The last five days had been sheer misery. Crew sluggishly dressed for church as he mulled over what had gone wrong. He’d had his dream woman in his grasp, but no matter what he’d said or done, she slipped away. He didn’t think of himself as overly confident, but every woman he’d wanted to date, besides Harley, had been thrilled to be with him. What a kick in the pants that the one woman he loved wouldn’t return the feeling.

He finished tying his tie with jerky movements. The worst part was he thought she might love him, but she wouldn’t give up on her stupid Jane Austen Pact. He’d about burned his Austen hardcover books last night when he found out she’d gone to meet that English idiot again. But somehow, parting with those books would be like parting with Harley. He wasn’t going to have much left of her when she went to England. How could she never want to come back to this beautiful valley, to her roots, to her family, to him?

He stomped down the stairs, through his great room, and into the garage, climbing into his truck. Last week she’d liked his fancy suit. Did he dare hope that she might like the way he looked enough today to at least talk to him? She’d avoided him since their horseback ride on Tuesday, and he missed her. How in the world was he going to survive when she left him for good?

He drove quickly into town and parked in the church parking lot. He searched everywhere for Sadie’s Cherokee or Ryker’s or Clint’s trucks, but didn’t see any of them. They were probably running behind. Maybe Harley stayed up so late with that fool Englishman that she was making them all late.

He stormed into the church and sat next to Jessie.

“Wow, big brother, want a little thunder to go with that rain cloud?”

Crew growled at her.

She laughed and put her hand up next to his mouth. “You gonna bite if I get too close?”

“I might.” He leaned back against the pew as the first song started and tried to unclench his fists and the knots in his shoulders. Resting his arm behind Jessie, he leaned down. “Sorry, little sis.”

“Whoa,” she whispered. “I don’t think you’ve ever apologized to me before.”

He smiled, grateful she was here to tease him. “That’s because for the first time this isn’t your fault.”

“Woman trouble?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Talk to me, bro.”

He half-laughed. “Why would I talk to you about woman trouble?”

She harrumphed. “I’m a woman. I can help.”

“You aren’t a woman, you’re a child.” Crew’s only brother had died as an infant right after Crew’s fifth birthday. Crew hardly remembered Sutton, and because of his loss there was an eight-year gap between him and his next sibling, Jessie.

“Oh,” she gasped. “I know a lot more than you think!”

The song had been semi-masking their voices, but it finished and the silence exposed the echoes of their conversation. His mom gave them “the look”—as did most of the congregation, it seemed.

Crew smiled apologetically, then glanced around to the Redlands’ empty pew. Where were they? He’d been at their house last night, and besides Harley being on that stupid date, everything had seemed fine. His stomach tightened. Harley. What if something had happened to her last night? Wouldn’t somebody have called him?

“Tell Mom I’m sorry,” he whispered to Jessie.

“I’m not dealing with her wrath.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Horseback ride tomorrow.”

“You got it.” He winked at his sister, stood as quietly as he could, and hurried out of the church.

Driving twenty miles over the speed limit, he was to the Redlands’ house in just under eight minutes. Harley was pacing the front lawn in a T-shirt and yoga pants. Relief rushed over him. She was okay. He jumped from his truck and strode to her.

“Crew,” she croaked out. Tears were falling from her eyes and staining her cheeks.

He opened his arms and she came readily into his embrace. Crew wrapped her up tight, swaying slightly and wondering if Clint had passed. He’d seemed great last night, but Crew had been reading up on personal stories of terminal cancer. The person often took a quick downturn and sometimes was gone in hours.

“Your dad?” he whispered into her hair.

Harley’s entire body shuddered. “Yes. He’s …” She sniffled and Crew waited, fearing the worst. “He was so with it last night, giving me advice.” She paused and glanced up at Crew. He knew Clint loved him almost like a son, but he also knew he would put his real daughter first. Clint would give the advice that would make his girl happy, even if it broke Crew’s heart.

“He didn’t get out of bed this morning,” she said, breaking from his embrace and pacing again. “He’s so out of it he hasn’t even said anything that makes any sense!” This sentence finished in an anguished cry. Crew wanted to pull her close again, but she pressed her knuckles against her mouth and kept walking. “Doc Thurgood and a home health care nurse have already been here. They started him on some morphine because he was moaning and looked like he was in pain.”

Crew stood by helplessly, aching for his friends but clueless about how to make this better. He wanted to be here for Harley, and he told himself that if all he could be was her friend, he would take it. She obviously needed a friend right now.

She stopped pacing and turned to stare at him. A sob ripped from her throat and she burst out, “Oh, Crew, I don’t think I can do this.”

Crew couldn’t take it any longer. He crossed the distance and pulled her against his chest. She clung to him and he simply held her close. “You’re tougher than you know, Harley.”

She shook her head against his neck, her tears wetting his suit coat. “I can’t lose him. He’s been the best daddy anybody could ever ask for.”

He rested his chin on her soft curls. “I know. He’s one of the best men I know.”

There really wasn’t anything else to say. He wanted to reassure her that he’d be there for her, he wanted to tell her that her dad would want her to be happy, but all he could do was hold her. At least she let him do that.

She finally pulled away and wiped her tears. “How was church?”

“I made it through the opening song, then saw you weren’t there and left.”

Her eyes widened. “You left church … for me?”

He grinned. “It was a big sacrifice, not sitting on that hard bench and poking Jessie for an hour.”

She smiled, though it was watery. “Thank you for being such a good friend.”

Friend. He wanted and needed so much more, but now was definitely not the time. He reached out and she took his hand, letting him squeeze her small fingers. “Of course,” he said. “Your family is my family. Especially because your mom’s such a great cook.”

She laughed. “True. We’d better get inside.” She looked at her house like it was a den of dangerous vipers.

Crew squeezed her hand again. “Come on. Let’s go help your mama and Ryker. We both know what a wimp he is.” He winked. Ryker was the toughest man he knew, next to Clint.

Harley laughed again. “That’s for sure.”

They walked hand in hand up the porch steps. Crew swung the door open and smiled down at her.

Harley stopped, lifted onto tiptoes, and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Thanks. It means a lot.” She walked in front of him into the house.

Crew followed, dreading saying goodbye to one of his close friends and a man he admired above anyone besides his own father, but he was glad he could be here for Harley and at least help her laugh and smile a little bit. He knew that’s exactly what Clint would want. It was exactly what Crew wanted, too.