by Maisey Yates
She wasn’t saying anything he hadn’t already said to himself, every day for the past seventeen years. It was why he’d tattooed the reminder on his arm. It was why he had left. Why this was the first time he had set foot in Copper Ridge since that night he’d walked out of his father’s office for the last time.
“Trust me. I know.”
Her lip curled. “You don’t know anything.”
“Unfortunately, I do.”
“Unfortunately. Of course it all feels unfortunate to you. To realize that your actions have far-reaching consequences that you can’t control.” She took a deep breath. “But I can’t just call it unfortunate. This is my life. Now get out of my store.”
Well, Gage hadn’t had a positive greeting from anyone in town so far. So he couldn’t really blame the woman he had permanently scarred for being the least enthused of all upon his return.
“Okay. I’ll go. But I’m going to be back, and we’re going to talk when you’re able to be rational.”
She planted her hands on the counter, staring him down. “Oh, I haven’t begun to be rational with you. If you overstay your welcome, I might be tempted to rationalize a whole lot of things. Such as taking advantage of certain home-invasion laws and twisting them to include my business.”
If there was one thing Gage had learned over the years, it was the value of retreat. He tipped his hat in a gesture he hoped she’d take as polite and not cocky. “I’ll take that as my cue. But I will be back, Rebecca.”
Then he turned and walked out of the store. Back on Main Street, he let out a hard breath, his chest loosening, a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying easing slightly.
Dealing with Rebecca was never going to be simple. He’d known that going in. But he was here to deal with his responsibilities.
If there was one thing he’d learned, it was that you couldn’t run from your demons. They’d spent years nipping at his heels as he’d moved from place to place, before they’d caught right up to him and possessed him outright.
He was here to perform a damn exorcism. And although she had every right to hate him, Rebecca Bear’s pride wasn’t going to get in the way of that.
He’d been close when he’d gotten the call about his dad. Closer than he usually let himself come to his hometown. Typically, he avoided Oregon altogether. But he’d been down near Roseburg doing some temporary work clearing brush and burning it while it was wet, to keep things safer during fire season. Dirty work that kept his mind clear.
The fact he’d been just a couple of hours away would seem like a sign, if he believed in those.
When his lawyer had called, he’d been shocked to hear about his father’s stroke. And to learn that he was the executor of the estate if Nathan West was ever incapacitated.
It had felt…well, it had felt far more damned significant than it should.
It also didn’t escape his notice that his family hadn’t called. Clearly his father’s attorney had been able to get in touch with Gage’s, so that meant someone knew how to contact him. But of course it hadn’t been his brother. Or his mother.
It had been made abundantly clear when he’d gone to the hospital a few days earlier that his siblings were shocked anyone knew of his whereabouts. Shocked he’d returned.
Hell, in some ways, so was he.
He paused, looking up and down the street at the place he’d called home for the first eighteen years of his life. The place he’d been absent from almost as long.
There was a near distressing sameness to Copper Ridge’s Main Street. It had changed shape in many ways, more businesses open than he recalled, a new sort of vitality injected into the local economy.
But it smelled the same. The air unrelenting in its sharpness. Pine mixing with salt and brine as the wind crossed down from the mountains and mingled with the sea. It settled over his skin, the cool dampness wrapping itself around him.
Most days, a thick gray mist hung low, making the sky seem like it was something you could reach up and touch. Today, it was great enough that it blanketed the tops of the buildings, swirling over the red brick detail, blotting out the big American flag that flew proudly just behind the chamber of commerce.
There was an espresso shop across the street, the kind of place that served coffee with more milk than actual substance. He never thought he’d see the day when something that trendy hit Copper Ridge.
Though he supposed it was a little less unexpected than it would have been if they’d gotten in one of those big chains. Copper Ridge just wasn’t a chain kind of place. Mostly because they didn’t have the population to support them.
That had been the bane of his, and his friends’, existence growing up. He supposed it was what made it an attractive tourist destination now.
Funnily enough, when he left he hadn’t sought out a bigger city. Hadn’t cared at all about chains or entertainment. Instead, he’d stuck to the back roads, spending his time in various small towns in different parts of the country.
But nothing was quite like this.
Somehow there was no comfort in that for him. The town brought back too many old memories. In fact, he resented the fact that it was so distinct. He had been to enough places that everything started to blur together eventually. Nothing was unique.
Except Copper Ridge. And that felt like adding insult to damn injury.
He took a deep breath, daring the air to feel familiar. Daring it to push him down that rabbit hole of memories he didn’t want to have.
Gage West was home. And he would rather be anywhere else.
CHAPTER TWO
REBECCA FELT BOTH exhausted and emotionally scarred by the time she turned her open sign around. She needed to get home. She needed to figure out how to deal with the fact that Gage West was apparently back in town and intent on forcing his guilt on her.
No, guilt might make her feel good about herself. She didn’t believe for one second he felt guilty. Not in any real, contrite sense.
Not that she would care either way. His guilt, his overall contrition, didn’t matter. It never had. It didn’t change a damn thing.
She turned, walking back toward the register, feeling weary down to her bones.
The bell sounded behind her and she turned again, about to let whoever it was know that she was closed. But it wasn’t a customer. It was Alison, carrying two boxes that Rebecca knew would be filled with pie. And following closely behind her was Lane, two bottles of wine in her hand. The door closed behind them and opened again as Cassie walked through also carrying a pastry box.
She had managed to forget entirely. Tonight was the weekly girls’ night, and the Trading Post was hosting this week.
“Hi,” she said, feeling even more tired. She wasn’t sure she had it in her to do the socializing thing tonight. The little group of friends, comprised of the female business owners on Main, had become an important source of companionship in her life over the past few years. But there were some things she had always felt most comfortable dealing with on her own.
Or not dealing with at all as she hid away in her mountain cabin. Whatever. It was her drama, her prerogative.
“Hello,” Cassie said, her voice chipper. “God bless Jake. He’s up to his neck in diapers and is at least pretending to be completely cheerful about it.”
Of the group, Cassie was the only one with a husband and children. The rest of them had become pretty confirmed bachelorettes. But if anyone could entice Rebecca into thinking that maybe a husband and kids wasn’t the worst idea, it was Cassie. She was always disgustingly happy.
“What’s the plan for tonight?” Alison asked, walking to the back of the store and setting her box of pies down by the register. “We are not watching another male stripper movie,” she said, directing this comment at Lane.
“I incurred the entire rental expense for that atrocity,” Lane said.
“But my life, Lane. I want my life back.”
“It was two hours,” Lane said. “Calm down.”
<
br /> “Two hours when I could have done anything else.”
“And yet, I notice you didn’t get up and leave during the movie,” Lane replied.
“I was waiting for the payoff. I assumed that at some point someone would get naked. Instead, there was so much talking,” Alison groused.
“Well, whatever we decide to do, there are snacks,” Cassie said, lifting the tops of the boxes Alison had brought, and also the box she’d brought, and revealing two different pies and an assortment of pastries.
“Snacks are good,” Rebecca said. “Of course, I haven’t had dinner.”
“This is dinner,” Cassie said, advancing on the pie.
“I need a drink,” Lane said, going back behind the counter and rummaging until she produced the wine glasses that Rebecca kept back there for these occasions. “You, Rebecca?”
“I’ll just make some coffee. I have to drive back home after this, and I don’t think I can stay long enough to wait for the buzz to wear off.”
“Rough day?” This question came from Alison.
“Just tired.” She was a liar. A cagey liar.
Her friends knew about her accident. She found that until she divulged the source of her scars it was just a weird eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room. But nobody knew who was responsible. In fact, she kept the details as private as possible.
She kept it simple. She had been in a bad car accident when she was eleven, and it had left permanent scarring. The end.
“Are you sure?” Cassie asked, busying herself starting to brew coffee.
“Yes,” she said, “I’m sure. Also, Cassie, you don’t need to make me coffee. That’s what you do all day.”
“I’m well aware of what I do all day, Rebecca. But I don’t want to drink the swill that you call coffee. I’m a connoisseur. An artisan.”
“I’m not going to argue,” Alison said. “Mostly because I just want you to make the coffee.”
“Well, you spent all day making pie. So I suppose I’ll allow it,” Rebecca said.
“Nobody allows me to do anything,” Cassie said. “I’m independent and free. I do what I want.”
“Right,” Lane said. “I imagine if Jake gave you some orders you might take them.”
Cassie wiggled her eyebrows. “Depends on the orders.”
Rebecca always felt a little bit uneasy when the conversation took this kind of turn. Lane and Alison were currently single, but Alison had been married before, and Rebecca couldn’t imagine Lane was as pathetic as she was. Rebecca had no experience with men. And it wasn’t something she ever felt like discussing.
That meant a lot of smiling and nodding was required of her at moments like these.
Right now, she was all out of smile and nod. She just felt depleted. Alison seemed to notice.
“Okay, Rebecca. What’s really going on? You’re being supernaturally quiet.”
“I’m contemplative,” Rebecca said.
“No. You really aren’t,” Lane said.
She let out a long slow breath, using the opportunity to try and think of a very vague way to disclose what had happened today without giving too much away. “I just had kind of an unexpected brush with the past.”
Lane snorted. “There’s small towns for you. Your past is basically your present because nobody ever leaves.”
“Thank God my past left town to keep Sheriff Garrett from breathing down his neck,” Alison said, referencing her hideous ex.
“Not that kind of past.” Though Rebecca thought as soon as she spoke those words that she probably should have let the group think it was an ex.
Alison arched a brow. “Intriguing.”
“No, it isn’t. I… I had an encounter with the man who caused my accident when I was a kid.” There, that wasn’t so bad. She’d said it.
Then she began to reevaluate her “not so bad” assessment. Her three friends were looking at her with very wide eyes.
“He came into the store.”
“You actually know who caused your accident?” Alison asked.
“Yes,” she responded.
All her friends knew was that she had been in a bad accident that had left scars. And of course, that was bad enough. But there was more to it. More that she had never really wanted to talk about with anyone else. And, now was no exception.
“What did you do?” Lane asked.
“I kicked his ass out,” Rebecca responded.
“Did you call Jonathan?” Cassie asked.
“No. And I’m not going to tell him, because the last thing I need is for my older brother to end up in jail because he killed someone. And trust me, if Jonathan had any idea that this guy was back in town, he would get himself locked up for homicide.” Rebecca was only a little bit sure she was exaggerating.
“Do you want me to call Finn? He can come down and hang out by the store. Look menacing or whatever,” Lane said, referencing her friend Finn Donnelly.
Though, she wasn’t entirely sure the cranky rancher would refer to Lane as a friend. Actually, Rebecca wasn’t entirely certain what Lane and Finn’s deal was.
“Thanks for offering the use of Finn without his permission,” Rebecca said. “But I’m fine.”
“What does he…want?” Alison asked. “Did he just want to check in with you? After all these years?”
Rebecca lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. And I really don’t care. As far as I’m concerned he can jump off a bridge. I don’t really want his apologies. Or his pity. Or his anything.” And she certainly didn’t want him to seize control of her building. She didn’t want him to give it to her. She didn’t want him to have his hands on anything that she touched.
“Well, I’m all for holding grudges,” Lane said. “I think it’s healthy. Good for your pores.”
“And, often keeps you safe. Forgiveness is for chumps,” Alison added.
“I would be the first to say that some people are just better off out of your life. Or, off the planet.” Rebecca knew that Cassie was thinking of her ex-husband, the total dud she’d been with before meeting Jake, the love of her life.
“Yes,” Lane said, nodding, taking a sip of wine. “Some people really don’t need forgiveness. And, I imagine the man that left you with permanent physical scars is one of them. He was… He was driving recklessly, wasn’t he?”
He had been. And the ensuing cover-up had meant that he had never been charged. And that no one ever knew. But even if he had been, it would not have solved what happened next. Because that one event was the breakdown of the rest of her life as she’d known it then.
“Yes. I just… It wasn’t really something that I wanted to deal with. I’ve dealt with it, really.”
If dealing with it meant growing yet more bitter by the year, then she most certainly had.
“Well, if he comes back during the workday, you know you can always call me,” Lane said.
“Me too,” said Cassie.
“Obviously, I will also show up with a weapon of some kind,” Alison said.
“I appreciate that. You have no idea how much your willingness to appear with weaponry means to me. But, I think it will be fine.”
“It’s just so desperately random that he showed up,” Lane commented.
It wasn’t quite as random as Lane thought. But, Rebecca didn’t want to get into it. Legally, Rebecca wasn’t allowed to get into it. But then, since none of the payoff money from Nathan West had ever made it into her possession, she wondered if the agreement applied to her. Her mother had taken off with it a long time ago.
The money had never been for her pain and suffering. It had been her mom’s getaway fund.
“I guess assholes who are prone to driving recklessly are also prone to random appearances?” she suggested.
“I guess so,” Alison said, watching her a little bit too closely. Almost as if she sensed there was more to the story. Well, Alison was going to have to keep sensing. Because she was not going to get any more out of her. Alison had a past she didn’t like to
talk about. She should understand.
“I don’t want to talk about the asshole anymore. I just want to eat some pie.”
“I respect that.” Lane took a piece of pie out of the box and set it on a paper plate. “Eat your feelings. I bet they’re delicious.”
“Of course her feelings are delicious,” Alison said. “They’re going to be consumed in a vehicle that I baked. And everything I bake is delicious.”
“Hear, hear,” Cassie agreed.
Rebecca was just going to try and put Gage out of her mind. With any luck, he would give up. He had disappeared very effectively for the past seventeen years, and she didn’t really see why he would suddenly be persistent with her now. Hopefully, he had done what he needed to do, and that would be the end of it.
She just wanted to keep sending her checks to the rental company and not dealing directly with Wests.
Yes, not dealing with all of this was definitely her preferred method.
Hopefully, Gage would do the very best thing he actually could do to try and make up for what had happened seventeen years ago. Hopefully, he would leave her alone.
*
“WHAT THE HELL are you doing here?”
Gage wasn’t terribly surprised to receive that greeting from his younger brother. He was standing on Colton’s porch, his hands stuffed in his pockets, more or less expecting to be punched in the face.
Surprisingly, Colton made no move to attack him physically. He did not, however, allow him in. That was not surprising.
“I suppose you wouldn’t believe it if I told you I was here to catch up on every Christmas dinner we have ever missed.”
“No. And I would tell you that it’s way too early to be talking about Christmas. We just had Thanksgiving.”
“The stores put the decorations out earlier and earlier every year. Corporate greed I guess.”
Colton looked at him hard. “I don’t suppose you came by to get philosophical about the morality of retail stores.”
He shook his head. “No. I didn’t. But, we do need to discuss the ranch.”
“The ranch that I imagine is one fatted calf short now that you’ve come home?”
