Free Bound by Honor by Donna Clayton

saw was a flash of dark fur on i he road. Mary Lynn swerved. I can still hear her tiny squeal in my head. It was something she did when she was surprised. She jerked the steering wheel too sharply.Jammed the brakes too hard. They locked up is what the state trooper told me later. All I know is that the rear of the car fishtailed. Violently. We struck a cement median. And then we were airborne. Tumbling. The car rolled at least once and landed on its roof."
    Sometime while he spoke, he'd laced his fingers around the coffee mug. Jenna noticed that his knuckles had gone pale with the force. She hoped the ceramic didn't crack under his nervous strength.
    "I walked away with barely a scratch. Mary Lynn and Skye were dead before I could get myself out of the car and get to them."
    Compassion impelled Jenna to reach across the table and slide her fingers over his forearm. He seemed to relax under her touch.
    "It was an accident," he told her. "A freak accident. No one was at fault. There's no one to blame. It's just that —" he inhaled deeply "— I can't help but feel guilty. For surviving."
    Jenna's heart pinched in her chest.
    When they first met, he'd seemed like such a hard man. Unfriendly. Surly, even. But now she was learning that he was just like her. Very human. Nursing wounds of grief and guilt. Trying to get through the best way he could.
    She was acutely aware that her hand was still on his arm, so she pulled it back, curled her fingers and placed her fist in her lap. "I think what you're feeling is perfectly natural."
    After a moment, he said, "I'm sure you're right." He reclined against the chair back and took a drink of coffee. "I should have cleared out the nursery months ago, I guess. It's been a year. I just haven't been ready." His tone went soft as he added, "I'm still not ready."
    He seemed more relaxed, and Jenna couldn't help but ask, "How old was she? Skye?"
    Surprisingly, he smiled. "She'd had her first birthday a month before the accident."
    "Oh," Jenna breathed, "so little." Her spine straightened as she was struck with a startling realization. "Lily must —" Remind you of Skye, was what she'd been about to say.
    So much made sense to her now. His initial refusal to marry her so she could gain custody of Lily. His tense attitude when they'd picked up Lily from Arlene's house. His long hours spent out in the stable. His unwillingness to have anything to do with her niece.
    He hadn't been avoiding Lily. He'd been avoiding memories of the daughter who had been taken away from him.
    "I want you to know —" a slight quiver changed her voice "— that I'm very grateful to you for all you've done for me and Lily. You've done something amazing, having us here, in light of all you've been through."
    "I'm just repaying a debt."
    She couldn't help but smile. "I understand that's how you see it. But from where I'm sitting ..." Suddenly, words failed her and a nervous tension flared inside her like a bright flame. She was overwhelmed by his graciousness. He'd agreed to have her and Lily in his home even though doing so was sure to stir his memories of the past.
    "But why now?" she asked. "Why open up the nursery? Why tell me about the accident? You made it pretty clear before that you wanted to keep your private life to yourself."
    "I don't think any of us could have gone another night without sleep, do you?"
    She averted her gaze. She had no idea what kind of response she'd expected from him, but for some reason his answer left her feeling a little chilled.
    What had she hoped he'd say? That he'd come to trust her? That he'd suddenly decided she was worthy of his secrets?
    That was silly. How could he have come to trust her when they hadn't spent ten minutes alone together? For four days she'd been busy inside the house with Lily and he'd kept himself busy outside.
    Okay, so he'd offered the use of the nursery because Lily needed a crib. End of story. And he'd told her about his wife and daughter because . . . ?