More Than Friends by Susan Mallery Page A

onto the porch. “What brings you here?”
    Her sister offered a half smile. “Just stopped by to welcome Chase home. We’ve been catching up on old times, haven’t we?”
    She dared him to speak the truth. He would. But not like this. “Yeah. A welcoming committee of one.”
    Jenny glanced from one to the other. The skeptical look on her face told him she knew they were lying. He waited, but she didn’t push for the truth.
    “How’s your father?” she asked.
    “A little better. They took him off the breathing equipment, but he still hasn’t regained consciousness. Dr. Martin says maybe tomorrow. I hope so. I’d like to talk to him for a few minutes, at least.”
    She moved closer and reached out to touch him. Then she dropped her arm to her side. He winced at the insecurity in her eyes. Damn. It was his fault. He remembered how he’d blown up at her at lunch. The way he’d told her to go to hell. Even now, he could see the hurt on her face as he’d turned and stormed away.
    The light cotton of her blouse had been muted by the ash and grit that belched from the mill. The gold in her hair had been erased by the soot. A smudge stained one cheek. God, she was beautiful, he thought. How could he not have seen it yesterday? Had he been so blinded by rage, so caught up in avoiding the past that he’d ignored the pleasure of watching her live and breathe?
    “Jenny, I—”
    “I’d better be going,” Anne said, interrupting. “Goodbye, Chase. A pleasure and all that. Do remember what I told you.”
    “No problem. I’ll send you a postcard from Phoenix.”
    “I’ll look forward to it.” She kissed her sister on the cheek. “Talk to you soon.”
    “Do I want to ask what that was all about?” Jenny asked as Anne drove away.
    “Not really.”
    “She didn’t bother you, did she? Say things that—”
    “Let it go.” He took her arm and steered her toward the door. “Maybe we could continue this conversation inside.”
    “What conversation? Why?” She pulled her arm free. “What’s gotten into you?”
    He glanced over his shoulder at the neat rows of houses across the street. “I have a lot to answer for.”
    She smiled and reached for her key. “If you mean about last night, forget it. So little happens around here that people are dying for something to gossip about. You and I both know you spent the night in the spare room. And even if you hadn’t, it’s really none of their business.”
    She pushed the door open and motioned for him to precede her. He walked into the small living room and turned to face her.
    “I don’t mean about last night,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I mean about before. That summer. I spoke to your father at the hospital. I know—” he glanced at the ground, then lifted his head and stared straight at her “—I know about the rape.”
    Jenny felt the blood drain away and wondered if she looked as shaken as she felt. No! He couldn’t know! Fiery shame filled her, sweeping across her body like wildfire. Her hands clutched the keys so tightly, she could feel the cold metal digging into her skin.
    This was the moment she’d dreaded for the last eleven years. Seeing the pain and disgust in Chase’s eyes, hearing the pity in his voice. Why now? she wondered. Just when she’d managed to pull her life together, it all began to unravel again.
    “He had no right to tell you,” she said at last, staring at the third button on Chase’s shirt.
    “He had every right. You’re his daughter. He was trying to protect you.”
    “I don’t need his protection.” She drew in a deep breath and forced herself to raise her eyes to meet his. “Or yours. So if that’s what this is about, you can just forget it.”
    His face was as expressionless as it had been yesterday. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but it was just a matter of time until he blamed her, or got angry. She’d been the only one in the support group without a husband or boyfriend, but