Guilt gnawed at him. That vague sensation of something closing around him rose inside him. Refusing to give in to the guilt, he pushed his hands into his pockets. “Can I help you with something?”

“What? . . . Oh.” Her shoulders slumped, so very slightly, and then she brushed her hair back. “I wanted to know if you needed anything. I thought I could pick up Clayton and take care of dinner for you.” She gave him a slow smile. “You could get more work done . . . maybe tell me what you’ve been working on lately. We don’t talk much anymore, do we?”

She’s in love with you—

The sound of Ressa’s words danced in the back of his mind and Trey fought the urge to shut the door and just disappear. Instead, he squared his shoulders. “Afraid that won’t work out, Nadine,” he said, shaking his head.

“Silly me.” With a tentative smile, she eased closer. “I forgot you said you had plans. Maybe tomorrow?”

She reached out to touch his arm.

He caught her hand in his, squeezed gently. “No.” Carefully, he nudged her hand back down. Then, forcing himself to hold her eyes, he shook her head. “Nadine, I don’t know what you think you see here, and it’s not that I don’t appreciate the intent, but . . . Clayton and I aren’t ever going to be anything more than neighbors to you.”

Her dark green eyes widened and judging by the flash of hurt there, he realized Ressa had been right. “Trey . . .” She reached out again.

This time, he stepped back. “Nadine, you’ve helped out a lot the past few years . . .”

“You just need more time,” Nadine said, her voice tremulous and soft. She took a step closer, then another.

He held firm where he was now. She was five feet nothing and if he gave her a chance, she’d back him right inside the house and it would take forever to get her to leave.

“No. I don’t need more time to understand what’s going on here.” Once more, he felt like he was kicking a puppy dog, but he flattened, hardened his tone because if he kept using that soft, gentle one, she’d hear what she wanted, not what he had to say. “Nadine, you’re a nice lady. You’re my neighbor and you’ve been helpful in the past . . . but that’s . . . that’s it. There’s nothing else between us. There’s not going to be.”

“But . . . but . . . we kissed!” She half shouted it as she stood there, and suddenly, that sweet expression fell away. Her hands balled into fists. “We kissed and we’ve seen each other every day and you made me think it could be more. You can’t tell me there’s nothing there.”

“Yes, I can.” It was easier even, to look at her, now that she wasn’t twisting her hands and looking all around like some shy, nervous girl hiding along the wall at a dance. “My head was a mess for a long while after Aliesha died. I was lonely. We went out one time, and yeah, we did kiss. Once. Yes, we see each other . . . We live next door to each other. But . . .”

He stopped, staring at her for a long moment. Then softly, he said, “You’re a friend, Nadine. But that’s all you’re ever going to be.”

“Why?” Nadine asked and her voice broke a little. Her eyes were wild and she still had her little hands closed into fists, banging the right one on her thigh. “If . . . I mean . . . haven’t I been good to Clayton? Don’t I try to take care of you? I can do better.”

This sucks, Trey thought miserably.

She moved closer and rested a hand on his chest. “I can be whatever you want.”

Her hand slid lower.

He caught it, blood rushing up the back of his neck.

“The only thing I want you to be is a friend, Nadine. I’m sorry.”

“No . . . no . . . no . . . you don’t mean that. You don’t. You . . .” She jerked her hand away and pressed it to her lips, tears welling in her eyes.

Aw, hell . . .

He felt himself lifting a hand, helpless against that misery. Even though that sensation of being trapped started to settle in—

But before he was even close to touching her, she spun around and stumbled away, half tottering on the heels she always seemed to wear. He swore as she bumped into the railing of the porch and he went to catch her arm.

“Don’t touch me!”

She jerked away with a venom that chilled him.

Slowly, he let her go, his fingers uncurling.

“Go ahead,” she said, her voice warbling. “Throw me away. But nobody else will ever love you like I do. I would have done anything for you.”

She gave him one last, accusing look and then headed over to the house next door.

Trey closed his eyes and when he heard the door slam, he dropped down to sit on the top step, resting his head on his fisted hands.

Chapter Sixteen

Trey was ready for two things. A burger and some quiet.

He would have thought he had all the silence he could handle during the day. Kindergarten wasn’t anything like the two-day preschool deal Clayton had done at a local church for the past two years. That had been for two hours and that was it.

But today, Clayton had been gone from morning until midway through the afternoon and those hours in between had been abnormally quiet. Oh, he’d gotten plenty of writing done, but he just wasn’t used to that sort of . . . quiet.

Now there was anything but quiet.

Clayton hadn’t stopped chattering since he’d buckled himself into his booster seat in Trey’s truck.

Now, as he listened to Clayton talk about how he and Neeci both hated eggs, how they both hated lima beans and how they both loved peanuts but couldn’t stand those little skin things, he thought that maybe burgers were just the ticket. Burgers. On the grill. Where Clayton could swim while Trey grilled and at least got some remnant of quiet.

“Dad! Isn’t it funny how we both hate eggs and lima beans?”

“Nah.” He forced a smile. “It just means you’re smart people. I mean, I hate eggs and lima beans.”

Clayton laughed and went to launch into yet another discussion about how Neeci lived with her cousin and how she never got to see her mama, and how she sometimes spent the night with her grandma and how funny it was that her cousin was Miss Ressa.

The words were tripping out of him so fast, Clayton barely had time to catch his breath before yet another five-minute ramble.

“Okay, man. How about you go put up your backpack?” he asked, interrupting Clayton during those few seconds he paused to breathe.

“But . . .” Clayton looked down and stared at it.

He’d been unpacking it for about the past twenty minutes.

Trey might be new at the school thing, but he was positive it shouldn’t take that long.

“But?”

“I wanted to show you my schoolwork.”

Realizing this was going to take as long as Clayton could let it take, he tapped his watch. “Five minutes, then the backpack goes up.”

Clayton gave him a wide grin and then shoved his hands back into the backpack, coming out with more stuff than Trey thought he could have accumulated in one day at school. “Some of this is yours,” Clayton announced, displaying a stack of paper with pride. “You gotta sign it and stuff.”

Figures. You think the schoolwork is done when you leave school. He moved to the kitchen table and took the packet, absently pulling a pair of glasses from his pocket. Once he had them on, he skimmed through it. Classroom rules, room parent . . .

Man.

“Look!”

A piece of paper with Clayton’s characteristic scrawl was shoved in front of him. “I write my name already. Some of the kids can’t.”

“It’s not a competition, Clay,” he said, but he smiled at the lopsided name and address written on the ruled paper. Below it was what Trey assumed was their house, with flowers in front of it. There were two stick figures, one taller than the other.