His words made sense. She wanted to find her uncle to fill the void she felt with her father. But making sense didn’t make it right. “He shouldn’t have been more important than Chan. I could have tried harder. I could have called him back. Five minutes. That’s all it would have taken.”
Steve’s fingers moved in her hair as if to soothe her. “This isn’t your fault.”
“It sure as hell feels like it is.”
“That’s because you care and because you’re angry about his death. Crazy thing is that usually when you’re guilty you tend to shift the blame to other people. When you’re not guilty you blame yourself.”
She rested her head on his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat. Another rhythmic sound filled the background. Footsteps. Someone was moving toward the cabin. She heard the footsteps stop, then start moving again. She inhaled.
Oh, hell, it was Chase.
His knock sounded on the door. She stood up and went to answer it, ready to send him packing and worried that Steve would be upset.
“Yeah?”
He looked at her and then his gaze lifted over her shoulder. To Steve. Not that Chase could be surprised Steve was here. He had to have smelled him. Had the vamp come just to cause trouble? She could feel Steve staring at her from behind.
“Hey,” Chase said, acknowledging Steve.
“Hey,” Steve replied, but somehow that one word came out as Go to hell.
Chase’s gaze dropped back to her. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
She scowled up at him.
He didn’t seem to be affected at all. “You dropped this when we were at the lake.” He held out her phone.
“Thank you.” A whisper of relief had her chest lightening for one second. But the tension she felt radiating from the two guys sent that relief packing. She took her cell from his hand and closed the door.
She turned to face Steve, sensing he wasn’t happy. He sat, cupping his knees with his hands and looking at her. His expression had shifted to disappointment. Again.
Standing in the same spot, she listened as Chase’s footsteps moved away from the cabin.
“You were with him?” Steve stood up.
“I was running,” she said.
“With him?”
The word “no” formed on her tongue. But damn it, she wasn’t going to lie. She hadn’t been doing anything wrong. “Yes. He heard about Chan and he came by and suggested a run to make me feel better. So we ran around the property.”
“So you’re running buddies, huh?” His eyes turned a gold color, a telltale sign of his mood.
“We’re not buddies,” she said tightly.
Steve stared down at the floor as if he found something there fascinating, but she knew he was lost in thought. He finally looked up. “I came rushing over here thinking you might need a shoulder to lean on, but it looks as if you’ve already found one.”
“It’s not like that,” she assured him.
He exhaled. “To borrow your earlier words, ‘it sure as hell feels like it.’”
“Don’t make this into something it’s not,” she said.
“Chase likes you,” he accused, as if that was her fault.
“All we did was run. We spent less than three minutes talking. Nothing happened.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he said.
“I’m not.” It wasn’t like Steve to be so accusing. Why was he so certain she’d done something? Then the answer, the one he’d just given her, became painfully clear. Crazy thing is that usually when you’re guilty you tend to shift the blame to other people.
“And Jessie likes you, right?” she asked.
A flash of guilt crossed his expression. A new wave of pain washed over her. Exactly what was he feeling guilty for? Had something really transpired between them?
He shut his eyes a second, then opened them. “I told her it wasn’t going to happen.”
“Before or after you two kissed?” Della asked, now knowing that the perfume on Steve’s shirt hadn’t been from an accidental touch. Jessie had been in his arms, probably rested her head on that spot by his shoulder that Della loved so much. The pain she felt had the memory of losing Lee returning to haunt her.
Steve passed a hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the blame.
More pain swelled up inside her, crowding her chest with the guilt and pain from losing Chan. She shook her head. “You know what? I can’t handle this right now. I’ve got too much on my plate. Just go.”
“Look, Della, I’m sorry,” he said. “She kissed me. I didn’t … I know I probably should have … Damn it! I’m sorry.”
She heard his remorse and knew it was heartfelt, and for some reason it only hurt more. “Why are you sorry? What do you have to be sorry about? You and I aren’t going out.”
And she needed to remember that, too. How many times had she told herself she needed to put the brakes on this? Well, the brakes were on now. “I don’t have any claim on you. We’re not together.”
She heard voices and footsteps outside. Familiar voices. “Miranda and Kylie are coming,” she said. “You need to go.”
“No, we need to talk.”
“No can do,” she said. “Just go. I can’t handle this on top of everything else.”
He stood there and just stared at her.
“Please,” she said.
“Della, I didn’t mean … I’m not giving up on us.”
She gripped her hands into fists. “There is no us, Steve. There never has been an us.”
Disappointment flashed in his eyes again, and she realized how much she hated disappointing people. Chan, her parents, and now Steve. The knot in her throat doubled. “Leave.”
Kylie and Miranda showed up minutes after Steve left. Della had three diet drinks set out on the table. They forced condolence hugs on her, and then they sat down at the table to hear what happened. The last thing Della wanted was to go through Chan’s death again, but she’d told them she would explain. She wasn’t going back on her word—not even if it hurt.
She told them about getting the phone call from Chan’s friend. She barely managed to tell them about finding Chan’s body. She didn’t tell them about Steve. Frankly, she felt stupid letting something as trivial as a breakup, not that it was even really a breakup, hurt her when she had her cousin’s death to think about.
But it did hurt. Her heart burned with the knowledge that she’d lost someone else. It didn’t even matter that, logically, he’d never really been hers to lose.