their heated exchange, and after running a few errands the next morning, she spent the entire drive back to the B&B voicing her frustration to her car’s empty interior. She cleaned the inn’s bedrooms with unnecessary force, carefully checking the hall before moving on to another room so she didn’t run into Burke as he emerged from the Galway Room.
When she was finally forced to face him as they all sat down to dinner on Monday evening, she kept her tone polite but cool and didn’t engage him in conversation. Aunt Lenora carried the dinnertime dialogue anyway, chattering more than she had in months, about the weather, the influx of summer tourists, local news and the repairs Burke had undertaken on the inn. She praised her great-nephew for the work he’d done, and while Erin knew she should have added her appreciation, she couldn’t bring herself to speak up. She was too busy fuming.
It bothered her that she was still so angry, especially by Wednesday when she didn’t understand why she couldn’t let go of her frustration with her brother-in-law. Why did she care what Burke thought? True, they had once been friends...more perhaps...but those days were long past, and she had convinced herself years ago that none of it had mattered.
Then why did Burke’s presence unnerve her so? And why was she reliving their argument, at least a dozen times a day?
The Moontide had guests arriving on Thursday, and Erin was putting final touches on the upstairs bedrooms when she ran into Burke in the hall.
He’d been working tirelessly all week, doing minor repairs and updates to the house. The Moontide had been around for a long time, and while it had undergone extensive renovations over the years, it had been too long since some necessary upkeep had been done. Erin was impressed with how much Burke had accomplished over the last five days since he’d come to stay. She suspected he was keeping busy to take his mind off his failed wedding, but a small part of her wondered if he was working to avoid her as much as she was trying to avoid him.
When they stumbled across each other in the hall—quite literally, since Erin tripped over the edge of a loose piece of carpet—she fell right into his arms, as he tried to keep her from falling.
“Hey, sorry, I was just getting ready to fix that carpet.”
She was too aware of his arms around her, one hand on her back, the heat of his palm seeping through her shirt and into her skin. She pulled away and righted herself.
“It’s fine.”
She turned to go, and she might have pretended not to hear him calling her name, if his voice hadn’t taken on such a pleading tone.
“Erin.”
She paused, willing herself to keep moving forward. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say. And yet...she did.
“Can we talk?”
She should have told him no. She should have said they had nothing to talk about. He would move on soon enough—there was no point in putting her faith in Burke. He’d already proven it was a lost cause.
But no matter the reasons, she couldn’t convince herself to walk away from him. She turned.
“Okay. What do you want to talk about?”
Her agreement must have surprised him because he looked unexpectedly flustered. A small smile stole its way onto her mouth. It was gratifying to put Burke off his guard. Her tiny grin must have soothed his uneasiness because his shoulders relaxed.
“I thought we could talk about what happened on Sunday night.”
“All right,” she agreed. “So talk.”
He drew a deep breath, some of the tension stealing back into his shoulders.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he said, “for the funeral. And I’m sorry for how long it took me to come back, after Gavin died. It was self-serving and wrong and...” He sighed. “I just couldn’t deal. I couldn’t come back here. As long as I stayed away, nothing had changed. Gavin was still alive. I knew that the minute I set foot in Findlay Roads, I’d know he was really gone. I’d sense it. And then, I’d have to learn to accept it.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “It took you six months. Six months. I needed you here.”
Saying those words triggered some sort of release. Months of pent-up emotion suddenly found their way to the surface, and she began to weep.
“I was alone, Burke. You were the only one—” her breath hitched on a sob “—who could have understood what losing him did to me.”
He didn’t say anything, and she feared she’d pushed him too far. But she couldn’t see through the blur of her own tears. She wouldn’t blame him if he thought her selfish. It had been nearly two years since Gavin’s death, while it had been less than a week since Tessa had left him at the altar. Not the same in terms of grief, but she knew he still had to be smarting from the rejection.
Before she could open her mouth to apologize, she found herself back in his arms. He wrapped them so tightly around her that for a minute, she lost her concentration and couldn’t remember what had set her crying in the first place.
Within seconds, it came back to her and the stability of Burke’s embrace released another flood of tears. This was what she had needed, two years ago. Someone to hold her, to remind her she was not as alone in the world as she felt. She needed some essence of Gavin, some small thread to cling to. It was why she had often gone into Kitt’s room at night, long after he’d fallen into a restless sleep, and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Kitt was a piece of Gavin, an anchor to keep her tethered to this life, no matter how much she might want to drift away.
On some level, she had known it was wrong to wish for Burke during those dark days. Her emotions had been a torment of guilt for wanting him there and anger that he hadn’t come back.
Even now, the sharp claws of shame dug into her, but she couldn’t pull away. His hand stroked her back in slow, soothing movements, and she felt some tension drain out of her. It felt good to be held like this, to feel so safe and secure. She let her head rest against his chest, counting the steady beats of his heart as the crown of her head brushed against his jaw.
She didn’t know how long they stood like that. Far longer than what was appropriate, she knew, but she didn’t want him to let her go. She finally shifted, trying to turn her head to look at him, and her lips came in perilously close contact to his. He froze, and so did she, only a breath apart.
She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to remember what it was like to be loved, wanted. Her eyes slid closed, and she willed herself to walk away from him. But she couldn’t.
“Erin?”
The sound of Aunt Lenora’s voice broke the spell. Erin and Burke jumped apart at the same time.
“Erin, where did you put the welcome packets for the guests?”
She couldn’t look at Burke. “They’re in the bottom right desk drawer in the foyer,” she called down the stairs.
Aunt Lenora didn’t respond, and Erin presumed she’d shuffled off to search the desk for the preassembled packets Erin kept on hand for new arrivals.
“Thank you,” she finally managed.
Burke’s tone was puzzled. “For what?”
She finally looked at him. He was stone-cold serious, his blue eyes almost gray. His T-shirt was damp with her tears, dark smudges marring the pale blue color. He had Gavin’s lips. When she realized that’s where her gaze had wandered, she jerked her eyes away from his mouth.
“For being here.”
“You don’t think I’m too late?” he asked, his voice soft.
She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant. Too late for what? To say goodbye to Gavin? To be here for her, Aunt Lenora and Kitt? Or was there something even deeper to his question?
“You’re here now. That’s what counts.”