Free Heath's Hope (The Brothers of Beauford Bend Book 5) by Alicia Hunter Pace Page A

nothing at all. But it hadn’t mattered to Hope. His love had been so complete and given so freely that it was the very definition of comfort. And back then, she’d taken it for granted, had thought all love was like that. She’d even imagined Aimee basking in that love.
    She knew better now. She and Heath had had something rare and beyond special. And not only had she thrown it and him away, she’d pushed him into purgatory. On top to the day-to-day horror of witnessing her devastating illness, Heath had been fond of Aimee, so there had surely been grief. There would have also been guilt over not being able to love her back and, later, accepting condolences from people who thought he’d buried the love of his life.
    She remembered now reading one of the first articles about him after the Milton building was finished. The author said it must not be true that only those who had suffered deeply could become great artists, because Heath Beckett was a great artist and was too young to have suffered very much.
    Clearly, the reporter hadn’t done his homework. Later, the sad story made great press. Heath had probably felt guilty about that, too.
    Hope rose from the sofa where she had collapsed after her desperate escape to her apartment. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there, but she couldn’t endure the clothes she was wearing for another minute. She stuffed the Armani jacket and skirt into a garbage bag, along with the silk blouse that was meant to slightly soften the severe look. She bought a new “work uniform” every season, and she didn’t care if this was her newest one. Then, on impulse, she added her underwear and Christian Louboutin pumps.
    Even now, her practical nature would not allow her to throw the clothes in the trash, but some savvy thrift store shopper would have a very lucky day. One thing was for sure, Hope never wanted to see these clothes again, never wanted to remember what she’d learned and felt when she’d been wearing them.
    She had just pulled on yoga pants and a sweatshirt when the downstairs bell rang. She was in no mood for company, but it was likely her mother on her way home from the hospital.
    Though she’d planned to go after meeting with Heath, Hope had not visited her father today. She probably had a scolding coming over that. If Hope didn’t answer the door, her mother would just call.
    She made her way down the stairs. For certain, it wouldn’t be Heath. There was nothing to say, and even if there were, he wouldn’t know what it was.
    But when she opened the door, there he stood. Her heart hadn’t gotten the message from her brain that she had screwed this up beyond redemption, because it gave a little joyful leap.
    “You should check who’s there before opening the door this time of night.”
    “I thought you were my mother.”
    “No.” He shook his head. “I might install a peephole in this door for you. Unless you’re leaving.”
    “No. I made promises to Miss Sticky and Miss Julia—promises I mean to keep. But before you go altering Noel’s door, you might want to speak with her about it.”
    “All I have to do is tell Nickolai that a peephole would keep ‘his Noel’ safe. It would be a done deal.”
    It was difficult, but Hope reached down inside and found some laughter. He had tried hard to make a joke, and she wanted to reward him.
    He looked pleased. “You left your knitting on the bench.” He held up her bag.
    And that’s when her heart finally got the message. He’d only come to return her knitting. She had to swallow the ache and find some words. Any would do.
    “Oh, I hadn’t missed it. But I would have. I’ve found that I love to knit. I’ll never be an artisan, but I do understand better why you had to make stained glass, even back when you had no idea you could support yourself.”
    He nodded and looked at the floor.
    “I’ll take that.” She reached out to take the bag.
    He tightened his grip on it. “I’ll take it