Free Homefront Holiday by Jillian Hart

and full of sorrow. She appeared so unhappy, that tore his heart out, too.
    “I’m sorry.” The words came out gently, with the love he used to feel for her. With the tenderness she had once rejected. “You were the one who didn’t want me, remember?”
    “That’s not what I meant, Mike. I’ve always wanted you. I’ve always loved you.” Those tears trembled, ready to fall. She fought them back. “Can’t you see that I was afraid to lose you?”
    “No. You did lose me.”
    “I wanted you to commit to me, Mike, that’s all—”
    “I can’t do this.” Her pain was everywhere, on her face, in his soul and in the very air between them. “It’s over, Sarah. It was over when I learned the truth about you. I never should have trusted you.”
    “Truth? What truth?” She stared up at him wide-eyed, full of confusion and even as the first tear fell, it was her sweetness he saw. She had never meant to hurt him.
    Just as he never meant to hurt her. He grimaced, wishing he knew how to say the right thing, but there was nothing to fix this and even less to heal it. This is what love came to in the end—nothing but pain.
    “Come here, Sarah.”
    She had turned away, trying to hide her heartbreak, bucking up her chin the way she always did, blinking hard, gasping for air trying to stall the oncoming sobs. That broke him, too.
    He couldn’t feel the hurt or the tenderness as he caught her by the curve of her shoulder to turn her toward him. He’d been right. One lone tear tracked down her porcelain cheek. He rubbed it away with the pad of his thumb, refusing to feel the warm silk of her skin and the tearing of his soul.
    “We can’t go back.” He hated it. “Maybe you and I were never meant to be. Could be that’s why it never worked out between us.”
    “You can’t believe that.”
    He could see that she didn’t. He sure hoped the defenses would hold, because he hated seeing her like this, hurting, when there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. “All we can do is go forward. You and I have to do what’s right for that little boy in your care.”
    “That’s what I’m doing.”
    “I know.” He could see she was becoming defensive. Of course he could see that. “No one could be better for Ali than you.”
    “I don’t know about that. What about you?”
    “No, not me.” He’d wanted the job of raising the kid, but he’d lost out on that. “I want Ali to have the best, and that’s you.”
    “If that’s what you think, then why can’t we—”
    “No. We can’t. Don’t go there, Sarah.” He didn’t know what she had been about to say, but he didn’t like the “we” part. Wherever it had been going, it would only bring more agony to both of them. He took a step away, putting distance between them, drawing back his caring and shoring up his defenses. It wasn’t easy to walk away from a dream, because that’s what Sarah was to him. Always had been, would always be.
    “All right.” She turned away from him to stare back out the window. The first round of lunch must be over, because there were little kids outside running around squealing and climbing on the bars. Her shoulders were set straight and strong, but vulnerability clung to her.
    Maybe it was just his wishful thinking. Maybe it was the tear still damp on his thumb. Either way, Mike couldn’t let himself think of her crying after he stepped foot out the door. He had to be cool and rational and do the best thing for the boy and for Sarah, too.
    “I’ll do as you ask.” Her words sounded hollow, as if she were putting up her defenses, too. “You’re right. We have to make this adjustment as easy as we can for Ali.”
    “Thanks, Sarah. That’s a big relief. I don’t want to hurt him.”
    “I know.” She swallowed hard and crossed her arms around her middle. “This is going to be hard for him. He’s lost everyone else.”
    “I know, but he has you.” He made it sound like a compliment.
    She wasn’t fooled. Mike had