The Return of Connor Mansfield. Beth Cornelison
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“It’s a long messy story. One that, I’m afraid, isn’t over yet.”
Hunter stepped back, holding his brother at arm’s length. “What do you mean, it’s not over?”
Connor’s eyes darted back to Darby, and he pulled away from Hunter. “I can explain, but first...”
Marshals Jones and Raleigh lumbered in carrying an oxygen tank and monitoring equipment, part of their cover as health care workers looking after Savannah.
Connor introduced Jones and Raleigh to Hunter, then the two marshals moved into the living room with their load of equipment, leaving Connor to his family reunion. Even having spent forty minutes with him in the marshals’ sedan, having had time for the news to sink in, having conveyed the shocking truth to Hunter, Darby was having trouble wrapping her brain around Connor’s resurrection and return. Seeing him in her house again after almost five years seemed odd. Especially since he’d darkened his hair and sported a beard as part of his cover as Sam Orlean.
Her thoughts were scrambling in too many directions at once to sort them out. Her heart thundered in her chest, and all she could do was stare at the answer to her prayers. As if he felt her attention, Connor turned his head and met her gaze. A tingle of sensation, like receiving a static shock, zipped through her as she stared back at him. She hadn’t forgotten how handsome he was or how her body responded to his rugged good looks, but seeing him again, in the flesh rather than a two-dimensional photo or mistlike memory, was surreal. She felt as if she’d added a sugar high to a caffeine buzz. All her senses were on overdrive, and her emotions were supercharged, tangled and confusing.
“Darby?” The sound of his voice triggered a cascade of moth-balled memories. Her giddy excitement when he’d asked her for their first date. Nights when he’d held her and crooned her name as they made love. Her horror on that foggy morning more than four and a half years ago when she’d seen the charred skeleton of the hunting camp’s cabin.
And the voice of a stranger on the phone just days ago. I’m sorry, Dahr-by.
How could he have abandoned her, deceived her for so many years? Hurt and anger returned with the bite of acid in her gut. She swung at him, reacting before she’d even realized what she was doing. “You left me. Lied to me!”
Her balled fist smacked his chest with all the effect of a pillow hitting a brick wall. His muscled body was still every bit as taut and toned as she’d remembered. She swung again, the fury for the lies and pain she’d suffered because of his deception and desertion surging in her, and he absorbed the blow as if he knew he deserved it.
“Darby, stop. What are you doing?” Hunter wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back. “Calm down, okay? You’ll wake Savannah.”
Another stab of pain slashed through her. Savannah. How many times had she wished Savannah could know her father? And now he was here. To meet his daughter. Yet they couldn’t tell Savannah the truth. It wasn’t fair. How could she draw her daughter into the deceit? And yet, how could she tell her daughter the truth knowing Connor would leave again, return to WitSec with the marshals in a matter of days, hours? Darby knew too well the pain of losing a father, having him blithely walk out of her life.
Her shoulders shook with sobs as she turned and buried her face in Hunter’s shirt. He folded her into a comforting embrace, muttering soothing reassurances.
But no words could calm her. No hug could ease her troubled heart.
Connor was alive, and she had no idea where to start sorting out the tangled web of his lies.
* * *
A cold heaviness filled Connor’s chest as he watched Hunter hug Darby, soothing her. His brother had been Darby’s close friend since college. She’d started hanging out at the Mansfield family home during Hunter’s freshman year at Louisiana Tech, and their friendship had never faltered, even when Connor had fallen hard for his brother’s friend and started dating Darby the same summer.
That Darby would turn to Hunter for comfort during a difficult time was logical. Still, seeing her in his brother’s arms caused a sinking sensation to settle over him. Had the nature of their friendship changed over the years he’d been gone? On the heels of Darby’s hostile reception of him, the possibility that his brother had replaced him in Darby’s affections shot a chilling spear of jealousy through his heart.
They thought you were dead, he tried to rationalize, yet the argument fell flat, did nothing to ease the swelling ache of betrayal.
Hunter is a good guy, salt of the earth, the kind of man Darby deserved, his logical mind justified. But he’s your brother. He knows how much you loved her—still love her, his heart countered.
Connor dragged a hand along his jaw, reeling from the turn of events, stung by Darby’s anger. Acid churned in his gut as he tried to sort out his next move. He had to make Darby listen to him. He had to make her understand his reasons for leaving, for letting the U.S. Marshals fake his death.
Shoving down the seesawing grief and frustration that ripped through him, Connor drew a deep breath, searching for control over his emotions. “Please, Darby, just give me a chance to explain. I never wanted to hurt you. Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
She jerked free of Hunter’s arms and spun to face him, her expression cold. “So you said. But the facts remain. You left. You deceived everyone you loved.”
He raised his chin and set his jaw. “My family had to believe I was dead in order to convince the Gales—”
“I’m not interested in hearing any more of your excuses. A lie is a lie. You abandoned all of us. Left us to grieve for you!” She folded her arms over her chest and pressed her lips in a thin line. Anger vibrated from her, but a sadness and vulnerability swam in her green eyes, as well. The hurt and questions reflected in her tearful gaze broke his heart. And gave him a shred of hope. Maybe in time she could forgive him for his choices.
He spread his hands in appeal. “Please, Darby, give me a chance. For our daughter’s sake.”
Darby jerked her chin up, fire filling her eyes, her body going rigid. “Don’t you dare use Savannah as a bargain chip! When you left me, you left her, too.”
He took a step toward Darby. “Because you never told me you were pregnant!”
“I didn’t know yet!” As soon as the words left her mouth, Darby closed her eyes and huffed a sigh, as if she realized she had no right to hold that argument against him.
“If I had known about the baby...” he started, but couldn’t finish.
What would he have done? His life would still have been in danger—and Darby’s, too, by association. He would still have wanted to protect her. His handlers in the Witness Security Program would still have argued that she had to believe he was dead to convince Gale. Her disappearance near the time of his faked death would still have sounded too many alarms with the men who hunted him for revenge.
Asking her to leave her family, her job, her friends, her life behind to go with him into hiding would have been too great a sacrifice for him to impose on her. Her family was too important to her. Lagniappe was the only home she’d ever known.
She lifted her eyebrows and tipped her head, inviting him to continue. “If you had known...what? What would you have done differently? Would you have loved me more? Would you have stayed for the sake of the baby?”
He heaved a weary sigh. “I honestly don’t know.”
“If I wasn’t enough reason to stay, if somehow you didn’t love me enough, then maybe it’s just as well you left. I don’t want you here just because of our baby.” A tear spilled onto her cheek, and his heart cracked. “I needed more than that from you. I deserve more than that.”
“It wasn’t like that, Darby. I did love you, but—”
A shuffling sound in the hall to his right drew his attention, stopping him midsentence.
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