Read Online McKettrick's Heart by Linda Lael Miller - Free Book Online

freedom, her life in L.A. and, essentially, her career, for the sake of one little boy. Once the various documents were signed, she would be a captive, an emotional hostage, for all practical intents and purposes—to a child.
    Lucas’s fate would be interwoven with her own—forever.
    If his heart was broken, hers would be, too.
    Was it worth it?
    Molly had absolutely no doubt that it was, but neither did she suffer any illusions that the process would be easy and pain free. Joy, in her experience, was a Siamese twin to sorrow, conjoined at the heart.
    She drew back a wicker chair with a bright floral cushion. “I saw Keegan while I was out,” she said. “He asked about you.”
    Psyche smiled. “Keegan,” she repeated somewhat wistfully, as though by saying his name she’d conjured him and could see him clearly in the near distance.
    Florence, her face wet, immediately fled into the house, muttering to herself and scrubbing at her eyes with a cotton handkerchief as she went.
    â€œAre you in love with him?” Molly asked, and then was horrified, because she hadn’t consciously planned to ask the question. She didn’t pry. She was not, after all, a nosy person, nor was she impulsive. Indeed, she prided herself on her practicality, abhorred denial, went into things with her eyes wide open—her affair with Thayer being the one notable exception.
    Now she awaited Psyche’s reply with a strange sense of urgency, braced, at one and the same time, for a stinging rebuke.
    Psyche was silent for an interval, her expression still softly distant, almost diffused. Finally she shook her head. “No,” she said, and Molly marveled at the depth and swiftness of her own relief. “Keegan and I were childhood sweethearts….” She paused to sigh. “Such an old-fashioned term, ‘childhood sweethearts’—don’t you think?”
    Molly wanted to avert her gaze, but she didn’t allow herself to do so, because it would have been cowardly. “I think Keegan loves you,” she said, helpless against this strange and unwise part of herself suddenly rising up to say things she had no right or intention to utter. And she chafed at the stab of helpless sorrow her own words wrought in her.
    Keegan hated her, and the feeling was mutual.
    Why, then, did she care whether or not he loved Psyche?
    More to the point, how could she stop caring?
    â€œHe does love me,” Psyche agreed. “He’s fiercely protective of anyone he cares about—all the McKettricks are.”
    A lump rose in Molly’s throat and swelled there. She swallowed, determined not to break down.
    Something moved in Psyche’s eyes—compassion, perhaps. She reached out, touched Molly’s hand.
    â€œKeegan and I are friends, ” Psyche went on gently. “Nothing more.”
    â€œI’m not so sure he would agree,” Molly said. “Psyche, I—”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI’m so sorry—about what happened between Thayer and me, I mean.”
    â€œWater under the bridge,” Psyche said. “When Thayer died I was—in some ways—relieved. It’s horrible to admit that, and maybe I’m being punished for it now. Maybe that’s why I have to let go, leave Lucas—”
    â€œNo,” Molly protested weakly. As much as she wanted to raise Lucas, the cost was simply too great.
    Psyche smiled, but her eyes were misty, and her chin trembled ever so slightly. “Isn’t it remarkable, Molly? Your being here, I mean? I actually think we would have been friends if we’d met under other circumstances.”
    Molly gulped. “I would do anything to go back and change things.”
    â€œWould you?” Psyche asked. “Where would that leave Lucas?”
    Molly couldn’t speak.
    â€œYou slept with my husband. You bore his child. And while convention would dictate that I ought to hate you for