Page 160 of Passion at the Lake

I walked to Rusty’s truck. It mimicked his name. The rust might be the only thing holding it together. But it surprised me by starting on the first try.

As I slowly drove through downtown, looking for Boone, it struck me that I hadn’t even thanked him for his help tonight. How had I managed to turn into such a self-centered bitch?

I didn’t understand what Boone had said to get Kevin to leave, but the world was suddenly brighter for that fact. Boone had sacrificed to make that happen, and I hadn’t spent even a word acknowledging it.

I’d been so intent on taking control in dealing with Boone that I’d missed the most important part of a relationship, what had been missing between Kevin and me—real trust and respect. In my concentration on not being taken advantage of, I’d taken advantage of Boone, and he hadn’t complained once. He’d been too busy giving me things—material things, opportunities, experiences, and most importantly, choices. Every one of those acts of giving had chipped away at the armor protecting me until I hadn’t realized he’d broken through and I could no longer deny he had control of my heart.

That was the truth I’d been avoiding—the one I couldn’t acknowledge.

He’d come trying to apologize and explain, and what had I done? Kicked dirt in his face.Yep, self-centered bitch be me.

After cruising downtown and not seeing Boone’s truck anywhere, that only left the house. I drove slowly, trying out my speech on the dashboard, as if it might respond.

“I owe you a debt of gratitude.” Accurate, but no feeling.

“I’m sorry I didn’t thank you tonight.” Still accurate, still no feeling.

“I’ve been pretty terrible to you, and I’m sorry.” A little better.

“I’m sorry I walked away without trying harder and have been so terrible to you.” Still not good enough.

I turned into the drive at his house.

His truck was parked where it normally was. But there was also another car, a Toyota I didn’t recognize. If Lisa was here, what then? Was I too late?

My leg shook as I considered what to do. Determination had to win over fear that he had another woman here. If he was seeing her again—I’d pushed him into it. Needing a checklist, I started a mental one.

Step one, get rid of Lisa.

Step two, thank him profusely for giving me my freedom tonight. Maybe that should be step one, but maybe not.

Step three—I couldn’t decide how to word it, and I was already at the house.

After turning off the engine, I sat in the old truck with a leg that wouldn’t stop trembling and recalled Grace’s words. “This could have all been avoided if you two took the time to talk to each other and get the whole story.” I pulled out the folded papers I’d stuffed in my pocket after Grace forced them on me and started reading.

As I read, my breath almost halted. Grace had been right. If I’d known this, it would have changed everything. Boone had only seen the first page, and that explained so much—things he’d assumed, things I’d assumed—and neither of us had been right.

The man I’d called Daddy had screwed up my life all over again.

Scared shitless that I was too late, that Lisa had stolen my man, I left the safety of the truck, walked to the door, and knocked. Grace had called me a chickenshit, and I couldn’t let her be right.

It was true that I’d chickened out a thousand times before, but tonight would not add to that count. I wasn’t going down without a fight.

CHAPTER46

Angela

Boone opened the door,looking even worse than when he’d left the bar. His mouth dropped open a bit, as if he didn’t know what to say—or maybe what to do with me at his doorstep and a woman inside. Was he concerned about what Lisa would think of me showing up?

“I hope I’m not intruding.”Bullshit. If Lisa was inside, I sure as hell would enjoy being a pain in the ass.

He sighed. “Angela, what are you doing here?” He’d reverted to calling me Angela instead of Angel, but I’d brought that on myself.

I could see the bloody napkins from my initial first aid on the floor. Blood still oozed from his cut, and down his face.

When in doubt, fish. “I just didn’t recognize the car,” I said, thumbing in the direction of the Toyota.

He glanced at the rust bucket without inviting me in. “We’re even. I don’t recognize the one you’re driving.”

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