I quickly shower, rinsing the dust off my body and washing my hair methodically. Suds run over my wrist, where there’s a small bruise from Daren and me yanking on each other these last few days. He probably has a small bruise too.

I run my thumb over the bruise and my heart twists. Being handcuffed to him was annoying and difficult, but it was also kind of fun. And it meant I was never alone. I don’t think I realized how lonely my life had been until I had Daren chained to my side every day. Being locked together wasn’t convenient, by any means, but having someone just be there was… well, nice. It was more than nice. It felt like I was home.

And now I’m lost.

I turn off the shower and towel myself dry before changing into a clean pair of pajamas. I stare into the mirror. My hair is wet and stringy, sticking to my head in a tousled way. My blue eyes are framed by blonde eyelashes, making them look small and plain without any makeup on. I look as average as possible—and this is the best I’ve looked the entire time Daren and I have been looking for the inheritance.

I’ve been a mess around him. Dirty. Wet. Haggard. And he’s been a disaster around me. But as I think back over the last three days, I can’t recall a single time when he assessed me. I saw attraction in his eyes, but for the most part, he looked at me like I was a person and not just female. I can’t remember a guy ever doing that before.

Gathering my things, I exit the bathroom and step into our room. Daren is sitting on the chaise lounge with the phone to his ear. Our eyes meet and longing flashes in his gaze—not just sexual longing, but emotional want. As if we’ve found something in each other we didn’t know we needed. Compassion. Friendship.

Acceptance.

And now, without the handcuffs to physically bind us together, we’re afraid we’ll lose everything we just found.

Whoever he’s speaking with on the phone must say something because he drops his eyes and says, “Yes. I’m glad to hear that.”

I step over to the bed and crawl under the soft covers on the left side.

“Yeah, well it was the right thing to do, Eddie,” he says. “Let’s not give him more credit than he deserves… Okay, yeah. We will. Later.” He hangs up and glances at me.

“Was that about your dad?” I ask, pulling the sheets up to my chest.

He nods but doesn’t look at me. “He pleaded guilty.”

I nod as well. “That’s good.”

Daren clears his throat. “I’m going to take a shower.”

He enters the bathroom and a few seconds later I hear the water turn on. I turn off the lamp on the nightstand beside me, and the room goes dark except for the single lamp on Daren’s side of the bed.

I rub my wrist and look at the small bruise. It’s barely there and barely hurts but it’s a little reminder of my attachment to him.

I frown at the ceiling, thinking about how we decided not to look for the inheritance anymore. My heart falls a little bit as I lie in the bed. I could really use that money to go back to nursing school. It’s always been my dream, and with my current circumstances it’s simply impossible.

My palms start sweating and my heart starts to race as I think about how I have nothing. No plan. No money. No home. And no Daren.

God, I miss him. He’s only a few yards away from me, but I miss him.

There’s something about Daren—something vulnerable and honest that I connect with easily. Something I’ve never found in anyone else and can’t quite imagine living without. And when we leave this place and go our separate ways I’ll have to do just that.

My heart clenches, and tears threaten once again.

I’ve never known love before, at least not with a man who wasn’t my father, but this deep sadness in my chest is most definitely heartbreak. And heartbreak is an effect of only one thing: love.

Is this what love is? This painful, unhinged thing? This polarizing madness that swings from joyous to suffering in the blink of an eye? And if so, why do we let it consume us the way it does? Why do we so willingly surrender to its violent currents and unpredictable winds?

Daren exits the bathroom, now finished with his shower, and his eyes lock on mine. A handful of heartbeats pass as we gaze across the room in a silent exchange of hope and loss, and I suddenly know the answer.

This is why we give into the storm of love. This something that is neither word nor feeling, found in quiet gazes and cookies in the dark. Hidden in cotton candy secrets and gentle shower soapsuds. It creeps up on you and slips inside, and before you know it, love owns you completely. But when it leaves, it rakes your insides, ripping at your soul until you’re shredded and undone. Then, and only then, do you realize you were in love.

Daren’s brown eyes snap away from mine and all the pieces of my heart that have been drifting into Daren’s hands these last few days start to break into even smaller pieces, crumbling in his grasp, and I’ll never get them back. Because this is love, and all those pieces of my heart I handed over as my down payment on us are no longer my own, but Daren’s forever. And right now they’re bleeding like crazy.

I roll onto my side so my back is to him as a tear rolls from the corner of my eye. It’s the first time I’ve been in a nice bed in months and I already know I won’t be able to sleep.

32 Daren

I listen to Kayla cry softly into her pillow, and my throat begins to tighten. Every fiber of my being wants to roll over and pull her into my arms, begging her to forgive me. I want to take her face in my hands and kiss away her tears. I want to undo all the damage I’ve caused.

I can’t stand this—not having her smiling eyes on mine, not having her wrist banging into mine every few minutes. It’s like I’ve lost a piece of myself.

And it hurts. God, it hurts.

I fucked up so bad.

I stare at the ceiling and clutch at my aching chest as I listen to Kayla sniffle. I broke her. I broke Turner’s daughter.

Just like his priceless pocket watch, Turner entrusted me with Kayla and I damaged her. Crushed her to pieces.

Sleep won’t come for me. But I don’t deserve it anyway.

The next morning, I wait until Kayla has already left the room before padding into the bathroom and washing my face. Even though I work here, I’ve never been in this room before. Generally, when I stock the supplies I don’t go into the guest rooms.

I finish washing my face and dry it with a towel then look in the mirror. I have two days of scruff that looks very out of place on my usually clean-shaven face. There are dark circles under my eyes and a faint bruise on my left wrist and my hair is a matted mess. And even though I smell clean from my shower last night, I feel rotten.

Mostly because of the Kayla thing, and partly because I have no plan. I know I’m getting to a point where I’m just going to run out of money. My jobs aren’t enough to continue paying Connor’s medical bills, and now that Kayla and I have decided to forfeit the inheritance, I don’t even have a backup plan.

A knock sounds on my door. I open it to see Ellen waiting in the hallway.

She smiles. “Breakfast is ready.”

I frown. “What are you talking about?”

“Breakfast is included with every night’s stay,” she says. “You know that.”

“Yeah,” I say. “But I’m not a guest. I’m a freeloader who crashed your inn and stayed in one of your rooms last night.”

“No,” she says, drawing out the word, “you’re an employee of Willow Inn. And all employees get five guest nights for free each year.” She grins. “I’m glad to see you’re taking advantage of your employee benefits. Now hurry and come downstairs before Mable throws away your hot food and complains about it all day.”

“But I—”

“Do not make me tell Mable you don’t want her breakfast, you hear me?” She sharpens her eyes.