The Story of Us: Sweetbriar Cove: Book 11

by Melody Grace

  Jackson gave a wry grin. “OK, maybe I’m late to the game, but I’m a fast learner. And something I had to figure out with Alice is that she won’t ever ask me for help. She’s so used to being Superwoman, it doesn’t even occur to her to try and share the load. But if I step in and do it without her asking . . . She always appreciates it.”

  Luke paused. “You think Natalie is the same?”

  “Determined, ambitious, used to being on her own?” Jackson raised an eyebrow. “Sounds about right to me.”

  “Huh.” Luke thought about it. He’d figured he was doing the right thing, giving her some space, but maybe Jackson was right. So, he put his own work on hold and headed over to the chocolate shop bright and early, ready to pitch in. Sure enough, it was packed with eager customers; Natalie wrapping and ringing up new purchases as fast as she could handle.

  He watched for a moment, struck all over again by her grace and beauty and that dazzling smile—even if it was stretched kind of thin right about now, as she wrapped gift bags and straightened up holiday displays laden with glittering stars and delicious-looking candies.

  Natalie waved off another customer and then saw him standing there. “Luke.” She blinked. “What are you doing here?”

  “Think of me as your shop-boy for the day.” Luke rounded the counter and leaned in to kiss her. “I’m here to lend a hand. Where do you want me?”

  Natalie briefly pressed her lips to his, then stepped back. “But you must have a million things to do,” she protested. “What about all your clients? You said you had a ton of last-minute commissions for the holidays.”

  “They can wait.” Luke shrugged. “And they will. But you look like you need the help right now. Shall I start ringing up new sales, or restock the displays?”

  Natalie looked torn. “It’s sweet of you to offer, but I’m fine. Really.”

  “It’s no trouble, I promise,” he reassured her, but Natalie shook her head, stronger this time.

  “I mean it. I have a whole system . . . You’ll just hold me up. And besides, I think I’m coming down with something,” she added. “I wouldn’t want you to catch it.”

  She did look pretty pale. Luke reached out and pressed his hand to her forehead. “You are feeling warm,” he said, concerned. “Are you sure you should be working?”

  “I can take care of myself,” Natalie said harshly.

  Luke stepped back, surprised, and Natalie immediately took his hand. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking regretful. “I didn’t mean to snap. I know you’re trying to help, I just need to make it through the week, that’s all. Then everything will be fine. We can get together Christmas Eve,” she added, “and go see the carolers in the square. Mackenzie says it’s a tradition, the whole town gets together.”

  Luke nodded slowly. If Natalie didn’t want his help, he wasn’t about to argue, no matter how worried he was. “If you won’t use me here, how about after hours?” he offered. “I make a mean chicken soup. I could bring you dinner, help you unwind . . .”

  He smiled at her, flirty, remembering the last time he’d made her dinner—and where the night had led. But Natalie was already looking back at her line of customers, distracted. “Maybe another time,” she said, dropping his hand. “I think I just need an early night. Catch up on my sleep.”

  “Right,” Luke said, hiding his disappointment. “Well, I’m here if you need me.”

  “Thanks.” Natalie gave him a halfhearted smile before heading back to work.

  * * *

  Luke decided not to push it. If Natalie insisted everything was fine, then he’d just have to believe her. Besides, she was right: he had plenty of work of his own to be getting on with—including his surprise Christmas gift for her. He spent the rest of the week shut away in his workshop, knee-deep in sawdust and sandpaper, but he couldn’t help counting down until Christmas Eve, hoping that when he saw her, she would be feeling more like herself again.

  By Saturday night, he was practically jumping out of his skin. He cleaned up and power-walked across the square, which was bustling with an evening crowd out to enjoy the holiday lights.

  Luke noticed the florist was still open, the window full of holiday bouquets, so he detoured to pick up something for Natalie. He browsed the displays, wondering if roses were too predictable, or if she’d like the traditional touch . . .

  He caught himself and let out a wry chuckle. He’d never cared about flowers before, and now here he was, poring over every detail.

  Yup, he had it bad.

  “You can’t go wrong with red roses,” a voice behind him spoke. Luke turned. A well-dressed man was browsing the displays, just like him.

  “You think?” Luke asked, pausing over a lavish bouquet.

  “Absolutely,” the man said with a smile. “They’re classic for a reason. Women are all the same, in the end.”

  Luke paused, unnerved, then reached for a bunch of deep blue irises, instead. “I think I’ll try something different,” he said, giving the man a polite smile before moving to the counter to pay. The other man didn’t purchase anything, and they emerged from the store at the same time.

  “I don’t suppose you know a good place for dinner?” the man asked. “I’m just visiting, so I don’t know the town very well.”

  “Sure,” Luke said, not wanting to be rude. “The local pub is a great spot. It’s just down the street.”

  “What about something more romantic?” the man asked. “My fiancée and I had a little disagreement, so I’m in the doghouse. You know how it is, they love their drama,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  Luke definitely didn’t like this guy. “I’m sure you’ll find something,” he said curtly, and he headed off towards Natalie’s shop. As he approached, he saw she was already outside, watching him—a stricken expression on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” Luke asked, taking her hand. “Is everything OK?”

  “What . . . What did he say?” Natalie blurted, looking behind him.

  Luke turned and saw the strange guy sauntering away. “Oh, just a tourist wanting recommendations for his fiancée. He was kind of a jerk,” he added. “But never mind. These are for you,” he said, presenting her with the flowers.

  Natalie took them, still looking pale. “Thanks . . .” she said softly. “They’re . . . beautiful. I’ll, umm, just put them in some water before we go.”

  She ducked back into the shop, and Luke slowly followed. He had the strangest feeling, like something was about to happen. That dark dread lurking, low in his belly, that spelled disaster. And soon.

  “I know we didn’t make plans for tomorrow,” he said, trying to ignore his unease. “But we’ll all be gathering at Earl’s to exchange gifts. You should be warned, he likes to drag us all out on a Christmas morning walk, it’s tradition, but you can stay tucked up in bed if you want and just meet us after.”

  Natalie went to the kitchen and fetched down a vase.

  “One year, he had us hiking all the way to Provincetown,” Luke added, trying to fill the silence. “Jackson got his foot stuck in a ditch and we nearly spent the day in the emergency room. Earl had to bribe a nurse with cookies to strap it up and let us go before the ham burned—”

  “Luke.”

  He stopped dead. It was only one word, but Natalie’s voice trembled. He could see an aching kind of resignation on her face.

  And he knew in his bones what was coming.

  The end.

  Natalie couldn’t look at him. She knew if she gazed into his eyes, even for a second, this would all fall apart.

  He would see right through her. He’d know she didn’t mean a word she was about to say.

  “Natalie—” he started, but she shook her head. She needed to do this fast. Rip off the Band-Aid before she could change her mind.

  “Please, I need to say this.” Natalie took a shaking breath. “You’re an amazing man, Luke. You’re kind and loyal and generous. And I care about you a lot, but . . .”

  Her voice
wavered for a moment, as if her body was rebelling against the lie. But then she remembered seeing him with Oliver in the square, and she knew there was no going back.

  Because if Oliver knew about Luke, then it was already as good as over.

  She knew her ex too well. Oliver was mean and possessive, and there was nothing he’d enjoy more than tearing this town apart to get back at her. He wouldn’t rest until everything good in her life was broken and ruined, dragged through the mud out of petty revenge.

  Including Luke.

  Natalie couldn’t bear to see him put through that. Or the way Luke would look at her when Oliver’s words finally did their work and turned Luke against her like he’d done with every other person in her life.

  Because deep down, her worst fear echoed: that maybe Oliver was right.

  You’re a failure, Sara. You mess things up. You can’t help it, it’s just what you do.

  Natalie hated it, but it was true, wasn’t it? School, business, her relationships . . . They all had crumbled around her. No matter how hopeful she was for a bright new beginning, somehow, she always wound up alone. And sooner or later, she’d mess things up with Luke, too.

  It was better to save them both the pain.

  It had to be.

  “I’m sorry,” she forced herself to finish. “But it’s over. I can’t see you anymore.”

  Luke sagged back as if he’d been struck.

  “I never meant to hurt you or lead you on,” she added, her heart twisting in her chest. “But, I’m just not ready for a relationship.”

  “So, we’ll slow it down,” Luke insisted. He was trying to reassure her, she could tell, but it only made it worse. “We’ll take our time. I know I went too far, saying that I loved you, but I swear I haven’t been trying to rush you.”

  “I know.” Natalie gulped. “It’s not you, I promise. You’ve been wonderful. Better than I ever deserved. I just . . . can’t.” She bit back a sob. “I’m not ready to be with you or anyone right now.”

  Luke exhaled, confusion clear on his handsome face. “So I’ll wait,” he said, still determined. “We’ll be friends again, no pressure, however long it takes—”

  “Luke, no!” Natalie shook her head, hating that she was doing this. Hating that she was hurting a good man. The best she’d ever known.

  But that was Luke through and through. He would wait for her, be patient for her, as long as it took.

  Unless she made sure he wouldn’t.

  “You’re not listening to me,” Natalie said, trying to make her voice stronger.

  “I’m trying.” Luke stared at her, confused. “I just don’t understand.”

  “You said this would be whatever I wanted,” Natalie insisted. “Well, I want it to end. We’re finished.”

  “Natalie . . .” Luke stared at her in disbelief. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do.” Natalie clenched her jaw. She finally met his gaze, hoping he couldn’t see the lie written all over her face. “I mean it. This is over. I wish I could explain everything, but . . . Just know you deserve so much better than me. You deserve someone wonderful,” she added, biting back the tears. “Who can love you the way you should be loved.”

  “I found her,” Luke said, looking shell-shocked. “She’s standing right in front of me.”

  Natalie’s heart broke.

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted again. “You’re wrong.”

  And then she turned and fled before he could see the tears start falling. Before she could take it all back and tell him that she loved him, too.

  Before she could wonder if she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.

  19

  Two days later and Luke’s anguished expression still haunted Natalie every time she tried to close her eyes. She’d spent Christmas in a miserable heap on the couch, aimlessly channel-surfing and trying desperately to take her mind off the pain ricocheting in her chest.

  But nothing worked.

  She’d lost the best man she’d ever known. Pushed him away, and for what?

  To save him more heartache, she told herself, but Natalie wasn’t so sure. She wasn’t sure about anything anymore, except how much she missed him and longed to see him again. A touch . . . a kiss. She’d never felt safer or more loved than she had in his arms.

  But now she was alone again, feeling wretched and insecure, as if the past year had never happened.

  What was she supposed to do next?

  Natalie knew she couldn’t run again. Oliver had proven well enough that he’d always find her, and the thought of leaving Sweetbriar Cove behind filled her heart with an empty ache. This place was her home now. She couldn’t go, but staying filled her with dread, too. Wondering if Oliver was going to come back. So, there she was, hiding out in her apartment, braced to hear that ominous knock on her door.

  Which came just past noon the day after Christmas.

  Natalie froze. She dove under the blanket, as if that would make any difference, and sat there, her heart pounding, as the knock came again.

  “Natalie?” a voice called. “Are you there? It’s Alice.”

  Natalie exhaled in a whoosh. She clambered out from her pillow fort and went to unlock the door.

  Alice took one look at her bedraggled appearance and marched straight inside. “Tell me everything,” she ordered, and Natalie’s nerves were so frayed with heartache and fear that she opened her mouth and told her the whole sorry story, from the moment Oliver had arrived in town.

  * * *

  “But why didn’t you tell me he was back?”

  One pot of tea and a package of emergency shortbread later, Alice reached out and took Natalie’s hand. “You shouldn’t have to keep all this bottled up. We can do something, go to the police—”

  Natalie shook her head. “What’s the use? He hasn’t done anything wrong. He didn’t even threaten me, not in so many words. He just paid me a visit, that’s all. I don’t even know if he’s still in town!”

  She couldn’t imagine Oliver suffering through days of the Sweetbriar festivities. But she’d never imagined him coming here at all, and look how wrong she’d been about that.

  “But still, with your history,” Alice said, looking concerned. “I’m sure a judge would understand. We could try for a restraining order.”

  “I already did before.” Natalie swallowed back a sob. She’d thought she was all cried out already, but clearly, she was wrong. “I tried explaining, but it sounds so silly when you say it out loud. He never laid a hand on me or did anything that counts as abusive. And you don’t know Oliver,” she added. “He has a way of sweet-talking everyone. He twists it all around until I’m the only who looks crazy.”

  “You’re not crazy.” Alice said firmly. “I believe you. This guy is bad news.”

  Natalie exhaled. “Thank you,” she said quietly. Alice squeezed her hand again.

  “Well, if we can’t go to the authorities, then we need to tell Luke—”

  “No!” Natalie blurted. “You can’t. You don’t understand. I broke up with him for a reason, I don’t want to drag him into this.”

  “You wouldn’t be dragging him,” Alice pointed out. “The man is a mess. He’s crazy about you. And crazy heartbroken right now.”

  Natalie felt a stab of guilt. “I should never have started seeing him in the first place,” she said, miserable. “I knew I wasn’t ready to move on. But when I was with him . . . I forgot about it all,” she said wistfully. “He just made me feel like myself again. But I messed everything up.”

  Just like Oliver said she would.

  Alice took a long sigh. “I know it’s your decision, but are you sure secrecy is the best way to handle this? Blowing up your relationship with Luke just because . . . what: you’re scared Oliver will say something to him and try and turn him against you? Luke would never listen to him.”

  Natalie swallowed. It wasn’t Oliver ruining things she was worried about, but herself.

  “Please, just trust me on
this. It can’t work between us, not now. Staying involved with Luke would just make life harder on the both of us.”

  “And wallowing in heartbreak and misery isn’t hard?” Alice countered with a sympathetic smile.

  Natalie sighed. “I don’t know what else to do,” she said hopelessly. “I thought I was starting over, that Oliver was in the past . . . But you should have seen him, Alice.” She shuddered at the memory. “He was so calm and smug, like nothing had happened at all. Like we’d just had a small quarrel the other week, not like I’d packed up my things and gone for good.”

  Alice paused, taking a sip of tea. “I’ve always wondered, what gave you the courage to leave him?” she asked.

  “What was the final straw, you mean?” Natalie paused, pressing her fingertip into the biscuit crumbs. In an instant, she was back there again: hiding in the bathroom of Oliver’s perfect apartment, praying with everything she had for it not to be true.

  “I thought I was pregnant,” she confessed. “Oliver had been mad at me for putting on weight, and my period was overdue . . . And I looked at my day planner and realized . . .” Natalie still felt a chill, just thinking of it. “The first day, I just pretended it wasn’t really happening. That somehow, everything would be OK. I was used to it, you see,” she explained. “I’d figured out how to live with him. To navigate all the traps and tripwires. But then, I realized it wouldn’t be just me anymore. If we had a child together . . . I tried to think about them growing up in that house, all his moods and expectations. The way he could make you feel so worthless . . .” Natalie’s voice broke. “I could take it, but if you put a child through that? A little girl?”

  She shook her head. “I knew I had to do something. I wouldn’t make someone else pay for my mistakes. I started looking into leaving him,” she said softly, remembering her quiet research. “I found a women’s shelter in the city, moved my grandma’s inheritance into my own account. And then . . . I got my period. I wasn’t pregnant, after all.” Natalie swallowed. “I remember thinking, well, that’s it then. I can’t leave. But then I realized something. Why did I deserve less than that child did?” she asked. “Why should I just sit back and accept his abuse? If I could have been brave enough for that kid, then I could be brave enough for me, too.”