by Inez Kelley
An angry burn washed through her with a chill. He couldn’t have it. It was hers.
Chapter Eight
Sugar maples, the largest maple tree, are known to reach over a hundred feet tall when fully mature.
The seeds from the maple tree are commonly referred to as “helicopters” because of their shape and the way they spin to the ground.
Matt bounded up the back steps of Kayla’s place, energy and possibility pumping wildly through his body. Tossing his gloves onto the kitchen counter, he called, “Kayla?”
“Living room.”
The sweat along his face had dried to a sticky film. He slid the cooler onto the table then opened the tall cabinet by the sink. “Hey, Webb wants us to all come over to his place tonight. He’s celebrating.”
The fridge held water, sweet tea, beer, milk and some dark red juice. He poured some tea and gulped it down. “He bought Black Cherry Canyon. The place is huge, like over twenty-five hundred acres. We used to take a school trip to the falls every year but I haven’t been back in ages. You ever been there?”
“No.”
“We should go next weekend.” He snagged a deli slice of turkey, rolled it with a slice of provolone. “It’s beautiful, especially this time of year. And the falls are always ice cold. Webb wants to start harvesting the timber as soon as possible but it’s going to take a couple of weeks to get everything mapped out.”
Stuffing the turkey in his mouth, he used the half bath off the hallway to drain his tank and wash his hands and face. “And I got a promotion. He put me in charge of the logging up there.”
“Congratulations.”
“Granted, it’s going to be a bitch to coordinate and there’ll probably be a shit-ton of regulations to deal with since it was state land, but it’s a challenge, too. Plus, I got a raise.”
“Good for you.”
He dried his face. “Tonight should be fun. Webb grills a mean-assed steak. But I wanted to ask you something first.”
He took two seconds to gear himself up. He wanted something else to celebrate tonight, something personal. Proposing was the last thing on his mind when he’d woken up but ever since Jonah mentioned it, he couldn’t get the image out of his head. He knew what he wanted. He wanted Kayla, forever. He contemplated waiting to ask until he bought a ring but this way was better. He’d never bought jewelry for any woman, had no idea what style she’d want since she worked with her hands so much.
Silence poured from the living room. His boots were heavy on the laminated floor. Yeah, one thing he was definitely going to change when they got married was this floor. Rip the whole she-bang out and lay tongue-and-groove cherry. And the living room needed a fireplace. He didn’t mind if it was just for ambience rather than heat, but to him a house without a fireplace was like an Oreo without the cream: wrong.
He’d make the mantel cherry as well. His mind flipped to images of Christmas, of pine boughs lining the hearth with bright stockings hanging before the fire. He saw four stockings, not two. A glimpse into a future he was eager to grab.
Kayla was curled on the couch. The back of her hair was tangled, like she’d just taken her ponytail out. Four’s ears stuck out of the fall of golden-honey waves, her slanted eyes closed and whiskers twitching with her snores. Kayla had a blanket wrapped around them both. He parked his ass on the coffee table, directly in front of her.
“Cold?” Leaning forward he aimed a kiss at her lips and got a cheek instead.
Dialing back the excitement, he looked at her. Her face was pale. A subtle stiffness lined her shoulders. Her eyes remained locked on the floor, at a spot near his boots. He glanced down. He hadn’t tracked mud in and she’d never been picky about it before but maybe he should have taken them off.
“You all right?”
“Fine.”
“You don’t sound fine. Something happen?”
Long honey lashes fluttered then closed as an inhale lifted her chest. She pulled Four from her neck. The kitten blinked then burrowed under the afghan.
“Molly and I met Mitch Snyder today, and his wife, Evelyn. Took a coffee cake over.”
“They’re nice people.”
Her eyes flicked to his and his heart lurched to his throat. Before, there was always something warm and soft in her eyes, like high-grade maple syrup. Now they were cold but with a fire that turned them to amber. “How do you know them?”
He swallowed. “Used to know their son, Tim.”
“So I heard.”
Shit. His spine lost all strength. He braced his elbows on his knees and tongued his jaw. Not now, not now. He’d wanted to be the one to tell her...sometime, someday. “Kayla.”
“What? Is this the part where you tell me you just forgot to mention that your family owned my land?”
His teeth ground together, too many words fighting on his tongue and not a damn one with the balls enough to go first.
“Come on, Matt. Tell me. Tell me how you lied and acted like you’d never seen this place before the timber cruise.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like?”
It had been panic, flat-out panic. Then, when he’d wanted to tell her, he just hadn’t. Couldn’t.
Why didn’t she yell? If she yelled at him, cursed him and told him to go to hell, he could handle that. But this—this cold flat slice of her eyes and searing sting of her calm voice—this he couldn’t process. He loved her, damn it, was going to ask her to marry him. This could not be happening right now.
“It never crossed your mind to tell me? Not at dinner or when we made love that first time, not when I begged you to teach me or when we marked maples for tapping, not when we found the dog’s grave or played in the meadow? It simply never occurred to you that I’d want to know?”
“I screwed up, I get that.” He reached for her hands and she didn’t pull away. That gave him hope. He brushed his thumbs against her soft hands. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t care.” She tugged her hands away, slowly, not angrily or forcefully, but with a grace that stuttered his breath. The hope inside him died. He was losing her. Adrenaline shot into his bloodstream, just as it had so long ago when he’d answered the door and faced a badge. That moment had irrevocably changed his life. This was the same feeling.
“I love you.” The words exploded from his lips, fear fueling them.
Kayla closed her eyes. “Get off my property.”
“Kayla, listen to me. I—”
“I listened. I listened and believed. I should’ve known it wasn’t me you wanted.”
“What does that mean?”
She scrubbed her face, sniffing behind her hands. “Jesus, I must have looked like the golden goose to you. I was just ripe for the picking. I flirted with you. I made it plain and clear that I wanted to sleep with you. Might as well’ve slapped my ass on a platter and labeled it Matt’s Every Fucking Dream Come True.”
He nodded. “Yeah, you are. But not like you think.”
“I was just a means to an end with a blow job thrown in as a bonus.”
“Don’t.”
“I’d like you to leave now.”
“No.” He jerked to a stand, jammed his hand through his hair and paced. Everything was falling apart. “We need to talk about this.”
“You want to talk? Fine. Answer this. Have you ever thought about living here, with me, the two of us together? You ever look around here, at the house or the mountainside or the outbuildings and think about how you’d change them, what you’d do with them?”
Of course, he had, not even five minutes ago. Those passing thoughts had seemed so promising. But she made them feel ugly and calculating.
She looked at him expectantly, waiting. The hope on her face was sharp and it sliced at him. He opened his mo
uth and nothing. No words would come. So many screamed in his brain but not a single one fell from his lips. His throat constricted, strangling him. He felt the chance slipping through his fingers like smoke.
“Can’t figure out a good enough lie?” The afghan fell to a puddle on the couch as she stood. Four didn’t move, creating a small round lump in the blanket.
Matt’s chest squeezed hard around his lungs as she turned, prepared to walk away from him. Fear turned to terror, fast as a lightning strike and just as hot. He grabbed her, pulling her close. She stood rigid as ice as his mouth mashed hers. Her lips refused to part. The cold blistered down to his marrow.
He moved back, hating himself for making such a dick mistake and ruining the best thing he’d ever had. He’d always thought pity was the worst thing he could see in a woman’s eyes. He was wrong. Contempt was so much worse.
Everything he’d worked for crumbled. One look from her and he was again that poor little country boy with nothing. His voice cracked. “Kayla.”
She walked to the front door and opened it. He reached for her hand and those glorious maple eyes snapped to his. “Leave, or I’m calling the sheriff.”
Those who never learn from history are doomed to repeat it, someone once said. Shame descended and burned every ounce of fight out of him. For the second time in his life, Matt tucked his tail, walked out the door and left everything that meant something behind.
* * *
Kayla closed the door with a soft click, refusing to slam it behind him and give in to the swirling pain in her belly. Sanity was a fine thread and she clung to it with routine. The kitchen seemed empty, cold. She turned the heat on and turned the radio up. No twangy country music filled with heartache and despair for her. She pressed the station button until the mind-numbing sound of heavy metal pulsed off the walls.
She keyed her password into her laptop and pulled up her pending internet orders. Work. She needed work.
Forty minutes later, she stared at the fine grains in her bowl and couldn’t remember what she was mixing. She dumped the entire mess, bowl and all, in the trash. Four’s dish was near empty. She refilled it, washed the water bowl and scooped the litter. She rearranged her canned goods in alphabetical order.
Somehow, she ended up staring into the refrigerator, not seeing anything on the shelves. She pressed her forehead against the freezer, letting the cool air swirl around her thighs. The thread was stretched tight and threatened to break.
The doorbell lifted her head. It couldn’t be Matt. She couldn’t handle that. Confronting him had taken every ounce of control. She had nothing left. The bell chimed again. She shored up the last of her tattered reserves and opened the door.
Molly balanced an overnight bag, a boxed cheesecake and a gallon of ice cream. “I brought provisions.”
Kayla shook her head. “I appreciate it, but I just—”
Molly pushed past her and headed straight for the kitchen. “We’re going to drown your sorrows in fifteen-dollars-a-gallon organic fudge ripple ice cream, stuff ourselves with calorie-laden cheesecake and curse anything with testicles.”
Fragile as a soap bubble, Kayla’s defenses shuddered. Matt’s deceit was a fresh wound, she couldn’t stomach another hurt like that. It was just a matter of time before Molly turned, as well. “I’d really rather be alone.”
“Tough.” Molly snapped the radio off then pulled spoons and bowls out of the dishwasher.
“You need to leave.”
“And you need to get over it.” Propping her hand on her hip, Molly stood her ground. “I don’t know what kind of girlfriends you’ve had before, but from what you’ve told me, they’ve sucked. ’Round here, when our friends hurt, we hurt. I can’t fix it but I can be here. You’re my friend, Kayla. Let me be yours.”
The thread broke. It started as a sniff but boiled over into a complete meltdown. Molly simply wrapped her arms around Kayla’s waist and let her cry. No, cry was too tame. Her soul detonated and leaked through her eyes. Pain scourged through her, bitter, real and merciless.
They ended up on the floor, leaning on the cabinet, Kayla wailing like a tornado siren into Molly’s shirt. The worst of the tears passed quickly, the surface skimmed off her hurt like a scab ripping free. She gulped air, trying to calm her racing heart.
Molly pulled a fresh box of tissues from her bag and shoved a handful into her clenched hands. Kayla snorted. “Damn, you came prepared.”
“Yeah.” She laid her cheek on Kayla’s head. “Been there. Not fun.”
Kayla blew her nose, forgetting grace or niceties. “Who? Webb?”
“Doesn’t matter. I just know that hurt like this doesn’t fade fast enough.”
“Matt said he loved me.”
“In the interest of friendship, I’ll pretend to be shocked. A blind man could have seen that. Hell, I bet even Jonah picked up on it, and he never thinks about anything other than his next piece of ass.” Molly petted her back. “What did you say?”
“Told him to get off my property.”
“Clear and to the point.” Molly reached up and grabbed the spoons from the counter. She pried the ice cream lid off one-handed, handed Kayla a spoon then helped herself to a bite. “What excuse did he give you?”
“None.”
“Wait, you didn’t let him explain anything?”
“I tried. He had nothing to say.”
The fudge was rich, the vanilla smooth as silk. Kayla laid her head on Molly’s leg and scooped another spoonful. It didn’t come close to filling the hole inside her but it was something, and it was delicious.
A fourth of the gallon had been glutted when Kayla sat up and pulled two forks out of the dishwasher. Molly grinned and took one. They ate cheesecake straight from the box. No matter how much she shoveled in, the hole still yawned in her belly.
“My butt’s asleep. Let’s move into the living room.”
“Go ahead,” Kayla said. “I’ll make some coffee.”
Molly disappeared with their pity-party food and Kayla scooped ground beans into the basket. She loved her kitchen. It was all modern industrial and clutter-free. But memories of the house that had been here poured in. She’d wanted to save the kitchen most of all. Someone had painstakingly hand-painted There’s no place like home in a continuous border around the room.
The rickety furniture left in the house, the toys in the basement, the marks on the wall where pictures had been removed, leaving lighter marks on the dingy paint... Although it had stood empty for years, the house had kept the sense of a loving family. From the crayon marks on the walls to the tire swing in the yard, it had held everything she’d never had.
Why hadn’t Matt told her? Was everything a lie? The thin drizzle spilling into the pot offered no clues into the working of Matthew Shaw’s head. She snagged two mugs and carried the insulated pot into the living room. Molly had forked a small piece of cheesecake onto a ceramic coaster and Four was in kitty-hog-heaven.
Molly shrugged. “She’s a girl, she gets to join this pity party.”
“I should’ve grabbed the wine instead of the coffee.”
“Meh, coffee first, wine next.”
“It’s not even four o’clock.”
“It’s five o’clock somewhere, as the song says.”
She scooted on the couch to make room and Kayla joined her, digging her spoon back into the ice cream carton. The ice cream melted on her tongue, almost too sweet after the bitterness of her tears. Her head throbbed.
“Call Me Maybe” jingled into the room. Trepidation knotted her shoulders as she lifted her cell from the coffee table. Matt’s number jabbed into her heart like an icepick. She let it roll to voicemail.
“Okay.” Molly dragged her bag closer. “Do you want to bawl to Princess Bride, laugh with Monty Python, drool over tight ass with Magic Mike o
r kick ugly ass with Aliens?”
“Kick ass.”
“There’s my girl.”
Molly popped the DVD in. They ate in silence until Bishop’s belly split with the ugly little puppet. Kayla couldn’t concentrate on the plot. Her mind was replaying a loop of memories that never had an intermission.
“I really thought this was it, that he was the right guy. I thought he saw me.”
Molly lowered the volume with the remote. “Saw you?”
“Just me. As me. As a woman. Not as a way to get back everything he lost.”
“Explain.” Molly shoved into the remaining cake out of the way and turned to face her.
“He just wanted the land that his family lost back. I was nothing more than the means to an end.”
“That’s low, like snake’s ass low. Would Matt really do that? He seems like such a decent guy.”
“I’ve been fooled by decent guys before.”
“Okay, spill it. This sounds interesting.”
Kayla laid it out. She started with Pammie, the betrayal, the fear of being used, of never fitting in, of forever being the newcomer. But she told Molly far more than she ever told Matt. Like any man in a relationship, Matt’s favorite topic of discussion wasn’t her old boyfriends.
“First Lieutenant Joshua Scarlotti. I was nineteen, green as a shamrock and totally infatuated. He was gorgeous, I’m talking serious panty-melting looks. We met at one of my father’s social obligation deals and he asked me to dance. He called me the next day, we went to lunch, and things just bloomed.”
