Take a Chance on Me(60)

“Charming.” Felicity winked. “And handsome. Don’t you think?” She made that humming sound, the one she used to make when she talked about Darek.

And that’s when Claire knew.

Claire yanked a thistle from the graveyard garden, threw it. “Yeah, handsome,” she said into the night. Too handsome. Just as handsome as Darek, only different. More refined. Less hard-edged and dangerous.

Sweeter.

Charming. Another word, probably, for slick. Or slimy.

Playboy. Yes, that was the word.

She felt along the soil, rooting for another thistle. No wonder Felicity had fallen for him, cheated on Darek. Jensen had always wanted her and finally grabbed his chance.

A thistle pricked her fingers, and Claire jerked her hand back. Brought it to her mouth, tasting blood.

She should come back with gloves. But the weed would only weave its roots around her bedding plants and choke them out.

So she went after the thistle again. Finding it, she dug in, ignoring the pain.

It just wasn’t fair.

“I don’t get it, Felicity. Why? You had everything. Everyone loved you and yet you just had to have Jensen, too, didn’t you?” Claire tried to work out the weed, but it snapped in her hand, leaving the root embedded.

Perfect.

Stupid town. Stupid garden. Claire felt around, grabbed the stalk.

Came up gripping a lobelia. She threw it away, angry, and reached in again. “You couldn’t just admit that you’d made a mistake marrying Darek.”

She pulled out another stalk, found an ageratum flower in her fist.

Fine. Claire got up on her knees, leaning in with both hands. That thistle was still there; she just had to find—

A bunch of alyssum came out in her grip. She sat back, looked at it, and heat rose up inside her. Feeling wetness trickle off her nose, her chin, she dumped the flowers and leaned in again, rooting for the thistle. “I hate you for leaving me here.” She grabbed more of the flowers, not caring, yanking hard, tossing them aside. “For taking so many lives with you.” She pricked her finger again, and the pain sent her into a frenzy. “I hate you!” More flowers, her hands filthy with dirt. “I hate you!”

“Claire, stop!”

Arms went around her, grasped her wrists, held them tight. “Stop!” Jensen said into her ear. Soft and strong and smooth and—

“Don’t touch me!” She twisted to push against his chest. “Stay away!”

Jensen held up his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

That shook her. Brought her back to herself.

He was on his knees, worry in his eyes. He’d showered or something since she saw him last, his hair tousled and clean, the smell of soap and cologne radiating off him. For a second, she just wanted to sink into him.

But she backed away. Tried to slow her breathing.

“Why are you destroying Felicity’s garden?” He reached down and eased her fists open. She made out two handfuls of alyssum.

“Oh.” Claire sat back, letting the flowers fall. “I don’t know. I . . .” Her voice trembled then, and a whimper escaped. She was so pitiful, it only made it worse. “Go away, Jensen. Please—just leave me.”

“No,” he said softly. “No.” Then he put his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace. She didn’t have the ability—or perhaps the desire—to resist.

He put his chin on her head, tucked her in close. “Shh.”

Jensen. She closed her eyes and breathed in the strength, the essence of him. He might not have Darek’s rugged appeal, but Jensen always possessed a gentleness, a way of listening—

Claire pressed her hand to her mouth. She should lean away before she lost herself completely.

“You don’t hate Felicity,” he said softly, his heart hammering under her ear. “If you should hate anyone, it’s me.”

Well, that was true. But she didn’t feel it. Not anymore. “I don’t hate you, Jensen.” She took a long breath, listened to it shudder out. “And you’re right. I don’t hate Felicity either. It’s just . . . nothing feels right since she died.”

She pushed away from him. His gaze held her, his lips tight.

“I can’t seem to . . . I can’t seem to forgive.”

He nodded.

“No, you don’t understand. It’s not Felicity I can’t forgive. Or even . . . even you.”

He swallowed at that, something desperate in his face. But it seemed she couldn’t stop herself. That right now, with the flowers she’d planted lying in ruin around her, she couldn’t keep it in.

“I can’t forgive God, Jens. I don’t trust Him anymore. I . . . keep blaming the fact that I’m stuck in Deep Haven on Felicity or my grandfather. But the truth is, it just . . . it just confirms that I was right.”