Chapter 13

thirteen

MARK

“What’s up?” Candace asked slowly, eyes shadowed with worry.

She was sitting next to me on the couch, but I’d never mistake this for a relaxing movie night. There was distance between us, with the weight of the upcoming conversation, and I’d been the one to put it there.

I swallowed thickly, then licked my lips. “Listen, Candace. I don’t really date.”

“Ohhh,” she murmured as if a lightbulb had gone off. “You prefer hookups.”

“What? No. I don’t—I don’t do that either.”

“Because you don’t like women?” she wondered.

A startled laugh jumped up and over the truth trapped in my throat. “No, Candace. I like women. Well, I like you.”

She smiled a little at that. “But you don’t date.”

“Not really. No.”

Candace looked thoughtful. “Because you have a daughter?”

I watched her for a long moment, unsure how to begin. It wasn’t a story I’d ever told. I knew Candace was leaving. I knew this thing between us—new and tentative—was temporary at best, destined for failure at worst .

None of this was really my secret to tell, but I knew I could trust her.

“Remember last month, at the farmers’ market, you asked me about being a dad?”

“Yeah,” she replied sheepishly.

“Well, I wasn’t truthful with you, and, for that, I’m sorry. Hannah and I got married in college, but it’s not what you think.”

The words felt like a tangled mess. Where to start? How much to say?

“You have to understand how important Hannah was to me at the time. Her family—the Prices—basically took me under their wings. You probably heard the rumors back in school, but my mother died when I was young and I never knew my father.” I swallowed that old, familiar hurt and made myself say the rest. “My aunt moved us to Kirby Falls when I was in middle school, and she didn’t—she wasn’t capable of giving me a homelife like kids should have. The Prices lived next door, and they welcomed me. Hannah was my first real friend.”

Hesitating, I wondered what to say next.

Candace’s hand slipped into mine. When she squeezed gently, I realized I’d been silent too long.

Tilting my head, I met her gaze—patient, kind, and completely open. “But in college, we grew apart. By junior year, I hardly saw her. She came to me then because she needed help. She—she got pregnant, and the father of the baby didn’t want her to keep it. Hannah knew how her parents would react to a child born out of wedlock, so she asked me to help her.”

Candace’s lips parted in surprise.

“So I married her,” I admitted. “We got special married housing on campus, and I stayed with the baby so Hannah could finish up her final semester and graduate. Then we moved back to Kirby Falls. I bought this house with the money I’d saved for school. She got a job teaching at the elementary school. Things worked for a while.”

That might have been an exaggeration, but, at the time, it had felt true enough. I didn’t love Hannah romantically, but she was my friend. And we had Lyndsey .

“I always meant to go back and finish my degree, but I got my job at the orchard. I was happy there.”

While that was accurate, it wasn’t the whole reason. Truthfully, I got caught up in my fake marriage and my fake life. And then later, after it all went wrong, I was all alone, missing a kid that wasn’t even mine.

Those early days back in Kirby Falls had been about performing, showing off our young family. There had been constant dinners with Reverend and Mrs. Price. Church picnics where everyone wanted to see Lyndsey and hold her.

It was like college had never happened. Everything revolved around the Prices. My entire world was back to the limited view I’d had as an adolescent, but instead of Hannah being my young savior, I’d been hers. I played the role of a loving husband; there was no part of being Lyndsey’s father, though, that I had to fake.

Another squeeze of my hand brought me back to myself. I looked down to where Candace’s fingers wrapped around mine and told her the rest.

“Lyndsey was just over a year old when Hannah told me she wanted a divorce. She’d been dating someone she met online, and she was leaving to be with him. They’re married now. Live in Tennessee, outside of Nashville.”

“She just . . . took the baby?” she asked, disbelief coloring her tone.

“Yeah. Hannah thought a clean break would be best. Lyndsey was too small to remember me.” Saying those words were just as terrible as thinking them. Knowing they were true was a different kind of wound.

Candace was quiet for long moments while I wrestled with my emotions.

We just sat there, the truth heavy between us, her hand firmly holding mine. Finally, she said, “I don’t understand. What was the plan long-term? You were just going to stay married to Hannah? Sacrifice your own future and happiness? Or did you—did you love her?”

I shook my head and met her gaze. “No. We didn’t ever really get that far. We weren’t married long, and so much of that time was spent surviving with a newborn. Maybe, eventually, we would have discussed the future...” As my voice trailed off, I thought about the reason why we’d probably never gotten to that point. “Right after Lyndsey was born, Hannah tried to kiss me. I was gentle with her but told her no. She was my best friend, but I didn’t love her like that. She played it off like it was fine, just hormones. But looking back, I don’t know.”

Part of me thought that was the beginning of the end. Once Hannah realized we’d never be a family in truth, she’d gone out and looked for a better option. I guess she’d found it.

Candace made a sympathetic sound. “Then not long after, she said she was seeing someone else?”

“I couldn’t give her what she was looking for,” I admitted, feeling that old familiar shame rise up. Maybe if I’d just tried, kissed her back, it would have made our marriage real. Maybe someday I could have loved her. Maybe I’d still have Lyndsey if?—

“You gave up your whole life, Mark,” Candace said, her voice sharp enough that it pulled me out of my regrets. “You shouldn’t have had to give her your heart, too.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

Candace added, “I’m sorry for what you lost. And I’m sorry you were ever put into that position in the first place. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right.”

I felt my brows furrow. “It wasn’t like that, Candace. I don’t—I’m not mad?—”

“You should be,” she argued. “Hannah took advantage of your friendship. She used you, cheated on you, and then cast you aside when you were no longer convenient. Let me guess, you never once cheated on her. I bet you honored your marriage vows even though they were fake.”

My heart rate had picked up steadily as she spoke. Now it felt like I was halfway through a ten-mile run. Why was Candace saying these things? I didn’t tell her the truth to bash Hannah or to gain sympathy for myself.

Of course, I’d kept my vows. Even when Hannah had blindsided me with a divorce, I didn’t go out looking for a way to get back at her. Maybe we hadn’t married for the right reasons, but I never saw it as a free-for-all. Marriage wasn’t about keeping score or keeping things even. It wasn’t every man for himself. At least, not for me .

“It wasn’t like that, Candace. Besides, it’s over now anyway.”

“It’s not over. You’re still in this town, and everyone thinks it’s your choice to not be in your daughter’s life. When the truth is that Hannah took her away from you.”

I was already shaking my head, frustration forcing the words through gritted teeth. “She’s not my daughter. I have no claim on that little girl. No rights.”

But Candace ignored me, eyes blazing with anger on my behalf. “Does her new husband think you’re some deadbeat dad? Please tell me her parents know the truth. That she’s not perpetuating this lie from three hundred miles away?”

Her words had my throat going tight, and I couldn’t answer. But by the way her face fell, I knew she’d figured it out.

Anger and shame swirled together in an irrational vortex. I dropped her hand. My voice was gruffer than I intended when I demanded, “I don’t want to do this. I didn’t tell you the truth so you could throw it in my face. I told you because I couldn’t stand the thought of lying to you. Of being with you and you not knowing me.”

After a few moments, Candace took a deep breath and pressed her knee gently against mine. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted that way. You’re right. You were telling me something sensitive and private, and I made it about me. I’m so sorry, Mark.” I heard her swallow. “We can drop it. Talk about something else. Or I can go, if that would be better.”

Now that my own breathing had evened out, I could think again. Did I want Candace to go? Was this how I wanted our first date—or whatever it was—to end?

I tapped her knee with mine and met her worried gaze. “You don’t need to go. I was thinking about having a fire outside. Maybe we can sit out there and talk?”

A tentative smile touched the corners of her full lips. “I’d like that. And if you want to tell me more about Lyndsey, I’d love to hear about her.”

A welcome ache flared to life in the center of my chest. I hardly let myself think about the little girl I’d lost. I definitely never talked about her. There wasn’t anyone I could talk to. Hannah had cut off contact over two years ago, following our divorce. And to her parents, I was public enemy number one. The Prices had stopped being my family when I let their daughter leave the state and marry someone else. As if I had a choice. I wasn’t going to stop Hannah from living her life. Our friendship had grown twisted and tainted by then, but I still wanted her to be happy. I wanted that for her daughter as well.

The offer to open up and talk about Lyndsey felt like a gift.

“Yeah,” I finally replied. “That would be nice.”

Candace

My first date with Mark Mercer was not going how I’d expected.

I never could have anticipated sitting around the fire pit in his gorgeous backyard while the quiet man told me about his marriage of convenience to his childhood best friend. I didn’t even think those were real outside of historical romance novels. But here the modern example sat, clearly suffering from the trauma of the experience, from the unbelievable selfishness of his ex-wife and former best friend.

I’d listened to Mark reveal the truth of his marriage with shaking hands and so much unspent rage that I could hardly think straight. If I’d been thinking, I probably wouldn’t have blurted out all that stuff about Hannah, but it had been hard to resist.

But seriously, fuck Hannah Price. I couldn’t believe she’d put Mark through so much. He’d given up his education and his future to save her from her terrible family. He’d assumed the care of a newborn and obviously fallen in love with that baby, because hearing him talk about Lyndsey now was heartbreaking. Hannah had asked all of this of Mark, and then left him holding the bag when a better option came along.

She clearly only worried about her own relationship with her parents while she ignored the fact they were Mark’s only family too. It was unforgivable that Hannah left for Tennessee, content to let everyone think that Mark didn’t love or care for his child. I’d seen the gossip firsthand, what the Prices had let perpetuate in their daughter’s absence. It was cruel and unfair after all Mark had done to protect Hannah.

But from Mark’s reaction earlier, acknowledging Hannah’s terrible behavior wasn’t welcome. He was too loyal for his own good. Mark was still protecting the shy girl he’d befriended in middle school even though she was a grown-ass woman who needed to own up to what she’d done.

Beneath my simmering anger, however, was the realization that Mark Mercer was, probably, the best man I’d ever met. He’d kept Hannah’s secret to his own detriment. He had sacrificed his own happiness for that of a friend. His loyalty and integrity were unmatched.

I’d known he was a good person from the beginning. His quiet, gentle nature had immediately put me at ease. And now, in knowing the truth about his relationship with Hannah, I’d learned just how selfless and big-hearted he was. As a result, my own heart ached at all that Mark had endured.

“Was she a good baby?” I asked gently.

Mark took a sip from his beer and tucked the plaid fleece blanket more tightly around my feet.

Following his tense confession in the living room, Mark had led me back outside. He’d built a roaring fire, scooted my chair close, draped the cozy fabric across my legs, and pulled my feet into his lap. The night air was chilly, but there wasn’t any chance I’d get cold. Mark would never allow that.

He smiled as he gazed at the flames, distant, as if calling up a memory he’d hidden away, uncovering the cobwebs and bringing it out into the light. “No, not at all.” His quiet laugh pierced a hole in my heart, and I felt my nose sting all of a sudden. “She spit up all the time. Like a little geyser. Hannah had trouble breastfeeding, so we gave Lyndsey formula. For a while, we tried different ones, in case she had sensitivities, and then different types of bottles. But she never seemed to have stomach pain or anything like that, she just spit up a lot. There was one day where I had no clean tee shirts left, and then she threw up on my bare chest and I just gave up trying to smell like anything other than spoiled milk.”

I smiled as I watched the firelight dance across his face .

The thought of big, strong, baby-wearing Mark did ridiculous things to my ovaries. This was not the time.

“And then,” he murmured followed by another aching, memory-laced laugh, “she didn’t sleep, and if she did, you had to be holding her. There was this two-month stretch where she cried in the evenings. Every night at seven. Like clockwork. But I figured out, if I wore her in the front carrier and danced around our tiny apartment, she’d settle. And if I played Ed Sheeran, she’d be content. Basically, Ed Sheeran saved my life.”

He’d given me a list of reasons why Lyndsey hadn’t been a good baby, but he was still smiling, looking so utterly fond that I had to pinch the outside of my thigh to keep from crying.

I cleared the emotion from my throat and said seriously, “You should send him a fruit basket.”

Mark caught my eye and laughed. He looked almost grateful. As relieved as someone could be while discussing something painful.

I wondered if Mark had ever gotten to discuss Lyndsey since Hannah had ripped her from his life. Who could he confide in? I assumed no one else knew the truth. He carried these memories and never got to share them. Maybe Mark needed this. Maybe it was a good thing.

I wouldn’t make him regret telling me the truth. Even if I hated Hannah Price and thought she deserved a scarlet A and a come-to-Jesus moment with her family. He’d trusted me with this secret—one that he guarded fiercely. Being the person Mark opened up to was humbling.

“You know,” Mark said eventually, after his laughter subsided, “I knew she wasn’t mine. But she felt like she was. All those nights when she wouldn’t sleep unless I was the one holding her, they meant something. When she was about eight months old, she refused to take a bottle from anyone but me. Even Hannah couldn’t soothe her. I knew it wasn’t right, but I liked being her favorite. I might not have been her real dad, but she picked me. This little baby who didn’t share my blood, never had my eye or hair color. She didn’t know any better, but she was still mine for as long as I got to keep her.”

My eyes burned as the pressure behind them built, but I didn’t want Mark to stop talking .

A sad smile crossed his lips as he stared at the fire. “After they moved away, I got hung up on the most unexpected things. Like how I’d never get to coach Lyndsey’s sports team or go to a dance recital or watch whatever it was she was interested in as she grew. Because that would be the fun of it. To see her get big and change and figure out all the things she loved most. To see the person she’d become. Maybe she’d play the piano or learn to sing. Or maybe she’d love animals. Or maybe she’d need her dad to coach her soccer team someday.”

My quiet sniffle drew his attention.

“Hey, don’t cry,” he said, rubbing comforting circles over the tops of my feet. “I shouldn’t have told you all that.”

I wiped away a tear from my lower lashes. “No, Mark. I’m glad you did.”

“Crying on the first date isn’t a great start.” Then he froze as if realizing what he’d just said. “Not that this is a date. I just?—”

“It is,” I interjected with a reassuring smile. As far as I was concerned, this was the beginning of something. My heart was soft for Mark Mercer and getting gooier by the second. I could feel myself slipping further and faster into something dangerous. “It’s a date. I’m glad you told me those stories. I like hearing about Lyndsey. Thank you for trusting me with the truth.”

“I just didn’t want to lie to you. I didn’t want you thinking what everyone else thinks about me.”

The urge to blame Hannah for Mark’s reputation was admittedly strong, but I knew he wouldn’t appreciate or welcome it right now. “I understand,” I said instead.

“That’s why I asked you if we could keep this”—he gestured broadly between us—“under wraps. I don’t want all the rumors and gossip to touch you. I don’t want people to bad-mouth you if you’re seen out with me.”

“I understand,” I repeated.

And I did...for the most part. It didn’t make it easier to swallow though. I knew Mark was doing what he thought was best. He was trying to protect me from small-minded busybodies. But hiding our relationship brought up past insecurities .

Emerson had made me feel like a dirty little secret, and those feelings really impacted my self-worth after I found out he was married and a no-good cheater.

The idea of being someone else’s secret didn’t sit right, but I told myself it wasn’t the same. Mark was a good person. He might be misguided in his attempt to protect me, but he didn’t intend to hurt me. He didn’t know about Emerson and the affair. He didn’t know I’d been fired. He didn’t know about any of that because I hadn’t told him. However, now wasn’t really the time to bring all that up or to demand a public relationship.

I didn’t care what gossipy church ladies thought about me or how dating Mark might impact my reputation in Kirby Falls. I wanted to be with him, but it wasn’t just my decision to make.

A nasty little voice in my head whispered that if I did demand he date me openly, when I left and things ended, I’d be just as bad as Hannah Price, leaving him with a mess to clean up. I could envision the whispers and the horrible posts in the Kirby Falls Facebook group. How Mark had broken my heart, or worse, run me out of town—just like his ex-wife.

People didn’t want the truth when a lie suited their needs just fine.

I wouldn’t be careless with Mark’s heart or his life in our small town. I refused to be another selfish person using and abusing him.

I reached for Mark’s beer bottle and took a sip before passing it back. He smiled, pleased.

Then for the next little bit, we sat back and enjoyed the night and the fire and having someone to share it with.

My eyes scanned Mark’s amazing backyard. The time and care he put into his garden oasis was obvious. From the beautifully tended plants and crops to the greenhouse to the patio, it was clear that Mark’s home was important to him.

Seeing it tonight, with the stars bright and clear overhead and the smell of wood smoke thick in the air, I knew I’d been given a gift—a welcome I’d do my best to deserve.

Being in Mark’s garden felt sacred. I’d known he was an intensely private person—for reasons all the more clear now. Between the gossip about his divorce and how little time he spent out and about in Kirby Falls, I’d sort of assumed his home was his safe space, the place he felt most comfortable. Where he didn’t need to worry about whispered words and hurtful rumors.

Yes, this place was, indeed, magical. Like a hidden treasure that didn’t exist on any map. A secret I felt compelled to keep.

I was intensely grateful he’d shared it with me.

Yet, for as much as this place was his sanctuary, it was also his prison.