by Natalie Ann
Mona startled, freckles standing out with her temper. “Don’t call me that. You gave up the right a long time ago.”
He sobered. “I’m not trying to fight, Mona, only invite you to a cup of coffee.” He’d hurt her. He’d known and regretted it, but still, her bitterness seemed over the top for a teenage romance gone wrong. Before he could question her, she turned away and distracted him by bending over to pick up the hammer. A couple of cars zoomed by honking and they both put on their public faces to smile and wave.
When they were alone, Mona crossed her arms. “Coffee’s a bad idea, Trace. We have too much history. Besides, I’m not really dressed for a restaurant.”
So, it wasn’t exactly a no. She just needed convincing.
“I need your advice,” he said.
She gazed at him skeptically. “You’ve run two terms as mayor, I’m pretty sure you know what you’re doing.”
Kind of a back-handed compliment but he’d take it. “Thanks, I appreciate the support.” She threatened him with the hammer again, so he hurried to add, “but this is about Bailey. I could really use a woman’s insight.”
She hesitated, then sighed. “Fine, you win. Where do you want to go?”
Anywhere, as long as it’s with you. “Broadmoor Park? It’s nearby and there’s a drive-through coffee place on the way.” He held his breath until she nodded.
“I suppose I could use a drink. Meet you there? Where are you parked?”
It was almost as though she didn’t want to be stuck in a car with him. “I walked,” he fibbed. “I’ll catch a lift with you.” He kept his smirk to himself at her obvious frustration.
“Yeah, sure. I’m parked around the bend. Let’s go then, I have work to do.” She gathered a stack of posters and left him to grab the rest.
He took a moment to enjoy her gentle sway as she walked down the hill, then undid his suit jacket and bent to the job she’d given him. He’d parked his vehicle in the spa’s lot, intending to stop in and question Sally about her customer base, until he’d seen Mona on top of the hill. He had a feeling she wouldn’t wait for an explanation if she knew, so he’d lied about walking. Hopefully, it didn’t come back to bite him on the ass.
The ride to the park was made mostly in silence other than his choice of coffee at the drive-through window. Trace figured he was better off giving her some space, but he was hyper-aware of every breath she took, the brush of her hand against his leg as she changed gears, the sweet, clean scent of her hair. He shifted uncomfortably.
She handed him his drink and shot him a glance. “Scratchy suit?”
Something itched, but it wasn’t his clothes. “Something like that,” he murmured, accepting the cup.
She smirked, thanked the server, and placed her cup in a holder. “Bet you’re jealous of my cotton-wear now, huh?”
Oh, hell yeah.
The park came up on the right before his imagination could take flight and he let out a disappointed breath. She still affected him the way she always had.
“Over there good?” She nodded toward a picnic table sitting under the shade of a giant willow tree.
“Perfect,” he agreed, and kept pace with her as they wandered across the lot. “Haven’t been here in a while. We used to skip lunch to throw a Frisbee around, then had to race back before class.” Back when life seemed much simpler.
“I know,” she said, sending him a sidelong glance. “I used to sit under this tree watching you—and your friends,” she hurried to tack on. “None of you could keep a shirt on.”
So, she’d noticed him as a scrawny junior—interesting. He’d known her, of course, as Jacob’s little sister, but it was doubtful he could have picked her out of a group of girls back then. He’d been too focused on sports and having a good time with his friends to pay attention to a brunette with freckles across her nose. That came later.
He waited until she climbed the seat of the picnic table and sat on the top facing the water, then he removed his suit coat and unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, rolling them to his elbows. “There, that feels better.” He glanced up to see her staring at his forearms as though mesmerized and hid a smile. “Nice day.”
“Hmm?” she murmured, then jerked her gaze away. “Yes, I think we can safely say spring has arrived.”
He hopped up to join her and leaned back on his arms, sighing in bliss as the sun bathed his face. “I miss this. My job requires me to spend the bulk of my days indoors, and no, I’m not trying to dissuade you from running in the election. In fact, I almost hope you win.” Shocked by the truth in his statement, Trace sat up and met Mona’s stare. “Well, there’s a mic drop moment, if I ever heard one.”
“You don’t mean that, you can’t. Sweetheart Cove needs you.” Mona grasped his hand and squeezed. “Between you and me—and that means keep quiet, for heaven’s sake—I’m only in this thing to make a point, I definitely do not want to win.”
He gazed at their hands and maneuvered so their fingers entwined. “I think you’re stronger than you know, you’d make a great mayor.”
“No, Trace. Get that thought out of your head. My hands are full at the restaurant. And now with Amber getting ready to leave for college, I want to be able to fly out to see her when I get the chance, which wouldn’t happen often enough if I was in your seat—so thanks, but no thanks.” Mona broke their connection on the pretext of picking up her coffee. “Since it’s unlikely the spa is going anywhere, as soon as council sees the necessity for better security and a larger dock to handle the extra tourists coming to the island, I plan to bow out of the race.”
Trace picked up his own coffee and took a sip. “Commendable, but it doesn’t work that way. If you want things done, you need to see them through.”
“You think I don’t know that?” she asked, her body tensing. “I’m a single mother who worked her ass off to give my girl the best I could. I don’t need you telling me how to be a better person, Trace Michaels.”
He raised his hands. “Whoa, you don’t have to tell me how impressive you are—I already stand in awe. I’ve only been a single parent for a couple of years and already I’m drowning.” He brushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, lingering for a moment before reluctantly letting go. “Why are you always on the defensive around me, Mona? I care about you, you must know that.”
Tears stood out in her eyes, but she blinked them away and raised her chin. “Do you? Not enough to break up with me properly before I found you with Sally Hayward at our prom—the one you invited me to!”
He sat back, frowning. She was right. It didn’t matter he’d had too much to drink and Sally had come on to him—he deserved Mona’s wrath. Eighteen years, and yet it had obviously hurt her deep enough she still carried scars. Wounds he might never overcome.
“You know what, never mind.” She jumped down and started toward her car. “This is a bad idea.”
“Wait,” Trace called, standing, but not following. His heart pounded with the fear that if he didn’t get this right something rare and precious would be gone forever.
She slowed, then stopped, her back stiff and unyielding. “What do you want from me, Trace?”
Everything.
They’d been so in love once and those feelings were reawakening. He wanted a chance. “Don’t leave. We haven’t even talked about Bailey yet.” Brilliant, Michaels, just brilliant.
Mona’s shoulders dropped. “Not today. I need to go.” She walked away, and this time he knew she wouldn’t be back.
Chapter Twelve
Bailey sat on an overstuffed couch in the basement of her friend Lena’s house and tried to look like she was enjoying herself. She didn’t get invited to many parties and was actually good with that—it was tough being an introvert.
She cradled the beer someone had handed her and pretended to take a sip now and then, though it tasted pretty bad. The beat-up coffee table in front of her was filled with bottles and glasses, some lying on their side leaving little rivers of liqui
d to drip onto the floor. Some kids played spin the bottle a few feet away. She tried to hear what they were saying but the music was too loud, and she was too shy to get closer. And then Billy arrived and joined the circle. Bailey’s hands grew sweaty and the bottle slipped between her fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thunk. Her heart literally stopped, but thankfully the bass covered the noise.
“He’s here,” Lena shouted, leaning over the back of the couch.
“Shh!” Bailey frowned up at her friend while sneaking embarrassed glances at Billy, who sat way-too-close to the annoying Sarah. “You’re drunk.”
Lena laughed like a hyena, tears rolling down her cheeks. “That’s not all,” she tittered, holding a finger and thumb together up to her lips. “Want some?”
Bailey’s first instinct was hell, no, but another glance to the nearby circle had her giving a hesitant nod. How bad could it be? Lena seemed fine, if goofy. She’d just have a little, enough to give her the courage to participate in the game.
Lena waved a guy over—a senior. He wrapped a tattooed arm around her waist and planted a wet kiss on her lips. Bailey shuddered. He took a long drag on the thick joint, coughed up a lung, then passed it to Lena. She repeated the scenario and winked at Bailey as she passed the dube over. Bailey stared at it like it was a smoking gun. If her dad caught her, it could be.
A boy and a girl rose from the circle and stumbled over to a closet. They disappeared inside and the others erupted in cheers and catcalls. Sarah hugged Billy’s arm and whispered something into his ear. The expression on his face twisted Bailey’s guts. Without another thought, she reached for the dope and took a long drag off the end. She was overcome by harsh coughs that made her eyes swim. Skunky-smelling smoke escaped her nose and mouth, burning tissue and lungs. After the haze cleared, her head felt foggy. The music pulsed through her body, filling her with false courage. Strength to do something she’d never do otherwise.
Ignoring the two making out behind her, she waited for her chance. The moment the closet door opened, she rose and staggered to the circle, picked up the green bottle, and said, “I dare Billy to go to the closet with me.”
The group burst into laughter and someone snorted, “That’s not how you play, dummy.”
Bailey swayed, dazed and confused. “Isn’t this truth or dare? I dared.”
“Yeah, but you need to spin the bottle to see who goes in there with you,” The girl said helpfully.
Great. She’d risked the wrath of her father and it was all for nothing. And made an idiot out of herself—don’t forget that happy addition. She started to slink away, wishing she could disappear into the beer-soaked floor when she heard two words that changed everything.
“I’ll go.”
***
Mona finished working on the restaurant’s financial records and leaned back with a tired sigh. She kept promising herself she would hire a bookkeeper, but different calamities kept it from becoming a reality. In the last year, she’d had to replace the furnace, do costly repairs to the fire repression system, and update the cracked upholstery. The café did a steady business but hits like those definitely hurt the pocketbook. Oh well, maybe next year.
She shut down the computer and rose, intending to dive into a good book and a glass of red wine—not necessarily in that order—when Amber called her name, panic in her voice.
“Mom… Mom, Bailey needs help. Can I borrow the car?” Footsteps thumped down the hall, matching Mona’s increased heart rate. Amber skidded into the office, her face pale. “She’s crying, Mom. I gotta go.”
“Where is she?” Why didn’t she call her father? Mona fumbled in her purse for the keys.
“Some party at a friend’s house. She gave me the address.” Amber clenched her hands. “She sounds really bad.”
That sealed it. “I’m going with you.” She swung the purse over her shoulder.
“What? No. She might take off. Is that what you want?” Amber crossed her arms and shifted her torso forward, full of teenage angst.
Mona frowned. “Of course not, but I can’t just sit by and wait, either. I’m going, or we call her dad—your choice.”
“Fine, but let’s hurry. I’m worried about her.” Amber dropped her arms and raced back the way she’d come.
Mona glanced at the desk phone, hesitated, then followed her daughter. Time enough to call Trace after she knew what they were dealing with—pray God, nothing serious.
The trip across town was made in tense silence with Mona sneaking sidelong glances at Amber, who looked like a film noir star thanks to the flickering streetlamps lighting up the vehicle on the moonless night.
“Bailey’s a smart girl, honey. I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Mona murmured, while waiting for a traffic light to change to green.
Amber shrugged and huddled down in her corner. “I hope you’re right. She sounded… strange.”
Strange? What did that mean? The light changed and she punched the gas, suddenly filled with dread. There was so much that could happen to a teenage girl. Thank goodness, Amber was level-headed. And then she felt immediately guilty for thinking that thought. Bad things happened to anyone at any time, without rhyme or reason—fate really could be a bitch.
They pulled up in front of a modest two-story house in a residential cul-de-sac. The upper floor was dark and quiet, but light and sound poured out of the downstairs windows, opened to the night. Mona was surprised the neighbors hadn’t already called the police. Cars lined the street, and a couple had even pulled up on the party spot’s lawn. Someone’s parents weren’t going to be impressed come morning.
“Do you see her?” she asked, peering through the windshield.
“No,” Amber said, leaning out of her open window. “I’m going to run in and see if I can find her.”
Mona’s first reaction was, over my dead body, but she realized there wasn’t much choice. If she went in, the kids would scramble, making it almost impossible to get Bailey out safely. But she didn’t have to like it.
“Ten minutes and then I’m calling the cops. Bailey’s a minor, what was she thinking?”
“Probably that she wanted to have fun, Mom. Didn’t you ever make a mistake as a kid?” Amber stared at her with all the worldly wisdom of a young woman. “I’ll be right back.” She climbed out of the car, then leaned on the windowsill. “Thanks for coming, love you.”
Love you, too. Mona stared after her with blurry eyes. She’d been blessed ever since the day the doctor laid a crying, pink bundle of joy on her chest. No matter what, she’d never regretted giving birth to Trace’s baby—their daughter.
She swiped at her wet cheeks just as Amber reappeared with her arm wrapped around Bailey’s hunched form. Mona hurried to help, frowning at the stench of booze and… weed? that permeated her clothes. The girl’s quiet sobs ripped at her heart. She put away her misgivings to offer the support she so clearly needed.
“Hush, honey, we’ve got you now.” She added her arm to Amber’s, and between them they managed to get her down the driveway and into the backseat of the car.
Amber climbed in after her and looked up at Mona. “I’ll ride with her. She shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Mona nodded. She’d seen the torn shirt and mussed hair. She shuddered to imagine what that might mean. Trace needed to know; they could no longer put off contacting him.
She cast an angry glare at the house, then circled the car, climbed in, and hurried to start the engine. A moment later warm air circulated through the interior. Before drawing away, she turned, looked at the girls, and asked the toughest question she’d ever had to voice. “Bailey, I know this is hard, but honey, were you assaulted?”
“Mom!” Amber gazed at her with wide eyes. “What a thing to say.”
Mona’s stomach was twisted into a labyrinth of knots, but she needed an answer. “If she was, she needs to go to the hospital. They can check her over and make sure she’s not injured.” She couldn’t say rape, it was too brutal.
“Can I just go to your house, please?” Bailey whispered, her face pale and drawn under the streetlamp. “I’m fine. I just… fell.”
Mona hesitated, torn between having her properly looked at and understanding how scared she must feel. “Okay, but we’re going to call your father when we get there—no arguments. He deserves to know what happened.”
Bailey shuddered and drew a deep breath. “Yes, ma’am.” Then she turned her head into Amber’s shoulder and cried like her heart was breaking. Mona sympathized. She felt the same way.
Chapter Thirteen
After an emotionally taxing Friday, Trace was ready for a beer. Bailey was staying over at a friend’s, so he called Jacob to meet him at the Blue Cup, a new bar near the wharf.
By the time he’d gone home to shower and change, the parking lot was packed. He parked down the block and tapped the steering wheel, debating whether he wanted the hassle of pushing himself into a noisy pub just to get a drink. He had beer at home, and it would be a hell of a lot quieter. Lonelier too.
One drink wasn’t going to hurt him. If he wasn’t careful, he’d start going to bed by nine and walking outside in his robe to grab the newspaper. He wasn’t an old man, though there were days he felt like one. Maybe he’d even hook up with someone, go out on a date. Between the divorce and raising his daughter, he’d placed his own needs on the back burner, but lately his libido was making itself known and it was all Mona’s fault. It was strange to think they lived in the same town, had once been intimate, and her brother was Trace’s best friend, yet it was their daughters’ friendship that had brought them together. Well, not together, together, though he wished for… more.
At least it was a nice night. If he had too much to drink, walking home wouldn’t be a hardship. Spring in the Pacific Northwest was notorious for rain and variable temperatures, but he wouldn’t need his umbrella tonight.
