A/N I've really been looking forward to this chapter (and the next few chapters I have planned) since this story started. So I hope you guys like it! :)

Chapter 10

Dinner, that evening, was a more interesting affair than it usually was, as most of the conversation, naturally, revolved around the incident with Cotton.

Cody, of course, had to hear every detail at least twice. Henry obliged but was careful to leave out certain details so as not to scare the boy. He didn't think it appropriate for Cody to know that Cotton had paused long enough to let Henry act, because he hadn't been able to decide where it would be the most satisfying to shoot Jack.

Henry also did his best to downplay his own role in it all, but Cody still kept looking at him like he was some kind of superhero. And if he was being honest with himself, he couldn't exactly say he hated it.

By the time the excitement had wound down enough for the conversation to slow, it was well after dark. They'd long since finished eating but had continued to sit around the table, enjoying each other's company without even noticing the passage of time.

"Oh my," Abigail said, looking at the clock on the wall for the first time. "I can't believe how late it's gotten to be. It's already time for you to be getting ready for bed, Young Man," she said.

"Do I have to?" Cody groaned, disappointed.

"I'm afraid so."

"Okay," he reluctantly agreed with a sigh. He stood and headed for the stairs. "Night, Mom. Night, Mister Henry."

"Goodnight, Sweetheart," Abigail said.

"Goodnight, Cody," Henry called after him as the boy disappeared upstairs.

"I'm sorry we've held you up this long, Henry," she said as she rose and started clearing their dishes.

"No need to apologize," he said easily. "I enjoyed every minute of it."

He, too, stood and began carrying plates and bowls to the sink.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," she said.

"Abigail, you keep feeding me for free. The least I can do is help with the dishes," he said lightly. "I'd like to help."

"Well..." she said slowly, looking at him thoughtfully. "If you're sure you don't mind..."

"Not at all," he insisted.

"All right then," she agreed.

Once the dishes were all in the sink, they set about cleaning them, Abigail washing while Henry rinsed and dried.

"You're pretty good at that," Abigail complimented.

"Yeah, well, washing dishes was a punishment for bad behavior in prison," he said with a nonchalant expression.

She stopped what she was doing and stared at him for a long moment, an odd mixture of surprise, curiosity, sympathy, and concern in her eyes as she studied him.

Finally, he couldn't hold it any longer and burst out laughing.

Realizing he was joking, she tried to send him a disgruntled look but couldn't completely fight back her smile. Seconds later, she was laughing too.

"I can't believe you," she said, lightly slapping his shoulder.

"Sorry," he said, still grinning. "I couldn't resist."

She shook her head at him. "I can't believe I fell for that. I mean, dishes? Now, peeling potatoes I would have believed," she said, her mouth twitching and her eyes gleaming mischievously.

He scoffed, sending her a mock hurt look. "Now, that's a low blow. I'll have you know, potato peeling is a very respectable job in prison," he said imperiously. "There are guys starting riots and trying to escape just to be able to land that honor."

She laughed again and leaned to gently bump his shoulder with her own, shoving him over slightly.

Grinning impishly, he dipped his hand into the water in front of him and quickly flicked his wrist, sending water splashing toward her.

Abigail jumped back, both arms raised slightly and mouth agape. She was far from drenched, but he had managed to spatter her pretty good.

She looked at him incredulously before a devious grin crossed her face. "Oh, you're on."

Lunging forward, she scooped up a handful of water and slung it at him.

Laughing like a school boy, he ducked to the side, managing to miss most of it, but still felt a fair number of drops hit his shoulder and sprinkle down his sleeve.

She scooped up another handful and he held up a hand.

"Now, that's not fair," he said, slowly crossing behind the kitchen table as she wielded the water threateningly. "I'm unarmed."

"You should have thought about that before you started it," she teased, sending another small shower his way.

He lurched sideways again, around the end of the table, moving just quickly enough for the spray to pass right by him, missing him completely.

He laughed again, a happy, carefree sound.

It was contagious, and Abigail couldn't help but laugh too. Scooping up one more handful of water, she darted toward him, hoping if she was close enough, she'd be able to get him.

But she only made it three steps before her feet slipped on the water they'd managed to spill around the sink. She stumbled, losing her balance.

He lunged forward, reaching for her, to stop her fall.

Her arms instinctively shot out to catch herself, and landed on his chest. Startled, his arms automatically wrapped around her, steadying her.

He froze, his heart pounding and every muscle tense as if ready to flee at any moment. He suddenly felt like an animal that had been caught and cornered, except there was nothing in him that wanted to run or get away.

She was so close, already leaning against his chest, her face only inches from his, her eyes staring into his own.

She was so beautiful.

Distantly, his mind screamed at him that he needed to move, to step away from her, make an excuse to get out of there, but it was as if every beat of his heart was drowning out the voice in his head. All he really registered was that he needed to move.

But when he did, it wasn't to run away or step back. Shifting without a conscious choice to do so, he leaned toward her, their faces drawing closer until he could feel the featherlight touch of her breath on his lips.

She didn't move away.

Her eyes still held his, captivating, spellbinding. It was as if she could see into his very soul, but she didn't look away or cringe back. It felt as if she saw all of him, the good and bad, the strengths and vulnerabilities, the scars and the still open wounds. She could see it all and wasn't even trying to look away, no sign of disgust or disappointment anywhere in her eyes. Only acceptance... and something else he dare not let himself hope for. He couldn't look away, couldn't break that gaze even if he wanted to... And he didn't.

He had no idea which of them moved, maybe it was both of them, but the moment his lips met hers, everything changed.

For weeks he'd been unconsciously taking every emotion, every feeling of affection and lov- everything he'd ever felt toward her, and had stuffed it away, deep within the recesses of his heart and soul, hiding it from himself, safely locked behind thick, sturdy steel doors.

But the moment he kissed her, those doors burst open, shattering into a million pieces.

He felt alive in a way he never had before. This had to be what it felt like to fly, to be so free, so unhindered by anything, not even gravity.

His head spun, his heart raced, and his world narrowed to nothing but her. She was everything. Every light and kindness and beauty in the world paled next to her. She became his world. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed but her and the feeling of her hands resting on his chest, the softness of her hair and caress of her cheek beneath his hand...

And her lips as they pressed against his, without surprise or refusal, willingly, eagerly returning his kiss.

Surely this must be what heaven was like.

He never wanted it to end...

End.

Something in his brain finally burst free of its confines, screaming at him with a panic that shattered everything.

He jerked away as if burned and stumbled back, placing some distance between them.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't- I had no right... I'm sorry." He looked around, his expression a heartbreaking mixture of agonized and frantic. "I should go."

He all but ran to the door.

"Henry!" Abigail called. "Henry, wait!"

He didn't stop, practically lunging through the door and nearly running once outside.

How could he have been so stupid? He never should have let that happen. He'd ruined everything. She was with Frank, and he... He'd betrayed him. He'd betrayed them both. She could never feel the same way he did, and now she would have nothing more to do with him. He'd crossed a line.

In the shadows of a nearby building, he stopped, leaning against it. He crossed his arms, shivering slightly in the frigid night air. In his haste to get away, he'd forgotten his coat, but there was no way he was going back for it.

He closed his eyes, anguish rolling through him. The kiss had been like nothing he'd ever felt before. And she had kissed him back, just for a moment, and likely on reflex, but for that moment, he'd felt... He'd felt like, for the first time in his life, everything was right with the world. Like anything was possible, and true love and happiness were really attainable, even for someone like him.

It had been wondrous, and breathtaking, and something he would cherish for the rest of his life.

Even knowing he'd likely lost her friendship, he couldn't completely regret it, any more than he could bring himself to regret falling in love with her.

His heart stuttered in his chest.

He hadn't let himself admit it. Had tried so hard to deny it, but he just couldn't convince himself anymore.

Deep down, he'd always known the real reason he'd chosen to come back here, to Hope Valley.

He came back because of her.

Because... for all his efforts to stop it, he'd fallen in love with her.

He stood, frozen. He'd never let himself admit it before, not even within the confines of his own mind.

But it was true.

He loved her.

He loved her so much it hurt, because he knew she could never love him back. She was his friend. That was all. The kindness she had shown him was just who she was.

He scrubbed his hands over his face.

How could he have let this happen? How could he have let himself fall for someone he could never have?

But as painful as it was, he wouldn't give that up for anything. That love had changed him and his outlook on the world. It had made him a better man, someone people actually liked to associate with. It had opened the door to friendships that never would have happened otherwise, and had rescued him from the torturous loneliness that his previous attitude and way of life had created. But even more than that, he'd tasted real happiness, the kind that no money or power had ever brought him.

Her kindness and belief in him had meant everything during a time when most had turned their backs on him, and the rest, he'd managed to push away. He thought maybe that was when he'd first really started falling for her. Oh sure, he'd been attracted to her for a long time, but he hadn't known love, real love, until that Christmas, after his car crash, when she had all but forced him to stop pushing everyone away and accept her friendship.

From there, it hadn't taken long for him to fall and fall hard. Now, it wasn't just attraction anymore, and hadn't been for a long time. He didn't just want her affections, he wanted to be near her, to hear her voice and see her smile and make her laugh. He wanted to solve all of her problems. He wanted to give her everything, to live or die for her, and in return, he wanted nothing more than the chance to see her, talk to her, and know she was happy.

He loved her with all of his heart, a pure, self-sacrificing kind of love.

And heaven help him, he'd even grown to love her kids too. He'd never particularly liked or disliked kids before. They were just kind of there. But after the short time he'd gotten to talk with Becky on their ride from the train station last Christmas, and spending so much time with Cody, he suddenly couldn't imagine his life without them in it. At what point had he come to love talking to the boy, walking him home after school, teaching him things, watching him play with his dog, hearing news of Becky and how she was doing in school, eating dinner with Cody and Abigail? When had doing so become routine for him? When had he started wanting so badly to be part of their family?

Had he ruined it all? Would she cut him out of her life now? Would Cody?

His heart stuttered and nearly broke as another thought occurred to him.

What about Frank? How could he ever look the man in the eye again? Frank had only been a friend to him, and he'd betrayed that kindness. He couldn't keep this a secret, but how was he supposed to come out with it, admit it to anyone? And what about Frank and Abigail's relationship? Had he damaged that with his thoughtless actions? Or even worse, would he have to someday watch her marry Frank? To watch him become a father to Cody and Becky?

He nearly doubled over from the pain in his chest, gasping harshly. He couldn't do it. He couldn't stay in this town if that happened. He'd never be able to bear it. And yet, the very thought of leaving and never seeing any of them again was almost enough to send him to his knees.

His heart clenched painfully, and his stomach felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He let out a shuddering breath.

"Oh, Lord, what do I do?" he breathed, desperately blinking back tears. "What do I do?"

He never should have come back here.

)()()(

When Frank had originally decided to stop by the cafe on his way home for the night, he'd thought it was a good idea.

He had barely seen, and spent even less time with Abigail or Cody for... wow, going on a few months now. It seemed like some, or all of them were always busy with something and never could seem to connect. So, stopping by the cafe for a few minutes on his way home, sounded like a great way to start to remedy that problem.

However, as he watched Henry flee out the back door, it finally hit him that maybe he shouldn't have come after all.

Taking a step forward, he left the shadows of the main room and fully entered the softly lit kitchen.

Hearing him, Abigail spun around, her expression startled, almost panicked.

"Frank," she breathed, clearly not knowing what to say or do. Or, probably, wondering how much he'd seen. "I, uh... What are you doing here?"

"I saw, Abigail," he said quietly.

She closed her eyes for a long moment.

Yes, he had seen all right, and part of him wanted to be angry, to wish he'd never walked into the cafe tonight, but he just couldn't seem to feel that way. He couldn't be angry because... Well, if he were being honest, he hadn't been completely blind to the truth. Some part of him had even seen this coming. And, as for regretting coming there... As much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew there was a reason he'd made that decision, instead of just going home. This had been meant to happen. He'd been meant to see it, had needed to see it, so he could realize... So he could realize what he should have a long time ago.

"I'm so sorry, Frank. I never meant for it to happen," she said softly.

"I know," he said, just as softly. "It's not your fault."

"I should have stopped it before it happened. I-"

"I wasn't talking about...," he winced, "the kiss, Abigail."

"Then, what...?"

"I was talking about you falling in love with him."

"What? No! I'm not-" she shook her head, trying to deny it, even to herself, but something in her eyes...

"I've seen the way you look at him, the way you smile when you're around him," he said, his heart heavy, but knowing the words he was saying were the right ones... for both of them.

"Frank, I don't-" she started to shake her head again, but he cut her off, stepping forward to gently take her hands in his.

"I care about you, Abigail, so much," he said, his voice and expression sad, "but I don't look at you the way he does."

"What do you mean?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Like a drowning man who's just seen his salvation," Frank said. "That's how he looks at you, every time."

Frank did care about her, deeply, but he knew they weren't meant for each other. Some part of him had known for a while now, but... it was just so hard to let go sometimes.

She looked away, her eyes bright and expression conflicted, as if she knew he was right but didn't want to admit it.

"He loves you, Abigail, and he needs you. I think, more than he even realizes." He squeezed her hands softly. "And I think you need him too."

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly reached up to wipe it away. "I never meant to hurt you," she whispered.

"I know." He wiped away another tear from her face, his own eyes bright. "I will always care about you, Abigail. And I'll always be your friend."

Abigail nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," he said softly. Stepping closer, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

Then he turned and slowly left the cafe.

)()()(

As the door shut behind Frank, Abigail stared after him, reeling. Sorrow swirled amid her shock. What had just happened? What had she done? How...

She'd never meant for this to happen. She had never ever wanted to hurt Frank like this, but she had. As unintentional as it had been, she had betrayed him, and he wasn't even angry about it, had simply accepted it.

It was so unbelievably more than she deserved.

She swiped at another stubborn tear and took in a shaky breath. How had the evening gone from completely normal to everything suddenly changing forever?

She'd just been talking to Henry like she had so many times since his return. Then they'd started teasing each other, which had led to that silly playfulness. Then...

Then everything had changed.

She brushed her fingertips over her lips.

She wasn't even sure how it had happened. It just had, and now...

She let out a shuddering breath, her vision blurring again.

Frank was right. She didn't want to admit it, but he was right. She'd seen the way Henry looked at her but had ignored it, had convinced herself it was just friendship that had grown between them.

She'd been laughably lying to herself.

Because, for all she cared about Frank, the way she felt around Henry... the way she'd felt when she'd been in his arms, and when he'd kissed her... She hadn't felt like that since...

Noah.

Not since her husband, had she felt this kind of... love. It was the only word for it. Not affection, or attraction, or care, but love. She loved him, more deeply than she had thought herself ever capable of again after Noah's death.

She sank into a nearby chair and covered her mouth with her hand, both overwhelmed and confusingly elated by the realization.

She loved Henry Gowan.

Oh, Lord, what was she going to do?

A/N So? Thoughts? Let me know what you think! Next chapter will be up in about a week. :)