Hold Her Again

by Shannon Stacey

  The gift certificate to the café was sitting in the center console next to him, since it didn’t fit in his wallet, but he didn’t want to forget to use it. That would be an insult to the ladies who’d cared enough to get it for him.

  Ava would probably be there.

  How many times over the years had he walked into the café and watched her face light up when she realized the customer who’d made the bell ring was him? He’d sit at the table in the back corner, taking as long as possible to eat a burger. She’d sit and talk to him whenever she got the chance, stealing his pickle and his fries.

  Her face wouldn’t light up today, though. He couldn’t imagine what her reaction would be to hearing the bell and looking over to see him walking through the door. Maybe she’d swear and throw a coffeepot at his head. Or cry. Or tell him to turn right around and get the hell out.

  Worst case scenario, she’d do nothing. She’d look at him and feel nothing. Show nothing. He’d just be a guy from her past she couldn’t care less about and that possibility made him want to throw up. If she threw something at him, at least he’d know on some level that she still cared.

  But he couldn’t bring himself to do that to her at work. She knew he was back. Hell, she might have even seen him drive by, but if not, she’d heard about it. She might even know about the gift certificate and be expecting him to show up.

  The chance he’d be emotionally ambushing her at work had him pulling out his phone to see what restaurants were still open in his current vicinity, though. He was going to see her again, there was no doubt about that. But he was going to do his best to let it be on her terms.

  After the pain he’d caused her, she deserved that much.

  Chapter Three

  Ava rode with her parents to the funeral home, stuck in the backseat for the half-hour drive because climbing in and out of her Jeep in a skirt was asking to be a scandal.

  She probably could have gotten away with something more casual than the gray pencil skirt, soft charcoal sweater and tall black boots, but she sacrificed driving her own vehicle in order to look amazing. The outfit hugged her body enough to show off her curves without looking tight, and the cowl neck of the sweater showed off her neck because her hair was gathered in a loose bun.

  Jace had been obsessed with her neck—always kissing it or nipping playfully at it. Whenever they were sitting quietly, like when they watched TV, he would idly stroke the back of her neck with his fingertips.

  Seeing Jace had definitely factored into her choice of clothing, but she wasn’t sure she knew why. Maybe it was armor. Or maybe it was to spite him. You had your chance at this, pal, and you blew it. Maybe it was a little of both.

  “You’re awful quiet back there,” her father said, and she looked away from the passing landscape to meet his eyes briefly in the rearview mirror.

  “Just listening to the radio.” She hadn’t missed him hitting the button to change it to classic rock from his usual country station as soon as he started the car. It was a habit her parents had both developed pretty quickly when The Song hit big and, no matter how many times she told them it wasn’t necessary, neither of them had broken it yet.

  When they reached the funeral home, she walked inside with her parents and navigated by following them. She didn’t look around, but kept her gaze straight ahead as they entered the large room where Brian’s service was being held.

  After signing the guest book, she joined her parents at the closed casket to look at the framed photo of a young, smiling Brian placed on top. There was no receiving line, since Jace was the only family Brian had left, though a few of his friends were nearby.

  And then they were moving again, and she tried to brace herself for the moment she was standing in front of Jace for the first time since he told her he was heading for Nashville and he wasn’t taking her with him. There was no anticipating the impact of looking into those dark eyes, though.

  Stripped of the magazine gloss and the fancy surroundings, he was still the Jace she’d fallen in love with as a teenager. Maybe even before then, though she hadn’t had words for the feeling. But tonight he looked sad and it tugged at her heart.

  It took everything she had in her to remember she hated this man. He’d broken her heart and stolen her dreams—not only the dream of the marriage and babies she’d thought they have, but the dream of making music together.

  “Ava.”

  The sound of her name on his lips almost broke her, until the whispering reached her ears and broke the trance as she realized everybody in the room was watching their reunion. Her back straightened and she stuck out her hand.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Jace.”

  When his hand closed over hers, she felt as if the room was shifting under her feet. His touch—the feel of his hand holding hers—was achingly familiar, but the gesture was strange and formal, and her senses didn’t seem to know what to make of it.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said, and though the words were a polite stock phrase, his voice was low and somehow intimate. “I don’t guess it was easy for you.”

  With her hand still in his and their gazes locked, she couldn’t make words come out of her mouth, or even think of what she’d say if she could talk. Of all the emotions she had guessed she’d feel in this moment—anger, resentment, loss, envy—she hadn’t expected the weak but unmistakable tingle of joy at seeing him again.

  She’d missed him. Even after what he’d done, the truth wriggled its way into her mind like a wildflower seedling poking its way through layers of debris and muck.

  And she needed to rip that seedling out by the roots. Maybe douse the spot with kerosene and set it on fire while she was at it.

  Ava pulled her hand free of his, yanking when Jace’s fingers tightened in an effort to prolong the contact. “My parents are with me.”

  She didn’t know if it was a warning or a response to his comment about how being there couldn’t be easy for her, but the words gave her a reason to step to the side. She watched her mother and father both shake his hand, offering up polite words of condolence and nothing more before joining her.

  With her father’s hand on her back, she was ushered to a fairly empty corner, where her parents commenced to talking about nonsense. To everybody else, it would look like they were a family in a deep discussion it would be rude to interrupt, but Ava knew they were giving her a few minutes to compose herself.

  She’d hoped that all of her emotional turmoil and anxiety about this moment would be for nothing and she’d be okay when she finally came face-to-face with him. Maybe he’d even be her childhood friend Jace again and they’d make small talk and maybe share a laugh, instead of the Jace she’d given her heart to.

  But she knew the truth now. He was probably always going to be the Jace that took her breath away and whose slightest touch made her sigh. The Jace she’d written really sappy lyrics about and who’d been so touched by her song he’d pulled her down into the grass and made love to her in their favorite spot by the creek.

  “Ava.” Her mom squeezed her hand. “They’re going to be starting the service soon.”

  She inhaled deeply and tried to disconnect herself from those memories. From any emotion at all. It wasn’t easy, but they needed to find seats and that meant mingling along the way.

  When a few minutes passed without anybody new entering and most of the people were seated, the funeral director walked to the podium and cleared his throat. There was a rustle of soft voices and movement as the stragglers found places to sit, and then he began.

  It was a fairly generic service, and Ava’s mind settled as she lost herself in the familiar words and the man’s somber tone. They were sitting toward the back, off to the side, so her view of the back of Jace’s head was blocked and saved her the embarrassment of being caught staring at him. Instead, she watched as the fune
ral director stepped aside to give an old friend of Brian’s the microphone.

  The man opened with a funny memory from his childhood days with Brian, which got an awkward chuckle from the crowd. If he’d gone on like that, Ava probably would have tuned him out, but then the man’s gaze fell on Jace in the front row.

  “Brian was proud of his son, and liked to talk about how he was the one who bought Jace his first guitar.”

  Ava cringed at those words and, despite her resolve to maintain an emotional disconnect today, she found herself willing some strength to Jace.

  Brian probably hadn’t been as eager to talk about how he’d also been the one who’d smashed that very same guitar—and a piece of Jace’s soul—one night in a temper, while shouting about how worthless his son was so loudly, Ava could hear the words from her front yard.

  It was the only time in her life she ever asked for a loan from her grandmother, who’d grown up poor and squirrelled away every dollar she could for a rainy day. She’d seen that rainy day in her young granddaughter’s eyes and given her the money to drive into the city and buy her man a decent guitar. It wasn’t the prettiest, but it sounded true and the night she gave it to Jace was the night they decided to pack up and move to St. Louis.

  Ava had two payments remaining to her grandmother when Jace left her.

  It was probably a good thing Grams had passed away two years before, Ava thought, or the old woman giving Jace what-for would have been the talk of the town for years. She’d been a feisty, out-spoken woman who didn’t give a damn if people talked about her, and Ava had spent most of her life wishing she could be more like her grandmother.

  When the service wrapped up, the funeral director told them Brian Morrow would be laid to rest in a private ceremony the following morning and thanked them for coming. Then he invited them to return to the church in Cottonwood Creek, where the ladies had put together refreshments.

  As soon as people began standing and gathering their coats, Ava and her parents went out the door. They drove in silence for a few miles while Ava relived the moment of Jace taking her hand over and over again in her mind.

  The way he’d looked at her...

  Ava sighed and closed her eyes, letting her head drop against the seat with a thud. How could she be thinking about his eyes and his touch and how much she’d missed him after what he’d done to her?

  “You okay back there?”

  She opened her eyes to see her dad watching her in the mirror. “I’m fine.”

  “I assume we’re not going to the church for refreshments?”

  “Joe,” her mom said, swatting his arm.

  “What? You know they break out the good stuff for funeral refreshments. That apple crumble cake that—”

  “No.”

  But Ava laughed. “You guys should drop me off at home and then go. All your friends will be there and that apple crumble cake is the best dessert in town.”

  “It wouldn’t be right,” her mom said. “I’m sorry Brian passed, but that doesn’t change what Jace did.”

  “It was a long time ago,” Ava said, even though it felt like yesterday sometimes. “We were young and somebody offered him fame and fortune. Who wouldn’t jump at that?”

  Sometimes she wondered what she would have done if Carrie Bond had told her she would be the one to be a star if she were willing to leave Jace behind. If, after a day of scrubbing dishes and waiting tables, she’d sung at a bar for a pittance to a crowd that largely ignored her and a woman whose name was famous in the country music world had dangled a contract in front of her, would she have taken the chance and damn the cost?

  They argued about going all the way to Ava’s door. After hugging both of them, she kissed her father’s cheek. “Grab a piece of the apple crumb cake for me. I’ll come over later and eat it.”

  “I’ll make it a big piece.”

  She laughed and waved as they drove away, but as she went inside alone and didn’t have to front for anybody, the emotions of the day had her flopping facedown onto her bed, still fully dressed. She had to be crazy, she thought, to still want a man who’d done her so wrong.

  It was bad enough she had to listen to The Song. Now her life was actually becoming a country song.

  * * *

  Jace sat in one of the two chairs he’d dragged out of the shed and set on the front porch. They weren’t comfortable and it was a chilly night, but he couldn’t stand being closed up in the house right now.

  It had been a really long day and he was on his second beer. He’d been tempted to open that bottle of whiskey Blue had given him, but he wasn’t much for drinking hard stuff and making himself sick wasn’t going to improve the day. Especially on top of the desserts he’d reluctantly eaten. His plan had been to take a few polite bites of something and hope nobody stayed long.

  But the church ladies were bound and determined he’d like their dessert best and kept pushing cakes and pies and layered desserts on him until he thought he might have to hide under a table to escape them.

  Joe and Beth Wright had been there, and watching the door swing shut after them with no sign of Ava had crushed him. He’d felt the connection between them when he took her hand—as strong as ever—and he wanted to see her again.

  Joe and Beth had made the bare minimum of polite small talk with him, asking him about the city of Nashville and his truck. But they’d all carefully avoided mentioning his career or their daughter. And, come to think of it, he hadn’t heard Ava’s name mentioned a single time during the entire ordeal other than a single throwaway comment that had festered in his mind ever since.

  The cool emotional distance her parents had maintained had wounded Jace, even though he knew he deserved it and should be thankful Joe hadn’t punched him in the face or worse. But they’d been almost like the parents his own father couldn’t be to him and he regretted the hurt he’d caused them almost as much as the hurt he’d caused their daughter.

  Headlights danced through the trees as somebody pulled out of the Wrights’ driveway and turned down the road. Jace held his breath until the vehicle came into view, and then he let it out in a long, slow exhale.

  It was her, in her red Wrangler with the big tires. The top was on it, since it was cold after the sun went down, but he knew it would be Ava driving it. When they’d talked about all the things they’d buy when they hit it big, a red Wrangler was always the first thing she said. He liked that she’d gotten herself one, and he doubted she’d let anybody else drive it.

  He watched it go by, wondering if she’d even glance in the direction of the house.

  Then the Jeep slowed, creeping down the dirt road until it came to a complete stop. He watched the brake lights glowing in the dark for at least a full minute while he imagined the conversation she was having with herself. Ava had always had a soft heart and, no matter how much she hated him, she’d feel sorry for him right now.

  Or maybe she saw an opportunity to kick the shit out of him without the entire town watching.

  The back-up lights kicked on.

  He tried not to get his hopes up too much as she backed up past his driveway. And when she spun the tires, kicking up dirt as she pulled in, he figured she was mad.

  Then she climbed out, her long legs clad in worn denim, and he forgot about guessing at her mood in favor of watching her walk. With the jeans hugging her curves and the red plaid flannel shirt she wore unbuttoned over a black T-shirt, he could practically feel her in his arms again. She belonged there, he thought, and always had.

  But oh, she was mad, all right. It showed on her face and the way her back was straight and rigid as a steel rod as she walked up to the porch. She stopped shy of the steps, though.

  “I don’t think anybody should drink alone after burying family.” Even as tense as she was, Ava had a low, sweet voice that could haunt a man’
s dreams. And had, for almost six years.

  Jace reached down beside the chair and hooked his finger through the plastic rings to lift the six-pack of beer, four of which remained. “Drink with me.”

  She ripped a can out of its ring with slightly more force than was necessary and sat in the other chair. Her body language—leaning away, with the leg closest to him crossed over the other—made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him.

  He wanted to change that. Anger that burned this strong after more than five years could only come from pain. He couldn’t take back the hurt he’d caused her, but maybe she’d be able to get it out of her system somehow. Get some closure.

  “Only one,” she said. “I’m driving.”

  “That’s a pretty Jeep.”

  “Thanks.” She popped her beer open and took a swig. Then she fixed her gaze on some faraway spot in front of her.

  He waited, but she didn’t say anything else. “Visiting Joe and Beth?”

  “Yeah.” Again with the long silence, but this time she was the one who caved first. “They snuck me out a big slice of apple crumb cake.”

  “I didn’t get a piece of that and, if memory serves, I should be jealous right now.”

  “My dad saw you eyeing it and he said there was enough left for two slices, but he wrapped the whole thing in a napkin and brought it home to me instead.”

  Jace wanted to laugh, but he wasn’t sure if that would piss her off enough to make her leave, so he kept it to a smile. “It’s good when somebody has your back like that. I guess I don’t really deserve the apple crumb cake.”

  “Guess not.”

  Even though she wasn’t being talkative, he decided to just ask outright the question that had been on his mind since the post-service reception. “They told me you don’t sing anymore.”

  She took another drink of the beer and grimaced a little. Jace didn’t blame her. It wasn’t very good. “I don’t know who they are, but they need to put a sock in it. And there wasn’t much point in singing after you left.”