Midnight Sons Volume 2 by Debbie Macomber Page A

The woman he’d loved. And married. The woman who’d carried his child. The woman he couldn’t forget.
    How foolish she’d been! Mitch didn’t want to become involved with her. How could he when he remained emotionally tied to his dead wife? No wonder he’d been fighting her so hard. He was trapped somewhere in the past, shackled to a memory, a dead love.
    Bethany closed her eyes, shocked that it had taken her so long to see what should have been obvious. True, he was attracted to her. That much neither could deny. But he wasn’t free to love her. Maybe he didn’t want to be free. He probably hated himself for even thinking about someone else. His behavior at this memorial service explained everything.
    Mitch leaned forward, supporting his elbows on his knees, and hid his face in his hands. He was in such unmistakable pain that Bethany couldn’t sit idly by and do nothing. Not knowing whether her gesture would be welcome, she drew a deep breath and laid her hand on his forearm.
    He jerked himself upright and swiveled in his seat to look ather. Surprise blossomed in his eyes. Apparently he’d forgotten he was sitting next to her. She gave him a quick smile, wanting him to know only that she was his friend. Nothing more.
    Mitch blinked, and his face revealed a vulnerability that tore at her heart. She wanted to help, but she didn’t know how.
    As if reading her thoughts, Mitch reached out and grasped her hand. The touch had nothing to do with physical desire. He’d come to her in his pain.
    He let go of her almost immediately, then rose abruptly and hurried out of the church. Bethany twisted around and watched him leave, the doors slamming behind him.
     
    Mitch stalked into his office, his chest heaving as if the short walk had demanded intense physical effort. His heart hammered wildly and his breathing was labored.
    He’d decided at the last minute to attend the memorial service. He hadn’t known Catherine Fletcher well, but appreciated the contribution she and her family had made to the community.
    Mitch had talked with her only a few times in the past five years. Nevertheless he’d seen his attendance at the service as a social obligation, a way of paying his respects.
    But the minute he’d walked into the church, he’d been bombarded with memories of Lori. They’d come at him from all sides, closing in on him until he thought he’d suffocate.
    He remembered the day he’d met her and how attracted he’d been to the delightful sound of her laughter. They’d been college sophomores, still young and inexperienced. Then they’d gotten married; they’d had the large, traditional wedding she’d wanted and he’d never seen a more beautiful bride. They were deeply in love, blissfully happy. At least he had been. In the beginning.
    When they learned she was pregnant, a new joy, unlike anything he’d experienced before, had taken hold of him.But after Chrissie was born, their lives had quickly slid downhill. Mitch covered his head. He didn’t want to remember any more.
    He continued to pace in the silence of his office. Attending the memorial service had been a mistake. He’d suffered the backlash caused by years of refusing to deal with the pain, the guilt. Years of denial. Now he felt as if he was collapsing inward.
    He’d never felt so desperate, so out of control.
    “Mitch.”
    He whirled around. Bethany stood just inside the office, her eyes full of compassion.
    “Are you all right?”
    He nodded, soundlessly telling her nothing was wrong. Even as he did, he realized he couldn’t sustain the lie. “No,” he said in a choked whisper.
    Slowly she advanced into the room. “What is it?”
    He shook his head. His throat clogged. He stood defenseless as his control crumpled.
    Bethany’s hand fell gently on his arm. He might have been able to resist her comfort if she hadn’t touched him. His body reacted instantly to the physical contact, and he lurched as if her hand had stung him. Only it