Читать книгу Heartstrings - Sara Walter Ellwood - Страница 9

Seth Kendall parked his Escalade and stared out at the people who had known him all his life. What the hell was he doing here?

With a sigh, he opened the door, and all eyes turned in his direction as he got out. Why hadn’t he stayed in Nashville as everyone assumed he would? Why did coming back here seem so important now, after being away for fourteen years?

The answers to those questions had plagued him the entire drive to his hometown of McAllister in the Texas Panhandle. The motivation wasn’t his father’s death at all. He’d come home because it was time for him to make things right, even if that meant causing a whole mess of hell to get it done.

He shrugged into his jacket. If it had been made of solid iron, it wouldn’t have felt any heavier. The mid-August day was hot, but the sweat gathering under his Hugo Boss suit didn’t come from the afternoon sun. People watched him all the time. That came with the fame he’d garnered as a country music superstar, but today, he didn’t want to be gawked at. He adjusted the knot of his necktie and closed the door of the SUV.

He tipped his hat and nodded toward his father’s friends and business associates as he headed toward the old church. None of the mourners spoke to him, but he could imagine what they were thinking. Everyone knew he and his father had despised each other.

Decorum required he remove his Ray-Bans and black Stetson as he entered the church, but he forced his expression to remain impassive. He combed his fingers through his hair and looked around. People chose seats, gradually filling the oak pews, and the low murmur of conversation mingled with the bagpipes playing a mournful rendition of his father’s favorite hymn, Amazing Grace. He recognized almost everyone as he made his way to the front.

“Aunt Johanna.” He stopped where his father’s twin sister and the minister were speaking in hushed tones next to the open casket.

Johanna Kendall looked up at him with blue eyes reminding him of his father’s. Dressed in a severe black dress and with her graying red hair pulled into a bun, she stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug. “Seth, I’m glad you finally made it home.”

He held on for a moment before letting go. He’d come home for her. “How are you holding up?”

She shrugged and her eyes filled with misty sadness. “I’ll be okay.” Johanna used a white lace handkerchief to dab at her red-rimmed eyes. “I’ll miss him. I never realized his heart was so bad. He always seemed as strong as a bull.”

“We may not have seen eye to eye, but he was still my father.” Hugging his aunt again, he held her and looked anywhere but at the man lying on the white satin inside the casket. He glanced at the pew behind him. As he sucked in a deep breath, he stepped away from Johanna and dropped his hat onto the seat.

Johanna moved away to speak with Glenda Marshall, the mayor’s wife.

Seth held out his hand to the minister. “Reverend Keller.”

“It’s a shame you were unable to get away from your engagements to come home sooner. How’re you doin’, Seth?”

“I’m as good as can be expected, I guess.” He shook the preacher’s hand, then shoved both of his hands into his pants pockets. “I’m glad he didn’t suffer.” He didn’t know what else to say.

He’d been in the recording studio when Johanna had frantically called him three days ago after she’d found John dead on the floor of his study. Unsure if he’d come home for the funeral or not, he finished the last songs for his next album, set for release in the spring. Now he wished he hadn’t rushed to get the damned record done. At least then, he’d have had an excuse to escape as soon as this day was over.

Which was complete bullshit. He wasn’t leaving here until he settled a score.

A heavy hand touched his shoulder. He turned to look into the rich brown eyes of one of his father’s closest friends, and a man for whom he held a great deal of respect. He stuck out his hand and greeted the older man with a warm smile. “Judge Ritter, it’s great to see you again.”

Retired county judge Franklin Michael Ritter II smiled and shook his hand. He’d always reminded Seth a little of Mark Twain--tall and lanky with white wavy hair and a handlebar mustache. “It’s nice to see you, too. Though, I’d have preferred different circumstances. It’s been a long time, son.”

He didn’t miss the quiet censure in the judge’s tone. Or the way the man seemed to shake all over. His Parkinson’s must have gotten worse.

“Oh, Seth, I’m so glad you made it home,” an extremely petite woman said in a soft Georgia accent, and Seth found himself being hugged tightly around the waist. He returned Carolann Ritter’s embrace, holding on for a moment. In so many ways, she’d replaced the mother he’d lost to a drug overdose. “We sorely did miss you over the years.”

He forced a smile as she stepped away. Guilt needled him when tears shimmered in her brown eyes. Carolann and Frank had never made it a secret they loved him when he was a kid. Lord knew he never heard those words from his old man.

“Aw, Miz Ritter, I’ve missed y’all, too.”

When a woman slowly moved in next to Carolann and Frank Ritter, his heart constricted. He forced the name through his tightening jaw. “Abigail.”

“Hello, Seth.” Dressed in a simple navy blue dress, Abigail Crawford Ritter stopped before him. She stared up at him with widened almond-shaped eyes the color of brandy. The naturally tan complexion she’d inherited from her Native American mother went pale and taut over her high cheekbones. She fiddled with the purse strap over her shoulder and pulled her long dark brown hair over her other shoulder. “We didn’t think you’d be here.”

He easily discerned the real meaning: We don’t want you here.

The past slammed into him with blazing force, transporting him back to the manmade beach of the McAllister Reservoir. Returning him to the night he and Abby let their attraction turn into uncontrolled lust, and under the stars on a deserted stretch of weedy sand, she’d given him her virginity.

“Uh...I wasn’t sure...I would be,” he stammered and tried to shake off the memory of a passion he hadn’t been able to forget. He forced himself to look beyond her.

“Sorry about your father.” Mike Ritter stepped forward. His brown eyes were as hard as the bricks making up the walls of the church. Not quite reaching six feet, Mike was four inches shorter, and lanky like Frank. Mike was dressed in a suit as expensive as Seth’s, if not more so. Since when was the county paying its sheriff enough for him to afford an Armani suit and snakeskin boots? Not to mention the Resistol hat in his hand.

Then Seth noticed the obviously pregnant brunette holding Mike’s hand. An heiress to a fortune made from the railroad, oil and banking. “Tammy Jo McAllister?”

She smiled and slipped her arm around Mike’s waist, while she rested her other hand on her baby bump. The gray dress she wore had designer written all over it. She must still have more money than King Midas and spent it like there was no tomorrow. “Hello, Seth. I’m now Tammy Jo Ritter.”

An icy weight settled in his gut as he looked at Abby. She averted her eyes to the floor. “Mike and I were divorced two years ago.”

The weight grew larger and radiated into his arms and legs. He couldn’t keep coldness from leaking into his words. “Well, isn’t that interesting? How’s Emily?”

Abby’s face lost all color as she looked at Frank and Carolann. Damn, they’d never learned the truth.

Mike’s voice held an unmistakable warning not to push the issue. “Thanks for asking. She’s fine.”

He met Mike’s glare with one of his own.

“I think we should sit down,” she said in shaky voice before he could respond.

He snapped his gaze to Abby. Her eyes blazed with anger. She clenched her hands so tightly her knuckles bleached white against the dark blue of her skirt.

“I didn’t realize you knew our granddaughter,” Frank said without the least bit of curiosity. He obviously didn’t catch any of the byplay.

I should know her. He’d keep up Abby’s charade. For now.

“He met her at a concert in Amarillo.” Mike’s tone left no room for discussion on the blatant lie. “I think we should catch up on old times. After the service.”

Seth glanced away from the cold eyes of the man who’d been his best friend growing up. Abby’s dark eyes held no welcome either, which was a sucker punch in the gut. He wanted to see fire in Abby’s brown eyes, but not from hatred.

“Yeah.” He mentally shook himself. What was he thinking? She’d betrayed him. He looked back at Mike. “I think it’s time to talk about those old times.”

* * * *

Abby had feared this encounter since the moment her mother-in-law had called her with the news of John Kendall’s death. She took her seat behind the Ritters and fisted her hands in her lap.

Mike had promised this day would never come, but she knew it would. How could she have been so stupid? She opened her hands, and cooling air hit the fine sheen of moisture coating her palms. Cold perspiration beaded on her forehead, and she resisted the urge to wipe it away. She had to control her emotions. If she wasn’t careful, someone would notice her anxiety.

Mike glanced over his shoulder at her. He’d always been the solid one, her rock. He grounded her while Seth had been her dream. Her flight of fantasy. The one thing she could never really hold. Even now, even after their sham of a marriage had long ago dissolved into nothing but friendship, she had faith Mike would make everything all right.

Mike had stood by her when Seth left town to chase his dreams in Nashville. Seth had promised her he’d come home, he’d always be here for her, but he hadn’t stuck around. He’d left and never came back.

Tammy Jo leaned against Mike’s shoulder, and he shifted his focus to his new wife, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

As Revered Keller began speaking about the kind of man her neighbor had been in life, she sensed Seth’s attention on her and couldn’t concentrate on anything the pastor said regarding John Kendall. Halfway through the service, she dared to look across the aisle at Seth. His gaze seemed to bore into hers, and the bitterness in the green depths of his eyes seared deep into her soul.

There had been a time when she was his second-best friend. She knew his secrets, and he knew hers, even things Mike hadn’t known about them. She’d believed in Seth’s dreams, had encouraged them when his father degraded and beat him for having them. In return, Seth had always been there for her when she’d needed someone to take her away from the reality of her life of living down her parents’ sins.

She’d fallen in love with Seth, but she knew they had no future. Maybe if he hadn’t wanted fame and fortune, they could have found a way to a happily-ever-after. Keeping him here would have destroyed him. And if she’d gone with him, it would have ruined them both. When Seth won a place on the new talent show America’s Rising Star, she’d had to let him go--even if it meant lying to him to make him leave. But the passion they’d shared had haunted her ever since.

At the service’s end, she met Seth’s gaze across the aisle again. He had no intention of letting her forget what happened after that night on the beach when everything changed.

* * * *

The service had been typical and, thankfully, neither Johanna nor anyone else seemed to expect Seth to stand and give a eulogy, or worse, sing. He followed the hearse outside town to the Kendall family plot in a small grove of live oaks on the Double K Ranch where five generations of Kendalls were buried.

He had to talk to Abby. He wasn’t the same boy who’d left her standing on her front porch the night he’d left town. But one thing hadn’t changed; he’d never forgiven her for what she’d done after that night.

He got out of his SUV, went around, and opened the passenger door for Johanna. She leaned on him to help her out of the high vehicle, then they moved to stand beside the grave.

The scene of the pallbearers unloading his father’s casket from the back of the hearse overshadowed his need to confront Abby. The oppressive midday sun beat down on him and glistened off the gray granite of the tombstone marking the grave where his father would be laid to rest. His gaze fell on the name of the woman he barely remembered.

Suzann Harris Kendall, born May 14, 1960, died July 28, 1983. May her voice charm the angels of heaven.

His mother. Dead at age twenty-three. He recalled that day almost thirty years ago when he’d stood here with his father and family. That day he’d wondered if his mother would hate him from heaven for ruining her life by simply being born.

It was a question he still wondered about.

A heavy lump settled in the pit of his stomach.

Dad, will you hate me in death for doing what you denied of my mother? For having dreams that didn’t include you and making them come true?

He and his father hadn’t had a relationship since he was about ten years old, when John had beat him for sneaking into the barn to play his mother’s old guitar. But before then, his dad had been everything to him.

The first wave of regret hit him hard as memories of his early childhood fluttered to the surface, such as the Christmas when he was five and his father had given him his first fishing rod.

“You’ll be sure to catch some big ones with that, son.”

“Can we go now?”

“Not yet.” His father ruffled his hair and grinned. “But as soon as spring comes, we’ll go to the lake, and I’ll teach you how to fly fish.”

“Can Mike come along?”

John chuckled. “You bet. I think Santa Claus brought him the same thing. And if you’d like, we can bring Abby, too.” He winked and added, “I’m sure we can find a fishin’ rod she can use.”

“Yahoo!”

Like the photographs in an album, the snippets of his childhood passed over his mind’s eye. So many things from happier times.

“It’s my one chance, Dad. Why are you doing this? Ruining my mother’s dreams wasn’t enough, now you have to ruin mine, too? I’m going to Nashville. I’m going to sing in that competition and I’ll win. I’ll get that record deal.”

“If you leave, don’t bother comin’ back. You won’t be welcome.”

The bitterness of hateful words yelled in a fit of rage settled upon him. His back hurt with a phantom sting from all the times the belt had hit him. The shotgun his father fired the time he returned after winning the talent competition blasted his ears. The memory album slammed shut, smothering the spark of grief.

He swallowed the anger and the urge to drive away and never look back.

He looked up to see Abby watching him. No, he wasn’t going anywhere.

At least, not until he claimed what his fear of becoming like his mother--washed-up and dead by age twenty-three--had denied him. The one person he’d let Mike talk him out of ever getting to know, by playing on his fears.

His daughter.

* * * *

The old Victorian house on the Double K Ranch was packed with mourners from the funeral. The Ladies’ Auxiliary served beef barbeque sandwiches, baked beans, potato salad, and chocolate cake.

Abby had no appetite, but she carried her loaded plate out of the dining room with its old over-sized furniture to the wide wraparound porch. Several people milled around in small clusters, holding their plates and doing more talking than eating.

She smiled and greeted those who talked to her--not that many people did, but she didn’t stop--and continued searching for Seth. She had to find out what he intended to do now that he was back in McAllister.

“Do you think Seth will stay in town?”

She stopped and took a deep breath before facing the woman behind her. Tammy Jo had never liked her, but then she’d never quite understood what Mike had ever seen in the spoiled heiress.

“I doubt it. He’s famous. Nothing in McAllister mattered to him before.” She turned to move away from her ex-husband’s wife.

“I overheard him talking with his aunt.”

When Abby looked at her, Tammy Jo smiled and glanced around at the people on the porch. She could barely keep the disdain off her supermodel face. So, she still considered herself better than the rest of them.

Tammy Jo met her gaze again and her smile widened. “Seth asked her what his father planned for the ranch. Seems to me he’s thinking of moving here. How wonderful that would be. He’s so famous.”

“Yeah, wonderful,” she muttered. Of course, Tammy Jo would think so, now that Seth Kendall was famous and rich. But there had been a time she wouldn’t have given Seth a second glance.

Abby looked around again. She hadn’t seen Seth since arriving at the house after leaving the gravesite.

She’d see about him staying. He had no business here. He’d promised to come back. Oh, he’d come back all right, only to leave again. He hadn’t even wanted to see his baby. Chasing his dreams had been more important. Now, he could just keep on chasing them.

The numbed part of her heart belonging to Seth Kendall started to beat. The hurt was unbearable at the thought he’d leave her again.

Which was totally ridiculous. He had to go. His showing up now in Emily’s life would serve no purpose but to devastate her.

Mike walked up beside her and Tammy Jo. He smiled at his wife and kissed her on the cheek. She rested her hand on her seven-month baby bump and looked up at him with softness in her hazel eyes.

Mike glanced at Abby and then back to Tammy Jo. Abby’s heart skipped a beat at the answering love he held for his wife in his eyes. He’d never looked upon her like that, but then, neither she nor Mike had ever been in love.

“Sweetheart, I need to talk to Abby about Emily. Can you go find Miz Kendall and make sure she’s doing okay? She’s taking John’s death hard.”

Tammy Jo’s smile turned cold. “Of course.” High heels clicked across the porch as she strode into the kitchen.

The screen door closed with a bang, making Abby cringe. “You know she hates me.”

Mike swallowed and looked down at his hands. “She thinks you have some hold over me.” He met her gaze before turning away and heading off the porch. “C’mon.”

She set her plate of untouched food on the wide banister and followed Mike out onto the lawn. They passed Martha Gordon and two of Tammy Jo’s elderly aunts she took care of, as they sat under the trees in the garden eating and chatting. Mike nodded and tipped his hat at the older women.

“Sheriff Ritter, how you doin’? Getting ready for that baby?” Martha’s smile showed extra bright against her dark brown complexion.

“I’m doing fine, Miz Gordon. And I can’t wait until Tammy Jo has the baby.” He smiled as they continued walking. “Aunts Edna and Bea. Good to see you ladies out and about.”

The spinster sisters harrumphed and glared at Abby.

Martha glanced at the sisters and then back to her. “Good to see you, dear. The nursing home keepin’ you busy these days?”

She didn’t miss the curiosity in the woman’s words, or the McAllister sisters’ lips compressed into stern lines. “You too, Mrs. Gordon. Yes, I’m picking up some of Darlene Martinez’s hours.”

“Glad to hear you ain’t causin’ trouble.”

Mike raised a brow at her and then looked over his shoulder at the women. “We leave all the trouble to our daughter.”

Martha chuckled. “Now, I just bet that sweet little girl can cause a heap of trouble. But she sure was blessed with an angel’s voice. Will she be singing at the Founder’s Day picnic next month?”

Abby glanced at Mike before answering. Neither of them wanted Emily to sing publicly, but they also had long realized she had too much of her father in her to keep her quiet. “You know she will.”

Edna leaned closer to her sister and said just loud enough for Abby to hear, “I remember John having the same trouble with Seth. That boy would sing to the cows just to spite his daddy. God rest his soul.”

Abby’s breath caught at the comparison.

Mike held her gaze a beat before tipping his hat and smiling at the women again. “Have a good afternoon, ladies.”

Once they rounded the corner of the house and were out of earshot of the elderly women, Abby said, “Do you think people wonder where Emily’s talent comes from?”

“No.” He set his hand on her back and guided her to the white rail fence bordering the yard. “Talent may run in families, but that doesn’t automatically mean it has to. Besides, I have a cousin from Georgia who is a rock singer. So, talent does run in my family if anyone ever asks.”

He’d eased her mind a little. “You’re probably right.” She smiled and glanced at Mike as he looked out over the pastures. “You know most people think I’m hanging around you and your family because I want you back.”

Mike met her gaze and shoved his hands into his pockets. “We were pretty convincing when we were married. Our divorce surprised the whole town.”

“Yeah, we deserve an Academy Award for that performance.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She laughed and waved the comment off. “Nothing. It’s just amazing how easily we fooled everyone.” She leaned over the fence rail and stared at the cattle grazing on the buffalo grass. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” She met his deep brown eyes and smiled. “And I’m also sorry.”

“For what?”

She straightened and faced him as she pushed her hair from her face. A warm breeze blew across the flat grassland of the pastures. “You know what for. You and Tammy Jo. You were so head over heels crazy for her in high school. I wish I’d have known about your affair sooner. I’d have let you go then. It’s the least I could have done.”

She’d be lying to herself if she said his secret two-year affair with Tammy Jo hadn’t hurt, but she couldn’t be what Mike needed. She loved him, but not as a woman should love her husband. He’d always been more like a big brother to her. Her best friend.

Seth had been the one she’d burned for during those long nights while Mike slept on the far side of their bed. He never felt passion for her either. Soon after their marriage, they stopped trying to find it. Their nearly non-existent sex life had always been damned awkward.

He looked away and leaned his backside against a fence post. “I’ve always loved her. But I couldn’t turn my back on you--or Emily.”

He squinted against the glare of the sun. She’d always known what Mike sacrificed to be with her, to be a father to her baby, giving them a stable home.

The one thing she never understood was why he’d made the sacrifice. But now wasn’t the time to ask. Of course, he wouldn’t have told her anyway. He never had any of the other times she’d asked.

“Tammy Jo seems to be taking pregnancy well.”

Mike chuckled and seemed to peer down at his expensive rattlesnake boots. He’d left his suit jacket in his Mercedes, and the tie must be there, too. Tammy Jo might be able to dress Mike up to look the part as a member the upper crust of society, but deep down Mike Ritter was still a cowboy who’d never wanted to do anything but ride rodeo.

“She is,” he said. “The decorator just finished the baby’s room. You ought to see it. The suite is fit for a prince.”

She could imagine the expense of remodeling the old mansion in the center of town would probably feed a small country for a year too.

“So, she’s having a boy?”

When he turned to her, the purest joy shone in his dark, warm eyes. “Yeah. But you have to swear to secrecy. Tammy Jo wants it to be a surprise for everyone.”

She pushed loose hair from her face again, twisted the long mane and pulled it over her shoulder. “You got it. I’m happy for you. You always wanted a son.”

The warm breeze ruffled the blond hair on his forehead under his hat brim. “That doesn’t change what I feel for Emily. You know that, right?” He focused on her again. “I love her, Abby. That will never change. I’ve loved her since that first time I felt her kick when you were about four months pregnant. You remember that?”

“Yeah. You thought she was surely part bronco.”

The large yard stretched in front of her. She, Mike and Seth had played a lot of tag and hide-and-seek on this patch of grass. A storm must be brewing somewhere. She folded her arms against the sudden chill in the air and hoped it didn’t come to destroy their lives.

“You are her father in every way that matters. I know you love her.” Facing him, she leaned her shoulder against a fencepost. “Mike, what are we going to do? Tammy Jo said she overheard Seth voicing an interest in the ranch. If he inherits the Double K and stays, what will we tell your parents? They adore Emily. But I’m not sure I can keep Emily in the dark if he’s here. She idolizes him.”

He took her by the hand and squeezed. His eyes flashed with anger. “We don’t tell them a damned thing,” he said, his voice pitched low. “Especially Emily. Besides, what claim does he have on her? My name’s on her birth certificate. You said so yourself--I’m her father. He left you. He abandoned Emily. Hell, he came to the house and practically gloated, since I was married to you, he was relieved he didn’t have to be saddled with a baby.” He brushed his fingers over her cheek. “Abby, we can’t tell anyone. Do you understand what the truth would do to them? To Emily?

She nodded and clutched the folds of her skirt. The falsehood suddenly rubbed wrong on the painful spot in her heart belonging to Seth. “I suppose.”

He smiled and stepped away from the railing. “I better get back before someone sees us and thinks the unthinkable.” He squeezed her hand again before letting it go. “Abby, I’ve always been your friend. Nothing’s changed. I’m here if you need me. Don’t let your feelings for Seth sway you. Keeping Emily away from him is best for her. Think about how finding out about this will affect Mom. None of us want to bury her next.”

She nodded and smiled, but it felt forced. He was right. Carolann’s sick heart couldn’t take the pain or the stress if she discovered the truth about her only grandchild. “I know. Now, get back in there to that jealous wife of yours.”

He ambled across the yard and went around the corner of the house. She hugged herself and made her way to the old gazebo in the corner of the green expanse of grass. A grove of pecan trees provided shade for the structure. She plunged into the cool darkness when she stepped under the deeply pitched roof. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the dimness.

She ran her hand over the chipped white paint of the banister.

“Remember when you, Mike and I painted this old thing?”

At the sound of the deep voice, she spun, her hand going over her heart. Seth stood up from the swing hanging from the rafters on the other side. “Seth...”

She sucked in a breath and it caught in her throat. Time had changed him, but it had also made him even more devastatingly handsome. The dark tailored pants showed off his long legs and above-average height. The white dress shirt fit like a custom glove, outlining his broad shoulders. He’d lost the power tie he’d worn to the funeral. The top two buttons of his shirt lay open, and he’d rolled the sleeves to his elbows, showing off powerful forearms.

His coppery-blond hair curled over his collar and fell over his high forehead. A trimmed ginger-colored goatee hid the scar on his chin from a riding accident. The green ice of his eyes captured her gaze and made her heart race.

He gestured toward the pasture with a tall glass of what looked and smelled like whiskey. “I saw you and Mike. So, what happened? I thought you two would be together forever.”

She shrugged and turned away from him as he took a long sip from the glass. “I don’t see how that’s any of your damned business.”

A board in the floor creaked as he approached. She looked over her shoulder. He was so close. Her heart stuttered over a beat or two and something warm curled in her belly. How could he still affect her after everything he’d done to her?

He smiled, but it never reached his eyes. They remained two stormy seas ready to devour her in their relentless waves. “Oh, but I think it is very much my business. I want to see my daughter, Abigail.”

“You lost that right when you drove away that night.” She fisted her hands and faced him. “You lost that right when you let another man take your place in her life.”

He narrowed his eyes and leaned closer. His breath reeked from the whiskey. She wrinkled her nose at the painful memories of her father’s addiction to alcohol as much as from the stench.

“You know why I had to leave. It was my one and only chance. Goddamn it, you didn’t give me any other option.”

She snorted and squared her shoulders. “You had fame and fortune to chase. I’m glad you achieved your dreams. But it came with a price.”

“I told you I’d be back. But when I returned you were married to my best friend.”

“You were gone for seven months!” She gritted her teeth against the old hurt. “You never called or wrote, but I watched that damned talent show every week and cheered you on. Then the next thing I heard, you were dating Amanda Lang from the show. I figured you made your choice. You wanted no part of me or my baby. So, I made mine.”

“Amanda and I were and are just friends. The media blew that whole duet thing out of proportion. It wasn’t until I found out you were married and gave away my little girl that we became friends with benefits.”

The memory of watching them together on the show churned inside her. Maybe the media had taken an innocent friendship of two teenagers and attached a connotation that wasn’t there. Still, he couldn’t deny he and the blond, green-eyed pop star started dating two weeks after he returned to Nashville after his winning the show and had been in an on again-off again relationship for years.

He looked into his glass of whiskey. “I’m sorry I didn’t call or write. I was eighteen and scared shitless. I had to concentrate on winning, but the whole time I was thinking about you.”

She laughed, but instead of coming out bitter, it scratched and resounded with too much raw pain. “You were scared? What the hell do you think I was? I was seventeen and pregnant. My father was dying with a brain tumor, and I had a ranch to run.”

He grabbed her arm when she spun away. “I had to sing in that competition. Otherwise, it would’ve taken ten years to get to the kind of success I got from winning America’s Rising Star. If I ever got that chance again. My mother never did. This place killed her. I couldn’t let that happen to me. Or to you and our baby.”

She swallowed but couldn’t work her constricted throat.

“I wanted you to come with me.” His voice dipped low enough it might have been on the verge of cracking. “I wanted you and our baby, Abigail. You are the one who turned your back on me. You’re the one who couldn’t wait to fall into bed with my best friend.”

Oh, how she wished she could tell him the truth about her and Mike, but she wouldn’t. She glared at his hand on her upper arm, then at him. “You’re drunk. Let go, now.”

He stepped back, letting go. She was amazed at how calm she’d sounded, because inside her a twister had taken up residence. Her heart raced and her jaw and hands ached from clenching tightly. “You knew why I couldn’t run off to Nashville with you and live on dreams and fairytales. Mike understood, and he was here when I needed him. He gave me what you wouldn’t.”

But neither of them knew the real reason she didn’t go with Seth.

When she reached the grass again, she turned toward him and folded her arms in front of her. “If you’re thinking about staying here, you can forget it. I don’t want you around. My being divorced has nothing to do with you. Mike is still Emily’s father, and that’s how it’s going to stay.”

She blinked against the burn in her eyes. Damn, if she didn’t soon get out of here, she’d start bawling. “Go back to your fast cars and even faster women. Go back to your stadiums full of groupies and your high life as a Grammy-winning superstar. McAllister, Texas, has nothing for you. It never has.”