After the close atmosphere of the restaurant, it felt good to step out into the cool night air. They were quiet as they crossed the parking lot, feet crunching on the pea gravel, shoulders brushing occasionally.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” Christy-Lynn said when they reached the Rover. “I can’t tell what you’re thinking, but I hope you’re not miffed because of anything I said in there.”

“No,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’m not miffed. I’m just trying to figure out if it’s worth the trouble. Maybe Simone was right. Maybe it’s all just a big pipe dream.”

“It isn’t a pipe dream, Wade. The book has real potential. In fact, with a little tweaking, you might really have something.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being a friend now or an editor.”

She smiled at that. “One doesn’t necessarily preclude the other. And I meant every word. Just show your readers that there’s more to Vance than anger. Give them some layers to peel back. Show the chinks in his armor. He can be mad as hell at the start of the book, but at some point, we need to see that there’s a way out of all that darkness.”

“And if there isn’t?”

Christy-Lynn was fumbling in her purse for her car keys. The sudden gravity in his tone made her look up. “There’s always a way out.”

“You say that like you believe it.”

She looked up through her bangs to meet his gaze. “I have to. Otherwise you don’t have a book—or a life.”

“Was that for you or for me?”

She shrugged. “Both, I guess. The other day Missy said something that got me thinking. She said the word never represents all the doors we keep closed, that when we say never we close ourselves off from the hope that things can ever be different.”

Wade tilted his head to one side, studying her in a way that made her want to look away but made looking away impossible. She felt rooted to the spot, paralyzed by something she could feel but not name. Finally, he reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear.

“Are there things you’d like to be different, Christy-Lynn Parker?”

His touch was warm and unsettlingly familiar, and for an instant, Christy-Lynn felt one of Missy’s closed doors nudge open. But it was a door almost certain to lead to heartache—for both of them. She took a step back and would have taken another if she wasn’t already pressed against the car door. “Please . . . don’t do this. Don’t try to get in my head and figure me out. I promise you, it isn’t worth it.”

“It was just a question.” He was standing so close his voice seemed to vibrate in her chest. “Do you know the answer?”

She sighed, dropping her head. “Sometimes it just is what it is, Wade. There are things we can change and things we can’t. The key is knowing the difference.”

“Wait. Weren’t you the one just lecturing me about the word never? Maybe you should take your own advice.”

“Actually, it was Missy’s advice. I was just thinking out loud.” Christy-Lynn glanced about helplessly, wishing there was some way to escape without making a fool of herself. The longer they lingered, face-to-face in the nearly deserted lot, the more vivid the memory of their brief kiss became, stirring impulses she didn’t dare trust. She cleared her throat, fidgeting with her keys. “Look, I need to get home. It’s getting late, and I’ve got a ton of e-mails to answer.”

Wade took a quick step back. “I did it again, didn’t I?”

“Did what?”

“Pushed you. Scared you. I didn’t mean to.”

She shook her head, smiling sadly as she unlocked the door and slid behind the wheel. There was no way to explain what she was feeling. It was like standing at the edge of a cliff, longing, inexplicably, to hurl herself off, knowing she’d never survive the fall. She wasn’t cut out to be the other half of anything, no matter how tempted she was—and she was tempted.

“You didn’t scare me,” she said, reaching for the door handle. “I scared me.”

“Wait!” Wade grabbed the door before she could pull it closed. “I don’t know what that means.”

“You don’t have to know,” she said, letting the smile slip. “As long as I do.”

FORTY-ONE

Sweetwater, Virginia

August 9, 2017

Christy-Lynn turned the freshly delivered FedEx envelope over in her hands. Peter had called yesterday to let her know he was finally overnighting the trust papers, asking her again if she was sure she wanted to proceed. Nothing was final until the papers were signed. But after weeks of weighing the pros and cons, she saw no reason to change her mind.

It wasn’t like there’d be a lot of personal contact. Peter had strongly urged her to name him as point person, expressing concerns that in the event of an “irregularity” she might prove less than objective. She agreed, not because she didn’t trust her objectivity, but because keeping a little distance might be a good thing. Once she’d helped Rhetta settle the housing and school questions, her duties would amount to little more than reviewing the monthly statements. But her conscience would be clear.

She slid the pages free, staring at the words on the top sheet: Revocable Living Trust. She leafed through the rest, noting the tiny green and yellow flags strategically placed near the lines to be signed by each party, then realized she’d better call Rhetta and let her know her copies would be arriving in the next day or so.