Change of Heart (29 page)

She was off-limits. Had so recently belonged to someone else. And Chris was right
 
—Trevor couldn’t give her what she needed. Besides, if she ever found out the things he’d hidden from her, she wouldn’t just walk away
 
—she would hate him forever.

And yet, standing here, this close to the woman he loved, he felt unable
 
—or unwilling
 
—to move.

“Tell me, Trevor.”

“What do you want me to say?” Didn’t she know how hard he’d worked
not
to say it?

“The truth. Tell me the truth.”

The thought of it tortured him. All the truths he’d kept hidden from her. Where did she want him to begin?

“You don’t want me to do that.”

She inhaled a soft breath but only spoke with her eyes.

Slowly he wrapped a hand around her back, horribly aware of his pulse. If she knew how she turned every sane thought in his head into a jumbled-up mess, she’d run the other way.

But just for a moment, what if none of that mattered? What if he allowed himself the fleeting thought that they could be together? That she could love him the way he loved her?

“I
 
—”

She watched him, searching as if daring him to continue.

“I’m not very good with words.” He drew her closer, stood and pressed her body into his. She didn’t move, only watched as he sorted out this moment for himself. And then, when he couldn’t untangle his thoughts anymore, he took her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers.

As the realization settled in that it might be okay to kiss her, he pulled her nearer still, held her tighter, kissed her deeper. She tasted sweet like strawberries and she smelled like home.

The kiss became rushed, years of longing catching him off guard.

He pulled away. “I’m sorry.”

She leaned into him, clung to him, desire racing between them. He held her for a long moment, soaking in every ounce of her, allowing himself the fantasy that she could ever feel about him the way he felt about her.

And while a part of him knew it was just that
 
—a fantasy
 
—another part of him wholly surrendered to the idea because now that he had her in his arms, he wasn’t sure how he’d ever move forward without her.

But even as the thought entered his mind, another one replaced it. He’d kept other things from her, things that had hurt her. He could’ve spared her so much pain, but he’d been too selfish. He wasn’t any better than Chris.

Gently he disengaged himself. “This isn’t a good idea, Evelyn,” he said.

Her face fell. “Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“Push me away. You can’t even tell me how you feel. Instead, you’re just going to close yourself off. Again.”

She didn’t get it. She never would. Because she didn’t know the truth.

“I should probably go.”
Because clearly I don’t have a lot of willpower when it comes to you.

Trevor turned away from the pain in her beautiful blue eyes. He couldn’t stand the thought that he was the one hurting her tonight.

But it made no sense to prolong the inevitable. She deserved better than Trevor and his years of deception. Plain and simple. As he walked past her and out the door, his hand involuntarily moved toward her as if by some magnetic force. But he was too late.

He’d made his decision a long time ago. He wasn’t good enough for her then and he wasn’t good enough for her now, especially with all their history.

Best she came to that conclusion sooner rather than later. She’d said it herself. Lies were the last thing she needed in her life.

But that night, when his head hit the pillow, he couldn’t deny the knot in his stomach
 
—a knot that drove him up and out of bed more than once
 
—because somehow, Trevor feared walking away was the biggest mistake of his life.

CHAPTER

T
HROUGH HER TEARS,
Evelyn tossed all of her belongings into the only suitcase she had and stuffed it in the trunk of her car. As she pulled away from Whitney Farms, humiliated at Trevor’s second rejection, she realized she had nowhere to go.

She drove aimlessly toward town, wondering how things had gotten so far off base. Earlier this evening as she’d stood in the middle of The Paper Heart, that song echoing from the speakers, it had all swirled back, like a circle of leaves kicked up by an autumn breeze.

She remembered. Trevor’s lanky fingers moving over the piano keys as he hummed that melody
 
—the familiar song she couldn’t place. And that’s when she knew.

But with the knowing came so many new questions.

Why hadn’t Trevor said anything?

Was it true Christopher had only pursued her because he knew about Whit’s feelings?

And perhaps the most pressing: Had Christopher ever loved her at all? Or was she simply a prize to be won?

After nearly an hour, she rounded a familiar corner, driving along the lake until she found herself sitting across the street from the house she’d shared with Christopher. The house where he probably lived with his pregnant girlfriend
 
—or was she his wife now?

She parked her car and watched in the stillness of night. It was late. She should just go check herself into a hotel or, even better, drive straight out of town. And yet she found herself here.

Why?

She turned the car off and looked at her key ring. Unless Christopher had changed the locks, she still had a key to the front door. She got out and walked up the sidewalk until she reached the porch. She stood for several minutes, trying to decide if she even wanted to know the truth.

But if she didn’t ask, how would she ever move on?

She drew in a breath, stuck the key in the lock, and opened the door.

Christopher emerged from the study, probably concerned that someone had opened his front door at midnight. She stopped moving. His lip was swollen and his face red and bloodstained.

Whit.

At the sight of her, he softened. “I knew you’d be back.”

She shut the door behind her. “I came here to get something I didn’t have in the whole ten years we were married.”

He frowned. “What is it?”

“The truth.”

He rolled his eyes. “Evelyn, in case you can’t tell, your boyfriend already worked me over tonight. I don’t have the energy to fight with you too.”

“I’m not here to fight. I just want to know one thing.”

He put his hands on his hips, heaved a heavy sigh. “What?” He did nothing to hide his annoyance.

She forced herself to move toward him, begging God to give her strength to stop trying to please other people all the time. It didn’t matter anymore if Christopher was happy with her.
She
wasn’t happy with
him
.

That had never mattered before. But now it did. Now she realized she had the right to an opinion of her own.

“In high school, did you ask me out because you knew Trevor wanted to?”

He raised a brow. “Is that what he told you?”

“He didn’t tell me anything. I’m trying to figure out what’s been going on for the last fifteen years.”

Christopher strolled past her into the living room and sat down on the sofa. “Why don’t you ask him?”

She followed him. “I’m asking you.”

“What difference does it make?”

“It makes a difference to me.”

He leaned into the couch, spread his arms across the back, and stared at her, head tilted as if sizing her up. “What do you want to know?”

“The night we met, I spent most of the time talking to Trevor. He was the first person at school who was nice to me.”

Christopher scoffed. “Yep. Trevor Whitney, the nice guy. Worked out real well for him.”

Evelyn ignored him. “He liked me, didn’t he? And you knew it.”

He inhaled, then narrowed his focus on her. “Yep.”

“A few days later, you asked me out. Is that why? Was it just some kind of weird competition for you?”

“You were new and mysterious. And stunning. You should’ve heard the way everyone talked about you when you first showed up.”

She folded her arms.

“All the guys wanted you. That made you more interesting, I guess. And there was no way I was going to let someone else have you. Not when I was sure I could.”

“But you knew how Trevor felt.”

“Everyone knew, Evelyn. Just like everyone knew about what I did when I wasn’t with you.” He stood, a smugness washing across his face. “Well, everyone except you, I guess.” He shook his head. “Once the mystery wore off, what was I supposed to do? You didn’t really expect me to only have you for the rest of my life?”

The words stung like an electrical shock zapping her off-kilter, but she forced herself to keep her balance.

“I think you’re jealous of Trevor.”

Christopher laughed. “I’m jealous of Whit. The farmer who still lives at home. It took him six years to finish college, Evelyn.” He rolled his eyes.

“And he had parents who cared for him and never worried about his public image. They loved him anyway. He has a very successful business you probably don’t even know about, and more than anything, he’s perfectly comfortable in his own skin. He knows what’s really important.”

“Right, because those are things I’m after.”

Evelyn watched him, and for the first time since the FBI invaded their home all those months ago, she began to feel something she never expected to feel for her ex-husband. Pity.

“You’ve been searching for contentment your whole life, Christopher,” she said. “I know because I’ve been searching too. And I think you had me convinced that it was all wrapped up in status and power and money. But you know what Trevor Whitney has always known that you and I failed to realize?”

He didn’t respond to her rhetorical question.

“Those things only complicate the search for peace. I know you couldn’t stand the fact that Trevor liked me, so you got in the middle and you made sure we would never be together. Because in your mind
 
—even if you didn’t realize it
 
—Trevor already had everything you wanted.”

Christopher ran a hand over his chin. “Is that right?”

“I know I made mistakes too,” she continued. “I was so caught up in the promises you made, in the way you turned heads and how everyone responded to you. I wanted out of my parents’ house, and the life you offered won me over. I was too influenced by everyone else’s opinions to make a single decision of my own.”

“Great, Evelyn,” Christopher said. “I’m glad you’ve had this epiphany.”

Months ago, she would’ve stopped talking at his sarcastic comment, but she had more to say. “Trevor is content with who he is. I’ve never had that. I was so busy becoming who you wanted me to be that I forgot who
I
wanted to be. And honestly, Christopher, I don’t blame you completely for our failed marriage. Maybe if I’d been more willing to demand your faithfulness, none of this would’ve happened in the first place.”

“Maybe you’re right, Evelyn. Maybe Whit is the guy for you.”

“That’s not what I said.”

He moved toward her, stopping only a few inches from where she stood. “And maybe, just maybe, he’s kind and good and honest.”

“He is.” Her words were barely a whisper.

“Or maybe he’s been a part of this thing all along and you were too blind to see that either.”

She stepped away, but he closed the gap between them.

“Who do you think helped me hide everything I was doing while we were dating, Evelyn? Who do you think lied to you when I was late because I had a ‘previous engagement’? Oh, he was more than happy to step in as a fake boyfriend when I was out having the time of my life, but how much could he really care about you if he’d stand by and let you marry a man who hadn’t been faithful to you one single day of his life?”

The words rushed at Evelyn like a flood. “What are you saying?”

“He’s not your friend, Evelyn. He’s always been my wingman. He even pretended one of the girls I was with was his girlfriend once. In fact, I couldn’t have done it without good old Whit.” He ran a hand up her arm, wrenching her stomach.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, ask him then. He’s known from the beginning, and he never said a word. How can you ever trust someone who would allow you to be so hurt?”

She moved away from him but backed into the table next to the sofa. “You’re the one who hurt me, Christopher.”

“If you say so. Forget that he kept you occupied a few times when we were dating until I could
finish
with other girls. Oh, he always hated it, but somehow it worked for us. He got to pretend he was dating you and I got to be a man.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re naive. Trevor Whitney is no better than the rest of us, so take him off that little pedestal and stop feeling sorry for his tortured heart. This isn’t some Shakespearean play. It’s just life, Evelyn. You made your choices and he made his. Tell me, how will you ever recover from them?”

She started for the door. “I feel sorry for you,” she said, hand on the doorknob.

“Don’t. I don’t need your pity. I’m going to be just fine. I always am.”

Evelyn faced him. “You’ve been surrounded by people your whole life, Christopher, and you’re the loneliest person I know.”

She pried the house key from her key ring and set it on the table in the entry, then walked out the door into the crisp autumn night.