Roan reached over to rub Beastie’s back, nearly falling off his chair in the process.
“She may be getting fat, but she deserves it,” he said.
“Are you sure she does? I think you’re just biased.”
“Absolutely biased,” he said with a grin. “But Beastie deserves nothing less than the best.”
“Do you have any reports that show the income?” Abigail asked, not quite meeting his gaze. “If you don’t mindme seeing them, that is. I am curious to see how much we need to cut, and if there are certain months—certain seasons—that do better than others.”
Roan nodded. “We struggle in the summer when the men work later,” he said, opening a drawer and pulling out the notebook that lay on top.
“What are those?” Abigail asked, looking into the drawer.
Roan froze when he realized what had been hiding under the notebook, and Abigail noticed, because she quickly said, “Never mind. Let’s look at these numbers.”
But Roan sat and stared at the pile of letters sitting in his desk, all of them still neatly sealed, all of them unread. Guilt gnawed at his stomach.
She would probably think he was a terrible human.
He had been.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked,” Abigail said gently, nudging the drawer shut with her ankle. “Let’s move on.”
Roan shook his head.
“I did something that I shouldn’t have.” The words tasted like gravel in his mouth.
It was one thing to have done what he did—it was another to admit it.
The pit in his stomach at having to tell her was proof that he’d messed up.
Abigail looked up at him, waiting.
“Those are the letters that my brother and his sweetheart wrote to each other,” he said. The words were hard to choke out. “But I kept them from each other.”
Abigail’s eyes widened. “Why?” she asked.
It was a simple question, and her tone carried no blame—only curiosity.
“I thought I was helping him,” Roan said, looking down at the floor, his stomach churning. “I know now that I shouldn’t have.”
If she’d asked him a week ago, he probably still would have said it was for the best that he had kept Nathaniel from writing to his sweetheart, who lived in Riyel. Since she was only causing Nathaniel pain, he’d thought it was easier for both of them to forget each other and move on. Nathaniel wasn’t going to leave their mother.
But now, with Abigail here—showing him how the right woman could make things easier—he suddenly wasn’t sure at all.
“They lived too far apart,” he said. “And Nathaniel wasn’t going to leave our mother when she was sick. I thought it would be easier for both of them to forget eachother and move on when we knew Nathaniel wasn’t going to leave.”
Abigail gave him a soft smile. “You tried to help.”
“And I think I just made it worse,” Roan admitted bitterly. “My father always told me that showing emotions was weakness, and I thought Nathaniel was weak for wanting her for so long. But now….”
Now he was beginning to wonder if he knew what Nathaniel had felt for Thea.
“Have you told him?” she asked quietly.
The thought of telling his brother felt like being stabbed in the gut, but he knew he had to.
“No.” Roan buried his face in his hands.
