by Deanna Chase
Abby stared down at their connection, his touch simultaneously familiar and foreign. She glanced at Clay.
He raised his eyebrows. “You lived together?”
“What? Goddess no.” She snatched her hand away from Logan, anger finally catching up to her shock at seeing him in Keating Hollow. She met Logan’s patronizing gaze. “We never lived together. Why are you revising history? And why are you here?”
“Come on, Abby. We might as well have been living together. And I know you’re just stressed. We can’t break up while you’re dealing with your dad. You’re being irrational.”
Clay let out a snort of laughter and mumbled, “That isn’t going to go over well.”
“No, it isn’t,” Abby said, placing her hands on her hips. “I don’t know who you think you are, or why you’re here in my work shed, but I can assure you, you aren’t welcome, Logan. How did you even get back here?”
“Abby, baby, come on. Let’s go for a walk and talk this out.”
“No. And don’t call me baby.” Abby crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Who let you back here?”
Logan waved a hand at the side entrance to the pub. “The guy running the place said you were probably working back here. I figured I’d surprise you.”
Abby placed her hand on his chest and pushed him back out of the shed. “Consider me surprised. Now move.”
Logan dug his heels in and used the shed door to brace himself. “Abby—”
“Listen, pal,” Clay said calmly. “It’s pretty obvious Abby isn’t all that happy to see you. I suggest you do what she says before I call the police and have you removed from the premises.”
Logan narrowed his eyes at Clay. “Back off, buddy. Abby is my girlfriend.”
“No, I’m not!” Abby yelled at the top of her lungs. Then she just stared at Logan, taking in his disapproving expression and his clenched fists. Finally, she shook her head in exasperation and brushed past him, stalking into the pub. She knew without glancing back that he’d followed her, and she just kept right on going through the front doors and down the wooden steps until she was in the parking lot. “Which is your rental car?”
“The black BMW,” Logan said from behind her.
“Of course it is,” she said dryly and walked over to the nicest car in the lot. When she turned around, she spotted Clay standing on the porch, leaning against the railing, watching her. She gave him a slight nod, a silent thank you for watching over her but giving her the space she needed to handle the situation herself. Turning her attention to Logan, she asked, “Why did you come here?”
He took a step forward, but Abby held her hand up, stopping him. He sighed. “To talk you out of this hasty breakup. We’re good together, Abigail. You don’t want to ruin a good thing over some small-town bartender.”
“You mean Clay?” She laughed at his assumption, but inside she just wanted to cry or scream again. Hadn’t Logan heard anything she’d said to him? “First of all, he isn’t a bartender. He’s a master brewer, and he runs my dad’s business. Second, our breakup has nothing to do with him. It has to do with you. I’m tired of you not listening to me, Logan. Everything is always about you and what you need. Right now, I have to take care of me and my family. And I can’t do that while I’m worrying about you trying to get me back to New Orleans.”
He glanced at Clay and scowled.
“Oh my goddess!” Abby threw her hands up. “Go home, Logan. This is the last time I’m saying this: We. Are. Done. I’m no longer your girlfriend. I’m sorry you came all this way, but you should’ve called first.”
“Abby…”
She shook her head and started to walk away.
Logan reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her.
Abby froze and stared at his hand gripping her. “Let go,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Not until you talk to me,” Logan said stubbornly.
“You better let the lady go,” Clay said, striding up to them. “The sheriff’s on his way, and if he sees you handling Abby like that, there’s going to be hell to pay.”
Abby yanked her arm out of Logan’s grip and took a step toward him, invading his personal space. “If you ever touch me again, I’ll get a restraining order. Got it?”
He held his hands up in the air. “Fine. Got it. No need to be so dramatic. I just wanted—”
“I don’t care what you wanted. Get in your car and go. I don’t know how many more ways to say this.” Abby shook her head. “I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore. And if you don’t leave me alone, you’re gonna have bigger problems than the sheriff.” She glanced down at his crotch. “You don’t want me to curse your manbits, do you?”
Logan’s face turned pale. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
“Damn, Abby. I thought you were more mature than that. Grow up, will you?”
“You first.”
Grumbling to himself, he slid back into his flashy BMW. After rolling his window down, he leaned out and said, “You’re going to regret this.”
“I seriously doubt it.”
Logan slammed the car into gear and peeled out of the parking lot, leaving rubber behind on the asphalt.
Abby stood there fuming as she watched the car fly down Main Street. She could barely wrap her head around the fact that her ex had just shown up and dismissed everything she’d said to him over the phone as if it hadn’t happened. Then he’d treated her like she was the crazy one. She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out.
“You doing okay?” Clay softly asked from behind her.
She closed her eyes, once again wishing the ground would just open up and swallow her whole. How had she ever been involved with a man who was so egotistical, so out of touch with reality, that he’d flown two thousand miles across the country thinking she’d just dismiss his selfish behavior and forget she wanted to breakup?
Clay placed his hand on the small of her back. “Abby?”
“I’m all right,” she said with a sigh. “Did that really just happen?”
“Afraid so, but I’m impressed at your ability to scare him off. Curse his manbits, huh? Did you learn a few new tricks over the years, or were you just bluffing?”
Abby laughed. “Obviously I was bluffing, but did you see the look on his face?”
“That’s the Abby I remember.” Clay grinned and held his hand out to her.
She slipped her hand into his and smiled up at him. “Did you really call the sheriff?”
“No, but I was thinking about it. That guy seemed a little out of touch with reality.”
“A little?” Abby rolled her eyes. “That’s a bit of an understatement. You know what I don’t understand?”
“What’s that?”
“How could I have been in a relationship with him for two years and not seen what an ass he could be?”
Clay gave her a sad smile and shook his head. “I’ve asked myself a similar question about Val all too many times, Abby. I think some people are just good at showing us who they think we want them to be, but eventually the cracks form and there’s no denying their true colors. All we can do is hope they show them before it’s too late.”
“Two years is a long time. I think I was deliberately trying not to see his true nature.”
“You’re one of the lucky ones. Try seven and then get back to me,” he said, sadness reflecting back at her in his dark eyes.
Abby placed her hand on his chest over his heart, wishing with everything she had that she could undo the pain he’d suffered. She didn’t exactly blame herself. They’d still been kids when she’d left Keating Hollow. If she’d never run off, who was to say they’d have stayed together and still been a couple a decade later? But she did know she’d loved him, and that love was still buried deep inside her. Knowing he’d been through a rough marriage that had ended in divorce made her heart ache for him.
A light autumn breeze kicked up and blew a piece of Abby’s hair into her eyes. Clay rea
ched up and brushed it back, making gooseflesh pop up over her skin. She shivered slightly, wanting to be back in his embrace as she had been before Logan had so rudely interrupted them.
Their eyes met, and Clay smiled down at her. “Do you have plans tomorrow night?”
Her heart skipped a beat as hopeful anticipation skirted through her. “No. Not unless you count another John Wayne movie Dad will insist we watch. Why?”
“Have dinner with me. Seven-thirty?” He brushed a thumb over her cheek, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Okay,” she breathed. “Where should I meet you?”
He shook his head and gave her a tender smile. “It’s a date, Abs. I know it’s the twenty-first century and all, but if you don’t mind, I think I’d still like to pick you up.”
“I can work with that.” Joy burst through her at his mention of a date, and she had to fight to keep the silly grin off her face.
“Good.” He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the cheek he’d been caressing then turned and walked back into the brew pub.
“Holy witch warts,” a woman said from behind her.
Abby spun and grinned when she spotted Wanda in her party cart. When had she arrived? She and Clay had been so into each other she hadn’t even noticed.
“Is it warm out here, or what?” she declared, fanning herself.
“It’s sixty degrees, Wanda,” Abby said, taking a seat next to her friend. “Warm isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”
“Not anymore it isn’t. After that public display, I’d say Keating Hollow’s core temperature just rose a good twenty degrees.”
Abby laughed and shook her head. “Stop. We weren’t even doing anything.”
“Sure, Abby. If you say so.” Wanda put the cart in reverse and started backing up.
“Where are we going?” Abby asked.
Wanda scrolled through her smart phone, and after a second, Taylor Swift started to sing about buying a dress just so someone could take it off. Wanda leaned over, grinned, and said, “To find you something to wear on your hot date.”
Chapter 19
Abby hummed to herself as she slipped into her family home, shopping bags in hand. She and Wanda had spent the last couple hours in Bewitched, the women’s boutique on Main Street. After trying on practically every dress in the place, Abby finally went with a red halter top number that did great things for her shoulders and waistline. But it was the shoes that she’d fallen in love with—four-inch heels with silk ribbons that wrapped around her ankles and tied off with a bow. She felt feminine and sexy just thinking about wearing her new ensemble.
The house was dark and quiet. Abby quickly dumped her purchases in her room, checked on her dad, who was napping, and got to work on making him something to eat when he woke up. An hour later, she had soup simmering on the stove and cornbread cooling on the counter.
Abby sat down and turned her computer on. Just as she clicked into her email, she heard her dad’s bedroom door open. She turned and smiled at him. “Dinner’s ready when you are.”
He pressed his palm to his gut and shook his head. “Nothing for me, honey. Just need some water and crackers.”
Abby peered at him as he moved into the light. His face was ashen, and dark circles rimmed his eyes. “Did you have another treatment today, Dad?”
“This morning.” He shuffled past her, opened the cabinet, and retrieved the saltines.
“Dad, I told you I’d take you. Why didn’t—”
“I forgot it was today, and by the time I realized I had the appointment, you were already gone. Yvette went with me.”
“Oh. Well that’s good. How’d it go?”
“Fine until about ten minutes ago.” He reached into the fridge and retrieved a bottle of water.
Abby forced herself to stay seated and not jump up to help him. If there was one thing she’d learned since she’d come home, it was that her dad hated it when his daughters treated him like he was an invalid. “Nauseous?”
“That’s an understatement.” He paused, and sweat popped out on his forehead as his face turned a sickly shade of green.
“Are none of the potions from Charming Herbals helping?”
“No.” He paused, set the crackers and water down, and clutched the counter while he breathed through the obvious wave of nausea.
Dammit! Abby cursed herself. Why couldn’t she get her own potions to work? The ones she’d made as a teen had never failed to help settle anyone’s upset stomach. She hated watching her dad suffer when she knew deep down she should be able to help.
Her dad suddenly bolted for his bedroom, leaving his crackers and water behind.
Tears stung Abby’s eyes, but she blinked them back. Determined to help, she grabbed the crackers and water off the counter and slipped into his bedroom. She set the items from the kitchen on his bedside table, and grimaced when she heard the retching coming from the master bathroom. There was only one thing to do—try again. Only this time, she’d do it in her own space.
It was time to confront her last demon.
Squaring her shoulders, Abby strode out of her dad’s room and headed for the kitchen. After she gathered supplies, she made her way outside to the pretty shed her dad had built for her twenty years ago. There was no hesitation; only determination as she pulled the door open.
She’d expected her space to be dusty, filled with cobwebs and traces of other critters who’d taken up residence in her absence, but the space was immaculate. The stainless steel gleamed under the recessed lighting, and her copper pots and bowls hanging from the rack were dust free. There were even rows of fresh herbs lining her shelf.
“Noel did this,” she said. “There’s no question.” Abby shook her head, both mildly annoyed and grateful. Of course she had. Her sister had been pushing for her to get back into healing for years. It made sense she’d make sure her space was ready to go when Abby finally got up the nerve to try again.
Nerves took over, and Abby’s hand shook as she pulled one of the copper pots down off the rack. She did her best to keep her eyes trained on her work station, but she couldn’t help glancing back at the bench pushed up against the wall. Images of Charlotte flashed in her mind. Her body tensed, and her heart stopped for a moment. It was the last place she’d seen her friend. Charlotte had been sitting right there when Abby had given her the potion—the potion that had ultimately caused her demise.
Abby shook her head violently, forcing the memory from her mind. Not now. She couldn’t let her dad continue to suffer. Not when she knew that somewhere deep inside her, she had the power to help him.
Turning her back on the bench, Abby got to work. Thirty minutes later, she held her breath as she said the final incantation. Her magic burst from her with a force so great and bright it sent her stumbling back a few steps.
“Whoa.” She grabbed the counter to steady herself and continued to stir. The potion turned vibrant gold. Hope blossomed in her chest as she waited. Five seconds, ten, fifteen, twenty. Just as she was starting to believe she’d finally broken through her mental block, the potion turned beige and gave off a faint odor of rotten eggs.
“Ugh!” she cried, picking up the pot and throwing it across the room. The potion splattered against the wall and dripped down, running onto the bench. Abby stood there, watching her failure stain the shed, a stark reminder of why she’d run ten years ago.
Something inside Abby broke, and a sob ripped from her throat as she sank to her knees and buried her face in her hands. She didn’t know how long she sat there on the cool tile floor, unending tears streaming down her face, but when they finally stopped, she felt hollow and weak. She lay down and closed her eyes, cushioning her head with her hands and willing the darkness to take her.
“Abby? Come on, Abs, wake up.”
“Noel?” Abby’s voice cracked as she forced the word out. She blinked, her vision blurry with sleep.
“What are you doing out here? Dad was worried.”
Abby rubbed at her d
ry, itchy eyes and pushed herself up. Pain throbbed in her shoulder and hip. “Ouch.”
Noel’s red hair fell forward as she reached down and offered her sister a hand.
Abby gratefully took it and hauled herself up off the floor. Once she was on her feet, she glanced around and groaned when she saw the sunlight gleaming through the window. “I didn’t mean to spend all night out here.”
Noel nodded to the wall behind her. “Looks like you had an exciting evening.”
Abby leaned against the counter and grimaced. “More like a frustrating one.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Abby shook her head but then said, “Dad was sick after his treatment. I couldn’t stand seeing him that way and came out here to try to make the potion again. I guess I thought if I was in here maybe I’d get past whatever’s blocking my ability.”
Noel turned to stare at the potion dried to the wall.
“I really did try, Noel,” Abby said with an air of frustration. “I can’t just make it happen. No matter how much you want me to.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Noel said, tilting her head to study her sister. “Not since that day in Bree’s shop anyway.”
Abby stared at her feet, guilt and shame taking over. “I know. I just… I can’t stand seeing dad sick.”
“Oh, Abs.” Noel reached out and grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry. I should’ve never tried to guilt you into doing something you’re not ready for. This is just hard for all of us.” Tears filled her big blue eyes. “This isn’t all on your shoulders. I know that, so do Faith and Yvette. I—I’m sorry.”
“Oh, man. We’re a mess.” Abby wrapped her arms around Noel and hugged her fiercely.
“I know.” Her sister choked out a half laugh, half sob and hugged her back. The pair of them held each other for a long moment until Noel said, “I think we both might need therapy.”
A sad chuckle burst from the back of Abby’s throat. “That’s what Clay said.”
Noel pulled back and gave Abby a confused look. “That we both need therapy?”
