Comfort Creek had changed over the last five years, and with it her friendship with Chance, but if she could find some balance with this man, perhaps she could do the same with the rest of her hometown, and find a way to make Comfort Creek home again despite her mistakes. Because Comfort Creek wouldn’t be the same without Chance in it, and home wouldn’t be quite the same without him in her life.
Sadie folded over the edge of a streamer and held it up against the pole.
“Staple it there, would you?” she said, and Chance stepped up next to her with the staple gun in hand. He smelled good—a combination of coffee and musk—and as the staple thunked into the wood, she glanced up at him and their eyes met.
The tiny crinkles around Chance’s eyes deepened as a smile turned up the corner of his lips. She swallowed, and would have stepped back, except she had nowhere to go, and truthfully, she was glad of that.
“You’re still really something,” he murmured.
“A pain in the neck?” she asked ruefully.
“For sure,” he said, humor tinging his tone. “And pretty. How come you couldn’t have lost some of that?”
“It takes more effort now,” she joked back. “If that helps.”
“I don’t believe that.” He reached forward and wrapped one of her curls around his finger, then sadness dimmed his eyes, and he released the curl and dropped his hand.
“You might have thought I was prettier than Noah ever did,” she said.
“I don’t believe that, either,” he said softly. “He loved you.”
Noah had adored her, but he hadn’t looked at her like this—that combination of tenderness and restraint that spoke of strength and longing. With Noah, she’d always felt like he was the good-looking one, and she was the woman fortunate enough to land him. He’d been respectful—always—and sweet. He’d been devoted, but there hadn’t been...whatever this was that she felt emanating from the big man in front of her.
“Should we get some of that coffee?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Yeah.” Chance stepped back, and held out a hand. She took it to stabilize herself as she hopped over an icy patch. He held on to her fingers for a moment longer than necessary, and then she tugged her hand free.
When she’d seen him for the first time in five years in the mayor’s office, she’d been terrified of what Chance would think of her, but now... Now she was more afraid of what she felt for him.
There was no use confusing things tonight. Sadie knew that she was drawn to Chance, and she knew that feeling was mutual, but that didn’t change anything. As Chance was so fond of saying, feelings didn’t change right and wrong. And feelings didn’t change who she was deep down, either.
Chance moved over to the edge of the stage and unscrewed the lid from the thermos. The coffee steamed deliciously in the frigid air, a finger of warmth twisting up from the plastic lid that served as a cup. He passed it over, and she took a sip.
“Are you having some?” she asked.
“Forgot an extra cup,” he said ruefully. “Go ahead.”
“I can share.” She passed it back, and his gaze caught hers, and then he lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip, too.
“I wanted to thank you,” he said quietly.
“For what?”
“For—” he looked around “—this. For not going along with everything the mayor wanted. I know it must have been hard. He’s a demanding man.”
It had taken a truckload of diplomacy to make Mayor Scott happy while keeping some quiet dignity to the event. While she could understand Chance’s position, the mayor was her boss. Still, she’d managed to limit the speeches to about two minutes per family.
“I think God was working behind the scenes on this one, too,” she admitted.
“Probably,” he agreed. “I might not like this, Sadie. It’ll be painful, but I’ll survive it.”
He understood her position, too, and she hated that even while doing her best to keep the ceremony dignified, it would still leave Chance in the spotlight. But she’d done her best.
“Chance, I’m sorry for how I handled things with Noah,” she said, tears misting her eyes. “It was my fault. I should have been brave enough to look at reality instead of just enjoying that engaged haze. I was selfish, and I was a coward when I ran off like I did. If I hadn’t—”
“It’s okay,” he said gruffly. “It wasn’t only you.”
“You’re trying to comfort me,” she said bitterly. “But I’m not going to look for the easy way out of this, Chance.”
Chance eyed her for a moment, then said quietly, “Noah was going to break up with you about two months before the wedding.”
Sadie froze. “He—” She pushed a curl out of her eyes, his words settling in her mind.
“I’m the one who talked him out of it.” Chance’s expression was grim. “So you aren’t alone in this. If I’d let him do what he felt was right, you’d have been off the hook and he might not have felt like he had to take off like he did.”
“How come?” she whispered. Had Noah seen the truth inside of her? Had he noticed that she was just a little too much like her mother for comfort?
“Why did he want to break it off, or why did I stop him?” Chance asked ruefully.
“Both.”
Chance handed her the coffee and she held the cup, but kept her eyes locked on him.
“It was when you were asking to just elope,” Chance said. “He sensed that you two wanted something different out of life. He wanted the big wedding. He wanted all his friends, extended family, coworkers, the works. You were getting skittish. You wanted less and less for that wedding.”
She remembered that. She’d been scared of the vows, of the ceremony before God that would bind her for life to the sweet and handsome Noah Morgan. She’d thought that if they had a smaller ceremony, it might take away her jitters—but it wouldn’t have fixed it. She knew that now. Her problem hadn’t been with wedding details, it had been something deep inside of her that was destined to send her running.
“And you told him...what exactly?” she asked hesitantly.
“I told him that he’d just landed the most beautiful, most interesting, most amazing woman in the county, and if he let arguments over one day ruin the best thing that ever happened to him, he’d always regret it.” Chance’s voice was low and warm.
“Oh,” she whispered. If only Noah had followed his gut and dumped her back then. She would have been embarrassed, and a little heartbroken, but she’d have survived it. They both would have. “Chance, you’re being too hard on yourself. You were being supportive. You can’t blame yourself for not seeing the future.”
“It’s not quite that simple.” He shook his head. “I pushed him back into that wedding because I was blinded by my own feelings for you. I thought I was being the good guy. I was putting aside anything I felt for you for my brother’s greater good. But the truth is, I was so focused on trying to turn my feelings off, that I didn’t even see it when my brother was making the right call.”
Sadie was stunned, and they stood there in silence as a chilly wind wound around them. A soft ping resonated from Chance’s pocket, and he pulled out his phone and looked at it.
“An email from the mayor,” he said grimly, and he tapped the screen. She watched his face as he read the message, and his expression turned icy, and then his eyes snapped in anger.
“What?” she asked, but then her cell phone pinged, too, and she pulled hers out and opened the email the mayor sent to both of them.
Sadie and Chance, just to let you know I’ve made some adjustments to the ceremony. I’ve spoken with several family members personally and asked them to share some memories of the fallen soldiers from childhood, etc. They’ve agreed to speak at the event tomorrow, so I’ll need you to slot them in. Sadie, the Flores family is hesitant, but I’m sure you
’ll be able to reassure them. I’ll be speaking on behalf of my own son. Chance, I’ll also need you to prepare a lengthier tribute about your brother. I know you don’t like that idea, but I’m sure your professionalism will prevail. Thanks so much to both of you. I’ll see you in the morning.
Sadie’s heart sank. So much for keeping this ceremony as painless as possible for Chance. She’d allotted some time for very brief words from the families, but it looked like the mayor would have his way, regardless.
* * *
Chance dropped his phone back into his pocket and tried to calm the rising anger that simmered deep inside his chest. Anger was easier to deal with than the cacophony of emotions that swirled underneath. He didn’t dare lift that lid.
Sadie was staring at her phone. She slowly raised her gaze to meet his, and then she flinched. Okay, maybe he wasn’t hiding his feelings very well right now, so he looked away, attempting to regain his composure. His feelings weren’t her problem—not his grief, and not his love.
“You’re mad,” she said.
“Yes, I’m mad.” He could hear the steel in his own voice. “And I’m not complying with the mayor’s demands.”
What was he supposed to do—stand in front of this town and share his grief? He had careful walls built up around that part of his heart, and if he started taking down bricks, he couldn’t guarantee he’d maintain his control. He wouldn’t weep openly in public, and the mayor could not force this onto him.
“You don’t have to.”
Chance felt Sadie’s hand touch his sleeve, and he turned back toward her. That part of his heart that was still torn and raw from his brother’s death was the same part of his heart that had cherished a love for Sadie. It was all entangled inside of him: his brother, his loyalties and the one woman they’d both loved and what that had done to their relationship.
“I know.” He sucked in a breath. “I’ve prayed so hard that God would heal this grief, take me through it, hurry up this process...”
Sadie’s eyes misted, and in them he could see that she understood. Maybe she was the only one who truly could—the one who’d been an unwitting part of it all.
“But God isn’t answering.” He cast about, looking for the words to explain. “Everything is about Noah all over again, and the minute I think I’m doing better, something else happens to push me off balance.”
Sadie shook her head. “Nana assures me that the Lord’s a very good shepherd, though. He always gets His lamb back safely.”
“I feel like I’m still lost out there.” Chance rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I’d been praying for strength, and I felt like God was finally giving me what I needed, and then you came to town...and I was right back in the thick of it again.”
Even though he knew it wasn’t her fault. He could see the hurt in her face and he regretted his words. This was why he didn’t take the cap off of his feelings around other people. It could get messy.
“It isn’t your fault,” he clarified. “It’s mine. I’m the one who—” He swallowed, not willing to finish. He was the one who kissed her. He was the one who’d loved her...
“Maybe we need to sort this out between us,” she suggested. “Our part in it, at least. I know that I’m seeing myself a whole lot differently than I ever did before. In Denver, I thought I was innocent—having walked away from a wedding that I knew was wrong for me, I thought that left me in the clear. But I can see now that I was selfish and thoughtless, and I hurt Noah...and you. It wasn’t quite so simple, and it wasn’t all about me, either.”
Chance had betrayed his brother, too, and his vow to keep those walls up and stand by and support that wedding hadn’t worked as well as he thought. He hadn’t been strong enough—no matter how strong he thought he was. He wanted to be a better man than this, and he couldn’t do it alone, and God wasn’t giving him the strength. He’d never felt so lost.
“I was in love with you,” he confessed, and tears rose in his eyes. “I don’t mean I had a crush, or I thought you were cute. I mean I was head over heels in love with you, and time didn’t make it any better. I watched you with my brother, knowing that he was the one you wanted, and even that dose of reality wasn’t enough to put my head on straight. Every single day, every single anniversary you celebrated with him, I loved you...”
Sadie stared at him, dark eyes fixed on him in what he could only assume was shock. She blinked twice, then dropped her gaze.
“That was five years ago, Chance,” she said. “You can forgive yourself—”
He put a finger under her chin and lifted her face. She needed to hear this—to understand why he couldn’t forgive himself yet. “I still love you.”
She searched his face, then shook her head. “But—”
“Don’t you get it?” Chance pleaded. “I loved you when you belonged with my brother. And I loved you when you walked out on him. There was no way my brother could stay where I was. That wasn’t about you, it was about me. I loved you, and he knew it. What kind of comfort was I?”
Tears misted her eyes, and she put a hand on his chest—her touch so light that he could barely feel it. He slid his palm over her fingers and pressed her hand against him. His heart beat in response to her, and he wished he could turn that off somehow, but he was so used to loving her that he couldn’t stop.
“Chance, I—”
He couldn’t listen to the words—the letdown, the rejection. He knew she didn’t feel like he did. She never had, and so he bent and closed that distance between them with a kiss that pulsed with longing and regret. She froze when his lips met hers, but after a moment she moved closer to him and he slid his arms around her waist as her eyes fluttered shut and the cold melted away around them. But he had to stop. He pulled back and pressed his lips together.
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
Her words hit him like a blow to the chest, and he reached for her hand. “You do?”
“You were the one I came to for all of my problems—small as they were,” she said, her voice quavering. She squeezed his fingers. “You were the one I missed when I was in the city. You were the one I worried about when Noah passed away...”
A tear escaped her lashes, and he reached over and brushed it from her cheek.
“But we can’t do this.” She leaned her cheek into his palm, her dewy eyes searching his for understanding.
He knew she was right. His love for her had been the betrayal all along. Noah’s death wasn’t her fault, it was his. He’d known better and he’d done everything he knew how in order to support his brother and crush those feelings for good, but he hadn’t been successful.
“It wouldn’t be right,” he said. “Not with our history.”
He pulled his hand back.
“Not only that,” she said, stepping back and straightening her shoulders. Taking her distance—it almost physically hurt him. “I know myself, Chance. That life here in Comfort Creek—the house, the kids, the minivan, the white picket fence—it should be enough, and for any other woman it would be. But it wasn’t enough to fulfill me. I think I’ve inherited a little too much from my mother. If my inability to commit to a career path all those years didn’t prove it, then I certainly proved it with Noah.”
Sadie might love him, too, but he had even less to offer than Noah had. Noah had the newly built house, the flourishing business, the charisma... Chance was the quiet one, the reserved one. He didn’t draw women to him by virtue of his personality. He couldn’t offer half of what his brother had tried to give Sadie, and all that Noah had to give hadn’t been enough.
“Maybe this is what I needed,” Chance said, his voice raw. “To face it. To say it out loud. A sort of confession.”
“I missed you so much, Chance.”
“Me, too,” he said gruffly, and then he pushed his hands into his pockets.
They were silent, and a swirl of sno
w swept around them. The cold was seeping into his boots and his coat, and he noticed Sadie shiver. They’d said it all. There was no fixing something they never should have started.
“I think I’d better get going,” he said softly. “Do you need me to see you home safely?”
She shook her head, eyes shining with tears in the pool of lamplight. “I have my car.”
That’s right—he’d seen it. But after that kiss, he didn’t trust himself on that porch with her again anyway. Sadie pulled herself up to her full five foot four and she fell into step beside him as they walked side by side toward their vehicles. There was something about that determined stance that made him long to close the distance between them again, spin her around and pull her into his arms. He’d wanted to do it for years—every time he walked next to her as her future brother-in-law. He’d spent years longing to shake her out of it, make her see him finally, show her what was stewing inside of his heart, the love that time couldn’t cure. But his loyalty to his brother wouldn’t let him.
Chance’s silent, unrequited love for Sadie had pushed his brother away, and no amount of wishful thinking could change that. There was right, and there was wrong...
It took every ounce of strength he had to get into his car and watch her drive away. He’d loved her for so long now, that he wasn’t going to just stop. But at least he could make the right choice. It was a first step.
Lord, even in the Twelve-Step programs, it all starts with recognition of You. I can’t get over her. I can’t stop loving her... I’m at rock bottom. Please, Father—lift me up!
Whether he was weak or strong, feelings didn’t change right and wrong.
Chapter Thirteen
When Sadie got home that evening, she felt like her chest was filled with water. She longed to cry—to empty out that sodden feeling—but she couldn’t. Her ability to weep was blocked up, and her heart weighed her down. It was the feeling of drowning while she could still breathe, and all she wanted to do was to call Chance and hear his voice again...but what was the point? Perhaps this was a taste of the heartbreak she’d inflicted upon Noah, and if that were the case, she deserved it.
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