Not Over You (Healing Springs, Book 1)

by Amanda Torrey

  “I thought you wanted to be a big business guy.”

  “Things change.” Something passed over his expression—a deep pain she recognized. “Besides, who says I’m not? Maybe I have many layers.” He winked.

  The image of his layers peeling off nearly sent her reeling. Hot damn. Maybe this time the fire department would be responding to her internal flames.

  She didn’t want the fire fighters, though. No, her body only had this magnetic connection to one paramedic. And she was sure there was nothing in his first aid kit that could make her better, so she knew she had to keep a safe distance. And maybe wear a helmet. Or a chastity belt. Or handcuffs and a whip.

  Dammit!

  Her phone buzzed from the armband she used for running. Grateful for the distraction, she excused herself and listened to the voicemail from her stepfather. He was asking for her to pick up some books or magazines for her mother and to come over for lunch.

  “I have to go. Rick needs me to run some errands.”

  Since she was in town to help out, she couldn’t politely refuse.

  “Of course. If you need to get into the house and I’m not there, just go ahead in. It’s open.”

  “Thanks.” She tapped her leg to call Rocco to attention, offered the best smile she was capable of, and ran back toward the studio.

  She never did get to see the house.

  ***

  Quentin watched her run away, her ponytail dancing from side to side, her muscular thighs contracting as she moved. Gone was the vibrant young girl he remembered. She was a shell of her former self. Polite, but distant. She looked the same—better, actually—but she harbored a deep sadness he could feel every time he was with her. Their sexual attraction hadn’t dimmed the slightest bit.

  When Rick first told Quentin about Savannah’s imminent return, Quentin didn’t know what to think or feel about it. Elation? Yes. Terror? Absolutely.

  Savannah had run away ten years ago, right before her high school graduation. She hadn’t been able to deal with the sudden death of her eight-year-old brother, and if Quentin’s feelings toward the event were any indication, she more than likely blamed herself. He had gone through years of counseling to correct this misperception, but he guessed she hadn’t.

  Quentin searched for her for years. He hated the thought that something terrible had happened to her. He didn’t want to live without her. Not only were they high school sweethearts—they had been soul mates. Best friends. She accepted him regardless of his shitty family situation. She loved him for who he was, not what everyone thought he should be. He wanted to heal together, just like they did everything else.

  But she had run. She didn’t even tell him she was going.

  Six years ago, when he had made some good money in his investments and could finally afford to hire someone to find her, he did indeed locate her.

  He even drove there, to a tourist trap in Maine.

  He saw her.

  And then he left.

  She had moved on with her life. She hadn’t appeared happy, but she was settled. She was cared for. She was on her own.

  He had wanted to beg her to come back. To scream at her for leaving. To cry about how much he had missed her.

  Instead, his youthful pride had won and he came home and fell into a trap of his own.

  Now she was here, and he hoped their little town of Healing Springs would work its magic on her heart.

  Lost in thought and memories, he didn’t hear the crunch of leaves until she was a few paces away.

  “Couldn’t resist seeing me again?” He joked, clearing the cobwebs of regret out of his mind.

  “Actually, I do have a super huge favor.”

  “Anything.” He meant it.

  She looked around curiously.

  “Why are you still standing in the same place?”

  Because I was lost in thoughts of you.

  “I like the peace and quiet of the woods.”

  “Oh, yeah. Me, too.” She didn’t look convinced, if her wrinkled brow and suspicious eyes were any indication. “Anyway, I only packed enough food for Rocco for a couple of days, figuring I could make more at my parent’s house. Since I’m not staying there and I don’t think she’d be thrilled about me using her kitchen…” Her voice trailed off and she drew her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “Wait, you make your dog’s food?” He stifled a grin. She had been about as far from domesticated as you could get. The thought of her making anyone food reminded him how many years had passed.

  “Yes, I do.” She straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. “It’s healthier that way.”

  “Dogs will eat garbage if you let them.”

  “I would never let him. He deserves the best.”

  “I suppose you feed him all organic ingredients, too?” He thought he was joking, but judging by the redness in her cheeks and her unwillingness to look him in the eye, he’d say his joke hit the mark of reality. “You’re kidding.”

  “Don’t you watch the news? Have you not heard of all the poisonings from animal food companies? No way.”

  She brought her hands to her hips and stared at him until he stopped laughing. When he could regain his composure, he said, “You are more than welcome to use my kitchen. Anytime.”

  “Thank you.” She turned to run off once again. Before she took off, she asked, “Maybe tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow would be perfect.”

  He couldn’t understand the physical reaction he was having to the thought of her coming to his house. For Christ’s sake, she was going to be making dog food in his kitchen, not playing wifey.

  But his heart—not to mention his painful erection—couldn’t tell the difference.

  Chapter Three

  After a freezing cold shower (she’d have to figure out what the deal was with the hot water heater, but in the meantime, she kind of needed a cold shower after running into Quentin again, anyway), she harnessed Rocco and drove into town. No use delaying what needed to be done.

  Rocco tried to chew at the harness the entire drive. “I know you don’t like it, but people are afraid of big dogs. Not everyone knows you here, you know. Besides, you won’t be allowed in the stores, so I need to tie you up outside. It will only be for a few minutes, I promise.”

  Rocco gave her his sad little puppy dog eyes, and she felt like a terrible caregiver for even suggesting leaving him outside. But the late May heat was too strong to leave him in the car, and health laws were health laws. (Though she personally could think of many people who were more unsanitary than her well-cared-for dog. If only she could rule the world…)

  Finding a spot was surprisingly easy, but she supposed tourist season hadn’t really begun in full swing yet. Since Healing Springs was named for a supposedly mystical spring that could cure all ailments, the town saw its share of visitors throughout the year. Add in the fact that the small town was centrally located to the mountains, many lakes, a world-class bike path, and much more, summer months could become unbearable.

  She grabbed her baseball cap and tucked her ponytail through the back opening. If she kept the visor down, maybe no one would recognize her. She’d be in and out and back to the car in no time.

  “Well knock me off my rocker.” Mrs. Reynolds called out the second Savannah walked through the annoying door filled with bells of all sizes. “Just look at you. Savannah Grace. I thought I’d be six feet under before you’d finally come home.”

  Savannah forced a smile as the elderly woman pushed her walker to meet Savannah where she stood. How lucky for her that she made it in the store for precisely five seconds before her anonymity was shattered.

  “Hi, Mrs. Reynolds.” Savannah smiled, hoping her discomfort didn’t show. The old woman had always been painfully astute. Savannah didn’t want her emotions read by anyone—particularly someone who knew her tragic story. “How did you know it was me?”

  “Oh, child, I’d never forget your look. We’ve missed you around here. Have you s
een Quentin yet?” The woman’s wrinkled eyes twinkled. Forever the town’s matchmaker, she had the uncanny ability to see directly into people’s hearts and souls. She had successfully matched dozens of couples—or so legend had it.

  She was way off base if she was trying to match Savannah up with anyone, especially Quentin.

  “That boy has developed into quite the fine young man. Nice ass on him, too.”

  Savannah blinked at the elderly woman. Surely she had heard her wrong.

  “Mrs. Reynolds! You’ve become even more lecherous in your golden years, haven’t you?” Savannah smiled and winked back at the old woman.

  “Oh, you know it.” Mrs. Reynolds leaned forward as though about to divulge a great secret. “That’s what keeps women young, you know. Can’t kill the libido!”

  Savannah laughed. “I’ll take your word on that.”

  Mrs. Reynolds looked past Savannah.

  “Is that your dog out there? What a beast!”

  “He’s a good dog,” Savannah blurted. People were so quick in their judgments about him.

  “Never said he wasn’t. My husband raised Rotties in his day. Good dogs. Protective, too.” She turned to Savannah and peered directly into her eyes. “Not a good replacement for a man, though.”

  Savannah nearly choked. She coughed into her elbow, wishing she could undo this entire conversation. She should have planned better. She could have brought a wig. She could have had plastic surgery to alter her face. She could have hired someone to run her errands while she awaited the blood work.

  She should have thought this through.

  “I suppose you didn’t come in here just to see little old me. What can I help you find?”

  “It’s wonderful to see you, Mrs. Reynolds,” Savannah lied. Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie—not in the hurtful sort of way. Savannah had nothing against the old lady. She was rather fond of her, actually. She just couldn’t stand jumping through the looking glass and winding up in Miseryland. “I need some light reading for my mother.”

  Mrs. Reynolds went right to work directing Savannah to the books she personally recommended for Karyn Grace. She knew that Karyn had been reading a particular series, so she encouraged Savannah to pick up the next book.

  Savannah grabbed a few magazines that looked mom-friendly, paid, then said her goodbyes as she returned to her panting dog.

  “Our fun has just begun, my warrior prince.” Rocco danced his front paws around as Savannah unhooked him from the old-fashioned hitching post on the sidewalk in front of the shop. She wished she had a dog’s proclivity for not knowing how much life sucked.

  “Oh yes, you think you’re going to have a grand old time. Little do you know how horrible things shall get in the Grace household.”

  She wished she hadn’t promised to visit for lunch. She had felt pressured by her stepfather. She knew her mother would rather gouge out her own eyes than have her murderous daughter sharing a table with her, but she couldn’t exactly bring that up, especially in front of Quentin.

  Savannah eyed the Healing Springs tavern, carefully and privately tucked away down a little lane between some of the bigger stores. She wished she could grab a drink in the tiny bar before facing her family again, but only the most hard-core townie drunks would be in there this time of day.

  Instead, she walked the proverbial plank and drove her stepdad’s car back to his house, carefully avoiding any landmarks that would trigger painful memories.

  ***

  “So glad you made it,” Rick said as he swept Savannah into his embrace. She tried to hug back, but he had hugged her over her arms.

  When he pulled away, she held out the bag of books. “Here ya go.”

  “Go ahead and bring them to your mother. I have to flip the steaks. Does Rocco want to come and grill with me? There might be a dropping or two…”

  “I’m sure he’d love that.” Savannah dreaded facing her mother without any security blanket, but what could she say?

  Rick pushed the door open, gesturing for Savannah to enter.

  She tiptoed into the house. When she couldn’t find her mother immediately, she began to search. There she was, in the library/den, sitting in a rocking chair, looking out the window to the yard. Savannah stood behind her, marveling at the changes. Gone was the wooden swing set—the one with the plastic climbing wall and monkey bars Brandon had been so excited to get for his seventh birthday. The giant sandbox with the construction trucks was gone, too. Even the tire swing that once hung from the ancient oak had been erased from view. In their place were sophisticated gardens and statues. No children would play here.

  While her mother sat silent, Savannah had the niggling feeling that she had intruded on a private bubble of reflection. She quietly moved backward, intending to reenter the room with an announcement that she was here.

  “Leaving so soon?” Savannah froze in place. “Always running away, aren’t you?”

  So her mother had known she was there. Shame flushed Savannah’s face and chest.

  “I wasn’t leaving. I felt like I was intruding on a private moment.”

  Her mother rose from her chair—a bit wobbly, but with stiff shoulders.

  “Come. We’ll make some tea.”

  Karyn’s regal posture was the same, though her pace was slower. Her hair no longer flowed down her back, but even in its short style, it was well-coifed and under control. Savannah couldn’t recall a time when Karyn had seemed human. Flaws were not something she believed in, nor something she seemed to possess. Definitely not something she allowed or accepted in her daughter.

  “I brought you some things to read.” Savannah spoke over the lump in her throat.

  “You can leave them there by my chair.”

  Savannah complied, then followed her mother into the kitchen. Savannah watched her mother move with grace around the small room—reaching up to retrieve dainty tea cups, preparing the tea bags, pouring sugar into the porcelain serving container. Karyn refused Savannah’s help, so Savannah stood to the side, trying to stay out of the way.

  Like she did throughout her teen years.

  “Where’s that creature of yours?”

  “Rocco is out with Dad.”

  “Rocco? What kind of name is that?” Karyn pulled milk from the refrigerator.

  “The kind my dog has.”

  At Savannah’s snarky tone, Karyn glared at her.

  “Don’t be getting smart with me in my own house.”

  Savannah clenched her jaw so tight, she heard it pop.

  “If you don’t want me here, just say so. It was Dad’s suggestion for me to come over, not mine.”

  Karyn turned away from Savannah to the tea cups on the counter. Savannah noticed her mother’s shoulders lean forward the slightest bit. Her hands shook as she poured water into one cup. Before Savannah could develop any crazy ideas about her mother’s vulnerability, Karyn turned to her with a completely neutral expression.

  “If you don’t care to be here, just go.”

  Rick came in as Savannah and her mother stared each other down. Rocco padded over the mustard-colored tiles, oblivious to the tension between mother and daughter.

  “Woo! Should I go to the shed to get the chainsaw to cut the tension in here? What is going on with you girls?” Rick held out a tray of teriyaki marinated steak—Savannah recognized the smell. Her favorite from summertime barbecues. She hadn’t had it since she moved away.

  “That smells delicious,” Savannah said, breaking the silence.

  “Well come on over and have a seat. Rocco approved.”

  “You gave that animal our meal?” Karyn sneered.

  “Oh, relax, my darling. It was a tiny bit.” Rick winked at Savannah, leaving her to suspect that the portion was anything but tiny. She’d have to be sure to take him out for another run later.

  “Now if you two wouldn’t mind, I’m starving.”

  Savannah called a mental cease-fire with her mother and followed her stepdad into the dining room
. Rocco padded along, sitting behind her chair.

  Karyn glared at the dog, making him growl. She growled back. But she didn’t demand that he leave.

  Karyn remained silent throughout the meal. Rick and Savannah made small talk, both of them careful to avoid any discussion of the past.

  When she was preparing to leave, however, Karyn’s words froze Savannah in her tracks.

  “Have you been to his stone?”

  The delightful meal Rick had provided threatened to make a reappearance. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for an easy escape. She wished for a distraction, something to take the heat off her. Something to hide her sins.

  Rick sensed her angst and moved over to put his hand over her shoulders. “It was great to see you, sweetie. I forgot to mention, I spoke to Hal about your car. He said he’s happy to fix it up without going through your insurance. He owes me a favor.”

  Savannah swallowed past the pain and discomfort. She took a deep breath, promised herself she’d go for a run, and managed to mumble a quiet, “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it, sweetie. Until the parts come in, you go ahead and use my car. Everything okay at the old studio?”

  Savannah nodded. She couldn’t shake her mother’s hard stare. She didn’t blame the woman for hating her, but Savannah didn’t plan to put herself on the stake for her mother to light a match to Savannah’s shame.

  “I’ll walk you to your car. Karyn, say your goodbyes now, my darling.”

  His darling did no such thing. She turned her back and meandered away, disappearing to another room. But not before she narrowed her eyes at Savannah one last time.

  ***

  Since no radio stations in this blasted town had music angry enough to soothe her nerves, Savannah took her anger out on her ear drums. The loud music blared in her ears—better to protect Rocco from the noise, anyway. She sang at the top of her lungs, banging on the steering wheel for emphasis. She didn’t care when people looked at her funny as she drove down the road. She laughed at the worried look she received from someone at the four way stop sign (and if she wasn’t mistaken, the other driver had been her high school biology teacher. Good, let him worry about how she turned out.)