Confessions from the Quilting Circle Maisey Yates (ebook reader 8 inch .txt) 📖

had ever seen. That he had scrambled everything up in her brain, in her chest, and turned her well-ordered existence into a series of compromises and what ifs.

She’d been crouched in a corner at lunch, her sheet music in front of her as she ran through it all mentally. Over and over again.

“Why do you always eat alone?”

She looked up and her heart dropped. He was...devastating. She’d never understood that term to describe a boy before. Lark used it with ease. Every boy with eyes a certain shade of blue devastated her.

But Hannah herself had never been devastated until that moment.

“I’m busy.”

He didn’t take the hint. He sat with her. He didn’t talk while she was looking over her sheet music, he just sat. Then he walked with her to class.

“I’m Josh.”

And I’m too busy.

“Hannah.”

She’d thought that was the end, but it was the beginning. Slowly those lunch dates had become daily, and she’d started talking to him instead of looking at her sheet music. She’d started spending some nights out with him.

Kissing him had made her breathless in a way only music ever had before.

Until she’d realized what was happening.

That he was a distraction and she’d fallen right into him in the most basic of ways.

She needed a cigarette. Badly.

She was suddenly doing mental calculations to figure out how she could sneak one outside while he was still here.

He walked along the side of the house, toward the front, and she followed, concealed now by the wall until she stopped in the living room, peering through the window from a great distance, watching as he rounded the corner and stepped onto the flagstone path that led up to the door.

Each footstep he took seemed to echo inside of her chest. And by the time he knocked on the door, she was so wound up that even though she had been expecting it she jumped.

She was being ridiculous.

Nineteen years since they’d broken up.

It had been nearly nineteen years since she’d so much as seen him. And, by extension, since he had seen her naked. Which meant it was probably not in the forefront of his mind. Though, now all she could do was imagine him naked.

She cut off that thought and went straight for the door, walking to the entryway and taking a brief moment to look at him through the one-way glass, which allowed her to see a purple and green tinted version of him, while she knew that he couldn’t see her at all.

Then she opened the door. “Hi,” she said, smiling as widely as she could.

She didn’t know if that was weird or not.

“Hannah Ashwood.” His lips tipped up into a smile, all arrogance and knowledge which had not been there when he was sixteen. “It has been a while.”

“It has been,” she said. She squinted, a sudden realization washing over her. “You knew that I hired you.”

“Yes.”

“I did not know that I hired you.”

“Well, I like to make an entrance.” And he did just that, walking right into the house, his broad frame filling the entryway.

It wasn’t the lines on his face that made him seem different. It was the way he carried himself.

“I don’t recall you being someone who felt the need to be theatrical,” she said.

He’d been sweet and earnest, and they’d fought with intensity. And made up with even more of it. He’d always cocked his head to the side slightly, managing to be taller than her and somehow give the impression he was looking up at her.

Because he was trying to impress you. And he doesn’t care anymore.

“This is the place you want me to work on?”

He didn’t bother to comment on what she’d said about theatrics.

“I... Yes.” Her head was still spinning. But of course he wasn’t surprised. She had put her name on the contact form. His name wasn’t listed on the business. Even if she hadn’t put her name on there, he was well aware that her family owned this house. And given the way the gossip vine wound itself around the town, he was probably well aware that they were all here dealing with the inheritance that Addie had left behind.

So, while she felt the need to gather herself and redirect, Josh obviously didn’t. And she was just going to have to pretend that she was fine. Truly, her response to this whole thing was disproportionate to the situation.

There was something about Josh that would always feel sad. Sad and unfinished, but no matter how their relationship had ended, it would have ended.

She had been just almost eighteen when they’d broken up. And she’d done what she had to do. She didn’t regret it.

Because he was a handyman in Bear Creek, Oregon, and she played for the symphony in Boston. And there was nothing that could have ever brought those two worlds together. Her aspirations with his...his lack of them.

He’d just been happy here. And she had never been able to understand that.

“There’s electrical, plumbing, drywall,” she said, careful to keep the list neutral. “The roof might leak a little bit.”

“It might?”

“I haven’t been here in the rain, Josh, but if you would be so good as to check out the roof as part of your services, I would appreciate it.”

“Hmm.” He made kind of a dismissive grunt and looked around the entry. “It’ll cost you.”

“I know.” Somehow, even as she said that, she felt a strong sense that he might have meant something deeper than money.

Stupid.

“I look around, and then I’ll send you an estimate. Does that sound good?”

“Yes. But... Be honest with me, is anyone else here going to be able to do all of this?”

“You can have people come in from Medford. I don’t know that anybody else can do everything that you need doing on the place.”

“So the bid is a formality.”

“You can overpay to your heart’s desire, Hannah, I really don’t care.”

Well. It was pretty obvious to her that he wasn’t neutral. He might have shown up to take the job, but he