Page 3 of Long Road Home

“Sorry,” I whispered. “So sorry, honey.”

I dropped his hand and pulled him in front of me. My hands went to his shoulders.

The pastor finished.

The crowd departed. A few dropped their own single pink rose on Tillie’s casket. Most I recognized, some I nodded toward, but not a single person stepped up to me. No one offered their condolences.

Why would they? At one point, I’d been the most hated female in Carlton.

Born from trash, left like trash, raised by a woman who loved Jesus and didn’t give a hoot what people said about her. Then I’d gone and fallen in love with the golden boy from the Marx family, which only elicited more hatred flung in my direction. I figured the entire town would love me when I broke up with him and disappeared.

How wrong I’d been.

Toby and I stayed in our spot. He must have known I needed that because he didn’t fidget once. We stayed there until the crowd dispersed. Cars started pulling out of the long line in the distance, and Pastor Emmerson walked toward us, a sad, gentle smile on his face.

“Tillie will be missed by everyone who knew her,” he said.

“Thank you.”

To my side, a shadow was looming, moving closer.

Emmerson lifted his head and he grinned in that direction. “Jordan. I’m sorry for your loss as well. Thank you for all you’ve done for her.”

What the hell? What did that mean? My shoulders tightened as Jordan’s steps, now audible, grew louder. Fight or flee battled in my blood and it was pure will that kept my gaze on the pastor.

His smile turned soft as he turned back to me. “Take all the time you need here. I’ll give you some time alone with her.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, my lips barely being able to form the word. They’d gone dry as the desert and it had nothing to do with the heat.

It had everything to do with the man still standing behind us.

I’d always been able to sense him. Always knew when he was near. I’d perfected my Jordan Marx radar before he ever knew I existed. He’d been the only other person in town besides Tillie who gave a shit about me. He’d protected me, cared for me, loved me with a love harder than any I’d had since.

I’d adored him.

But right then, at my grandmother’s burial, back in Carlton, the son he didn’t know he had, in my arms, I didn’t adore him, and I most definitely wasn’t happy to see him.

I was terrified right down to the depths of my soul.

“Didn’t think you’d have the guts to come back here.”

Two

Jordan

I hadn’t meantto walk to her. As soon as I saw Destiny with her long, platinum hair pulled back into a ponytail at the base of her neck and long, trim body in a skintight black dress that skirted the tops of her knees, sleeves that cupped the curve of her shoulders and hugged her other curves perfectly, my blood immediately started racing.

I spent the time at the service with my hands curled into fists, ready to knock out the next damn person who spoke another negative word about her returning to Carlton for her grandmother’s funeral.

Good freaking hell, the people in this damn town who could never let the past go. I thought I’d done it. Hell, over the last two years the pain of walking in Tillie’s house had become so minimal I sometimes didn’t notice it until I’d left. But seeing Destiny in person? She stole my breath and my protective instincts slammed in my chest exactly like they always used to.

And then, that boy, that little boy who didn’t quite reach her shoulders had stood next to her, holding her hand. His face dipped toward the casket, shoulders occasionally shaking.

She had a fucking kid. A boy. And she had the nerve to bring him here? To my damn town? The town she’d left without a single hint of remorse? She disappeared on the only person other than me who gave a shit about her and now she thought she had the right to parade her sexy little body and her boy at the funeral like Tillie meant something to her?

Hell, she hadn’t even kept in touch with Tillie. She hadn’t bothered to check in on her or show up when Tillie needed help, getting too old and too sick to handle her house and her life on her own.

The urge to slap sense into her hit me hard and fast. Before I could stop myself, I was behind her, shooting daggers out of my eyes at her until she looked my way. Her tanned, flawless, perfect skin turned alabaster white.

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