I paused as he looked at me. Looked at me hard, with everything we’d both ever felt. There were too many things, too many hurts, too many lies. I shook my head. There weren’t words.
I kept walking.
* * *
I took Lanie home. She tried to get me to come in, to talk, to wind down, but I wasn’t interested in winding down. I didn’t want to put it behind me or find my center. I wanted to be pissed.
I felt betrayed and embarrassed. My husband and my mother had lied to me for years. The man who’d left me behind, whom I thought just didn’t love me, had done it because my mother told him to. And as long as he’d been back in town, and as many times as we’d beaten this “horse” as he called it, he’d never sold her out. Okay, that was honorable, I guess. It was. But I was still…I don’t know. He could have told me. I just felt so damn stupid and blindsided.
Speaking of blindsided, I was pretty sure Dean was headed straight to Bash to do damage control before the damage, so I made a bee line. No pun intended.
Just as I expected, Dean’s sleek little car was parked in front of the main office for Anderson’s Apiary. He was probably spinning something about being framed, or conspiracies, or maybe even owning up to it with a twist that it was supposed to be a good thing that went wrong. That was typical poor, mistreated, misunderstood Dean.
He wasn’t going to pawn off any of this on anyone else. Not this time. Not if I could help it. Dean Crestwell was going to live with this one. I opened the door to the lobby to see Erin Joffries, a woman I’d helped with a law suit over a faulty boob job two years ago, running from the hallway with panicked eyes and a very white face.
“He’s got a gun!” she cried in a squeaky whisper. “He’s got a—”
The words disappeared as she ran out the front door.
“He’s—Dean?” I cried out, my voice hitting a weird octave. A gun? Oh my God. Dean never even used to own a mousetrap, much less a gun. “Shit,” I muttered, reaching for my phone as I ran down the hall Erin had vacated. The phone that was still in my car. I blew out a frustrated breath as I reached Bash’s office door. “Damn it, damn it, damn it, Dean, don’t be ridic—”
I pushed open the door to see Dean, sweating profusely and holding—a flare gun. Not toward Bash, who stood behind a desk. Not toward himself. Toward a window that looked out onto a field of hive boxes. Or, more specifically, the few hive boxes that were left.
“Dean!”
He swung around, flare gun in hand, and all I heard was a fwump as I hit the ground. A bright ball of red hurtled over my head, through the door, and exploded in flame as it slammed into the hallway wall. My mouth dropped open as the circle of fire burned through the wall, forming a black rim into the sheetrock. I turned back in shock.
“Carmen!” Dean cried. “Oh my God.”
“Shit, are you okay?” Bash asked, nearly vaulting over his desk to snatch the gun from Dean. “Give me that, you idiot,” he said. “I should knock you out with this thing.”
Warily, I pushed myself to my feet. “That—would—have—been—me,” I said, pointing to the charred circle behind me. “My head, to be exact!”
“You startled me!” Dean said, sinking onto a chair with a look of shock. “Shit, Carmen, you know me! You know I’d never hurt you!”
“I knew you’d never kidnap a bunch of bees, either,” I said. “What the hell are you doing with a flare gun?”
“I keep it in my car,” he said, burying his face in his hands. “For emergencies.”
“And brought it in here, why?” Bash asked. “To shoot me after confessing?”
“No, I was just going to threaten to knock out all the rest of the hives if you tried to turn me in,” Dean said miserably into his hands.
Bash looked at me and then down at Dean like he was crazy.
“Who are you?” he said.
“I don’t know,” Dean moaned.
“How could you do—”
“I don’t know!” Dean repeated, sitting up. “I’m messed up! I’m a broken man.”
“Broken from what?” I asked. “You’re the mayor of Charmed! You have this town wrapped around your little finger. It’s what you always wanted.”
“I don’t have you,” he blurted.
Oh, holy hell.
“Dean—”
“Don’t Dean me,” he said. “Don’t use your lawyer voice on me.”
“We tried,” I said. “For years. It just didn’t work.”
“Like hell you tried,” he said. “It didn’t work because half of you left with—”
“Carmen!” A husky, panicked male voice yelled from down the hall.
“What the—” I began, turning toward the door to see Sully and Allie burst through, Sully sliding in like Tom Cruise in Risky Business. Okay maybe not exactly that. Maybe with a little more blunder and a lot less cool, especially with an equally panicked woman tumbling in after him.
“Carmen—” Sully repeated, scanning me up and down. “Jesus, you’re okay,” he said in one breath. He shoved Allie aside like she was a bean bag and pulled me into his arms.
“I—oompf.”
My face was buried in Sully’s chest as his hands cradled my head and back, pinning my arms to my sides. I wanted to say something. Something like that I was fine, or something bad ass like, “Get your damn hands off me, you big fat liar.” But my nose was full of Sully, and that rendered me speechless.
“I rest my case,” Dean said.
“Are you okay?” Allie asked. She couldn’t be talking to Dean; her tone was too breathy. I pulled back from Sully to see her wrap her arms around Bash’s neck in a full-on tackle. “We heard there was a gun, and—”
She kissed him. Holy shit, it was a day.
His face was in her hands and she was in his, and he wasn’t arguing.
“It’s all good,” Bash said finally, leaning his forehead against hers. “I’m okay, Al.” He didn’t seem in a big hurry to let her go. I knew the feeling. “Dean was just… showing me his new flare gun.”
Sully whirled around. “In the hallway?” He stared down a beaten-looking Dean. “You could have killed someone.”
“It was an accident,” I said, backing a step away from Sully before all my neurons reached out for more of him.
“Jesus,” Sully said, rubbing his face and grabbing the door frame like he might need it to hold him up. “Lady was yelling that there was a gun, and that you were here, and….” He closed his eyes and shook his head.
“And you came running,” I said softly. It wasn’t meant to be out loud. It wasn’t even meant to be a full-fledged thought. It was just there. And clearly verbalized.
“I don’t even remember driving here,” he said under his breath. He glanced at Allie, who’d finally let go of Bash, looking flushed. “Or picking up a passenger. Where did you sit?”
“In the back like a ten-year-old,” Allie said. “You drive like a lunatic, by the way.”
“Am I… are you…” Dean began, giving Bash a pleading look.
Bash took a deep breath, looking more distracted by Allie’s kiss and tackle than he did about having a flare gun pulled on him and finding out that his old friend had stolen his bee hives.
“No,” he said. “But get your shit together, man. And my hives better be back here tonight. Packed right and with not one bee missing, disoriented, or harmed.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” Dean said. “No matter what it costs, buddy.”
“It cost plenty already,” Bash said. “Honey production stopped the day they were moved, and with reorientation time, it could be weeks before they’re back on track again.” He sat on the front of his desk. “Moving hives takes a plan and a schedule and knowing what the fuck you’re doing. I don’t know who you got to do this, but you screwed me. Buddy.”
Dean leaned over his knees, raking his fingers through his hair.
“I got some guys from another apiary—not anyone from around here—to do it in the middle of the night,”
he said.
“The stupidest time to move bees,” Bash said.
“They did it over the water, just in case,” Dean said.
Middle of the night, over the pond, headed to the caves. Monte’s stalkers. I sighed, knowing I’d have to give him the disappointing news that no one was after him.
“I’m sorry,” Dean said to the floor. “I just lost it. Hart—”
“Hart has every right to string your ass up,” Bash said. I glanced over to where Sully sat on a high stool. He looked a million miles away. “Especially since he now owns the very land you have my bees stashed on. He could sue your ass. So you’d be best to leave him out of this.”
“Bash is right,” I said. “He likes you. I don’t think Sully does.”
“And I don’t even like you all that much right now,” Bash said. “Damn it, Dean, this is going to be a cluster.”
I walked over and gave Bash a quick hug. “Sorry,” I said. “Indirectly, this is because of me, and I’m sorry about that.”
He winked at me. “Don’t suppose you’ll cart him out of here for me?”
“I’m not a dog,” Dean said, sitting up. “And I have a car, thank you very much.”
“No,” I said. “But Allie and I can get out of your way.”
Passing Sully on the way out—again—was harder this time. I wanted to stop and do something. Hug him. Kiss him. Squeeze his hand. All of the things I had no business doing. I was still mad. I was still leaving. But him coming to save me… good God almighty, that was sexy as hell.
I walked past him, feeling every microscopic magnetic particle tugging on me as I did. I was close enough that he could have reached out to me. He didn’t.
“I’m impressed,” Allie said in a low voice as we walked down the hall. The hall with the black hole in the wall right at the level of my head.
“At what?” I asked.
“I thought you’d cave,” she said. “Touch him or something on the way out. Damn, I would have.”
“We talking about me and Sully, or that lip-lock you just did with Bash?” I asked.
She swallowed hard but glared at me sideways. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I thought of Sully still sitting back there, and how he’d rushed in like Rambo to save me.
“Yeah, me neither.”
* * *
I was ready to get the hell out of Dodge. Or Charmed, as it were. Whether it was just a vacation, or… or something a little longer. After today, it was maybe time to plan for the little longer.
I made a list of things to take care of and turn off, things I needed to buy, and people to notify. Sully would be one of them. I would not do to him what he did to me.
I dug out my suitcase and my duffel bag. Pulled some favorite winter clothes out of the closet and laid them on my bed, because there was suddenly a very good chance I’d need them. I included an old jean jacket of my mom’s that she loved and I stole because it was worn and comfortable and pissed her off when I wore it. And I made one other very important executive decision.
Right before my doorbell rang.
I glanced out the side window and shook my head. No. I wasn’t ready to—
“Carmen, I saw you look out the window,” my mother said. “Open the door.”
“Screw that,” I muttered, going back to my organizing.
She banged on it three times. “I can stand here and do this all day!” she called out.
“Knock yourself out,” I said quietly. To my list.
“Oh, hi, Mr. Harlan!” she sang out. “No, I’m fine. Carmen just won’t let me in.”
“Jesus,” I hissed, storming to the door and yanking it open. “Seriously, how old are you?”
She walked by me smiling like we were going to have coffee.
“It worked,” she said, dropping her keys on the side table and turning to face me. “You do what you have to do.”
“I’m really not interested in having this conversation with you right now,” I said. “I’ve had enough of this psycho day. Let me cool off and—”
“And leave?” she said. “For God knows how long?” She tilted her head. “You think I don’t know that? No. We aren’t leaving it like that.”
I couldn’t believe her. “You are a piece of work,” I said. “You have no right to tell me how we’re leaving it. You blew that.” I pointed at her and headed back to my bedroom to finish packing. “You.”
She followed me. “Do you remember what I said when I walked in?”
“No.” I yanked my sweaters off my closet shelves and threw them on the bed. “You ramble a lot, so I don’t commit it to memory.”
She stepped in front of me, blocking my path to the closet.
“I said, you do what you have to do.”
Her eyes were red and free of makeup, but the stare-down she gave me wasn’t distraught or wanting to make it up to me. It said Mama Tiger was fired up.
That was fine, because the tiger cub was pretty fired up, too. I’d just been lied to, betrayed, and shot at. I was done.
I turned to my dresser and opened the top drawer. I rummaged through my old scarves, needing something to do. Looking at her just—
“You have to talk to me sometime, Carmen,” she said. “You can’t just keep running away.”
“Running—” I whirled around, holding a tattered blue scarf. “Running away? Seriously? That’s hilarious coming from you.”
She crossed her arms. “What does that mean?”
“It means that you run from everything,” I said. “Anything that gets boring, or hard, or complicated… you will find any justification under the sun to bail. Jobs, people—”
“If you’re putting yourself on that list, I will cross this floor and slap your face,” she said, her voice shaking with anger.
For a moment, I was taken off-guard, my own anger blown out. It wasn’t often that I’d seen my mother angry to the point of shaking. That was my m.o.
“I may be flighty and undependable in a lot of ways,” she said, walking toward me. “I know that. I know what you think of me.” Her eyes filled with tears, but her tone remained fiery. “But I have always—always—been there for you. Never once in your life have I bailed on you. I made damn sure of it.”
“I never said you bailed on me,” I said. “But that day…” My breath left me in a rush and I had to back away from her.
“I made the tough decision.”
“You crossed a line!” I cried. “You played God and messed with my life, Mom. That wasn’t being there for me, that was… that was taking away my dreams and setting me up for a life of mediocrity. And then you lied about it for over a decade.” I couldn’t stop. The plug had been pulled and the words rushed out like sand from ajar. “You trashed Sully all these years, about how he ruined me and left me distraught, and how Dean was this rock, the best, most stable thing for me, and all along it was you. You made him leave and let me think he didn’t love me.”
She closed her eye, and crossed her arms again, soaking in my words as she rocked on her heels.
“I didn’t make him do anything, Carmen,” she said, her voice gone quiet and introspective. It was a little eerie, as it was very unlike her. “I simply pointed out what you had ahead of you, and asked him to think about that.” Her gaze focused hard on mine. “He told me he loved you more than anything.”
I gasped, and swallowed it before it could take root. My hands went to my stomach, the scarf fluttering to the floor.
“So I told him to think about what that love meant,” she said. “And if he really loved you unselfishly, then to do what was right for you.”
I blinked my tears free. “What was right for me,” I echoed. Pretty much the same words he’d said. He just never said they’d come from my mother.
“He did the honorable thing,” she said. “Or so I thought. Now I hear he got that girl he’s with pregnant—”
“No, his brother did,” I said, wiping my face. “Sully just covered for him and help
ed her out.”
My mother covered her mouth and took two long breaths. “Then like I said, he’s honorable. I was wrong to bad-mouth him all this time. He was a good guy. I think it just made it easier after a while to think otherwise.”
“He was a good guy. Sully was the love of my life,” I said, the words going to a whisper, catching at the end.
My mom nodded as she dropped her hands and frowned against her own new tears. “I know.”
“Really? Then how could you keep this from me?” I asked. “How would you feel if someone did this to you? If your entire life was decided by someone else?”
“It was,” my mother said, crossing her arms so tightly she almost hugged herself. “Your grandmother did exactly that. With the love of my life. With your father.”
Chapter Eleven
My father. When I was growing up, my father was never mentioned. He was the one not spoken of. As if my mom had been blessed by an angel like the Virgin Mary.
I’d always assumed he had knocked her up and either didn’t know or didn’t care and moved on. Now, the way my mother was shifting from foot to foot like she’d just released the Kraken, I felt I might need to sit.
I sank onto the foot of my bed.
“Aren’t you just full of revelations today?”
She closed her eyes like it hurt. “I didn’t want to be,” she said. “God, I never wanted to be.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Please tell me that Larry isn’t my father.”
“No,” she said, a blustery chuckle breaking the doom and gloom around her before she went serious again. It was a little disconcerting, seeing her like that. All messed up and bothered over something. Over a man. The love of her life.
Shit, she looked like me.
“The carnival came through here back then, too,” she said.
My stomach went sour. “Please tell me Sully’s dad isn’t my father!”
“No!” she said. “He wasn’t from here, and he… went away.” Her eyes took on a faraway look as she stared at a stone vase on my dresser. “My mother sent him packing, before I even knew about you.”
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