“I THINK THAT DOES IT.” Melony tossed her shampoo into the paper bag Hunter had given her. “You'll send me the rest of my things when you collect them?”
“Aye.” His tone was clipped. He made a production out of changing the sheets, as if he was trying to rid his home and his memory of any trace of her. He banged his shin on the foot of the bed and cursed fiercely. The air in the small bedroom was thicker than the lump of emotion Melony felt growing in her throat. Was he merely dismissing her, or was he just as unhappy over her looming departure as she was?
“I can't just leave my practice,” she blurted out as he stood in front of her, back stiff, head bent.
“No,” he agreed, refusing to face her. “Not if it means that much to you.”
Did it? she wondered. She had been so wrapped up in doing
