by Jane Porter
“She’s not. I’ve kicked her out. Sent her away.”
“Where did she go?”
“I don’t know. I suggested the Graff, but she might have decided to keep driving on to Bozeman.”
“If she’s at the Graff I might have the chance to see her tomorrow. That would be fun.”
“Now you’re just being sarcastic.” But his tone was mild and he seemed to be fighting a smile.
“Of course you think this is funny. But you should have seen her, swanning around your house, telling me how much she loved you and how she seemed to be the only one who truly understood you.”
“If I thought she understood me, we’d be together, but we’re not. We haven’t been together, in any size, shape or form since July fifth.”
“And yet she’s here. She said you needed your sports memorabilia and you asked her to fly them out.”
“I asked her to mail them.”
“Maybe it’s time you introduced her to the US Postal Service.” Charity sat for a moment, trying to organize her chaotic feelings, but her head wasn’t working. Her thoughts were wild and this conversation was just going in circles.
Was it only two days ago that they’d skated at Miracle Lake? Was it just two days ago that she’d confessed her true feelings? If only she could take that afternoon back. If only she could somehow protect her heart.
Quinn wasn’t safe.
Quinn was just more instability and heartache.
“I need to get to bed,” she said, reaching for the truck’s door handle. “Please let me know if Rusty Noel is there when you get home, or if he shows up later. I don’t care what time it is.”
“I promise,” Quinn answered, opening his truck door to come around and open hers. He gave her a hand, assisting her out. He walked with her to the front door. “Charity, things are going to be okay.”
She wished she could be so sure. She dug her key out of her purse and gave him a troubled look as she unlocked the front door. “Good night, Quinn.”
He kissed the top of her head. If he felt her stiffen and pull away, he gave no indication. “Good night, Charity.”
*
Quinn drove back to Paradise Valley feeling worse than he had in a very long time.
Things had been going well, so well, until tonight.
He’d felt good being back in Montana. He’d felt happy… contented… at peace.
He’d felt at home.
Charity was the one who’d made him feel at home, too. She made everything feel right.
She was the missing piece. He wanted her in his life, and he still firmly believed she was meant to be in his life, and yet it was a shock to realize how fragile her trust in him was, and how quickly Alice had damaged Charity’s sense of self.
Charity was the one he wanted. In her eyes, he could see the life he wanted… he could see the future he wanted. But she had to want it, too.
She had to trust him, and she had to have more faith in herself. He knew her childhood had left her scarred and scared, but at some point, you had to let the past go, or it would haunt you forever.
Could she do that?
Could she learn to believe in him….and them?
Their relationship wouldn’t survive if they both didn’t fight for it. One person couldn’t do all the heavy lifting. There had to be some kind of glue to keep them together when hard times came, because hard times would come. Hopefully, he’d never have to live through another tragedy. Hopefully, he’d never lose to violence anyone else he loved, but faith was still required, for situations large and small. Faith in God, faith in others, and faith in one’s self.
Quinn didn’t care that Charity didn’t like sports or follow baseball, but he cared very much about her opinion of him. He’d devoted his life to his sport, and to working with youth, and trying to use his platform to help others. He was a strong person, and he lived life with conviction, but every now and then he needed support. He could use Charity’s support now.
It was a long night, and Quinn slept badly. He tossed and turned and then left bed at four thirty to make coffee and watch the news.
It was just six when his phone rang, with an early call from Sawyer.
“Sorry for the crack of dawn call, but I figured you’d be worried. Your dog is here,” Sawyer said. “We woke up to find him asleep in the barn. Not sure how he found a way in, but Jenna discovered him curled up on a wool blanket by the cash register.”
Quinn exhaled with relief. “Thank goodness. I’ll call Charity and let her know. We drove around until midnight looking for him.”
“I’m not sure why he came here, unless he was looking for you, and thought you might be here.”
“I should have brought him back with me last night, after I went over to my house. An ex-girlfriend had stopped by. She wasn’t very nice to him. Rusty Noel must’ve been spooked.”
“Rusty Noel?”
“His name is Rusty, but Charity still thinks of him as Noel, so Rusty Noel it is.”
“You do know that sounds like Rusty Nail, don’t you?”
Quinn laughed, and then his laugh faded. “Hey, do you think your man Rob can handle opening this morning without me? I’d like to come get the dog and take him to Charity. I’m sure Sam won’t mind if the dog camps out by her desk today, and I know she’d be thrilled to have him.”
“No problem at all. I’m already more mobile than I was. I was thinking I’d try to get out there today and lend a hand. I can’t show trees but I could work the cash register. So no rush. Take your time.”
*
Neither Sam nor Greg was at the office when Charity arrived the next morning. Charity was glad.
As she made a pot of coffee, she blinked hard, her eyes gritty. She’d cried more than she’d slept last night, and this morning after she’d showered, she’d applied ice packs to her eyes to reduce the puffiness.
She’d cried over Alice’s appearance at Quinn’s house. She’d cried with worry over Noel being missing. She’d cried because she was worn out and filled with insecurity, and now that her insecurities had been set loose, they were tearing her apart.
She’d never felt good enough and all it took was one look at poised, polished Alice Sterling to realize Charity had never been Quinn’s type. He was a city guy. He wanted a poised, confident, sophisticated woman. Charity wasn’t that woman.
Heartsick, she carried her cup of coffee to her desk and sat down, turning on her computer, and checking her email. She couldn’t focus on the emails, though. Her thoughts jumped wildly from Noel to Alice to Quinn and then back to Alice, who was most likely enjoying a latte at the Graff right now.
Just picturing Alice at the Graff made Charity want to throw up.
Charity was staring out into the front window, lost in a fog of misery, when she spotted a very familiar man outside, walking a very familiar dog.
Quinn. Noel.
Noel.
She jumped to her feet and rushed toward the front door even as the door opened and Quinn brought the retriever inside. Noel’s tail thumped as Charity gave him a big hug. His coat was cold but he looked well and happy.
“Where did you find him?” Charity asked, glancing up at Quinn.
“He’d gone to the Gallaghers last night. Sawyer and Jenna found him this morning.”
“I’m so glad he’s safe. I’ve been so worried. Maybe I can stop crying now.” Her voice cracked and just like that, tears filled her eyes again.
“How about he stays with you today? I’ll head down to the Mercantile and get him a dog bed and he can lay next to your desk.”
“I’d have to ask Sam,” she said.
“I’ve already called him. He doesn’t have a problem with it.”
Her throat squeezed closed and her heart knotted and she wished they could go back to Sunday where she’d felt so happy, and safe, with him. “In that case, great.”
“While I’m out, can I get you a mocha from Java Café? Maybe one of their delicious breakfast sandwiches?” he
asked.
She shook her head, tears stinging her eyes and sat back down at her desk. “I’m good. Just the bed for Noel. Thank you.”
“Charity,” he said quietly, “you’re getting yourself worked up over nothing.”
Her shoulders rose and fell. “But it’s not nothing, not to me.”
“Alice isn’t a threat.”
“You say that, but she’s still very much in the picture.” She finally forced herself to look up at him and meet his gaze. “I don’t trust her. And maybe because of that, I can’t trust you.”
“Ouch,” he murmured.
She saw him flinch and it just made her feel worse. She wasn’t even sure who she was angry at anymore, only that what had seemed so good now seemed like an illusion. “She’s not my girlfriend, Quinn,” she said fiercely. “She’s yours, and she’s here, in my town, telling me how she’s the only one that knows you and understands you and that basically, at the end of this, she’s going to be the last woman standing.”
“Only if you let her be.”
“What does that mean?”
“Don’t let her win.”
“Maybe if I was a sports fan your sports analogy would make more sense.”
He lifted a brow, and he didn’t look impressed. “Let me lay it out for you then,” he said, his deep voice impatient. “I’m a professional athlete. I play baseball. My world is a tough world, and it’s competitive. My job performance is written up nightly in the paper. My team gets discussed in detail on national TV. If I have a good night, it’s talked about. If I have a bad night, it’s talked about. To make it more complicated, there are women out there who are groupies, and overzealous fans. These women throw themselves at the players. They exist on the fringes of all professional sports, and they’re desperate to snare a player of their own. They want to be part of the action, and the money, and the lifestyle, and they go to great lengths to get attention.”
“Are you saying Alice is one of them?”
“No, but she knew about them, and we could talk about the distractions out there, and that’s what I want us to be able to do. We should be able to talk about our feelings without worrying that someone is going to fall apart or run away, and I know you’re afraid of change, but I’m not going to hurt you, or lie to you. You are too important to me.”
“It takes time to build trust.”
“But it’s also hard to trust others if you can’t trust yourself.” He gave her a long look. “Or love yourself.”
She flinched. “That’s rough. I didn’t expect that from you.”
“We’re friends. We’re supposed to tell each other the truth.”
“Then let me tell you a truth—I’m not tough like you. I will never be as tough as you.”
“No, maybe not, but that doesn’t mean you can’t toughen up, because I think you should. You let losers and schmucks bruise you, and you doubt the people you should trust.”
She jerked her chin up and stared at him, quietly furious with him for reading her so well. He wasn’t saying anything new. She’d heard all this—and more—from Amanda and Jenny.
“Growing a thicker skin will only help protect your heart,” he added. “It won’t change who you are. But it will help you survive in this world of ours.”
“Maybe I don’t like your baseball world anymore.”
“Sweetheart, everything I’m talking about has taken place here in Montana. You’re being hurt by idiots in this town. You’re struggling to survive in sweet, little Marietta.”
She lifted her chin even higher. “I don’t think we’re friends at all.”
Quinn gave his head a faint shake, his expression rueful. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. We’re friends. We’re more than friends. You’re my girl. You’re someone I love. And I still love you, even though you’re seriously ticked off with me.”
“I don’t think I want to be on your team anymore.”
“Tough. You don’t get to just quit like that.”
Charity didn’t answer, she couldn’t, and after a long, tense, miserable minute, Quinn walked out.
Chapter Eleven
It was a terrible morning. Charity’s hands shook so much that she couldn’t even type without constant missed keystrokes.
She tried answering the phone but nearly burst into tears.
Sam pulled her into his office, wondering what Greg had done now, and she’d been forced to explain that this wasn’t Greg, but Quinn. Or rather Quinn’s ex-girlfriend, Alice Sterling, who was in town, staying at the Graff.
By noon, Charity was beyond wiped out. Legs shaking, she put on a heavy coat, leashed Noel and walked him over to Amanda’s hair salon. She told Noel to sit in the corner of the waiting room, and then went in search of her sister.
Amanda was at the shampoo bowl, washing a client’s hair, but after taking a look at Charity’s face, she called one of her assistants to take over. “Finish rinsing, add the deep conditioner, massage in well, wrap in plastic, put her under the dryer for fifteen minutes and then shampoo again. After the final rinse, come get me, okay?”
Amanda dragged Charity to the small back bedroom used by the estheticians but unoccupied at the moment.
“What’s happened?” Amanda said, sitting down on the corner of the treatment bed, and patting the space next to her. “We have a solid eighteen minutes. Talk to me.”
“His girlfriend is here.” Just saying the words made Charity’s chest hurt. “Alice Sterling. She’s here in Marietta, at the Graff, probably ordering lunch right now in the president’s suite.” Charity fought tears. Her voice cracked. “Mandy, why is this happening again?”
“This is a totally different situation. Quinn isn’t seeing her anymore. She’s his ex.”
“But they’re still in touch. They talk all the time. She’s always texting him. Apparently she has a closet of his stuff.”
“I think it’s admirable that Quinn can stay friends with his ex-girlfriends. I always thought it was sad that you and Joe couldn’t be friends. The fact that he cut you off completely after the breakup hurt you more than the breakup itself.”
“At least Joe didn’t have anyone else!”
“I don’t think Quinn is seeing her.”
“Then why is she here? And why did she tell me all these weird things about him? Why did she say that I seemed sweet and she hated to see me hurt? Why tell me that they’re going to end up together, and that this is just a temporary blip?”
“Did she really say all that?”
Charity nodded. “And so much more.”
“She’s making a big play for him, Charity. She’s fighting for him. You have her scared.”
“She knows nothing about me.”
“She knows enough to be here and make a stand.” Amanda nudged her sister with her shoulder. “Take a page from her book. Have some balls. Stand up to her. Fight for Quinn. You didn’t love Greg, so Meghan wasn’t a big deal. But you really care about Quinn, and I know you’re afraid, but now’s the time to fight. Don’t let Alice waltz in, not on your turf, and take away your guy. This is Marietta, Montana. Show her what a Montana girl is made of. And show that Montana boy why you’re the right one for him.”
Charity bit her lip, her insides churning. “I don’t know how to fight,” she said, voice strangled. “I don’t.”
“Not true. You fight for others all the time. You’re incredibly generous. But you don’t give yourself any love.”
Charity flashed to what Quinn had said this morning and it made her cringe. “Are you going to recommend a self-help book next?” she demanded darkly.
“Maybe.” Amanda wrapped her arm around her sister’s shoulder, and brought her head close. “You’re not the only one,” she whispered. “We have all struggled with this. We all have terrible self-esteem. But it’s not our fault and it doesn’t have to be this way. You can fight this fear, you know. You just need to come out swinging and believe that you deserve a really wonderful person, because you do. Charity, you’r
e my favorite person in the world. I wouldn’t adore you so much if you weren’t a really amazing person. And I’m not just saying that because you’re my sister. I’m saying it because I know you, and I love you, and it’s made me so upset to see you date all these terrible guys. It’s like that verse in the Bible about throwing pearls before swine.”
Amanda released her but she kept a hand on her sister’s knee. “You, my gorgeous Charity, are a pearl. You’re a rare, wonderful jewel. Demand more, demand more from men and life, and when you find the one you really, truly want, and really, truly love, don’t just let him go. Fight.”
“Quinn is famous and gorgeous and successful. He could have any woman in the world. He’ll tire of me—”
“No! Love doesn’t work that way. You and Joe gave up on each other. Maybe it was timing. Maybe you both were too young, but Quinn isn’t a kid. He’s midthirties, independently wealthy, and established in his career. He knows what he wants in life, and he seems to want you.” Amanda squeezed her knee. “Do you really want to push him away?”
“No.”
“But I don’t have your confidence. I wish I did. I wish I wasn’t ashamed of myself.”
“Ashamed of what?”
“Everything! Mandy, I’m thirty and I’ve achieved nothing. I didn’t pursue fashion and design. I didn’t even apply to Parsons because I didn’t think I had a chance.”
“You keep calling yourself a failure. You keep blaming yourself for not taking risks. But you did take risks. You took huge risks. You gave up your dreams to take care of me and Mom and Dad. You are the ultimate caretaker, and that’s not what cowards do. It’s what brave people do.”
Charity glanced away, tears blinding her.
“Don’t think I’m not aware of all the times you put yourself on the outside of the bed so that Dad couldn’t reach me when he was drunk. Don’t think I don’t know why you wouldn’t go to New York. It’s because it would mean leaving me home alone with them. I know who you are, Charity, and it’s brave and strong and so full of love that it makes me feel unworthy.”
Charity dashed away a tear. “Stop.”
