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 . . .
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