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Coward.
“Where are you living these days?” she tried again, disappointment tugging at her that two people who had once known every inch of each other, who finished each other’s sentences, who shared the same dreams, could be reduced to this sort of awkward conversation. They were strangers now.
“Seattle,” he replied, and Emily frowned. She knew he had gone to college in Chicago and had just assumed he’d stayed there. But all this time he had been living in Seattle, and for some reason that depressed the hell out of her.
She paused. “Married? Kids?” she asked, because there was no point in holding back. After all, she’d lost him a long time ago.
“Nope,” he said, and in spite of herself, Emily felt her shoulders relax. “So you’re still in town,” he observed.
She gazed at him, disarmed by the incongruity between his sudden reappearance and the nonchalant way he strode into town. Nothing fazed the man—not then and, it would seem, not now. Silence stretched between them; the only sound audible was the pounding of her own heart and God did she hope he couldn’t hear it, too.
“Yep.” Emily she said tightly. “Never left.” Twelve years after Scott had disappeared from Maple Woods, she was still right where he had left her. Pathetic.
Scott nodded again, dropping his gaze to the floor as his face reddened, and she knew she had hit a nerve. Well, good! It was about time that Scott gave some sort of reaction for what he had done to her, even if it was a decade or so too late.
“I always wondered about that,” he said, his voice so low she had to strain to hear. “I always wondered about you,” he said, looking up to properly meet her eyes.
Emily’s stomach rolled over, but she pushed back the temptation to dwell on his words, to extract more meaning from them than he’d probably intended. She straightened her spine.
“Well, you could have called. Or written.” She cursed herself for allowing the hurt to creep into her voice. But damn it, she couldn’t help it! His words were empty, falling flat and meaningless. She wondered briefly how many of the other things he had said to her were equally insincere. Most of them, she decided. As much as she hated to realize this, it was just the cold hard truth.
“I’ve never been good about keeping in touch. No matter how much I wanted to be,” Scott said, frowning. His eyes locked with hers until her pulse skipped and she had to look away.
He wasn’t here for her. He hadn’t come back for her. That was all that mattered.
“I’m sure Lucy’s eager to see you,” she blurted. “Half the town is at the diner for lunch. I’m sure they’d be thrilled to see you walk in.” Scott was the high school football star, after all, the kid from the good family with the good looks and “things going for him.” He had always been loved around town. Especially by her.
“I had hoped to avoid the diner for a while,” he admitted, offering her a rueful grin. “At least until everyone knows I’m back in town.”
“People do love to talk around here,” she mused as she set a stack of napkins next to the cash register.
Their gazes locked and she noted the warmth of his smoky blue eyes, and felt nearly sick with humiliation at the pity she saw float through them. She didn’t want his sympathy, or anyone else’s for that matter. She wanted to break free, to start over. To live a life where she could be so many more things than this town had allowed her to be.
“Too much,” Scott said quickly, and Emily gave him a brief, tight smile. He knew the things people used to say about her family. It hung in the air, in the leaves of the maple trees that lined Main Street. It triggered family dinner conversations and prompted Sunday prayers. It was a name spoken in whisper, with lowered eyes and a shake of the head. Those poor Porters.
Emily shook herself from the darkening thoughts. “Well, I’ve just put on some fresh coffee and there’s plenty of pie. Feel free to wait here, if you’d like.”
He hesitated, shifting back on his heels. “Why not?” he suddenly said with a shrug. His eyes softened their hold on hers, causing her pulse to skip a beat.
“How about a slice of pie?” she asked nervously, squeezing her fists to keep her hands from shaking. “There’s strawberry and cream, pecan, apple crumb—oh, we have a lovely cherry here,” she offered before she could stop herself. She hadn’t even remembered until now that it was his favorite.
“You know me well,” he said with a sigh, sliding into a seat at the counter.
Emily offered him a small smile in return, then, her heart heavy, turned her back to him to plate the pie, paying careful attention in getting the first wedge just right. It was tricky, but she’d learned the knack through practice. Long before her father had died on a construction site when she was just a little girl, Sunday pie had been a ritual in her household, and she still took comfort in his memory every time she pulled one from the oven. No matter how rough the week had been, there was always some reassurance in the time-honored tradition. Pie could bring comfort in a world that could be cruel. It was something to be shared. It brought people together. In the most difficult of circumstances, she liked to think it helped keep them together, too.
“Here you go,” she said to Scott now. “I made it this morning, so it’s fresh.”
“You always made the best pies, Emily Porter.” He grinned, and his eyes shone bright on hers until he caught the heat in her expression and looked down at his plate.
She sucked in a breath. “So,” she said briskly. “What brings you back to town?” It certainly wasn’t her. He’d made a promise—dozens of beautiful, hope-filled promises—and broken each one right along with her heart.
“My dad asked me to help oversee the construction of the library.” His jaw twitched and he scratched at a day’s worth of stubble. “Well, Lucy asked, actually.”
“Lucy mentioned once that you were in construction, just like you’d always planned.” She frowned at the thought. Why couldn’t he have stayed in Maple Woods and taken over Collins Construction, the family business? It was a fine company, well respected by the town. Her own father had proudly worked there.
Scott paused. “My father isn’t up to the job at the moment.”
Emily nodded. Scott and Lucy’s parents had never been warm to her, but she’d decided a long time ago not to take it personally. Her father had worked for Mr. Collins for more than fifteen years before the accident on the job took his life when she was eight years old. It had been human error, the police had said, his own negligence in failing to put the emergency brakes on the excavator that rolled down the slope and killed him. Mr. Collins had been there that day. He’d dealt with the police, and as a courtesy to the family he had helped cover the funeral expenses, but he had been tense around her family in passing ever since.
“Sticking around for long?” She held her breath, waiting for an answer she knew deep down wouldn’t make a lick of difference.
“Only as long as I have to.”
Emily held his sharp gaze and then lowered her eyes with a slow nod of her head as her heart began to tug. He was still the same old Scott. The same charming guy with dreams beyond Maple Woods. And she was still the same old Emily, still living in the same small town, still waiting for life to really start.
Well, it was time to do something about that.
* * *
Of all the people he had hoped to avoid in this town, Emily was at the top of his list. So he supposed it made sense that she was the first person he ran into. The one girl who had crawled under his skin and remained there. No matter how much he wanted to resist her, to turn his back and leave, he just couldn’t.
He rested an elbow on the counter, grateful for its barrier. If it wasn’t there, keeping them apart, he wasn’t quite sure he would have been able to refrain himself from greeting her with a hug, to feel the warmth of her body pressed against his, to hold her close and know that she was real and that she was okay. That no matter what had happened, what he had done, that she was all right.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way with them. They’d had plans—plans he’d intended to stick to—until that horrible summer night, his last night in this town, when his entire world came crashing down around him and Emily was lost to him forever.
Swallowing hard, he allowed his gaze to roam over her as she repositioned the pie plate on its stand and swept some crumbs off the counter, her glossy chestnut waves cascading over her shoulders. He couldn’t peel his eyes from her. His high school sweetheart—the girl who interrupted his dreams and haunted his waking hours was standing right in front of him, looking more beautiful than ever.
But time hadn’t changed one thing. Emily was still off-limits.
“So what have you been up to all this time?” he asked, even though he didn’t want to hear it confirmed. Emily had always had dreams. Dreams beyond this small town. Dreams that hadn’t come true.
“Oh, not much,” she said. “I worked at the diner before this, but you might have known that.”
His stomach twisted at her words. Emily was the smartest girl he’d known back in school. She should be running a restaurant of her own, not waiting tables. She should have gone to college, pursued her passions—opportunities she would have had if her father had lived. If his father hadn’t deprived their family of insurance money that was rightfully owed to them as a result of the tragic accident. If Scott hadn’t been on that construction site at all the day that Mr. Porter...
“No,” he managed. “No, Lucy hadn’t mentioned it.”
Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, before she pulled back and leaned against the far counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “Ah, well, I suppose you and Lucy have better things to talk about than some girl you used to know.”
The hurt in her tone sliced through him, but the pain in her eyes was his true punishment. He’d earned it. He’d deserved it. He’d take it.
“You were more than some girl, Em.”
She lifted her eyes to his, holding his stare for a beat, and then shrugged.
“Well.” He sighed, “I should probably brace myself for the gossip mill.” He gave a tight smile and set his fork on the edge of the empty plate. “If Lucy knew I was already in town and hadn’t come to see her yet, she’d probably never forgive me.”
“Probably for the best,” Emily said softly. “It looks busy over there today. I won’t be surprised if she’s kept longer than she wants to be.”
Scott stood and reached into his pocket for his wallet but Emily frowned and held up her hand. “No, please. It’s on the house.”
“Oh, come on,” he said, frowning. Take the money, Emily. Take what is owed you, what you should have had a long time ago. Take what my family stole from you. “It’s your opening day. I want to help.”
But Emily was adamant, shaking her head. “Lucy would never forgive me,” she insisted, falling back on his own words, and he knew she had him there.
“I guess I’ll get going then,” he said, but he didn’t move toward the door. For twelve years he had done nothing but imagine this moment, the things he would say to her if he ever saw her again. But he couldn’t say them. And that was why he had never come back.
“Bye, Scott,” she said coolly.
He gave a tight smile. “Bye, Em.” He turned and walked to the door, pushed through it out into the warm glow of the morning sun and crossed the street, focused on the diner in front of him growing nearer with each step, his heart thudding in his chest.
He knew this feeling. It was the same one he’d had when he’d packed up his bags and gotten into his car that late-summer night twelve years ago after he’d overheard his parents talking about Richard Porter’s death—after he’d found out what he had done, what they had covered up for nine years, only revealing the details once it was too late, once he was already in love with Emily, once he was eighteen and old enough to feel the toll of his actions, however unintentional. He’d sped out of town before he had a chance to look back, to think of what he was leaving behind, his heart breaking as he swore he would never love again.
He didn’t deserve love.
And he certainly didn’t deserve Emily.
There was no amount of time or distance that could put Emily Porter behind him. Oh, he’d tried all right. He’d gone to the far end of the country, putting as many miles between him and Maple Woods as possible, only his dark, dirty secret to keep him company and serve as an aching memory of everyone he’d left behind. Of why he could never return.
He was the reason Emily had grown up without a father. He was the reason she’d been stuck in the mercy of this town and all its limitations, and that wasn’t something he could ever forget. But it was something he would have to set right. Once and for all.
Chapter Two
The steady trill of the alarm clock pulled Emily from a deep slumber. She blindly slapped at it and rolled over in bed. The grand opening of Sweetie Pie had kept her at work longer than she’d expected, plus she’d stayed late to prep for today. Poor Lucy had been so busy bouncing from the diner to the bakery that she had barely stopped to take a breath. They hadn’t even had a moment to discuss Scott’s return.
Scott. At the memory of his startling arrival the day before, Emily’s eyes popped open, and she sprang out of bed. She showered and dressed quickly, quietly, so as not to wake her sister Julia, who rarely emerged from her bed before eight. Tiptoeing through the living room, she paused at the stack of yesterday’s mail piled neatly on the small table just beside the front door. She had been so preoccupied with seeing Scott again that she had failed to check the mailbox on her way home last night. It wasn’t like her, and with a frown she realized the hold he still had over her nearly a dozen years later.
Recalling his words yesterday, she shook her head and silently scolded herself. She’d been a fool to pin any hopes on that man. There was nothing in Maple Woods for Scott—there never had been, it seemed—and he made it very clear that he wasn’t planning on staying in town for long.
Well, neither am I.
Her heart began to thump as she picked up the stack of crisp envelopes and began thumbing through them. When she reached the end, she sighed—possibly in relief, possibly in disappointment. She wasn’t sure which anymore. It had been three months since she’d sent her application to the cooking school in Boston, and as the weeks passed without a response, her anxiety grew stronger. So many hopes were hitched to this opportunity that a part of her was happy her fate wasn’t yet sealed. It was good to have a dream, and this had been hers for as long as she could remember. She wasn’t ready for it to be over just yet.
The bakery still wouldn’t be open for another two hours, but the day was still young and there was plenty of work to do. Lucy was a pie-making expert—there was no denying her skill—but when she’d tasted a few of Emily’s creations, she had decided to feature those each day, as well. Emily had free rein on what she could create.
Emily gave a sad smile whenever she thought of the irony of the situation—who would have known she’d get such an opportunity just when she might be able to finally break free of this town once and for all?
Determined to think about nothing but the second day at Sweetie Pie, she rolled up her sleeves and went into the kitchen. A couple hours of straight-up baking, fortified by strong coffee, were sure to banish the blues that had set in when Scott walked through that door yesterday.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re up!” Julia gushed, bursting into the kitchen half an hour later, already dressed for her job at the yarn shop. Her cheeks were flushed and her green eyes flashed with excitement as she quickly pulled her hair into a ponytail.
“Good morning to you, too,” Emily said mildly as she finished slicing pears into a bowl and showered them with sugar.
Julia’s eyes danced. “You will never believe who is back in town!”
Emily smiled as she measured out a cup of flour, then diced a stick of cold butter and pulsed the mixture in the food processor with a teaspoon each of sugar and salt. This was a little game of theirs, and even at their age, it was endlessly amusing, adding a bit of suspense to an otherwise routine life. Julia would come home with a juicy bit of gossip, usually about who was dating whom, and question by question, Emily would narrow it down until the titillating conclusion was reached. Sadly, on this occasion, there was no buildup of clues; Emily already knew the answer.
“Scott Collins,” she said and immediately wished she had just played along when she saw Julia’s face fall with disappointment.
“You knew?” she cried. “And here I nearly shook you awake last night to tell you!”
“He came into the bakery yesterday,” Emily said.
“Did you speak to him?” Julia’s eyes were wide with interest. “What was he like?”
Emily heaved a sigh. “Not much different than I remembered,” she admitted, catching the wistful edge to her tone.
“Still a hunk then, huh?” Julia dipped her finger into the sugar canister, and Emily rolled her eyes.
“Still a hunk, as you so delicately put it.”
Julia regarded her for a long moment, a dreamy look creeping over her face, as if she were lost in time, clinging to a memory. “Sorry,” she said, straightening herself. “I know it’s a touchy subject.”
“I was seventeen,” Emily reminded her. “It didn’t mean anything.” Clearly.
“Well, it meant something to me.” Julia lifted her chin, her eyes suddenly darkening at the memory. ”I still haven’t forgotten the way he took off without so much as a goodbye.”
“Really?” Emily narrowed her gaze in mock confusion. “Because you seemed to have completely forgotten about that episode when you came bounding in here two minutes ago.” She flashed her sister a rueful grin as she formed the dough into a disk and wrapped it in cellophane. She set it in the fridge to chill, swapping it for one that had cooled, and plucked her rolling pin from the drawer beneath the stove.
“Well, I admit, I did get a little swept up in the memory of how handsome he was,” Julia explained, and Emily bit her lip to keep from laughing. “But the truth is that he treated you like a first-rate jerk, leaving you like that, without any explanation.”
They were supposed to have gone to a movie the next night. Emily could still remember sitting on the steps of her front porch, waiting. She’d called his house, worried he might be sick or worse—that he’d had an accident. It was a fear of hers ever since she was little, since her father had died. Instead she was told in clipped tones by Scott’s father that he was gone. He’d left town the night before, and they didn’t know when he’d be back. If he’d be back. And he never did come back. Until now.
Emily shrugged off the twinge of hurt with a smile. “Please, Julia. That was ancient history. We were kids.”
Julia watched her carefully. “If you say so.”
“Are you accusing me of still pining after Scott Collins?”
Julia tipped her head. “I just thought that you would be interested to know he was back in town. That’s all.” She paused. “So...is he married?”
“No,” Emily said, stirring more forcefully.
“And you know this—”
“Because he told me,” Emily huffed, whipping around to face her sister. “Because I asked, okay. I...asked.” It was a normal question, she told herself, but probably not when it was posed to the man whom she had once imagined an entire future with. His answer had filled her with a surge of hope that had no business being there.
A spark passed through Julia’s bright green eyes. “Huh. Interesting.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Julia shrugged. “Nothing at all.” She smiled conspiratorially and then breezed out the door, as if there was nothing left of the subject to discuss.
Emily shook her head and chuckled softly. Leave it to her sister to get carried away with Scott’s reemergence and the impact it might have on her. Of course she was interested to know that Scott was back. More interested than she should be. And that was just the problem.
* * *
Before she left the house, Emily took extra care in brushing her hair and selecting just the right shade of lipstick. It was silly, she knew, and she was probably jinxing herself with the effort, but if there was a chance of seeing Scott again today, she wanted to be ready.
