“He never calls me by my name.”
I looked over to see Bell staring blankly out the windshield. “Your dad?”
She nodded. “I told them I wanted to be called Bell. I explained why. I was so desperate for a fresh start, something to mark rebuilding my life.”
“You needed your own version of what LA was for me.”
Bell turned towards me. “I didn’t see it then, but yes. I just needed to be someone else. Someone who wouldn’t waste this one precious life I was given. I didn’t want to be the person who let her parents push her around. Vi wasted so much energy worrying about what other people thought of her. Losing her made me see how we all waste so much time on unimportant things. I didn’t want to ever look back and think I’d held myself back from the life I wanted.”
“So, you asked them to call you Bell.”
“I did. My mom flat-out refused.” Bell scoffed. “I’m sure you’re shocked about that. But it was my dad’s reaction that hurt the most. It was like he understood why I needed it, but he didn’t want to piss off my mom, so he just stopped calling me anything real. Only dime-store endearments that held no meaning.”
Bell’s voice tripped over a sob. “It’s like I slowly disappeared for them. The person they knew doesn’t exist anymore, and they have no interest in getting to know the new me. So, I’m just…gone.”
I couldn’t hold back any longer. I pulled Bell against me, wrapping her in my arms as best I could with the console in the way. I hated this vehicle at the moment, would’ve given anything to pull her into my lap and rock her like I wanted to. “I see you, Bell. And everything about you is beautiful.”
She cried harder then, pressing her face into my chest. I kept whispering the words over and over. “I see you.”
23
Bell
I knelt down, straining for the perfect angle to get in the final groove of the credenza. I folded the fine-grain sandpaper around my fingers, using my nails as the sharp edge required to refine each nook and cranny. I needed this today, this one simple thing I could control, one finite thing I could fix. My family might be beyond repair, my relationship with Ford a jumble of confusing emotions, but I had my workshop. I had my hands that could bring broken things back to life.
I moved my fingers back and forth along the groove, careful not to press too lightly or too hard. It was a delicate balance. There was always some pain involved in bringing a piece back to life. Layers of an old existence that needed to be stripped away so something new could emerge. Sometimes, I even found myself talking to the piece. Explaining that all of the hurt would be worth it in the end.
I didn’t have those words in me to say today. They wouldn’t have been believable, even to a piece of furniture. My sleep the night before had been fitful at best, peppered with nightmares and anxiety-filled dreams that had left my t-shirt and sleep shorts damp with sweat. I’d gotten up before the sun and had come out to the place where I always found solace.
It wasn’t packing its usual punch of relief today, though. I blew on the groove I had just sanded, clearing away the dust. That would do. I straightened, arching my back in a stretch and glancing at the clock on the wall. Shit. I needed to get showered and changed for work.
My stomach hollowed out at the thought of seeing Ford. Last night, he’d held me for at least half an hour as I’d cried everything out in the front seat of his SUV. When I’d finally gotten ahold of myself, I hadn’t known what to say. Things between us were changing, but I couldn’t let it go where I wanted it to. Friendship. It had to be enough. And as much as it killed, that meant putting a wall around my heart. No more tear-filled embraces or anything of the like.
I quickly cleaned up my workspace and headed for the staircase along the back of the building. My muscles screamed with each step. A hike yesterday, crappy sleep, and four hours of restoration work might’ve been overdoing it a little bit.
As I reached the top step, I froze. I hadn’t left the door to my apartment open, had I? My heart beat harder in my chest, seeming to rattle my ribs. I had been pretty out of it at five a.m., maybe I hadn’t shut it all the way, and the wind had blown it open.
I eased forward a step, listening for any sounds coming from inside. Nothing. I blew out a long breath. “Get it together, Bell.”
I pushed open the door and gasped. It looked as if a tornado had come through my apartment. Items had been torn off shelves and thrown about. My precious potted plants had been upended, and dirt was strewn everywhere. And there were feathers, so many feathers. From the pillows, I realized. Someone had taken scissors or a knife to the throw pillows on my couch.
The world seemed to go a bit wobbly at the edges, and I realized I was shaking. I needed to leave, to call someone, the police, but I couldn’t seem to get my legs to obey my brain. I simply stared at the carnage around me. My eyes caught on something in the midst of it, and a strangled sob escaped my throat.
I rushed forward, my knees knocking against the hard floor as I went down. My scrapbook. I quickly flipped through the pages, every single photo was gone. When I reached the back page, there was a note written in angry black letters.
You don’t deserve to have her. You never did.
My breaths came quicker, each one tripping over the last as they struggled to get out. I stumbled back, falling on my butt and then scrambling to my feet. I needed out of here. I needed to call the police. I shakily pulled out my phone, but before I could unlock the screen, there was a flash of movement in my peripheral vision.
The world seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time. A masked figure moving forward. I tried to turn, to head for the door, but a fist struck out, landing right on my cheek. Flashes of light danced across my vision as my legs lost their purchase, and I tumbled to the floor, my phone flying from my grip.
My hands caught the worst of my fall, jagged bits of a shattered pot cutting into my palms. My eyes watered as I blinked rapidly. Footsteps thundered past me and down the stairs. They weren’t going to hurt me any worse. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, and as I pushed to my feet, my vision swam. I darted for the door, but my steps were wobbly, as if I’d had one too many drinks and not enough dinner.
I gripped the railing as hard as I could as I rushed down the stairs. Two steps from the bottom, my feet tangled, and a startled scream escaped me as I began to fall. I collided with hard, muscled arms with an oomph.
“Whoa, Trouble. Where’s the fire?” Ford righted me, and his amused expression immediately turned to concern as he took in my face. “What the hell happened? What’s going on?”
“M-m-my apartment. Someone broke in. They—they tore it apart. I thought they were gone. They weren’t.” The shaking was only getting worse. It was at least sixty-five degrees out, and I felt like I was freezing.
“Jesus, Bell. Your face. I have to call the cops. An ambulance. Are you hurt anywhere else?” His gaze ran up and down my body, searching for any other signs of injury.
I gave my head a small shake and winced. Ford began to release me, to reach for his phone, but my fingers dug into his arms. “No. Don’t leave me.” The words were out before I could stop them. I hated the sound, the meaning behind them. But most of all, I hated the weakness.
Ford wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug, resting his chin on the top of my head. “It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.” He kept his hold on me with one hand while he fished his phone out of his back pocket with the other. He quickly dialed. “Yeah, I’m at The Catch on Anchor. There’s been a break-in and an assault in the apartment above the bar.” Pause. He loosened his hold on me just a bit so that he could look me over. “No, there’s no one here now. I think she’s okay, but she has an injury to her face.”
Ford seemed to be looking at me as if to double-check. I nodded. Nothing in his body language relaxed. He was on high alert as he took in the surrounding area as if waiting for someone to jump out from behind a tree. A shiver ran through me at the t
hought. Had the intruder watched me while I worked?
Ford pulled me in tighter again. “Okay, thank you. We’ll stay outside.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket. “They’re sending someone out, but it will be a little bit. Why don’t we sit down?”
I nodded, but the action was wooden. I fisted my hand in Ford’s shirt as he guided us towards one of the benches flanking the back patio. I couldn’t seem to force myself to let go of him. I needed that point of contact more than my next breath.
Ford eased me onto the bench, quickly sinking down beside me and pulling me close. His hand ghosted over my face, stopping just shy of where I could feel my cheek and eye swelling. “Who was it?” His voice was calm, too calm, as if he’d shut off his emotions. I hated it.
“I don’t know. They were wearing a mask.”
A muscle in Ford’s cheek ticked. “Tell me what happened.”
“I didn’t sleep well, so at four, I just got up and went out to the workshop to work on my credenza. I locked my door. At least, I thought I did. Maybe I didn’t. I was distracted—”
“Bell.” Ford gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Whether you locked the door or not, this isn’t your fault.”
I gave a quick, jerky nod. “I worked out there for a few hours. I didn’t hear anything. No cars in the lot. No footsteps. Nothing. When I went up to shower and get ready for work, the door was ajar. I thought maybe I hadn’t shut it firmly and the wind had blown it open. You know this building, it’s old. I didn’t hear anything, so I went inside—”
“Bell,” Ford growled.
“I know, I know. It was stupid. But this is a small town, hardly anything criminal ever happens around here. I stepped inside, and it was just…destroyed. Whoever did this was so angry.”
Ford pulled me even tighter against him, and I soaked up the feeling of warmth. “I thought I was alone. I stood up to call the cops, and it all happened so fast, just this blur of motion. Whoever it was punched me and ran out.”
Ford’s fingers flexed around my shoulder. “Fuck, Bell. This could’ve been so much worse.” He rested his chin atop my head, his breathing ragged. I forced myself to try and pull back, but Ford just held firm. “Please. Let me have this. I need to know you’re here, and you’re okay.”
I swallowed hard but nodded against his chest. I didn’t know how long we stayed like that, but finally, Ford’s breathing slowed, and his muscles relaxed a fraction. He released his stranglehold on me but kept one arm around my shoulders. “It’s going to be okay. They’ll figure out who did this.” He studied my face, eyes zeroing in on my cheek, his jaw hardening. “Have you banned anyone from the bar lately?”
“Not since last year, I don’t think it’s that…” My sentence trailed off. I didn’t know how to give voice to what I’d seen. If I spoke the words, then it was real, and the pictures…that felt like the greatest violation of all.
Ford gave my shoulder another squeeze. “What?”
I swallowed, my throat seeming to stick. “I have this scrapbook…”
“Okay.”
“I started making it a few months after Violet died. It’s all of my favorite memories with her. There are photos and drawings and collages. It became this living art piece.” Tears began to fill my eyes. I’d poured so much into that book. Joy, pain, and everything in between. Every time I’d missed my sister, I’d worked on a page. Now, when I needed to remember her, I pulled it from the drawer and spent anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours laughing and crying as I went down memory lane.
Ford trailed a hand up and down my back. “That sounds beautiful.”
“It was.” His body stiffened at my use of the past tense. “Whoever broke in tore out every photo.” My tears spilled over now, and my voice shook. “There was a note in the back that said I didn’t deserve her, that I never had.”
Ford spat out a curse, his gaze darting around the parking lot, then the beach. “We’ll find out who did this, Bell.”
Even if the police could find the person, I wasn’t sure my apartment would ever feel like home again.
24
Ford
The EMT looked up from examining Bell’s face. “There are no broken bones that I can feel, or signs of a concussion. But I’d guess you’re going to have one hell of a shiner.”
I bristled at the man’s tone. “It’s not funny.”
The man’s eyes flared. “I’m not suggesting that it is.”
“Everyone, calm down.” Bell slid off the gurney. “It’ll be funny when I tell everyone I went a few rounds with Rocky Balboa.”
“No, it won’t,” I growled. I knew I wasn’t helping, but I was on a knife’s edge and about to lose it. One look at the inside of Bell’s apartment had done that. The rage that amount of destruction would take…whoever the culprit was, they were angry enough to kill. I gave my head a little shake and forced my hands to unclench.
“Hey,” the EMT started, “don’t I know you?”
My gaze flicked to him. “I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, I do. I was a few years behind you in school, but the guys on my fire rescue crew still talk about it. That was one hell of an accident. It was a miracle you two walked away.”
But we hadn’t walked away. Not really. Our lives had been wrecked in a whole different way. I wanted to deck the man for bringing it up. But seeing as cops were milling about, that was a bad idea.
A man looking too young to be a sheriff strode up and placed a firm hand on the EMT’s shoulder. “I think that’s enough, Gil. Get your gear and get gone.”
The EMT mumbled something under his breath but loaded the gurney into the back of his rig.
Sheriff Raines crossed to us. “All right, Bell. Crime scene techs are dusting for fingerprints. It’s going to take them a while, but once they’re done, you’ll have full access to the apartment again.”
“Yeah, an apartment that’s destroyed,” Bell muttered.
“We’re going to figure this out. It might take some time, but we’ll find who did this and put them away.” Sheriff Raines patted her on the shoulder. It was friendly, almost familial, but I still didn’t like it. He reminded me of the kind of guy Bell would end up with if I left Anchor. Someone entrenched in the community like she was. Someone who wouldn’t constantly force her to face painful reminders. Someone who had never let her down.
I stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Bell. Instead of melting into my side like she had before, she stiffened. “What do you suggest in the meantime?”
Raines glanced up at the apartment. “I’d recommend replacing locks, maybe even the outside door completely, and I’d consider a security system.”
I gave him a quick nod. “I’ve already called a security company in Seattle about a system, but I’ll call the hardware store here about putting in a new door.”
Bell turned, slipping out of my hold. “New locks are plenty, I don’t need anything else.”
My back teeth ground together. The shock was wearing off, and Bell had found her mad—or at least her annoyed. But I knew it was simply masking the fear that was bubbling underneath. “It was already on my list of things to do to get an alarm system for the whole building. This is just moving up the timeline a little.” She didn’t need to know that I was now getting the premium package instead of the basic, or that I was paying for it out of my own pocket.
Bell mumbled something under her breath about overprotective wannabe big brothers, and Sheriff Raines chuckled. “It’s a good idea, Bell. And I’ll be sending one of my deputies over on more regular intervals until Anchor’s summer officers are in place.”
The island didn’t have a year-round law enforcement presence, but during the summer, the sheriff’s department brought on extra staff, and each island in our small chain got its own dedicated officers to deal with the round-the-clock issues that came with an influx of tourists. I met the sheriff’s gaze. “We appreciate that.”
A truck pulled into the lot way too fast, sending gravel spitting. H
unter launched from his vehicle and jogged over to Bell, wrapping her in a hard hug. What was with all these guys touching her? God, I needed to get a grip.
“Are you okay? Holy crap, your eye!”
Bell extricated herself from my brother’s hold, patting him on the arm. “I’m fine, Hunt. Promise.”
His gaze traveled over her face and down her body as if checking for other injuries. “You’re staying with me until they catch this guy.”
“Oh, hell no.” The words were out before I had a chance to even consider them. “If she stays with anyone, it’ll be me.”
Hunter’s head snapped in my direction. “And why’s that?”
“Have you forgotten that you’re currently living in an Airstream with one tiny-ass bed. I have extra rooms and an alarm system at my place.” I hated that my brother had been the one to offer Bell refuge first. I’d wanted to, but I knew it wouldn’t exactly go over well. I’d already been planning to get my mom to try and guilt Bell into staying with me by telling her how worried she’d be if Bell was staying here alone. It was underhanded, but I didn’t care. I needed to know she was safe.
Hunter straightened to his full height. “I might not have the fancy digs that you do, but at least I stick around.”
Bell threw up her hands. “I’m not going anywhere with either of you.” She glanced up at Raines. “Will you find something to arrest these guys for? Maybe lock them up overnight?”
He chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks. I’ll be in the bar getting set up for the day.”
Bell headed inside, and Raines turned back to me and Hunter, all traces of humor gone from his face. “You two need to get your shit together. Bell does not need you going at it when she’s dealing with everything else.”
I swallowed hard. The man was right. I was acting like a jealous high schooler. “You’re worried.”
“Damn straight, I’m worried. This is clearly personal, and whoever this creep is, they’re mad.” A muscle in his cheek ticked as he looked up at the apartment again. “All the pillows on her couch were slashed. The perp used a knife. That does not signal good things.”
Reckless Memories Page 15
