry him, right?”

“Marry him?” she repeated, her heart tugging. “I don’t think you’ve got to worry about that.”

He rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. “He hasn’t asked you?”

Her heart thudded painfully. “It won’t happen, Ben. Don’t worry about it.” The bell on the stove rang softly, indicating that the cookies she was baking were done. She left the package to take out one sheet of apple squares and shove in another of pumpkin bars.

The house smelled of warm cinnamon and nutmeg, fragrant pine and bayberry candles. A fire blazed in the hearth; the Christmas tree glowed warmly in the corner, its lights reflecting in the windows. Everything was perfect, except the house seemed empty. Even with Ben here. The boys were still with Sam, and Hayden...God only knew where he was and what he was doing. She glanced out the window, past the snow falling upon the dark waters of the lake to the pinpoints of light she knew were burning from the Monroe home.

She didn’t hear Ben approach. His voice startled her. “More snow’s been predicted. Looks like we might have a white Christmas.”

A lonely white Christmas, she thought, burning herself on the hot cookie sheet as she brushed up against it. “Hmm.”

Ben found a knife and cut himself a gooey apple square.

“Help yourself,” she said, teasing, as she handed him a napkin. “Milk’s in the fridge. Or I can make coffee—”

He waved away her offer. “Don’t bother.” When she glanced through the window again, he said, “You’re really hung up on that bastard, aren’t you?”

“I told you I’m not seeing him again. I told him so tonight.” Glancing back at him, she saw the ghost of a smile touch his thin lips. “But if I change my mind, I expect you to keep your mouth shut about it.”

Ben smiled coldly. “You always did have a way with words.”

“So did you. Now, come on, make yourself useful. I bought new bikes for the boys, and you can put them together. I’ll even make you something to eat. Something more than cookies.”

“I’m not all that hungry. I’ll just have another one of these—” he said, and winced as he grabbed the knife. For the first time she noticed that the knuckles on his right hand were swollen. “What happened to you?” she asked, and he cut another bar from the pan.

“I, um, had a little altercation down at the Silver Horseshoe.”

“A fight? You’ve been in town less that twenty-four hours and you’ve already been in a fistfight? Didn’t you learn anything while you were in the army?”

“The guy had it coming.”

“Oh. Okay, sure,” she said sarcastically as she peered into the oven. “Wh

o was the guy and what did he do?”

Ben didn’t say a word, just looked at her and she knew. Her heart sank. Her brother had rolled into town, run into Hayden and promptly tried to punch out his lights.

“You already saw Hayden? That’s how you found out about us?” she said, sick at heart. “What happened?”

“He tried to buy me a drink.”

“And you hit him. Nice, Ben. Real nice.”

“He had it coming,” he said, rubbing his wounded hand with his fingers. “Has had for years.”

Nadine shook her head. One part of her wanted to run to Hayden, to see that he was all right. The other wanted to slap her older brother across his self-righteous chin. “So you took it upon yourself to defend my honor.”

Ben rubbed his jaw and for the first time seemed slightly contrite. “I couldn’t help it, Nadine. The bastard said something about marrying you.”