Without Mercy - Lisa Jackson [123]
For a heartbeat, he considered throwing caution to the wind and leaned closer to her.
“Mr. Trent!” a young voice called, shattering the moment. He looked over his shoulder and spied Banjo Harris running toward them.
Oh, hell!
He’d forgotten that he’d promised to meet with her to resolve some questions about her schedule.
“I have to go,” he said.
“Wait! I need to talk to you!” Jules was insistent, grabbing his arm.
He couldn’t risk lingering any longer. Too many people were watching. He stepped away, breaking contact. “Then come by my place tonight, say ten, ten-thirty,” he whispered, anxious not to be overheard. “You know which one it is?” She nodded. “The porch light will be off.” God, what was he thinking? Inviting her to his cottage? Inviting disaster.
“I’ll be there,” she said softly just as Banjo bounded up to them, her guitar case banging against her back with each stride.
“Thanks,” he said to Jules, then turned on his heel.
Being any closer to her was dangerous.
Dangerous in a million ways.
“You’re wrong!” Maeve insisted. Her insides were shredding as she walked toward the cafeteria with Nell, Lucy, and that awful new girl, Shaylee. Just because Shaylee was in their pod didn’t mean that they had to hang out with her.
Not that it mattered now.
The rumor was that Andrew Prescott had died. He’d really died.
And although Maeve had given up the romantic notion of a suicide pact between Drew and Nona, once she’d learned that there’d been an attack, she had desperately wanted Andrew to live. As if his survival was a valiant act, a way to defy the killer who’d taken his beloved’s life.
Drew’s death, on top of Maeve’s own problems, made life here at Blue Rock unbearable. For the past couple of days, her friends had been trying to convince her to give up on Ethan, to deny that which was the most important, the most vital part of her.
She knew in her heart that Ethan was her true soul mate, the only man she would ever love.
God, she was so miserable, and she couldn’t keep from crying.
Her tears froze on her face, tiny diamonds in her eyelashes, and the night wind blew so hard it made her lungs feel frozen. Maeve didn’t know how she’d get through dinner. Of course, she felt a little zing of anticipation because Ethan would be there, but she feared that he wouldn’t spare her a look. He wouldn’t wink, wouldn’t give her any indication that she was special to him, even though he’d said it dozens of times before.
Hadn’t she been there for him during all those awful, ridiculous accusations about him and Ms. Howell? Hadn’t she stood by him?
Given him an alibi if he needed it? Didn’t he know that she’d do any thing for him? Anything?
Their boots crunched in the snow that was crusting over. She’d never been so cold in her life. But this, the chill of winter, was nothing like the ice that threatened her heart when she thought of losing Ethan.
Ethan loved her, he did. He’d told her so. Every time they’d gone to the hayloft where…Oh, God, she couldn’t think of Nona, how she’d died dangling from the end of a rope.
The lump in her throat was so large she could barely breathe, and the thought that Ethan could be with anyone else was like a thou sand daggers in her heart.
“I’m just saying that I saw him with Kaci Donahue,” Lucy said. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
But it is! It’s my life! He’s everything to me! She blinked hard, pretending the snow on her eyelashes was bothering her, when, in truth, she was fighting a losing battle with tears. She loved him. She’d proven it. Letting him touch her and kiss her and make love to her. She would have risked everything for him.
“No guy is worth this,” Shay said, as if she had some experience with this kind of pain. Yeah, well, who needed her opinion anyway?
“Ethan is,” she whispered fervently as they reached the cafeteria and pushed open the doors. The bright lights blinded her, and the smell of Mrs. Pruitt’s shepherd’s pie made her gag. Bile rose up her throat, and it was all she could do to swallow it back. She couldn’t let any of the staff know how