Best Served Cold

by Emma Hart

  “I did consider it,” she said, perching on one of the stools. “When is the plastic coming off of these?”

  “When they won’t get paint on them anymore. Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

  “I went to get lunch.” She held up a small white bag and moved to put her purse on the high counter.

  “Don’t put your purse on the—” I stopped as she put it down. “—Counter.”

  “Why?”

  “I just painted its base coat.” I sighed.

  Soph jumped up quicker than I’d ever seen her move before. “Holy shit, Rae! You should have said!”

  “I tried,” I said dryly. “The paper towels are in the back. Go clean it up before it stains it.”

  She dropped her lunch on the same counter, cursed, and grabbed it again. I had to bite back a laugh as she ran with her beloved Coach purse into the kitchen to clean it.

  I took the paintbrush over to the counter and repainted it. Luckily for her, I’d only done it less than twenty minutes ago, so it was easy to cover up her mistake.

  With that done, I went back to the other wall and stopped when the envelope from Chase almost had me slip up on it.

  I grabbed it and threw it over the counter to the other side. I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to know what the hell it said.

  Hell, it could have been a photo of him in a mankini with a mustache and I still wouldn’t want to see it.

  Well… maybe.

  I’d send it to his mom for future girlfriends.

  I ignored the teeny tiny pang the thought of him with another woman induced. I needed to pick an emotion and stick to it, and the one I most definitely wanted to stick to was never-ending hatred.

  Because, well, hatred was no good if you stopped hating people. Thinking up ways to torture them was half the fun of hating people.

  How did I know? I’d been a teenage girl once. I’m pretty sure I killed a few bitches in my dreams.

  Killed a few assholes, too.

  More than a few, actually.

  What? Just because I didn’t date didn’t mean I didn’t have bad experiences.

  “Why is the letter on the floor?” Sophie asked, going to the window seat with her now-clean purse.

  “I couldn’t see the trash from over here.” I got on my knees, dipped my brush into the tin and continued on, making sure I didn’t get any on the bottom of the counter that I intended to paint a dreamy blush or lavender. Maybe both.

  Sophie unwrapped her food. “I know you don’t want to hear it—”

  “Which is your cue to shut up.”

  “—But I don’t understand how you don’t want to know.”

  She was one of the bitches I killed in my dreams.

  “I just don’t,” I said firmly, sitting up and whacking my head on the lip of the counter. “Ouch.”

  She dipped her head as she ate and hid her smile.

  “I don’t know why that’s so hard for you to understand. I’ve been in the store, Soph. I’ve seen it. It doesn’t matter that I don’t want that store anymore. I have mine. I have this new dream, and it’s amazing, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t still hurt what he did.”

  “I don’t—”

  “He took the one thing that, at the time, was all I had left. My vision of this store was the only thing I had, and he took that away from me. It might be dramatic, but I’d just lost my parents, I was losing my aunt, and I’d gained this hot mess of a store. Those plans were the only things in my life that made any sense, and he took them from me.” I swallowed hard. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for that. He took the one thing I cared about more than anything in this world, and he can never, ever give that back.”

  Sophie took a deep breath and set her prawn sandwich on her lap. “That was two years ago, Rae. Can you really not move past it?”

  I shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe I can’t. Maybe it just hurts to know that the person I loved more than I’ll probably love anyone else in the future could do that to me. That’s a lot of forgiveness to move past that.”

  “Yeah, but the problem is, you’re the only person you’re really hurting from that. How long do you want to carry that pain around with you? Forgive him, even if it’s just for you.”

  “Since when did you become a walking fucking Bible?”

  “I watch too much TV.” She shrugged and flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I just think you should read the letter. I don’t even know what it says.”

  “Ah, here comes the ulterior motive.” I snorted and went back to painting.

  “Hey, I’m nosy, and I own it. I wanna know what he said.”

  “Be my guest. It’s all yours.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “Wait!” I hit my head on the counter again. “Owwww!”

  She was over there picking the letter up before I’d had to move out and scramble up.

  “I didn’t mean for you to actually read it!” I almost tripped on the dust sheets and only just managed not to hit my toe again. “Sophie!”

  She made a number of faces—pursed lips, a frown, an ‘ooh’ shape with her mouth.

  I watched her circle the expressions until I snapped. “Fine! What does the jerk want?”

  Sophie looked at me with a sly glint in her eye. “He wants you to meet him by the spot on the beach where you had your first date at eleven tonight.”

  My mouth dropped open, and I snatched the letter from her.

  “Ow, paper cut.”

  Ignoring her, I looked for myself.

  True enough, that was what it said. Meet him where we’d had our first date at eleven o’clock. I knew that meant under the cluster of palm trees where the water came up a little higher, because we’d sat there for an hour waiting for the tide to come in and tickle our toes, drinking beer and falling in love.

  I tossed the letter on the counter. “Absolutely fucking not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” I said quite simply. “Going out on the beach by yourself at eleven at night is the quickest way to get your ass murdered.”

  She frowned. “But you won’t be alone. You’ll be with Chase.”

  “Exactly. I’ll probably murder the asshole and send him out to sea, then won’t you feel bad about convincing me to go?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN – RAELYNN

  I watched TV.

  I knew how this ended.

  A single woman walks toward the beach in the dead of night, alone, with only her phone to guide her.

  There were two endings, actually. One was a murderer determined to stab her and leave her for dead. The other was a snake slid across your feet.

  Both resulted in death.

  I hated snakes. Hated them. With a passion. Which was probably why I didn’t get along with most girls in high school.

  Why was I here? I didn’t know. I didn’t owe Chase Aarons anything. I had no reason to be walking toward the beach like I wasn’t dealing drugs or something. I had no need to be here and no reason to listen to what he wanted to say to me.

  But, just maybe, I did for me.

  Maybe I owed myself the answers I wanted. I didn’t even know if I’d get what I wanted. I doubted it. I doubted he could give me anything close to any kind of explanation that would make me want to be civil to him, never mind friends.

  But I owed it to myself to try.

  I slipped my flip-flops off as I reached the edge of the beach. The sand was cold beneath my feet, and the moon sent an eerie yet weirdly soothing glow over the sea. A warm feeling of comfort washed over me at the soft sound of the waves crawling up the beach. The clear night sky illuminated my walk across the beach, and before I knew it, the cluster of palm trees where we’d had our first date was right there.

  I stopped and looked at them. They cast long shadows across the beach where the moon was hiding behind them, and just off to the side, a little closer to the line of the shore where the water was higher, was a person.


  Chase.

  He had to know I was here. He had to know I’d come even though I didn’t know myself until I got in the damn car and parked a block away.

  He didn’t turn around, though. He sat there, knees bent with his arms around them and his fingers locked in front of him. His gaze was focused on the ocean, and he didn’t move a bit.

  One foot after another, I moved forward and closer to him.

  “I didn’t think you’d actually come,” he said, still not looking at me.

  “Neither did I.” I had no reason not to be honest. “In fact, I thought I’d turn around a moment ago.”

  “So did I.”

  I didn’t have a response to that. I knew he knew I was here.

  “Sit?” he offered.

  “I don’t know.” I shifted. “Do I have a reason to run away? Is there a serial killer in those trees? Am I going to be jumped if I sit down and lose my only route of escape?”

  He laughed, dropping his head. “You have a broken toe. A snail could catch you right now.”

  I hated that he was right.

  “Shut up.” I sat down with a sigh and put my flip-flops to the side.

  He finally turned to look at me. The moonlight glinted off his eyes, making the color of them almost ethereal. “How is your toe?”

  “Better,” I answered. “I can walk now. It’s a miracle.”

  “Good. I’m glad. How’s the store?”

  “Painted. No thanks to Sophie and her purse on my bar counter.” I tucked my left foot under my right thigh, leaving that leg stretched out. “You wanted to talk to me?”

  “Yeah…” He trailed off, then met my eyes with a small smile playing on his lips. “Would you believe it sounded way better in my head this afternoon? And now I have no fucking idea what to say to you?”

  “A text half an hour ago would have solved this problem.”

  “You’re such a smartass.”

  “It keeps people on their toes.”

  “I know. That’s why you’re here right now.” Chase blew out a long breath. “I didn’t think you’d read the letter.”

  “I didn’t. I was coerced into it. Sophie read it and made all these faces like she was the lead in a fucking Broadway musical, and there you have it.” I leaned back on my hands. “She had me hooked.”

  His laugh was gentle. “She’s a pain in the ass.”

  “You’re not that far off being one yourself.”

  “Neither are you.”

  I side-eyed him. “Touché.”

  He smiled.

  “Are you going to tell me why you called me here when I have to get up at the ass-crack of dawn tomorrow or can I go home now?” I raised my eyebrows at him. “Because as lovely as the view is, I can see this without the stress any day I’d like.”

  Any traces of amusement left his face, and his shoulders slumped forward along with his head. He rubbed his hands across the back of his neck, his fingers linking and unlinking as his hands moved together.

  I wanted to be patient. I did. I was a lame-ass twenty-five-year-old—I was literally here right after my bedtime, so I was okay to leave. I didn’t even know why I was freaking here.

  I waited another two minutes. The waves crashed against the beach, coming closer and closer to us. The surf was only a few minutes until it touched our feet, and if he wasn’t going to speak…

  The sand sank beneath my fingers as I pushed up to standing. I paused only a second to grab my flip-flops before walking away.

  “Rae, wait.”

  I kept walking. I wanted to hear that he wanted me to stay. I wanted to hear that he did actually have something to say.

  “Wait!”

  “If you have something to say, Chase Aarons, give me a reason to wait!” I shouted over my shoulder. I kept walking. Kept wishing random stones didn’t hurt my toes.

  Kept wishing he’d fucking want me to stop, because goddamn this shit. I was over it. He either had something to say or he left me the hell alone.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Raelynn! Will you put your stubborn bitch back up your ass and stop and fucking listen to me for five seconds?”

  I stopped and spun on the spot. “Oh, look. There you are.”

  He was barefoot as he stopped a few feet from me. “Do you know you’re fucking insufferable? You’re hot-headed and hard-headed and if you were trying to get a rise from me, then good for you, because you did it. You got what you wanted.”

  “No. I didn’t get a damn thing I wanted!” I slammed my shoes onto the ground and stared at him. “You have no idea why I came here or what I want from you, because it sure as shit wasn’t the admission you stole all my ideas!”

  “You want me to lie instead?” He threw his arms out to the side. “Is that what you want? You want me to lie to you and tell you I didn’t take your ideas and that I opened that store to spite you and ruin your life? Is that what you want to hear?”

  My heart thundered. “What?”

  “Everything you think I did wrong isn’t true. Do you really believe I’d do anything to deliberately hurt you?”

  I swallowed and took a step back.

  Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. No.

  “If you have something to say, say it,” I said, my voice wavering. My heart was going insane, and it took all I had on focusing on the basic in-out act of breathing. “Don’t beat around the bush, Chase. Spit it out.”

  He rubbed his hand down his face, looking out to the water before bringing his attention back to me. “I didn’t open the store to get back at you, Rae. I couldn’t get revenge for something I didn’t understand. You never told me why you broke up with me. Your reason was bullshit, and you fucking knew it. I opened the fucking store so I could talk to you. I thought that if we were close, I’d eventually get you so pissed off you’d storm in there like you did yesterday and rip me a new asshole.”

  My throat tightened.

  “I didn’t fucking do anything to hurt you. I could never do anything to hurt you. Don’t you get that?”

  “Don’t you get that you did? Whether you meant it or not, you did hurt me.”

  “Yes. Yes, I get it, all right? One hundred percent. I was wrong, and I hurt you, and I fucking hate myself for it.” He ran both hands through his hair. “But it was never my intention. Ruining your life was the last thing on my mind when I opened that damn place. If I could go back, I’d change it all. I’d show up on your doorstep with pie and casserole and clean your floors and wash your car instead of fucking hurt you.”

  I covered my face with my hands. I was frozen in place. I could barely breathe without my chest fucking burning. I knew what he was saying, but that didn’t mean it made any sense to me.

  “How could you not know that would hurt me?” I dropped my hands and met his regretful eyes. “Seriously, Chase? How could you not know that you weren’t just digging in the knife, you were twisting it and carving patterns in my skin?”

  “I didn’t think!”

  The pain in his eyes was so real and raw that I had to be totally heartless to think he was lying.

  “I didn’t think,” he said, softer this time. “All I wanted was you back, Rae. You ignored me and dumped me without another word. You couldn’t even be on the same side of the street as me, and I’d done nothing but be there for you. I could understand if I’d done something wrong, but…”

  His trailing off caused the lump in my throat to jump up and choke me. I half-coughed, half-sobbed, and I covered my face once again to make it stop. But it didn’t, and the tears I’d kept in since I’d seen him yesterday burned my eyes again.

  I wanted to cry this time. I wanted to let it all out so I could let go. I couldn’t, though. This wasn’t the time or the place. I still didn’t understand. I didn’t know what he was saying.

  No, I did. I knew what he was saying, but what sense did it make? None. It was all crap by the time it reached my ears.

  “Don’t blame it on me!” My voice was stronger than I felt, once again, adrenaline
pumping through my veins like it was my backbone. “You made the choice to open that store! You made the choice to hurt me!”

  “No, I didn’t. I mean, I did. I opened it, but I didn’t mean to hurt you. Jesus, fuck, listen to me, Rae.” He held his hands out to the sides, all but begging me to listen to him. “I loved you. I—”

  “You don’t hurt the person you love!”

  My heart pounded, my chest heaving. My words echoed across the beach in a bitingly cold vibration that clung to my skin like poison.

  “You don’t hurt the person you love,” I shouted. “You don’t do that to the person who means everything to you!”

  “And what you did to me? Was that love, Rae? Ignoring me and leaving me fucking heartbroken?”

  “Don’t you dare blame your bad choices on me!” The tears fell freely from my eyes, all the pain from the last two years blossoming inside me. “You said all the things you wished you did differently. I wish I’d done things differently, but you—you, Chase. You fucked it up so much.”

  He fisted his hair, his frustration evident in the tensing of his arms. I could taste it on the salty sea air, how angry he was. I could see it, taste it, feel it.

  “You fucked up, too.” He wasn’t even trying to keep his cool anymore. He was shouting the same way I was. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried to be so fucking nice to you for two years, and where has it gotten me? Standing on a beach as fucking gutted as I was the day you told me we were done?”

  Sucker punch to the gut.

  “Don’t feed me that shit!” I was screaming at him now, my voice as strained as my heart felt. “You don’t feel shit for me. You’re worried I’m going to run you out of business the way you tried to run me out of it. Do you think I didn’t notice how you only really tried when I put that fucking sign on the door?”

  Chase stilled, the moon now fully on him. It played off the strong features of his face, making him seem scary to anyone else. But I knew he wasn’t. I’d seen that face in pitch black. I knew the anger wrinkling his brow and turning his lips down was real.

  “I don’t feel shit for you?” His voice was hard and edgy, rough and thick with emotion. “That’s what you think?”