by Melissa Tagg
“Beginning of July.” The woman’s eyes were on her daughter, a mix of pain and hope and caution swirled together. “We’ve decided it’s to be the last one. We can’t get her hopes up any longer.”
Three failed surgeries in the past five years. And somehow Elise continued to thrive in the midst of it all. “Well, if there’s anything I can do to help—in addition to making sure our braille selection continues to grow, of course—just say the word.”
Mrs. Linder’s gaze moved to Raegan. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I know what you’ve been doing—buying the books with your own money, donating them to the library. That is beyond sweet of you. And far too generous.”
Shoot, had the head librarian said something? “You weren’t supposed to know that.”
“Well, I do, and I’m more grateful than I can say.”
“I just know how much Elise prefers braille to audio. She can race through them faster that way. A bookworm after my own heart.”
Mrs. Linder leaned in for a hug. “You’re just like your mother.”
Just like your mother. Raegan had been hearing it her whole life—could never quite bring herself to believe it. Mom had traveled the world, started a foundation that to this day still changed lives. And that wasn’t the only dream she’d chased. She’d poured just as much of her heart into her marriage and her kids as her career.
And when the cancer had invaded—not once, not twice, but three times—Mom had planted her feet in the soil of her faith, rooted and strong.
No. If Mom was the sun, then Raegan was the moon—merely reflecting another’s brilliance.
Raegan stepped back from Mrs. Linder’s embrace. “I’ll see you at the Summer Carnival?” The town had been gearing up for its annual carnival, always the first weekend in June, for weeks.
Mrs. Linder nodded. “Wouldn’t dare miss it.”
Minutes later, Raegan watched as Elise’s mom led her down the marble stairs and out the front entrance, then glanced at the clock. Just enough time to finish her shelving.
Soon she had all the library lights off, the doors locked. She found her bike resting where she’d left it on the rack in the parking lot and then began the ride across town, Mr. Hill’s voice plying her the whole way.
“You have a gift, my girl. I wish I knew why you were so scared to use it.”
She wished she knew, too. But how could she agree to the mayor’s request when she couldn’t manage to finish any one of the half-begun pieces currently cluttering the apartment she rode toward now?
It took her nearly twenty minutes to arrive at her destination—the second-floor apartment above Coffee Coffee, Maple Valley’s lone coffee shop overlooking the riverfront. She perched her bike against the building and then climbed the wooden stairway at the side of the building. Raegan let herself in with a key and traipsed through the kitchen, into the living room.
Her easel, canvas, paints, brushes . . . all of it awaited her. Maybe tonight she’d do more than underpainting. Maybe . . . maybe she’d settle on an image—a landscape or portrait or a bowl of fruit if nothing else—and bring it alive in color.
But first, a shower. She was sweaty from the ride across town and her hair still smelled like chlorine from her shift at the pool earlier today. She’d have to put her same jeans back on, but at least she had a clean shirt here—one big enough to pull double duty as a painting smock.
Her hair was still dripping, the bathroom still fogged with steam, when she heard the first thump. And then a door closing.
Raegan froze.
Footsteps. A soft voice.
Her heartbeat skipped. Who . . . ?
The bathroom door swung open and her shriek collided with a gasp. A man’s gasp.
“What the—Raegan?”
And now her heart just plain stopped, she was sure of it. Bear McKinley stared at her in shocked silence, wide-eyed and so broad-chested he nearly filled the whole doorway. Even more ruggedly handsome than she remembered. Ridiculously, annoyingly so.
And then, in one deft move, he invaded her space, butting into the room and closing the door behind him. She took a step back, nearly tripped over the towel behind her. Had Bear always been this big? A person shouldn’t be so tall. It was intimidating and overwhelming and . . .
He was supposed to be in South America!
“What in the world are you doing here?” He spoke slowly, his gaze sliding down her frame and up again. “And why are you wearing my shirt?”
Clearly the turmoil of the past week had finally gone to Bear’s brain. That was the only possible explanation for what he was seeing now—Raegan Walker, wet hair straggling over her shoulders and matted to her cheeks, in his bathroom in his apartment.
Wearing his T-shirt. One that hadn’t been nearly as paint-splattered the last time he’d seen it.
Raegan backed into the sink, her oomph followed immediately by a panicked, “Why’d you close the door?”
He took a step closer to her, not that all that much space had separated them anyway. He’d forgotten how tiny this apartment really was, especially the closet-sized bathroom. Did he honestly think Jamie and Erin would be more comfortable here than a hotel suite somewhere?
Might not be big, but it’s free. It’s away from Atlanta, which is what Rosa wanted.
And it’d been the only place he could think to go.
He owned the apartment mortgage-free. It’d felt like a gift straight from God back when he’d first come to Maple Valley. The coffee shop owner below had first rented it to him and later offered to sell it to him for a ridiculously cheap price. Had said he was doing her a favor by taking it off her hands—and her insurance policy.
He missed that feeling—that sense that God was guiding his steps. Lately life felt too much like grappling in the dark.
“I asked a question first, Rae. Two, I believe, and I’ve got plenty more where they came from. Like, why does my living room look like an art studio? And since when do you take showers in my bathroom?” And was it too much to ask that he get just a moment’s peace after the insanity of the past week?
Somehow in the span of days, he’d gone from wannabe missionary to caretaker of two kids who were probably even more bewildered about their situation than he was.
Raegan gripped the counter behind her, those sky blue eyes of hers clouded with confusion. Maybe, too, embarrassment. “You’re supposed to be in Brazil.”
She moved as if to flee the room, but he was too quick for her. He planted both palms on the counter on either side of her. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now. In the meantime, he’d choose to ignore the fact that she smelled like a dang tropical island. And looked . . . even better than he recalled. Which was as far as he’d let that thought go.
“Glare at me all you want, Raegan, but I think you’re forgetting a wee conversation we had, you and I, before I left. The one where I said I wished I could’ve found someone to buy or at least rent this place and you said, and I quote”—his voice notched to a falsetto—“‘Oh, Bear, let me work on it. I’ve never played real estate agent before. I’ll email you when I find a buyer.’”
“I do not talk that high-pitched.”
“I catch you trespassing and that’s all you have to say?” His gaze wandered over her face, eventually landing on the faintest scar peeking from her eyebrow. “Where’s your eyebrow ring?”
She folded her arms, elbows jutting into his chest. “You ask too many questions, Bear McKinley.”
He’d forgotten the way Raegan had of saying his full name. Too, how much he’d once liked it. He’d probably grin right now and keep goading her if he wasn’t entirely baffled and light years past bushed.
Two full days behind the wheel after mostly sleepless nights in a series of hotels would do that to a person. And poor Jamie and Erin were more worn-out than he was. Erin hadn’t even awakened when he’d carried her up the stairs to the apartment he thought he’d find empty. Jamie had crashed on the couch almost immediately, oblivi
ous to Bear’s puzzlement over the state of the place or the light peeking from under the bathroom door.
At least he’d heard from Rosa. Whatever she’d feared when she’d seen those two men outside her apartment hadn’t materialized—not yet, anyway. But she was still insistent on Bear keeping charge of the kids for the next few weeks. “This will be good for them. They should get to know their uncle.”
So far, there hadn’t been much getting to know each other, though. The kids were clearly and understandably uncomfortable, having been whisked away from their home. Erin had finally started loosening up during today’s drive, but Jamie had yet to speak in more than monosyllables.
Bear pushed away from the counter, scrutiny straying to the mirror behind Raegan. Man, he looked as tattered as he felt—circles under his eyes, days’ worth of whiskers shadowing his cheeks. Even his skin, however bronzed by the beady South American sun, seemed pallid. “Fine. I’ll go first. I closed the door because I’ve got two exhausted kids out in the living room, and they’ve been through enough this week. If they’re sleeping soundly out there, then I don’t want to disturb them.”
“Kids?”
“And I haven’t heard a word from you since last fall—nothing about any buyers or renters—so I assumed I’d find this place empty.”
She just stared at him, so many questions flickering through her eyes. The same eyes that had taunted him night after night his first few weeks in Brazil. Always begging the same question: Had he made a mistake, never giving things a chance to develop with Raegan Walker?
He’d met Raegan not long after moving to Maple Valley nearly six years ago. They’d formed an easy, nearly instant friendship. But he’d always been careful to make sure it stopped there. No dinners or movies, just the two of them. Nothing that could be mistaken for a date.
Because that was the way it had to be. Because he knew he’d leave eventually and, more importantly, because never again would he put himself in the position of having to choose . . .
He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and said the first thing that came to mind solely to escape any thought of Annie, of Rio, of the one choice he regretted above all. “You know, for being about three sizes too large, my shirt’s an okay look on you.”
He shouldn’t have said it. But it was true. Sometimes Raegan Walker was too cute for her own good. Or his good. But he’d managed to skirt around his attraction to her before. He could do it again. Not as if he’d be in Maple Valley nearly as long this time.
“It’s a versatile piece of clothing.” Raegan reached for the extra fabric that gaped below her waist. “Sometimes I wear it like this.” She pulled at the bottom of the shirt and tied a knot at the side. “See?”
“That’s very nineties of you.”
“Well, someone once told me there’s nothing boring about my fashion sense.”
Yeah, he’d been that someone. Not that he was one to put a lot of thought into most people’s choice of attire, but Raegan wasn’t most people. Between the streaks in her hair, the dozen bracelets that usually crowded both wrists, the eyebrow ring, the clothes that always seemed to pop with color . . . she tended to stand out.
The undeniable truth washed over him now, as heady as the steamy warmth of the bathroom. He’d missed Raegan more than he’d thought possible. Plain and simple and jarring as that. His sudden desire to hug her was drowned out only by his need to back away from her.
Raegan seemed to read his warring thoughts. She moved in for the barest of hugs—so slight and quick it could hardly be called an embrace—and then she immediately opened the door and padded from the room.
He took his first full breath since catching her here, and followed her into the living room. Raegan had stopped a few feet from the couch, gaze on the huddled forms of Jamie and Erin nestled into the couch he’d bought years ago.
“My eleven-year-old nephew and five-year-old niece,” he whispered.
“I didn’t realize . . .”
What? That he had family? Unsurprising considering he’d made a concentrated effort not to mention them when he first arrived here. And then, after a few months, a year, it’d been easy to forget they even existed—other than the occasional check sent to Rosa. For a short while, he’d been almost as happy in Maple Valley as he had back when Annie and her parents had taken him under their wing.
The thought caused a prickled inhale, enough to draw Raegan’s gaze. He nudged his head toward the kitchen. “Please tell me there’s food here. I’m starved.” Maybe if he ate, the headache lingering around the edges of his brain might dissolve.
She nodded and they crossed the small space to the kitchen right off the apartment’s entrance. “I keep a few snacks around.”
And yet, it didn’t seem like she’d moved in. The only furnishings were those he’d left behind. There were no pictures on the fridge, no dishes in the sink. Other than art supplies, he hadn’t seen anything to indicate she actually lived here.
Raegan opened a cupboard, and when she turned around, she held a bag of licorice in one hand and a granola bar in the other. “Take your pick.”
He reached for the bar. “Still addicted to Twizzlers, I see.” He downed the granola bar in three oversized bites. Raegan held out a second before he’d even finished. “And you still remember my appetite, too.”
“Nobody could forget your appetite, Bear. Seth still kicks himself for not getting a picture of you to hang on the wall of his restaurant in honor of eating the most burgers in one sitting.”
Man, it’d be good to see Seth Walker again. Raegan’s cousin owned The Red Door, Maple Valley’s most popular restaurant. He’d spent a few Friday nights playing live music there before he’d moved to Brazil. Seth had been as close as a brother.
Closer.
A smattering of guilt prowled around the edges of his mind—for the excitement he felt at seeing Seth again compared to the concern he couldn’t seem to make himself feel for Rio.
Rio, who was in jail. Rio, who had turned his back on the second chance Bear had tried so hard to give him.
“Not sure my eating habits are what I want to be remembered by,” he said around another bite.
“Trust me, you’re remembered for more than that. Everyone will be happy you’re back. Speaking of which, how long are you back for, anyway?”
“I don’t know.”
“How long are your niece and nephew staying with you?”
“I don’t know.” Please. Not now, Rae. Not now when his nerves were shot and his energy gone.
“Well, you should bring them to the Summer Carnival this weekend. Are their parents—”
“Rae.” He choked out her name, swallowing his last bite with a painful gulp. “I can’t do this now.”
She stared at him for a moment that stretched until he thought it might snap. Or he might snap. Maybe he already had by the look in Raegan’s eyes. Had he yelled just now or only whispered? He didn’t even know. He dropped to a chair, fingers moving to his temples.
“I’m sorry. I’m just . . . I’m so tired. I can’t even tell you all I’ve been through this week. Between the flying and the driving, Brazil and Atlanta and . . . I need to sleep. Is there still a bed in the bedroom?”
She only nodded.
“Good. I’ll put the kids in there and take the couch. That is, assuming you’re not—”
She shook her head quickly. “I’m not living here. I’ve only been hiding out here to paint. That’s all. I planned to pay you rent all along. I’ll write you a check—”
He held up his hand. “Not tonight, all right? Would you mind, um, leaving?”
She gave a resigned shrug and turned to the door. Hand on the knob, she cast him one more look of concern. “Are you okay, Bear?”
He couldn’t answer that. Not without lying. “Goodnight, Rae.”
4
Returning to Bear’s apartment felt a little too much like returning to the scene of a crime.
Which, Raegan supposed,
it sort of was, considering she’d been squatting for months.
She truly had tried to find someone to buy or rent the space, but it was small and crowded and the noise from the coffee shop below made it a tough sell. She should’ve emailed Bear the day she’d gotten the crazy idea to use it as her makeshift studio. The place just had such good lighting, such a pretty view of the river, and she already had a key and . . .
Enough excuses. She owed the man five months’ worth of rent and an explanation.
But that was not what drew her to Bear’s doorstep this morning. No, it was the thought of those two kids waking up to mostly bare cupboards and an empty fridge. In other words, no breakfast. Save for the bag of Twizzlers. Unless Bear had scarfed that down, too.
Regardless, he’d obviously been in no shape to think ahead last night.
Whereas she hadn’t been able to stop thinking. Wondering. So here she was, standing on his second-floor doorstep and knocking, white paper bag in hand and eyes cast to the gray sky where lolling clouds hovered thick and threatening.
Her gaze strayed down the block while she waited to be let in. The line of buildings, pastel siding and colorful awnings, ended in a smudge of brown at the far end of the block. The vacant building with its ruddy, weatherworn brick and faded white letters—Hay & Feed Store—had long been the riverfront’s sole eyesore.
But it never failed to evoke a poignant mix of gooey happiness and heartfelt longing in Raegan. Mom had loved that old, abandoned building, never tired of telling the story of her and Dad’s first date there.
“Never have two trespassers had such a wonderful, romantic time as we did that night.”
Thunder rumbled overhead. If Bear didn’t let her in soon, she might end up ducking raindrops on the way back to her bike. She probably should’ve opted to drive into town this morning.
But anytime she could avoid getting behind the wheel, she did. Even if it had been one year, seven months, and sixteen days. Maybe one of these days she’d allow herself to stop counting. Maybe eventually she’d be able to stop remembering . . .
