by Debbie Mason
“And a lot of grit and determination on your part, Abby. You don’t recover from that type of injury without it.” He knew that firsthand. One of his men had suffered a traumatic brain injury after an IED blew up their Humvee.
“It took two years for me to learn to walk and talk and function normally again. Or as close to normal as I’ll ever be,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh.
“Hey.” He hesitated, then reached for her hand. It felt small and soft in comparison to his. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze before releasing them. “Don’t do that. What you’ve overcome is nothing short of a miracle, Abby.”
“I know. It’s just sometimes I wonder what my life would’ve been like if I hadn’t fallen and had a stroke. Believe it or not, I was smart. Top of my class. Straight As. In spelling and reading, no less. And now…well, you know.”
“You taught yourself to walk and talk again.”
She smiled. “I had some help.”
“But you did the work, and you didn’t give up. Seems to me you can do whatever you set your mind to.”
“I hope so. I told Sadie I’d have the farm ready for the tour this weekend.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did. And why are you looking at me like I lost my mind?”
“Because…” Now that he knew her history, he’d be more careful what he said to her. So instead of saying she had to have lost her mind to think putting the farm on the tour was a good idea, he said, “People take the tour to see a working farm, Abby. And in case you haven’t noticed, Honeysuckle Farm is no longer a working farm. Liz used to sell pots of honeysuckle and products from her bees.”
“She was a beekeeper?”
He nodded. “You didn’t know?”
“No, I didn’t. Weren’t you listening to your aunt? I’m a horrible niece who had nothing to do with her great-aunt and was undeserving of her legacy.”
“Right. And when Elsa said at least your father knew the value of family, you said she didn’t know him very well.”
“Obviously you don’t have a problem with your memory.”
“No, I don’t. So what did you mean? I take it you and your dad had a falling-out.”
“You could say that.” She shrugged. “I might as well tell you. I’ve told you everything else. Maybe if you know the whole story you won’t judge me so harshly. Don’t bother denying it,” she said when he opened his mouth. “I know you think I’m as bad as your aunt does. Only you keep your opinion to yourself. I mean, you don’t say what you think of me out loud, but I can see it in your eyes sometimes.”
“Yeah, I kinda got that when you told Granny MacLeod that I’d be happy to get rid of you. For the record, I wouldn’t want to see you hurt in any way, Abby. And that’s the truth.”
“That’s nice to know. Although I notice you didn’t say you’d be sad to see me go.”
“No, I didn’t.” He smiled.
She rolled her eyes. “Sometimes honesty is overrated, you know. Anyway, here’s the truth: I do feel like a horrible niece. But after my dad left me and my mom, I didn’t have anything to do with the Findlays. He disowned us so I guess you could say I disowned them. He left the day before my thirteenth birthday. I was going to surprise him. I could take a whole five steps without using my walker. It was silly to think he’d be proud of me. He loved the Abby I used to be, and he knew as well as I did that I’d never be that fearless, adventurous girl again. Then there were the hospital bills. I used to hear him fighting with my mom about them. If it weren’t for me, they’d probably still be together.”
He wished he’d never asked. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have dumped all of that on you.”
“I asked. And, Abby, I think Liz would be glad she left you the farmhouse.”
She sniffed and ran a finger under her eye. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me since we met. Thank you.”
He leaned across her to open the glove box, patting inside for a package of tissues Liz had left in there on the last trip they’d made to the hospital for her chemo treatment. She’d gone fast, faster than any of them had expected. None of them had been ready for her to go. Least of all him.
He handed Abby the package, and she looked up at him, her green eyes shiny. “You’re not going to say anything else that will make me cry, are you?”
“Thinking about it. It’s not really my business though.”
“From my admittedly short time in Highland Falls, I couldn’t help but notice people here don’t seem to have a problem sticking their noses in everyone else’s business. So lay it on me.”
“It seems to me you have more in common with them than I do. My SOP—standard operating procedure—is to steer clear of everyone and their business. But I’m going to break my own personal rule.” He seemed to do that a lot with her. Something he’d think about later. “You sound like you’re blaming yourself for your dad walking away from you and your mom, Abby, and from my experience, I don’t think that’s the case. He blamed himself for your accident. Every time he looked at you, every time he saw you in pain and struggling to relearn what had once come easy to you, it ripped out another piece of his heart. I’m not saying it’s right what he did but it sounds to me like the guilt was killing him and he thought you’d be better off without him. I know it’s hard to hear, but as difficult as it was for you, you probably were.”
Hunter knew he was right, and he knew that because he’d done the same thing himself.
Chapter Ten
Whoever said confession was good for the soul was wrong. Abby had a list as long as her arm of the mistakes she’d made over the years, but confessing to Hunter ranked in the top five. He didn’t bark at her anymore or look at her like she made him want to pull out his hair or roll his eyes. Or if he did, he was quick to cover his frustration with a solicitous smile, at least as solicitous as Hunter Mackenzie could be.
Yesterday was a perfect example. He’d been up on the ladder painting the living room ceiling, and she’d tripped on the tarp on her way to the kitchen, which sent her flying forward. Thankfully, not into the rungs of the ladder where Hunter stood but into the metal shelf where the paint tray sat. The paint tray tipped over and onto her head. She’d stood there, dripping in white ceiling paint, waiting for him to lose his mind.
No, not just waiting, hoping and praying that the Hunter she’d come to know and apparently really liked came back. Instead, she got the new Hunter. The one who helped clean her up enough to then carefully guide her upstairs because some of the paint had gotten into her right eye.
Once they reached the bathroom, he not only started the shower for her, he made sure the water temperature and pressure were just right. Then he laid out towels and shampoo. After which, he gave her one of his newly minted attentive smiles and suggested she have a nap. A nap! She’d never been more tempted to pitch a fit than she had been at that moment.
But how could she, right? He was being sweet and patient and kind. She’d have to be an ungrateful biatch to throw a temper tantrum. “And I’m not a biatch, am I, Boo?” she said as she filled Bella’s water dish at the kitchen sink. She crouched to place it beside the pink princess food dish that was still full of food, then fixed the red bow on Bella’s head.
This morning, Abby had decided to ignore Hunter’s directive of not babying her dog and treating her as if she were a human child, dressing Bella in her adorable cherry-printed sundress.
Today was the farm tour after all, and she wanted Bella to look adorbs. Abby wore her sundress with the same cherry print as Bella’s, but she’d added the white frilly apron she’d found in the kitchen drawer. She wanted to look farm-girl-ish.
She’d tied her hair back with a white kerchief to complete the look, and she was barefoot instead of wearing heels. As someone who was vertically challenged and had a slight shoe addiction, it was a huge sacrifice on her part to go barefoot. But she had a lot riding on today, and she wanted everything to go absolutely perfect
ly.
She kissed the top of Bella’s head and reached up for a doggy treat on the counter. “This is the last one until you start eating your food, Boo. I know you miss Wolf, but you can’t get yourself worked up over a man.” As the farmhouse was now a construction zone, Hunter didn’t want Wolf around.
Bella looked up from rooting around in her dog dish for her treat that Abby had hidden underneath the food in hopes of enticing her to eat. Her dog appeared to be as perturbed with Abby as Abby was with Hunter.
She sighed. “I know I’m one to talk, but it’s different in my case. You have a crush on Wolf, and I don’t have one on Hunter. Okay, so I’m not entirely immune to the man. Please, I have eyes. But I never should’ve told him about the accident and the stroke, or my dad. I never should’ve cried.”
It had colored the way he treated her. He thought of her as a pathetic invalid now. Her mother, stepfather, and even Haven and Haley, despite being ten years younger, had coddled and pampered her and made excuses for her. It’s why she’d never told anyone in LA about the accident, not even Chandler.
They just thought she was an uncoordinated klutz whose phone had the worst auto correct on the planet and that every so often she slurred her words, which they put down to the cocktails they had typically consumed at the time.
In LA, everything was superficial. It was all about who you were with, who you were wearing, what parties you attended. Who was in, who was out, what was in, and what was out. And for years, Abby had been one of the in-crowd. No one felt sorry for her there. She’d made it. She’d been someone. Until she wasn’t.
She pushed the depressing thought away and washed her hands in the farmer’s sink, distracting herself by focusing on the happy fact that the sink no longer leaked. She’d thought she’d have to replace the faucet and sink but Hunter had ticked it off her list two days ago. He’d fixed the stove too. Really, it was incredible how much he’d accomplished in such a short time. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was anxious to get rid of her.
The thought startled her. She was surprised and a little horrified to discover that a part of her actually believed these past few days that she and Hunter had spent in close quarters, working side by side toward a common goal—okay, maybe not so much side by side as she supervised and he worked—had changed the way he felt about her. Of course it hadn’t. His true feelings for her were just one more thing he’d kept hidden from her the past few days.
At the sound of gravel crunching and then a truck door closing, Abby’s stomach took a little dip. It was Hunter. She glanced at Bella. She hadn’t dressed her up to get on his last nerve, but she kinda hoped it did. At the heavy clump of his boots on the porch, Bella perked up and moved to sit at the door, anxiously waiting for it to open. Which is why Abby hurried over to the oven to take out the doughnuts she’d made, even with three minutes left on the timer.
She didn’t want to look as pathetic as her dog. Abby had been baking half the night and all morning in hopes of not disappointing the people on the tour. She’d used berries from the bushes behind the farmhouse in all the recipes. The kitchen table was covered in baked goods that she planned to sell today in order to raise some much-needed funds. Last night, she’d also put sale stickers on the furniture and knickknacks that she thought could legitimately pass for antiques.
She turned off the timer and opened the oven, rewarded with the enticing smell of vanilla and sugar filling the kitchen. She’d been a little worried that she’d misread the recipe when it called for her to bake instead of fry the doughnuts. But not only did they smell delicious, they were perfectly round and golden brown. She hadn’t known she had a knack for baking until she’d made Elinor’s scones for Hunter the other morning. But more than a knack, she actually enjoyed it. She found it relaxing and satisfying.
When she’d said as much to her mother on what seemed to have become their nightly FaceTime call, she’d given her a sad smile before reminding Abby they used to bake together all the time when she was young. But then Abby had the accident and they didn’t have time to do the mother-daughter things they’d once loved. Her mother had been too busy working to pay the bills, and Abby had been putting all her time and effort into relearning to walk and talk so that her mother’s sacrifices wouldn’t be for nothing.
The side door opened as she was placing the tray on the cooling rack on the counter. She steeled herself for Hunter’s reaction to her dog dancing at his feet. Beneath the black T-shirt that was molded to an upper body she couldn’t keep her eyes from caressing, his chest expanded, and hers filled with hope. This was it, the moment they’d get back to normal.
But he didn’t say anything. His hand stalled above Bella’s head, and he turned his head to look at Abby’s cherry-red painted toenails. Inch by inch, his eyes traveled up her body until his gaze met hers. They held for a brief moment, then he turned to pat Bella’s head and say as he straightened, “Relax, rat.”
Still feeling the effect of his slow perusal, that brief moment when his eyes held hers and butterflies took flight in her stomach, she didn’t call him out for calling Bella a rat. It was a missed opportunity. Except now when he called her dog rat, it sounded more like a pet name than a curse word.
Without looking at her, Hunter lifted his chin at the doughnuts on the tray. “You’ve been busy.”
“Do you want one? I just need to fill the center with the berries.” She reached for the bowl of raspberries and blueberries that she’d tossed with granulated sugar.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t like my baking. You were humming when you ate my scones the other morning.”
“What are you worked up about? I never said I didn’t like your baking.” He glanced around the kitchen and must’ve spotted the trays of baked goods covering the table because his eyes got the tiniest bit bigger before darkening with a flare of emotion that he quickly shut down. Which meant he was either angry or worried or just plain frustrated with her. He wasn’t the only one. She was getting more ticked by the minute.
His eyes came back to hers. “I get your…the problem now.”
She wanted to scream at the way he’d just edited himself.
“What did you do? Stay up half the night baking?” His eyes searched her face. “This is nut—You have enough pastries to open a bakery. Why don’t you grab a nap before—”
She couldn’t take it anymore. She tore off her oven mitt and tossed it on the counter, then put her hands on her hips. “A nap? You think I need a nap? Do I look like I need a nap, Hunter? Because I think I look pretty darn good. We both do, don’t we, Bella Boo? Don’t you think Bella looks cute, Hunter? Oh right, I’m not supposed to dress her like a human anymore. Why was that again?” She tapped her lips with her forefinger and then held it in the air. “Right, because she was dominating me.”
She turned her back to him and blinked back angry tears. “And no, I don’t plan on opening a bakery. I’m hosting the farm tour. You know the farm tour you were dead set against me taking part in but have barely said a word about since I told you I had a stroke!”
She turned to see him watching her with his arms crossed, his impressive biceps almost enough to stop her mid-rant, but then she caught sight of his raised eyebrow and marched to the fridge. She flung open the door and grabbed a container filled to the brim with blueberries. “I had to do something with all the berries you picked for me. Remember when you took over for me yesterday because two hours was all you deemed my fragile body able to handle?” She slammed the container onto the stove. “I’m not an invalid, Hunter.”
He walked to the stove and picked up the container of berries, putting them back in the fridge.
“Don’t you dare tell me I need a nap.” She sniffed. “I’m not crying,” she said when he pulled a tissue from the box on top of the fridge and handed it to her.
“I know.” He leaned against the fridge, obviously waiting her out. “Let me know when you’re ready to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk to you anymore. I told you everything, and you told me nothing, and it came back to bite me.” She meant it, but she lost her resolve when she looked up at him. She didn’t know what it was about Hunter that made her tell him things she’d never told anyone else. Even when her last confession had turned out so badly. “You changed after I told you about the accident. You’re not being yourself with me.”
“Maybe I am. Maybe this is who I really am.”
She thought about that for a minute. “No, it’s not. You’re holding back. You’re treating me like there’s something wrong with me, and I hate it. I can look after myself. I’ve been doing it for years. I moved to LA when I was nineteen and made a life for myself, a really good life. And when that all fell apart, I lived in my car on the streets of LA for six months. I might not have thrived, but I did survive. And trust me, that’s not easy to do when you have no one to turn to. I don’t need your pity or your protection. I don’t want either.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to be real. If I annoy the heck out of you or frustrate you or irritate you, I want you to tell me.”
“You sure about that? Seems to me you didn’t appreciate it when I did that either.”
“Okay, so maybe you don’t have to tell me every time I annoy you, because I seem to do that a lot.”
“Not so much anymore.”
“Really? Are you just saying that because you feel bad you made me cry?”
“No. I have no reason to feel bad. Seems to me you cry pretty easily. And all I was—”
“Hunter, that’s a horrible thing to say! I rarely cry, and let me tell you, I’ve had plenty of reasons to cry. Besides, crying doesn’t mean you’re weak.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I know what you’re doing. You’re giving me exactly what I asked for, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I am. So be careful what you ask for, Abby.” He moved into her and rested his big calloused hands on her shoulders. “And just so you know, I don’t pity you or think of you as an invalid or as fragile. But now that I know you’ve suffered a traumatic brain injury and had a stroke, I’m going to tell you if I think you’re pushing yourself too hard and when you should take a break.”
