by Annie O'Neil
Early in his marriage he’d taken a phone call. A tough one. But it hadn’t surprised him.
It had been from a police sergeant from his hometown. A kid he’d grown up with who’d known him and his parents’ reputation. They had both died in a drunk-driving car accident. Their old truck had flipped and ended up at the bottom of a ravine. As he’d listened to his former classmate go through the details, he’d felt a wash of emotions. Grief, of course. They had been his parents. But it had been a complicated grief. One colored with relief, sorrow, sadness for the childhood he’d never had and the loving relationship they could’ve shared if they’d stayed sober long enough to try.
His friend hadn’t known it, but he’d just welcomed his son into the world. When he’d hung up the phone he’d vowed with every fiber in his being to provide his own family with as much stability as humanly possible. To give his son the childhood he’d never had.
He’d failed at the first hurdle.
In a moment of complete and open honesty he looked Maggie in the eye and said, “I lost a part of myself that day. The day the chaplain showed up at my door. I think I’ve been trying to figure out who or where on earth I am supposed to be ever since.”
He half expected zany Maggie to surface and shout Awkward! But she didn’t. She reached across the table, covered both of his hands with hers and said, “You are right here. Just where you’re meant to be. It’s okay to forgive yourself now. It’s okay to be whoever you want to be. You’ve done everything right.”
The power of her words surged straight into his heart with a healing warmth. A weight lifted off him that he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying. Guilt maybe? Anger.
Definitely.
Fear.
Probably a lot of that as well. Which was why Maggie and her free-spirited approach to life had no doubt rankled.
It didn’t now.
It inspired. It lifted him up and out of that stagnant place he’d been sitting in emotionally for—well, for years now, he supposed. It was time to move on. With courage.
“Dad!” Jake burst out of the kitchen, carrying a tell-tale pink bakery box in his outstretched arms. “Look what I made!”
He laughed. Laughed for a dozen hand-made sticky sweet reasons. And he wasn’t just talking about the misshaped crullers his son was already handing out to the handful of customers in the café. He laughed because his son had incredible timing when it came to interrupting intimate moments with Maggie. He laughed because he could suddenly think of his wife with a smile on his face. He laughed because he could. Maggie caught his eye and grinned before raising a cruller in a toast to him.
Here’s to you, he thought as he accepted one of his son’s gooey treats. He looked up and met Maggie’s gaze again. And here’s to you, the woman who just might change my life.
* * *
“Dr. Kirkland?” A man came around to their booth. “I thought that was you.”
Maggie’s blood ran cold at the sound of his voice. When their eyes met, it turned to ice.
“Hello, Eric.”
At least he had the good grace to look uncomfortable.
The smile faded from Alex’s lips when he caught the tension in the air. “I’m Dr. Kirkland, that’s right. You two know each other?”
Maggie gave a quick, curt nod.
All the good feelings she’d been experiencing—the peace, the joy, the deep connection she felt with Alex—evaporated in an instant.
“Yeah!” Eric put out a fist for Maggie to bump, which she actively flinched away from. She wasn’t going anywhere near that man. She tugged at the collar of her shirt, suddenly desperately needing some air.
Eric continued, slick as a snake oil salesman, “We knew each other back in the Boston Harbor Days until I went up a notch at a hospital out west.”
Disbelief flooded her lungs and drowned out any retorts she could’ve made about what he’d actually done. Skipped town without so much as a fare-thee-well.
“Looking good, Mags. Got yourself a new job? Hobnobbing with the big boss man? Nice. I’ve heard great things about the clinic, Dr. Kirkland.”
She watched as Jake, a naturally generous kid, looked at his crullers, looked at Maggie, then Eric and firmly closed the lid of the box.
His innate sense that something wasn’t right tugged at her heart, which was quite a feat considering that very same heart was ricocheting round her chest like a caged she-devil.
She didn’t dare look at Alex. This man standing in front of them, so cavalier, had made her feel smaller than anyone had in her entire life. Had ground her sense of confidence to dust. It had literally taken her years to get to this place again. The one where she could be confident. Strong.
Eric cleared his throat and pushed himself up to his full height and started explaining why he was back in town. Catching up with friends at Boston Harbor. He was over on the island with a friend he pointed out. They were “checking out the scene.”
The whole time he spoke Maggie wished she could curl up into a tiny ball and roll away. Mortification didn’t begin to cover it.
She’d been bowled over by this man. His good looks. His ability to charm. Talk a good game. Now she saw all his alpha behavior for what it really was. Slick, superficial power plays to cover up an utterly hollow interior. The man had the emotional depth of a toad.
No. That was being mean to toads. They could turn into princes.
Princes were good and kind. At least the fairy-tale variety were.
Her gaze flicked to Alex and at precisely that moment his eyes met hers and they held tight. She saw the flash of understanding light then take fire. His shoulders broadened. He gave his son’s arm a squeeze then turned his attention on Eric, his voice deep and solid. “If you’ll excuse us, we’ve got to get this little guy home.”
“Oh, right.” Eric stared at Alex and Maggie. His eyes dropped to their fingers. For some inexplicable reason Maggie quickly hid her hands so he couldn’t tell whether she was married to Alex or not. At this particular minute she wished she was. A lot. Alex Kirkland was a true man. A gentleman. She could—Oh, wow. She could grow to trust Alex Kirkland.
“You lot off back home?” Fiona Brady bustled up to the table with another pink box and handed it over to Maggie. “Thought you might like these for the morning.” She winked then shot a saucy look at Alex. “Something to keep a smile on yer fella’s face.”
What? Fiona knew as well as anyone on Maple Island that Alex Kirkland was a committed widower and—more importantly—a father. He wouldn’t... Wait a minute. Was she joining in the ruse to confuse Eric? Were they all banding together because they’d seen her discomfort? She scanned the café and saw Tom Brady flicking the sign on the front door from Open to Closed. Eric saw it, too.
“We were just going to order,” he protested.
“Sorry, pal.” Tom shrugged as if he didn’t have a care in the world then folded his arms across his meaty chest. “Closing early tonight. Bad luck.”
A bolt of energy shot through her.
They were all joining together to help her.
Jake, Tom, Fiona. Alex. She even saw a couple of the staff from behind the counter square their shoulders as the tension grew. Extraordinary. They were giving her a support system without even knowing what Eric had done to her. This was what a community did for one another. The power of that realization surged through her with the same rush of adrenaline she’d felt when she’d won gold. Or taken her first steps with her first set of prosthetics. When she’d known she would live.
She turned to Eric, gave him a quick up and down scan. He wasn’t all that. “Goodnight.”
Then she turned and walked out the door Tom was holding open, with Jake and Alex following in her wake.
When they got into the car she was shaking like a jelly.
They rode home in silence and after Jake had been safel
y tucked up in bed Alex came downstairs and sat on the sofa where Maggie had been trying to process what had happened.
She was safe here. Secure. But she still didn’t know how to rein in that painful feeling of shame Eric had unleashed in her back then.
He’d said he couldn’t be with her. This after he’d told her she was beautiful. Beautiful until he’d seen her legs. Seen who she really was without the high heels. Without the horse-riding boots. With nothing on but herself.
And he’d told her the only thing that would allow him to be with her was pity.
Her stomach churned at the memory.
“Want to talk about it?” Alex’s voice was soft. Concerned.
“Not particularly.” She knew she should be garnering strength from him, from the show of community solidarity, and yet... She wasn’t there yet.
“Would you like to go up to your room?”
She nodded. Yes. Yes, she would. And then she’d like to knot together all the sheets and climb out of the window and run far, far away to a place where all her emotions didn’t collide with the past in such a painful way.
She looked at Alex who had his own past to deal with. His own pain. His own hurdles to leap. And then it hit her. Her past lived deep within her. She was the only one who had the power to let it surge up and overwhelm her, or...to simply own it...and move on. There wasn’t anywhere in the world she could escape it. Nowhere was safe.
And just like that, Alex pulled her into his arms and was kissing her.
You’re safe in his arms.
A battle began between her heart and her mind. Nowhere was safe until she made peace with her past. With the cruel things Eric had said.
Her body was responding to Alex’s. To his touch. The heat that flared between them each time their lips met.
As much as she wanted it—as much as she wanted him—tonight was not the night to do this.
As gently as she could, she pulled away. She ran her fingers along his stubbled cheeks, tipped her forehead to his.
“Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “Not really. But I will be.”
He nodded. “It’s been a bit of a crazy night.”
“You’ve got that right.” She reached out and stroked his cheek again. He’d been so open with her. So honest. She wanted to do the same for him, but...
The tiniest shoot of belief that one day she might be able to blossomed as he dropped a kiss on her forehead.
“I don’t know what’s happening between us. But how about we admit that it’s something?”
“Yes,” she said. “It is something. I’m just not sure I know how to take the next step.”
He shrugged, opened his hands up to the heavens. “For once, we are on the same page.”
They laughed, the connection between them deepening with the acknowledgement that whatever it was between them deserved recognition. Time.
Space.
“I think I’m going to tackle those stairs now.” Her knees were miles better and doing something under her own steam was the only way she was going to come to terms with what had happened with Eric.
“I’m just going to catch up on some paperwork.” Alex didn’t move from the sofa as she rose.
“Need me to bring your helmet down?”
He laughed. “Not tonight. Tonight I think I’ll be all right.”
She had to stop herself from blowing him a kiss. She felt so damn close to the man and yet...
“Night-night.”
“Night, Maggie. Sweet dreams.”
After she was cozily tucked into bed she knew she was going to have to wage a war. She deserved to be happy. Alex deserved it too. Neither of them should be in this bonkers holding pattern. They either had to go for it and explore what was happening between them, or simply admit she couldn’t find a way to overcome the shame and insecurity she’d been carrying with her these three long years.
She rolled over and let her pillow drown out her scream of frustration.
If she didn’t? She’d be stuck in a cycle of possibility and pain forever.
CHAPTER TEN
“GOT A HACKAMORE I can use?” Maggie ran her hand along the warmth just below the mare’s mane.
Randy gave a low whistle of approval. “Instead of a proper bridle? You up to it?”
She nodded. She wasn’t one to pull out her steamer trunk full of trophies, ribbons and medals to prove a point and Randy had yet to connect the dots.
They popped the bit-less bridle onto the horse and while Randy wandered off to find something else, Maggie tried something she hadn’t in a while. Mounting a bareback horse without a leg up.
“There’s a good girl. Good girl.” She took a big fistful of mane in her left hand, then with a quick one-two hop, jump and a cinch on Skylla’s withers... Aha!
“Here we are—Oh.” Randy appeared round the corner with a mounting block in one hand and a saddle on his arm.
“Oops.” Maggie grinned down at him from atop the horse. “I shoulda said.”
“Yeah,” Randy said dryly. “Maybe you coulda given me a bit of a heads-up that you were a circus performer in a past life.”
She laughed. She’d actually always wanted to be in the circus. Had planned to run away and do all sorts of tricks on the back of her pony. Her mother would’ve murdered her if she’d known just how many handstands she’d done on her pony’s bare back before she’d gotten sick. After that? She’d tried twice as hard. “I’ve got safety harnesses if you got any other tricks up your sleeve.” He pointed to a couple of ropes hanging from one of the rafters, proving it took one daredevil to know another.
“When you get back from your ride, make sure you stop by the tack room,” Randy continued. “There might be something in there that would interest you.”
“Will do.” She tipped her invisible hat to him, clicked to the horse and gave her a light nudge with her heels, smiling as Randy gave her a quick farewell salute. She liked bantering with him. The kind where you could throw insults that didn’t stick back and forth at each other. Her parents had done that loads and had told her trainers when she’d started on dressage to do the same. “Treat her exactly the same as you would anyone,” they’d said. “Exactly the same.”
Which everyone had always done, except Eric.
That sour twist of shame threatened to swirl up and tighten her throat, draining her lungs of air, but she fought it this time. For a week and a half, ever since that day at the bakery, she’d been shoving it down and shoving it down, and it looked like today was the day she couldn’t rein it in anymore.
And why should she? She was a woman who could command a sixteen-hand horse with a little flick of her wrist. A nudge with her heel. The strength of her attitude.
Why had she allowed Eric to make her feel so small?
It suddenly seemed insane she had let him have any power over her in the first place. Even an iota. Anyone who thought they were doing a person a kindness by telling them they would be a “pity lay” was a certifiable jackass.
The coarseness of his language shuddered down her spine so powerfully she practically felt it shoot out the soles of her boots.
She pressed her eyes tight and pictured exactly that. The cruel words, the hurt feelings, the sour taste—all of it—just flowed out of her boots and into the sawdust and into a big old pile of horse manure. Right where it belonged.
A rush of strength washed through her like pure oxygen. She needed to get out of the barn. Remind herself of the woman she knew she really was. Fierce. Loyal. Strong. Sensual. Able to love and be loved. That’s who she was. Not this weird happy-one-minute-scaredy-pants-the-next victim. No. She’d never let anyone make her feel small ever again.
Randy called out as she turned Skylla toward the big barn doors. “It’s cold as all get-out. You’re more than welcome to ride in the covered ring
if you like.”
“Nope. I’m good.” She beamed. “I could do with knocking a few more cobwebs loose.”
Eric-shaped cobwebs. And maybe then she’d have a clear enough head to figure out what the heck was happening between her and Alex. Enjoy a few more of those kisses. And perhaps a bit more.
The cold air hit her fast and hard when she and Skylla turned the corner toward the path leading to the waterfront. She could practically feel her smile hitting each of her ears. She dug her heels into Skylla’s sides. Time to get both of their hearts pumping with a good old-fashioned gallop.
* * *
Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw Maggie heading from the stables on a huge mare out toward the coastal path. Ever since the bakery outing, she’d practically been living in the stables.
He shouldn’t have kissed her. Not when she’d so clearly been upset.
He pocketed his tablet, gave a final note about changing Salty’s medication to the nurse, instantly experiencing a sting of loss when he realized he’d missed that last glimpse of Maggie as she and the horse had disappeared around the corner.
Exactly the same niggle that had been gnawing at his conscience reared its head again.
That man had done something awful to Maggie. He’d had to hold himself in tightly not to pull him off his feet, push him up against a wall of the bakery and demand the truth.
But it was Maggie’s story to tell. Maggie’s truth to manage. All of which landed him straight back at the place he’d been fastidiously trying to avoid.
It was time to get some appropriate accommodation organized for her. Not only was having her in his home impractical, it was...distracting. When you looked at the situation square in the eye, they were living together. And...he liked it. It worked. She made his son laugh. Her French toast was the best he’d ever tasted. She loved his spaghetti—his signature dish. Or at least was good at faking it.
Day by day she was becoming part of his family’s fabric and for the first time in six years he thought he could see the possibilities of that happening. The thoughts tugged him toward the daycare center where Jake was at the after-school club.
