More Than Friends by Susan Mallery Page A

I’m angry at him for getting sick, or at myself for caring. I’d thought about coming back sooner, but I kept waiting for him to invite me.” He gave a harsh laugh. She tightened her fingers. “You’d think I would have learned that lesson a long time ago. William Jackson never backs down.”
    “I wish…” Jenny blinked against the burning in her eyes.
    “I know.” He flashed her a grateful smile and her insides melted. This was the Chase she remembered. “How about my food, woman? A man could die of starvation in this place.”
    “Coming right up.” She stuck two mugs with milk into the microwave, then went back to the vegetables. “Was Terry working the night shift tonight?”
    “Yeah. Could have knocked me over with a feather. She’s still as cute as ever. Said she’d married Tom.”
    “They have two boys and are very happy together.” Jenny wasn’t sure why she felt the urge to emphasize the couple’s marital bliss, but continued to extol the virtues of their relationship until Chase’s smile widened into a very male, very self-satisfied grin.
    “You wouldn’t still be jealous about me and Terry, would you?” he asked.
    “I was never jealous.” She pulled the mugs out of the microwave and stirred in the cocoa. Setting one cup in front of him, she frowned. “That you made a fool of yourself over her is really none of my concern.”
    The good humor fled as quickly as it had arrived. “I made a fool of myself over you. That didn’t concern you, either.”
    Their eyes met. His anger didn’t hide his hurt. She broke away first. “I’d better finish your meal or you won’t get any sleep at all tonight. Was your dad awake when you were there?”
    Chase hesitated as if he wasn’t willing to accept the change in subject, then shook his head and cupped his hands around the mug. “They’d given him something to help him rest. I sat there watching him-for all the good that did. I expected him to be sick, but I didn’t think he’d be old.”
    “It’s been a long time,” she said, breaking the eggs into a bowl, then beating them with a fork. “There’s been a lot of changes.”
    “Did he…” She heard him shift in his seat, but didn’t turn around. “I can’t believe I have to ask you this, but did he get married or anything?”
    Jenny couldn’t imagine straight-laced William Jackson unbending enough to admit interest in a mere woman. “Not that I know of. He never dated anyone in town. He was gone on business from time to time, but I don’t think he’d, ah, well, you know.”
    Chase exhaled, the sound seemed sad. “He wouldn’t risk the emotion. To him, that was for the weak. After Mom died, he didn’t have anyone. All he cared about was the mill.”
    “He cared about you.”
    “Yeah.”
    She risked a glance and saw him sprawled out on the chair. Long legs stretched under the table. The heels of his boots rested on the bottom rung of the chair opposite him. His fingers were laced behind his head.
    After pouring the eggs into a pan, she dropped a slice of bread into the toaster and started to set the table. “He did care,” she said, smoothing down a single place mat. “Every time you sent one of your letters, he’d read it over and over. I saw him sitting in his chair, staring at the pages. I could see that he loved you.”
    Brown eyes sought hers. She saw that he wanted to believe, but couldn’t allow himself the luxury. “He never wrote back. Not once.”
    “I’m sorry.” She added the chopped vegetables and turned over the omelet. “As soon as I found out why you left town, I went to him and told him the truth.” The memory of the coldness in William Jackson’s expression made her shiver. “He said it didn’t matter, but I could see he missed you.”
    “Not writing seems to be a town failing.”
    “Yeah, I don’t remember getting a letter from you,” she said.
    “Me? You’re the one who—” Emotion flared. Then as quickly as it had appeared, it was