The Renegade (The Rockwell Legacy Book 3)

by Jennifer Bernard

  For Jake, he got a gift card to a bookstore, which earned him a surprised grin of thanks. He’d noticed that Jake often had a book with him behind the bar at the Last Chance. That gift got him a big smile from Isabelle too, which counted as an extra bonus.

  Max’s gift card—to a cigar website—earned him a clap on the shoulder and a “good man” from the old guy.

  He’d take it.

  As the day wore on, Isabelle’s facade of good cheer faded. She hid it well, but not from him. Even though she smiled and joked with the rest of her family during pre-dinner charades, the evening feast of venison and ham, the dessert of strawberry angel food cake, and the game of touch football in the snow, much of her sparkle had disappeared along with the baby. He’d become an expert in reading her, he realized.

  He confirmed it when he caught her under the mistletoe.

  “How are you doing?” he murmured, snagging her before she could escape through the doorway where it dangled. With a finger in the slim belt snugged around her waist, he spun her to face him. She wore a red velvet cat suit that couldn’t possibly look good on anyone—but on her, it did.

  Her eyes filled with mischief. “I’m fine, mostly. But you, on the other hand, are in big trouble.”

  “I just cornered you under the mistletoe. I’m feeling pretty good about things right about now.”

  “Yes, but that would be in a normal family. Haven’t you figured out yet that we do things differently around here?” She grinned smugly. “I’m afraid that you’ll have to give me one of your presents.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “That’s the rule. If you catch someone under the mistletoe, you have to trade presents. Why do you think everyone’s been avoiding this doorway?”

  “Damn.” He scratched the back of his head. How was he supposed to know about that? There ought to be some kind of rulebook for all this. “I like all my presents.”

  “I like all your presents too.” She put out her hand with a smirk. “I’ll take that hat Gracie made you. You can’t pull off purple and pink anyway.”

  Just then, Jake ambled up next to them. “What mischief are you trying to pull, Izzy?”

  “Go away, evil twin. Lyle and I are conducting some business here.”

  “Don’t listen to anything she says,” Jake told him. “She’s taking advantage of your newbie status. The Mistletoe Gift Swap rule was scrapped twenty years ago. We now have a new Mistletoe rule.”

  “Shut up, Jake, I was doing Lyle a favor and reverting to the old rule—”

  Lyle interrupted her and turned to Jake. “What’s the new rule?”

  “It’s a juicy one,” Jake explained. “While you’re positioned under the mistletoe, you have to apologize for something. It’s great because the other person isn’t allowed to use it against you. It’s the perfect chance to confess all your embarrassing secrets and be forgiven. That’s why we’re all avoiding it. Secrets are hard to give up, you know?”

  Lyle looked from one twin to the other. Both wore identical innocent expressions. But they couldn’t both be telling the truth. “How do I know which one of you is bullshitting me?”

  “Now you know exactly how every single member of our family has felt at some point.” Kai grinned as he strolled up behind Isabelle and rested his chin on her head. “Ready to flee yet?”

  He pulled an “I’m considering it” face that made them all laugh. “Maybe I should just step away from the mistletoe.”

  “Too late.” Isabelle put out her hand again. “Hat, please.”

  “I think I’ll take that apology instead.” Lyle smirked at her. “The new rule makes more sense than the old one, and I’m not giving up a hat that Gracie made with her own two hands.”

  “Fine.” Isabelle dropped her hand and shooed her brothers away. “But apologies have to be private. Everyone else, go build a snowman or something. Drink some eggnog. I’m activating the cone of silence.”

  After some more teasing, Jake and Kai left them alone. Isabelle folded her arms across her chest and stared up at him. “You first.”

  “We both have to apologize?”

  “It doesn’t actually have to be an apology. It could just be something you want the other person to know. A safe space to share something. For instance, that’s how I told Jake that I was applying to med school and was going to leave Rocky Peak. And one time Griffin told me about a boy who had a crush on me. But mostly it’s for mending fences. That’s why my mom made it up.”

  “So this is your mother’s doing,” he said softly. Amanda’s spirit was everywhere in this Christmas celebration, he realized. Playful, mischievous, freewheeling, compassionate. Even though the woman herself was gone, she’d left quite a legacy behind.

  “Of course. Max would be happy with a case of cigars and a bottle of brandy for Christmas. It’s all the same to him. But Mom really threw herself into the spirit of things.” Her crooked smile tugged at his heart. “That’s why we try to keep all our crazy traditions going. They remind us of her.”

  Moved by her words, he cupped her face in his hand, just briefly, because he couldn’t not touch her in that moment. Her eyes met his, and for a dizzying span of time, he got completely lost in her glorious green eyes. They held so much heart and dazzle, those eyes. Brighter than any jewel, and endlessly fascinating.

  “Go ahead,” she whispered. “You have me under the mistletoe. What would you like to say to me? You already apologized for abandoning me in Rome, so that’s out. No repeats.”

  He scanned her face, noting the puffiness left from her crying jag from the morning, and the faint laugh lines next to her eyes. How could he know her face so well after such a relatively short time? How could he feel so connected to her? Isabelle was … she was like a fire on a winter night, and he had his face pressed against the glass window, longing to warm himself.

  His heart cracked open and words spilled out.

  “I came here for you,” he said, his voice a bare whisper. “Only for you.”

  The color drained from her face. “What?”

  “I left Italy and kept seeing you everywhere. I couldn’t explain it. I didn’t expect it to be that way. Once I discovered who you were and where I could find you, I figured out an excuse to come.”

  “Lyle,” she whispered. He couldn’t read her expression. A flush of color had flooded back into her face, and she was avoiding his gaze.

  Hell. He’d gone too far. Bared too much of his heart. Had he gotten it all wrong over the past few weeks? Ever since she’d slammed on the brakes that first time, he’d tried so hard to get back their easy connection. And then she’d gone to bed with him—enthusiastically. More than once. What was he missing?

  “You don’t have to worry,” he said, forcing his face into a smile of sorts. “I’m not expecting anything. It’s not like I’m proposing marriage.”

  “Again.”

  “Again.” He winced, then rubbed the space between his eyes. “Nothing’s changed. We’re exactly where we were this morning. You’re not supposed to hold this against me, isn’t that the rule? You’re supposed to forgive?”

  “Forgive what?” She reached up and fingered the mistletoe. “Lyle, what are you saying, exactly?”

  “Nothing. Nothing important.”

  “Do you feel like this is more than a casual thing? Because—”

  “Of course not,” he said, taking a step back so he was no longer under that damn mistletoe. “I just told you not to worry. We’re good. Isn’t it your turn yet? We both have to sit on the hot seat, right?”

  She nodded, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue. He watched the gesture with a visceral memory of what her lips tasted like against his.

  “I…uh…I apologize for calling you arrogant and coldhearted. You didn’t deserve that. You aren’t that. Usually. Hardly ever, really, now that I know you and can interpret your extremely stoic expressions better.”

  He chuckled a bit. “Are you sure that’s an apology? Interesting format.”<
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  “I apologize for my apology, then. Also…” She touched her back pocket, where paper crinkled. “I wondered if you’d like a break from this lodge.”

  “A break?” he asked warily. Did she want him to leave, maybe give her a little space?

  “Yes. Would you like to take a break from this lodge to go to another lodge?” A smile hovered in the corners of her mouth. “Majestic Lodge, to be specific. It’s no fun skiing by yourself. I mean, I enjoy skiing in all circumstances, but just think about it, you and me, Black Diamond trails, penthouse suite, hot tubs…”

  He stopped her right there, before he lost the ability to say ‘no.’ “You don’t have to invite me on that trip. That’s not why I gave it to you. It’s supposed to be for you. You could invite friends, brothers and sisters, whoever you want. The suite accommodates up to six people. Three bedrooms.”

  “Good to know. I guess we have some bed testing to do.”

  Okay then. The glint in her eye made his cock stir. Not something he usually associated with mistletoe. “Are you sure?”

  She appeared to take his question seriously, screwing her face up and tapping her finger on her chin. “Hmm…let me think for a minute. Nope. I just ran through every single person in my life and you are the only one I want to come with me. Will you?”

  “Depends. Are you going to make me ski the Black Diamond trails? Because my extremely strong survival instincts might have something to say about that.”

  A wide smile radiated across her face. “You’re in luck. I like you too much to make you keep up with me on the Black Diamonds.”

  Oh good. Progress. She “liked” him. Well, it was a start, anyway. And better than the deep freeze they’d started with. Maybe they needed to spend some more time in bed together.

  Maybe all that bed-testing at Majestic would do the trick.

  The sound of someone’s throat clearing made them both look up. Serena and Griffin stood just outside the circle of the mistletoe, with their dog Rogue pressed against Serena’s leg. The two of them looking stunning together, with her dark red hair piled on top of her head, and him in a black sweater emphasizing his dark good looks.

  “Are you two just about done?” Griffin rested his hand on the back of Serena’s neck. “Serena’s dying to kiss me under the mistletoe.” He winked at them. “Because that’s all this is, an ordinary piece of mistletoe hanging from a doorjamb. Nothing more.”

  “You’re being weird,” Serena told him.

  Lyle mouthed “run” to Serena, and pretended to draw a line across his throat. But she missed most of his warning because she was still gazing at Griffin as if he’d personally set the stars in motion in the sky.

  He shrugged and gave up his attempt to warn her. Serena was a grown woman, and she’d chosen to join the Rockwell family with wide-open eyes. And had been deliriously happy ever since then.

  “Merry Christmas,” he murmured as he drew Isabelle away from that troublemaking bit of mistletoe.

  Then again, trouble wasn’t always a bad thing. He’d shown Isabelle more of his heart than he’d planned to, but on the other hand, she’d invited him to Majestic Lodge with her.

  Thank you, Amanda, he thought to himself. You really knew what you were doing, didn’t you?

  25

  At the end of that emotional rollercoaster of a Christmas day, Isabelle closed herself in her room and slumped onto her shag rug, leaning her back against her bed. She felt exhausted and chilled, running on empty. Snagging her favorite, most fluffy parka, the brown one that looked like a Cocoa Puff, from the back of her chair, she cuddled under it as if it were a cocoon.

  Just within reach sat the box of her mother’s journals.

  “Okay, Mom. Let’s do this thing. I’ve gone through every possible emotion today, so why not add some more drama?” she muttered after she’d warmed up a little. She drew the box toward her. “Let’s just pile it on, why not?”

  Pile. Lyle.

  And just like that, her thoughts spun back to the biggest shocker of the day—Lyle’s confession.

  She still didn’t know what to make of it. Even in his temporarily un-billionaired state, Lyle had the entire world at his feet. Why would an ordinary person like Isabelle register on his radar? On the other hand, it had been an unforgettable night. She could vouch for that.

  His statement about coming to Rocky Peak for her didn’t mean he was in love, or that they had a future. How could they? Lyle was firmly opposed to children, and she was …

  Very confused? Missing Tigger? Rethinking her entire life?

  Yes to all of the above.

  But Lyle didn’t know about that part and she planned to keep it that way. We’re exactly where we were this morning, he’d said. Nothing has changed.

  Well, one thing had—they’d decided to spend New Year’s together in the penthouse at Majestic Lodge. She couldn’t wait to get Lyle alone in one of those luxury suites. She couldn’t wait to attack those Black Diamond trails, then steam away her muscle aches in a hot tub. With Lyle.

  That would be the best part, doing everything with Lyle.

  In the meantime, now that Christmas was over, she had no more excuses to avoid her mother’s journals.

  She cuddled into her favorite purple beanbag chair, which looked like a fuzzy deflated grape skin. This was the coziest spot in the world, where she used to curl up on rainy days and read Anne of Green Gables while snacking on chocolate chips. Nothing could hurt her in the beanbag. It was like a hug in the form of a chair.

  She opened the box and took out the journals. Underneath them, a silk scarf was carefully spread across the floor of the box. With a pang, Isabelle lifted it free. She remembered that scarf with its paisley pattern in purple and teal, Amanda Rockwell’s favorite colors. She slipped it into the pocket of her parka before it made her cry.

  Back to business. She counted the notebooks. Twenty. They were surprisingly uniform and tidy, considering the chaos that often followed Amanda Rockwell around. They were even dated, each one with a beginning and end date. Some covered longer spans of time than others, probably due to things like childbirth or especially busy ski seasons.

  Where to start? The beginning? The end? The middle?

  Operating entirely by intuition—Gracie-style—she randomly selected one of the notebooks from near the end of the pile. Her heart racing, she brought it to her nose and sniffed. There it was, the faintest hint of her mother’s scent, nearly overwhelmed by the sandalwood aroma of the box. She inhaled it deeply, and for a moment she felt as if her mother was right there with her in the room.

  She closed her eyes, conjuring the sensation of her mother’s fingers stroking her hair, the way she used to do when Isabelle couldn’t sleep. There was a lullaby she used to sing … Fly little baby, fly with me. Come little baby, come to me. Smile, sleepy child, and think of me.

  The memory worked its magic on her, almost lulling her to sleep. She dragged her eyelids open. Even though it was late, and everyone else had gone to bed, she wasn’t ready for sleep. She’d probably have that same dream anyway, the one she’d had almost every night, except those spent with Lyle Guero.

  “Mom, if I read one of your journals, will those dreams finally stop? I could use a break,” she murmured out loud. “No need to answer.”

  Smiling at her own silliness, she opened the notebook. It was dated about six months before the accident, but at least three journals came later in the sequence, so it must have been a very active time of writing for Amanda.

  Not just writing … but drawing … and more…

  Heart in her mouth, Isabelle flipped through the first pages of her mom’s journal. They were filled with all kinds of things—quotes from books she was reading, designs inspired by the quotes, or sometimes completely unconnected. Drawings of scenes from the lodge, such as Gracie in her bassinet—the same one Tigger had used, which gave Isabelle a sharp pang. The old broken birch next to the back door. A cloud in the comical shape of a woman getting her hair done
. Max’s eyes and eyebrows. A pot overflowing with nasturtiums. Renata in the midst of chopping meat, looking somewhere between Martha Stewart and a serial killer.

  And, of course, actual journal entries.

  Tuesday April 14th

  Saw F today. He says he has a good lead we can pursue. I feel bad that I can’t spend more time on this. He’s doing so much, and it’s not even for his benefit, just for mine. He’s a sweet man, and I wish I could pay him more. The only reason I can afford him is that he’s not a real detective. But I shouldn’t complain, I’m lucky he’s taking the time. Sweet man.

  Monday, May 1

  Massive fight with Max. God, sometimes it takes everything in me not to run. A little break, would that be so bad? The last time I had a breather was “Dad’s surgery.” Can’t really call that a break. Sometimes I fantasize about taking the kids to Cali for a while. See the ocean, feel the sand. But they have their busy lives and Max is stuck at this lodge like a damn barnacle. A barnacle I love like crazy, though. That makeup sex goes a long way.

  Friday, June 16th.

  Max is getting suspicious. He saw me talking to F when he came up to the lodge. I’m sure it looked shady, but how can I explain the truth without creating a firestorm? I told him he needs to trust me, but Max has always been so anxious when it comes to me and my doings. He calls me the red balloon, because I always want to float away.

  But yet I never do. Why can’t he see that? I’m tethered here by five—no, six, including Max—strings that I will never cut, and would never want to.

  And the last time I thought seriously about it, a miracle occurred to keep me here.

  It’s the one thing I can never spell out anywhere, including here. There are too many curious little minds around here, in particular the twins. Those two—they might as well be Nancy Drew reincarnated. But I can’t tell them.