He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

to pull her side.
    Pausing at the top, she wasn’t at all prepared to see Logan shirtless and glistening with sweat in a pair of khaki shorts. The hunger that jolted through her as she watched his muscles bunch with each swing of the hammer nearly undid her. She ached with the need to be held in his arms again, but the breach between them was too wide to ignore.
    He was on his knees, pounding a nail into a bright new piece of decking, and he hadn’t noticed her yet. There wasn’t a hint of rot in the discarded wood, and yet it looked like he was replacing most of the boards. Why would he tear up a perfectly good deck?
    The sudden silence had her looking back at Logan. He was still on his knees, but now he was leaning back, his hands braced on the tops of his thighs, watching her. No smile, no word of welcome. So much for her foolish fantasy that he’d beg her forgiveness for abandoning her when she needed him most.
    Her hands tightened into fists. The sound of crumpling paper reminded her why she’d come. She forced her hands to relax and she walked up to him. He still hadn’t blinked or moved, but his intense gaze locked on hers and he watched her like a hawk.
    When she was directly in front of him, she held up the piece of paper, the printout of her account balance. He grimaced and turned slightly pale.
    “It seems that a distant relative left me a small fortune,” she said. “Kind of puzzling since Mom and Dad never once mentioned any wealthy relatives on our sparse family tree.” She cocked her head sideways. “I don’t suppose you know anything about this, do you?”
    He sighed and climbed to his feet, towering over her and forcing her to take a step back so she could look him in the eyes.
    “You know damn well I know about it, or you wouldn’t have come here.” His voice was flat, hollow.
    “Why did you do it?” she asked, searching his eyes for anger, irritation, something .
    He bent down and picked up some scraps of wood, tossing them onto a larger pile. Neat, organized, apparently unfazed by his former lover’s unexpected visit. Damn him.
    “Was it guilt money?” she asked, determined to make him react. “It was, wasn’t it? Well you know what? I don’t want it. Not one damn penny. I already told my bank to reverse the deposit.”
    His jaw tightened but he continued to pick up the pieces of wood. Amanda was tempted to kick the pile of boards just to scatter them across the deck and see what he would do. How could he be so unfeeling after all that they’d shared?
    She wadded the paper into a ball and threw it at him, hitting him in the back. “I didn’t sleep with you for your money.”
    He stiffened and dropped the pieces of wood he was holding. “That’s not why I gave it to you.”
    “Oh? Then why did you?” Say it’s because you love me. Say it. She searched his eyes, waited, hoped. The words he’d written in that note couldn’t be true, could they? Did he really think what they’d shared was just because of the stress of the investigation or was there some other reason he was pushing her away? Tell me you love me .
    Instead of reaching for her, pulling her close, saying the words she longed to hear, he clenched his fists at his sides. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to work for awhile, so I gave you the money to make sure you were taken care of. It was the least I could do after everything you went through.”
    A fresh wave of pain washed through her. Just as she’d feared, he’d given her the money because he felt responsible. He was still living his life based on guilt, not love. She straightened her shoulders and blinked back the tears she refused to shed. She was stronger now, stronger even than Logan. She’d survived Riley. She could survive this . Somehow.
    She took a step back, not that it mattered. She couldn’t put any more distance between them than there already was. “I put my house up for sale,” she said, proud that her voice wasn’t shaking the way she was shaking inside. “I’m driving to the airport to catch a flight to Tennessee. I’m moving there to be near my sister.”
    A shadow of something passed behind his eyes. Pain? Regret?
    “I wish you the best, Amanda. Be happy.” His voice was tight, strained.
    He wished her the best? That was it? He was going to let her go, without even trying? Part of her wanted to hit him, to yell at him. She wanted to shake him, but what else was there to say? She wasn’t going to beg him to love her.
    She