His brows drew together. “I don’t understand, then … why move here?”
My pulse raced harder, my cheeks flushing. “Because … because the mum at my last job … she and I got friendly. As you do when you’re looking after someone’s child. Her husband worked a lot, and she’s a full-time teacher. And her daughter could be hard work sometimes. I tried to be as supportive as possible. Plus, she was so kind to me when my mum and dad passed. She gave me time off and was always checking in to see how I was doing.”
“Okay …”
“One night, about five months after my parents passed, she asked me to stay later for a girls’ night. Her husband was away for work. After we watched movies and had pizza, she put her daughter to bed … I made to leave … and she kissed me and grew arms and legs when I tried to push her off. I had to shove her off me.”
Haydyn’s eyebrows rose.
I laughed, embarrassed. “Everyone always expects it to be the dad.” I got up and began clearing our now empty plates. Haydyn stood, too, and followed me into the kitchen.
“So what happened?” he asked, taking over the rinsing of the plates.
“She apologized. And I told her I didn’t feel that way about her but that we could just forget about it. I assumed it was just a slip-up because of the wine.”
“It wasn’t?”
I leaned against the kitchen counter as Haydyn cleaned up. “She tried at first … to forget. But about a month later, she told me she had to let me go. She was too embarrassed and I think afraid I’d tell her husband. She offered to give me a good reference in exchange for leaving quietly.”
Haydyn stopped loading the dishwasher and straightened. “Wow.”
“Between that and the fact that I was fresh in my grief, I came here for a change of scenery.”
“Has it helped?”
I lowered my gaze. “I’m feeling things here I didn’t think I would ever have space to feel again after losing my parents.” I looked away. “But it hasn’t been all roses. Una’s an awful roommate, and my friends back in Inverness seem to have forgotten I exist. I have some family back in Aberdeen. Una’s mum, an uncle… but they were pretty awful after my parents died because they expected an inheritance. Everything got left to me, and I’ve had a few texts and calls asking for money.”
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at him. “Money really brings out the worst in some folks.”
He nodded and settled against the counter beside me, our arms brushing as he crossed his over his chest. “Can I tell you something very few people know?”
“Of course. I’m a vault.” Pleasure filled me at the thought that Haydyn trusted me so much.
He stared out of the main picture window that captured the trees surrounding the drive up to the house, and I recognized the grief in his eyes. “My parents divorced when I was fourteen, and my parents agreed that I’d live with my dad most of the time. I spent the summers with my mum and they alternated the holidays … but it was mostly Dad and me. I adored him.” He gave me a pained smile. “About a year after Michael was born, with Deena gone, we were living with my dad so he could help out with his grandson. And … he won the Euromillions Lottery.”
Shock froze me.
That was not what I’d expected him to say.
Haydyn glanced at me. “We didn’t tell anyone except his financial advisors, bank, etc. We went on a fancy cruise together with Michael, and Dad bought the car of his dreams but kept it at a garage where no one knew him.”
“Because he knew everyone would come out of the woodwork looking for money?”
“Exactly. So …” Grief tightened his expression. “When he died suddenly the next year, and he’d left every penny to me … I decided not to tell anyone.”
I gaped at him, everything making sense. “Why are you telling me?”
“So you know you’re not alone. Keep your inheritance to yourself as much as possible, Kenna. Money does strange things to people, and you’ve already seen a glimmer of that. I mean, my mum doesn’t know Dad won the Euromillions, but she knows he left me money. She makes snide wee comments now and then about how she spent years with him and got nothing … even though I paid off her mortgage with my inheritance. Sometimes, for some people … it’s never enough.”
I couldn’t help myself. I reached out to curl my hand over his forearm. “I’m sorry, Haydyn. That you lost your dad too. He sounds like he was a good man.” Tears spilled down my cheeks as I thought of my parents. My parents who I’d run every life decision past, who I still went on holidays with … my parents had been my best friends and the two people in the world who made me a priority. Losing them was like losing a huge chunk of who I was. “I miss my mum and dad so much.”
“Kenna.” Haydyn turned and pulled me into his arms. His embrace was tight, comforting as I cried against his throat. “I’ve got you,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re all right.”
Three
Haydyn
