At three forty-seven, he heard a car pull up the driveway and rushed to the window to confirm it was Elizabeth. The door to her red Honda Civic opened slowly and she stepped out into the bright afternoon sunshine. He was relieved to see she was in one piece.
As if sensing his stare, she shielded her eyes and looked up, and when she saw him, she gave him a small, nervous smile.
He didn’t suppose he could blame her for that. After his overprotective reaction to her going out, she probably had no idea what she’d find waiting for her when she returned.
Moving away from the window, he chastised himself for his stupidity. How could he be so dumb? She had spent years with a husband who’d abused her, and although he’d never raised his hand to her and never would, she didn’t know that.
He realized he needed to do better for her. No matter what he was feeling, she was not his and may never be. But even if one day she was, he couldn’t allow his emotions to get out of hand; they would frighten her and that was the last thing he wanted.
Why was this so hard with her?
He took a deep breath before collapsing onto his couch. She was home. He could breathe again.
Not two hours later, Chris realized how wrong he’d been. The sound of another vehicle in the driveway roused him from his spot on the couch where he’d been attempting to watch a movie.
His brother’s truck pulled up and parked beside his. He wasn’t expecting Trent to stop by today. Then he stepped out dressed in black slacks and a dark blue, button down dress shirt. The last time Chris had seen his brother this dressed up was at their brother Paul’s wedding.
What the . . .