“You don’t know what you’re offering.”

“Don’t I?”

“No, but you should. I’m not who you think I am, Jenna. I can’t tell you what it means to me that you love me. It means…everything. But…” Gard took a breath and wondered if she could make up for the past by doing the right thing now. “My life and yours, they’re worlds apart. And I’ve done things, things I’m not proud of. Things that could hurt you.”

The music ended and dancers dispersed. The overhead lights dimmed further, and Gard welcomed the camouflage of near darkness. Maybe Jenna wouldn’t be able to read the uncertainty in her eyes. She kept her voice steady and sure. “I thought we agreed we’d keep this simple and uncomplicated. Temporary.”

“I haven’t asked for anything else.” Jenna sounded calm but her pulse raced in her throat.

“No, you haven’t. And that’s good, because there can’t be anything else.” Gard let her arms drop away until she was no longer holding Jenna. The loss of the connection was as painful as an amputation, and her stomach cramped so hard she nearly winced. “I think we need to slow things down. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Jenna spoke softly, her eyes unwavering, and unaccusing.

Gard hated herself for what she’d done. Then. Now. “I knew going in I couldn’t give you…”

“I already told you, I’m not asking.”

“But you should be. Just not with me.” Gard saw the hurt Jenna tried to hide and it killed her to know she was hurting her. The self-loathing she usually kept at bay washed through her with such force she felt wrong just standing there. Just being anywhere near Jenna.

“Jenna, I have to go.”

“Gard? Gard, don’t do this.”

Gard swung around so abruptly she nearly stumbled into Alice.

“Hey? Get an emergency call?” Alice asked, lifting her plastic cup of wine out of Gard’s path.

“You should get her to go home, Alice. Away from here. Away from me.”

“What?” Alice looked from Gard to Jenna, her forehead creasing.

“Gard, damn it.” Jenna grabbed for Gard’s hand but Gard slipped away. She lost sight of her almost instantly in the crowd, and pain exploded in her chest.

“Jenna?” Alice asked. “What the hell was that all about? What happened?”

“I might have made a tactical error,” Jenna said softly, the color draining from the room along with the lost joy in her heart.

“Translation?”

“I told her I loved her.” The elation of that moment was bittersweet now.

“Oh. Well. I can see where that might have changed the game a little.”

“Apparently, it ended it.”

Alice squeezed Jenna’s shoulder. “You know, maybe it’s for the bes—”

“Don’t say that.” Jenna didn’t understand what had just happened, but she knew her own heart. “Just don’t say that.”

“Okay, okay.” Alice’s eyes softened. “You really mean it, don’t you? About loving her?”

“I do.”

Alice took her hand. “Then what—”

“I’m not going to let her run away. Not before I know why. Then, if she wants to go—” Jenna fought back the tears. Not now. There would be plenty of time for those later. She drew a breath, steadied herself. “If she doesn’t want me—doesn’t love me, all the way—then none of the rest of it matters.”

“Maybe she just needs a little time. Why don’t we get out of here? You can call her tomorr—”

“No.” Jenna knew she’d never sleep, wondering where Gard was. Knowing she was hurting. “Give me fifteen minutes. If I’m not back by then, don’t wait.”

“Take care of your heart, you hear?” Alice said.

“I don’t think that’s up to me any longer.” Jenna kissed Alice’s cheek, then took the biggest risk of her life.

Chapter Twenty-seven

The crowd outside was even thicker and noisier than when Jenna had arrived. She twisted around clots of laughing people, desperate to reach the road. Finally she broke through onto the dirt lane and ran, chest heaving and lungs burning, up the long slope to the ridge where the truck had been parked. There. There! A dark silhouette up on the knoll, blocking out a patch of sky. Gard’s truck. Still there. Gard was still here.

The vise-like constriction in Jenna’s chest eased and she gulped cool night air. She tasted sweet clover and the tang of fresh-plowed earth, and beneath that, hope. Gard hadn’t left. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had, Jenna would have found her. Followed her home, to the clinic, to the farms—anywhere, everywhere. She wasn’t letting her go until she had answers. If Gard didn’t love her, didn’t want her, she would have no choice but to walk away. She’d hurt, oh God, how she’d hurt, but they would at least have the truth, and not secrets, between them when they parted. She deserved that. Gard deserved that too.

As the truck slowly took form, emerging from the night shadows, Jenna saw Gard leaning with her arms braced against the hood, her head bowed. Alone in the dark, Gard looked broken, defeated. Seeing her in pain pierced her like a knife, tearing at her heart even more than Gard walking away from her. If her love was making Gard this unhappy, she’d find a way to live without her. She’d never be able to deny loving her, never be able to bury her feelings as she had in the past, but she’d live with the loss. Somehow. She’d have to endure the agony of letting her go, if that’s what Gard needed.

Jenna slowly crossed the damp grass and rested her backside against the truck a few inches away from Gard. She stroked Gard’s back, once, and then slipped her hands into her pockets. She couldn’t be this close to her without touching her. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t think so,” Gard said, her voice husky and strained.

“I know you don’t want to, but you need to talk to me. I deserve it,” Jenna said. “We deserve it.”

“I know. I just don’t think I can. If you end up hating me—” Gard touched Jenna’s cheek. “If the light goes out in your eyes when you look at me—that will kill me.”

Jenna’s throat closed with tears. “Oh, sweetheart. What have they done to you?”

Gard turned her face away and was swallowed by the night. “It was me, Jenna. No one is responsible except me.”

“Take me home.” Jenna clasped Gard’s hand. “Take me home and tell me what happened. Please.”

Gard sighed. “All right, Jenna. All right.”

Jenna kept her hand on Gard’s arm all the way back to Gard’s house. Even while Gard shifted gears, she curled her fingers over hers, unable to tolerate any more separation. The heavy silence in the truck was already unbearable, but she didn’t want Gard to start talking until there was no chance she could stop. They walked together, side by side, up the flagstone path and sat in the rockers. Only then did she release Gard’s hand, but she turned her chair so their knees brushed. The moonlight provided just enough light to see Gard’s face.

“I’m here,” Jenna said.

“Do you know, no matter how dark the night is, I can always see the starlight in your eyes,” Gard said. “It’s never dark when I’m with you.”

“And it never will be, I promise.”

“You don’t know that,” Gard said.

“I do. And I need for you to know it too. Please, give me a chance to show you.”

“I love you, Jenna. I love you so much.” Gard’s voice cracked.

“Then trust me.” Jenna caressed Gard’s leg. “I’m here. I love you.”

“I’ve tried not to love you, not to let you love me. Losing you is going to take everything I have left.”

“How can you love me and still believe I could be so weak as to let you go because of something you did before we even met?”

“I don’t think you’re weak, just the opposite. And that’s why you’ll hate me.”

“Damn it, Gard,” Jenna snapped, “if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to get really pissed off at you.”

Gard sighed. “I forgot how tough you can be.”

“Well, I haven’t forgotten what a pain in the ass you can be. Now, Gard. It’s time.”

“I destroyed my family, Jenna. I nearly killed my father. I drove away everyone I ever loved.”

“How?” Jenna asked gently. “How?”

“You said you were going to fashion the hero in your new book after me.” Gard rubbed her face with both hands. “You should have cast me as the villain.”

“What did you do?”

“I grew up privileged. Rich. Very rich. Spoiled, indulged. I didn’t really think about it at the time, but that’s the truth of it.”

Jenna waited, letting Gard start wherever she needed to. She didn’t care how long it took—she’d never hear a more important story.

“I never really thought much about where the money came from,” Gard went on, her voice flat and disconnected. “When it’s always there, you don’t think about it. All my friends came from wealthy families. Their lives were just like mine—private schools, exclusive camps in the summer, trips to Europe. It was just the way things were.”

“Why should you question the life you were born into?” Jenna asked.

“Not at first, maybe. But later. Later, I should have.” Gard rose abruptly and paced to the edge of the porch. “Right after I got to college I met a girl, Susannah. My first real relationship. My first love. I’d known for a long time I was a lesbian, but I hadn’t done much more than steal a few kisses until then. I thought I loved her, I thought she loved me. My parents loved her. Her parents loved me—we were the golden couple. I’d go into the family business, she’d have our children and do whatever made her happy. Life was turning out great. Just the way it should.”

Gard wrapped one arm around the porch column, her back to Jenna. “My family made their money in real estate, mostly. Everyone in the family went into the business. My older brother was already a VP. I didn’t think about my career any more than I really thought about the money. I’d always wanted to be a vet, but I never really considered it a serious possibility. It didn’t fit in with my family’s expectations, or even my own.”

“Somehow,” Jenna said softly when Gard fell silent, “I can’t see you in a three-piece suit and a corner office.”

“No, neither can I now. I think eventually I would’ve realized I wasn’t going to fit in the family mold. I might not have had the guts to break away, but as things turned out, I never had a chance to find out.”

“What happened?”

“One morning I was in a coffee shop in Harvard Square. A woman sat down beside me. Young, attractive. She knew my name. She told me a story, a story I didn’t believe at first.”

Jenna’s heart beat faster. Gard sounded so resigned, as if her guilt were leaching the life out of her. As if she already believed Jenna was gone. Jenna wanted so badly to touch her, to hold her, to reassure her. But she couldn’t do any of those things until Gard finished the story. Until the truth lay bare between them.

“What did she tell you?” Jenna asked.

“It seems that I come from a long line of criminals,” Gard said. “The money came from illegal real estate deals, fraudulent mergers, a laundry list of white-collar crimes going back generations. There are nicer names for it, but crooks kind of sums it up and I was right in line to carry on the family legacy. I even worked summers in the business, so I was already involved.”

“Who was the woman in the coffee shop?”

“A federal agent. They’d been after my family for a long time. I didn’t believe her at first, but after several meetings where she showed me some of the evidence, I couldn’t keep denying it. The federal case was strong, probably strong enough to indict most of my family, including me.”

“But you didn’t know,” Jenna protested. “You were what, twenty years old?”

“Almost twenty-one, and no, I didn’t know. Although maybe if I’d questioned some of the things I’d seen, or even questioned how it was the family was so successful when most of the country was in a decline, I might have known. But I never bothered to ask. I never questioned.”

“You’re awfully hard on yourself.”

“You haven’t heard it all.”

Jenna went to stand beside her and gripped the railing. “All right. Finish the story.”

“They offered me a deal. I took it. I provided the evidence that the feds hadn’t been able to get. No one in my family suspected I was gathering reports, chasing paper trails, uncovering double sets of accounting files. I testified in a closed hearing to the grand jury. I gave the federal prosecutors everything they needed to sew up their case.” Gard shuddered. “I betrayed my family, Jenna, and after I testified, my father tried to kill himself.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” Jenna said.

“What makes you think there’s more?” Gard asked, her tone a bitter rain of acid regrets.

“Because I know there is. Because I know you wouldn’t have sacrificed your family, not to save yourself. That’s not who you are Gard, I know it. I’ve seen you work—the way you care. I’ve felt the way you love me. You’re not selfish, and you’re no coward. If you made a deal, it wasn’t to make things easier on yourself.”