She locked the front door and walked through the quiet streets to her house. The nights were colder these days. The days shorter. Fall had arrived. There was already snow on the mountains. Fool’s Gold was beautiful in every season, but she thought it was at its best in winter.
A police car drove by. The female officer waved at Jo, who waved back. Twinkling lights beckoned from the windows of Morgan’s Books. The flags that hung from the streetlights were decorated with turkeys and horns of plenty. She’d already received three different invitations for Thanksgiving.
Home, she thought, telling herself that contentment would be enough. This was home.
She turned onto her street and crossed to her house. As she walked up the path, something moved on her porch. The shadow stepped into the light and became a man.
Will.
The harsh bulb wasn’t kind. He looked as bad as she felt. Tired, drawn, sad. Or maybe that was just her mind’s way of trying to make her feel better. Maybe he wasn’t hurt at all. Maybe he was leaving and he’d just stopped by to make sure she knew she wasn’t good enough for him.
She squared her shoulders. He might have battered her heart, but he wasn’t going to break her.
She climbed the steps and stopped in front of him.
“I need to talk to you,” he said.
“What more is there to say?” she asked coldly.
“You told me about your past,” he told her. “I want you to hear about mine.”
She believed in being fair, so she nodded once and unlocked the door.
When they were inside, she motioned for him to take a seat on the sofa. She stayed far away, choosing the safety of the club chair by the fireplace.
“Go ahead.”
Will had shrugged off his jacket. He wore a chambray shirt and worn jeans. His hair needed cutting and he hadn’t shaved that day. Scruffy, she thought, trying to be scornful. Only he looked good and she was painfully glad to see him.
Maybe he was going to tell her he’d been wrong, her heart whispered. Maybe he was sorry. She told herself not to hope, but it was difficult not to wish him back into caring about her.
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs, his hands hanging loose. Instead of looking at her, he stared at the floor.
“My dad was one of those guys who could charm anyone,” he began, his voice low. “Women loved him, especially my mom. She would do anything for him. God, she loved him. I loved him, too, but I figured out pretty fast he wasn’t like other dads. He didn’t have a regular job. Instead he was always looking for his next chance at easy money.”
He paused, then glanced at her. “Easy money. That’s what he called it. He was too good to work for someone else. He used to say men like him were meant for better things than a factory job. If he’d put half as much effort into something that paid regularly rather than chasing the next scam, our lives would have been a whole lot better.” He cleared his throat. “He was a con artist. My father cheated honest people out of their money. He was in jail more than he was out, but he never learned, never changed. When he got out, he already had a mark in mind.”
Jo folded her arms across her chest. “That must have been difficult for you.”
“It was. I wanted to move away, to never see him again, but my mom wouldn’t listen. She loved him and was convinced one day he would change. He broke her heart over and over again with his damn promises. She always believed him, no matter what I said. I vowed I wouldn’t be like him. I would always do the right thing. And I promised myself I wouldn’t be like her. I wouldn’t allow myself to be tricked over and over again.”
She felt a chill and closed her eyes. So much for him knowing he’d been wrong. So much for any hope that they could work this out.
“I don’t believe people change,” he told her. “I saw that in my dad and with his friends. They weren’t interested in being other than what they were. Jail time didn’t do anything except give them time to plan the next con. When you told me what you’d done, I couldn’t believe it. Here I’d gone and fallen for someone just like him. I was my mother all over again.”
The unfairness of the words made her want to stand up and scream her defense. But it wouldn’t matter. Will saw what he wanted to see. It just wasn’t the whole picture.
“Only I was wrong.”
The soft words barely penetrated. She stared at him.
“I was wrong,” he repeated, straightening. “You changed. You’re not that teenager anymore. You’ve made a life for yourself here. I can see your character in everything you do. You’re not like him.” His gaze intensified. “I’m sorry, Jo. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I reacted harshly, without thinking.”
She let his words wash over her as she tried to figure out what she was feeling. Relief, certainly. Maybe a little hope. But she’d trusted him and it had hurt when she’d revealed her darkest secret and he’d left. Sure, he was back now, but how could she trust him not to leave again?