“All I’m doing is what you’ve asked for. I’m doing what you told me, and I’m totally fine with it. Don’t feel guilty. You’re doing me a favor. You’re speeding along exactly what would have eventually happened.

“I’m not quitting. I’m not going to start doing a bad job, or start deciding I’m not going to stay late if I have to, so you don’t have to worry about this affecting my work, all right? I’m just going to mind my own business like I should have been doing from the very beginning, Mr. Ripley, instead of spending my time and energy on something that would never happen,” I finished snapping out, the wind rushing from my lungs, my shoulders coming down hard when I hadn’t even realized how tight and high they had been in the first place.

God, I was pissed.

I was hurt. But mostly, I was pissed and exhausted, and some part of me wanted to cry, but I wasn’t going to. Not for someone with misguided guilt. Not for someone who wanted me to leave him alone. Not for someone who didn’t want me and never would.

We didn’t want the same things, and I had been too stubborn and desperate to see that.

I watched him the entire time I spoke. Witnessed the way his fists tightened. Took in the way the tendons at his throat became more pronounced.

But I missed the way his gaze changed.

And chances were, that wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

I felt bad for snapping at him. It wasn’t totally his fault I was at this point in my life, was it? He’d been just another hammer on my already bent nail. And none of this had been meant to force him to feel something that he wasn’t capable of.

“Look,” I said, ignoring how hollow and tired I sounded, “I should have treated you like my boss from the beginning. I haven’t, but I will from now on. I’m sorry for making it seem like you broke my heart. Sometimes I forget it got broken a long time before I met you. I’m sorry for making it seem like I was pressuring you into keeping me company or being nice to me. I’m sorry for forcing you into doing me all these favors.”

I met his gaze, ignoring the weird expression on his face. Ignoring the way his eyes were narrowed. “I’ve got enough going on without adding more problems. I just… want to pretend this didn’t happen. I want things to go back to the way they should have been from the beginning.”

From the moment we had met.

Rip blinked at me. He even swallowed too. It was so rough that the collar of his shirt dipped down to expose more of the skull at his throat than usual.

I managed to take a step back before he said my name.

I looked at him.

He tipped his chin up high and kept those blue-green irises on me as he said just about the last thing I ever would have expected from him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby girl.”

Yeah, I was sure he hadn’t.

“I didn’t,” he insisted like he’d read my freaking mind, watching me with those crazy eyes.

Sure.

Sure, he hadn’t.

I was so done with this. I just wanted to go back to when things were less complicated. I just wanted to be happy again.

“Well, you did, Mr. Ripley, and it’s fine.” I slid my tongue over my teeth and took a step back. “I need to get back to what you pay me to do. If you need anything else, let me know. I’ll be here for that.”

* * *

“Oh, honey,” Lydia cooed as she waved me into the same house that I had lived in with them for years.

Giving her a hug first, I stepped inside and waited while she shut the door behind us. I didn’t need to look around to know exactly what the layout was like. It hadn’t changed much in the time since I had moved out. Lydia had a thing for antiques, and most of the furniture was dark and cherry. From what she had told me, a lot of it had been inherited from her family, but some of it she had purchased herself—a few things with me when I had gone with her on my weekends off.

I remembered how nervous I had been for the first few months after moving in. I had kept worrying I would knock over something that had been in her family for generations. I had gone out of my way not to touch anything. The only nice thing I’d had at my dad’s house had been the television, and unless I’d been home alone, or stayed really, really quiet, I hadn’t really watched it.

If I was going to be honest with myself, even now, I was still nervous about knocking something over at the Cooper’s place.

“How are you?” I asked as I toed off my shoes.

She sighed. “I’m all right. Stressed. Worried. Hopeful.” She gave me an exhausted smile. “You?”

I shrugged, purposely shoving all thoughts about Ripley and his actions earlier that day into my imaginary trash can. “Okay. Busy at work.” I dropped my shoulders and returned her smile. ”Do you need help with anything?”

She shook her head, then stopped. “Actually, would you mind staying long enough for me to run out to the store and pick up his prescription? I was going to wait until Allen fell asleep, but if I can avoid driving at night… These eyes aren’t what they used to be….”

“You know I don’t mind. I was planning on staying anyway.” I tilted my head toward the door.

Lydia flashed me a smile that made me wonder what kind of woman Mr. Cooper’s first wife had been like that she had been the love of his life and this woman… wasn’t.

That was an unfair thought. They had always been happy and loving and warm, and Mr. C had always treated her like a queen.

“I won’t be long,” she promised, already reaching for the keys left in the bowl by the door.

“Take your time,” I said as I waited for her to grab her purse too.

It didn’t take long for her to leave. I left my purse where hers had been, and then made my way down to the living room down the hall. I’d spent countless nights on the couch next to the recliner that I found Mr. Cooper sitting in. The upper half was slanted back, his feet propped up on the footrest, and he honestly looked really, really good.

“Mr. C,” I called out softly when I realized I couldn’t see his face to see if he was asleep.

He wasn’t.

“Little moon?” His hand went into the air, waving me closer. “Come sit, unless you want something to drink.”

I made my way to the couch and sat down. “I’m fine, but do you want something?”

“No, I’ve got some water over here.” He pointed toward a bottle on the side table between his recliner and the couch. “Lydia has got me drowning in it.”

I couldn’t help but grin at him as I reached to slip my hand into his. “I told you that you needed to be chugging it.”

He squeezed my hand. “Still tastes like dirt.”

“You know what would taste like dirt?”

Mr. Cooper gave me a funny face.

“No salt on your food.” I raised my eyebrows as I slipped my hand out of his. “No bacon.”

The older man groaned. “Don’t remind me. They told me no caffeine either.” He sighed. “I guess it should be good you’ve been sneaking decaf into the mix for the last few years.”

If I hadn’t already let go of his hand, I would have right then. “You knew?”

“Yes.” He chuckled. “Sneaky girl. You remind me so much of someone I used to know.”

“Someone good?”

“The best,” he said softly before aiming that gaze, which I just realized was so much like Ripley’s, at me. “Luna… I’m sorry, honey. I’ve gotta tell you, it’s been eating me up inside.”

It was me who swallowed. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” I told him because it was the truth.

The older man shook his head, the face that had aged overnight from his heart attack, showing every inch of the ten years it seemed like he’d lost. “No, I do. I really do.”

He knew that I knew, or at least assumed that I had an idea or a guess that, he had kept something from me. “I understand that things are complicated sometimes, Mr. C. I’m sure you had your reasons,” I said as gently as possible. I had tried my best not to think about him and Rip, I really had.

I saw his hand going up toward his face before I saw the way tears had beaded up in his eyes and made them shiny. “None of them seem that good when I look back on it,” he admitted, his closed fist coming to rest over one eye. “I’ve screwed up a lot over the years, little moon, and I don’t have any good excuse why.”