“Look, there’s an emergency. Please wait here. I need to talk to you.”
She smiled, but the way she sucked the corner of her lower lip into her teeth didn’t leave him feeling confident.
“Please.”
God damn it all. His voice cracked like a fucking toddler’s.
His phone buzzed again.
He started to back away toward his truck, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn around. He didn’t want to give her the opportunity to bolt.
She held her hand up in the saddest goodbye he had ever witnessed. It didn’t feel like she was saying “see ya later.” Her raised hand and watery eyes had a ring of finality that he couldn’t explain.
He closed his eyes, blew a kiss, then shifted into paramedic gear, convincing himself that he was just being an insecure asshole. There was no reason she’d truly pull away. He was overthinking things. Lack of sleep. Low blood sugar. High paranoia.
Things would be okay.
***
Things would not be okay.
Savannah cursed and hit the steering wheel as she turned onto the highway, leaving Healing Springs behind.
She didn’t dare look in her rear view mirror. She was too afraid she’d be pulled back.
She swiped at tears that refused to stop rolling down her cheeks. Ten years of not crying and now she was a leaky faucet? Unacceptable.
Even Rocco didn’t know what to make of it all. He had sniffed around her, licked the tears on the right side of her face, then forced his way to the back seat where he did his best to get comfortable on the seat.
As if on cue, clouds moved in, reducing her visibility and helping to remind her that sunny days didn’t really exist. They had been a figment of her imagination. Easy to forget.
She’d return to her old life and be just fine.
She had done this before. She could do it again.
She just had to stop thinking of everything she left behind. All the hearts she wanted to be part of. All the forgiveness she had been granted.
She hadn’t even been able to give her mother the one little thing she should have been able to give.
She was a failure. Always was. Always would be.
Quentin and Joey hadn’t seen her that way. But they would. Quentin was a healer for crying out loud. He had chosen a profession where he could help the most people. When he found out that she wasn’t even qualified to donate bone marrow to her ailing mother, he’d never be able to think of her as his equal.
Joey had somehow managed to bond with Savannah’s mother—something Savannah herself had never managed to do. How would he feel if the woman died? What about the inevitable day when small-town rumors reached his young ears and told him the truth? Of how Savannah Grace had killed her brother and her mother?
Yeah, better for her to hightail it out of there before any more attachments could be made.
Joey would forget about her.
And she’d hold on to the brief moments when she had been loved.
She’d carry the hugs and sweet words with her forever. Because even though she didn’t deserve them, no one could take the memories away.
***
Quentin backhanded the pile of mail off the side of the kitchen island, swearing and pacing around the kitchen.
How dare his ex petition for joint custody of his son? She hadn’t had any contact in years, and now she thought she should serve him with papers?
Not happening.
Nana Robby entered the room just as he was releasing some of his more potent words.
“I guess this is a bad time.” But she didn’t retreat.
“Sorry, Robby. Bad news in the mail.”
“I’m afraid I have something that might make your day a little worse.” She extended her arm, holding some folded, lined papers toward him. “I’ll take Joey to the park for a while after school so you have some time to decompress. Dinner is all set, but if you prefer to go out for the evening, I will put Joey to bed.”
Quentin mumbled his thanks, appreciating that Nana Robby always knew when she was most needed.
He retreated to his study, where a desk full of sticky notes reminded him he had to contact various people to be sure the Tree House project was still on track.
Quentin settled into his chair. His mind didn’t quite register what he was reading. It was addressed to Joey, but it was in Savannah’s handwriting.
And then he opened the other paper. A giant heart, one that matched the one she had left on the napkin in the kitchen. The one he had smiled at before opening the mail. The one he had thought meant he was indeed crazy and everything was just fine.
This heart was smudged in parts with what could only be tear drops.
This heart didn’t represent the beginning of something, as he had thought the one in the kitchen had. This one represented the end of something.
Quentin crumpled up both papers and tossed them across the room.
He was all set with women.
And he badly needed a drink.
***
Savannah left her bag in the car. She’d get it later. Rocco happily rushed off to his favorite spot to pee.
She shook her head when she noticed Valentina’s statue of St. Anthony standing outside, his stony face turned to the wall. He normally took the place of honor on the shelf behind the check-out area.
“There’s my girl!” Valentina rushed over with her arms open, her large hips sashaying and her huge skirt threatening to pull things off the shelves. Savannah buried her face in Valentina’s comforting shoulder, absorbing the comfort and feeling grateful to be home. “Tell me all about it.”
“First you have to tell me why St. Anthony is outside.”
Valentina narrowed her eyes toward the door, pushing her chin up and adjusting her shoulders. “He knows what he did.”
Savannah laughed at the older woman’s eccentricity. She’d actually fit in quite nicely in Healing Springs.
“I saw that storm cloud pass over your eyes. Don’t you dare try to hide anything from me, little miss.”
Savannah tightened her lips. She couldn’t talk about it.
“Savannah Grace. I have known you for ten years. I have never seen your eyes red and puffy before. Not even once. Don’t make me put you out there with St. Anthony. You tell me what has you lookin’ like that disaster of a strawberry cake I made.”
A smile forced its way onto Savannah’s face. Tempted to open up and spill everything, she was saved by the ringing of the door bells as a customer came in.
Valentina rushed over to the door. “I’m very sorry, Trudy, but you’ll have to come back. We’re closed for a short break.” Valentina gently shoved the frequent browser out of the shop, then flipped the sign to the “Closed” position. She locked the deadbolt and turned back toward a shocked Savannah.
“Don’t look so surprised. You’re my girl, and something happened. Spill.”
So Savannah did. She told her about Joey and Quentin and her car crash and fixing up the studio and finding the boxes of memories and the worry jar and the impending graduation and her failed attempt at making a muffin. Everything. Things that mattered, things that didn’t. Savannah had no way of filtering what was important from what wasn’t. It was all one big memory. Indecipherable.
Savannah paced up and down the aisle, waving her hands in the air, desperate to articulate everything.
She was in the beginning of telling her about Rocco’s response to country music when Valentina put her plump hands on Savannah’s arms, stilling her and effectively putting an end to the recap of events.
“Tell me this, my girl. Are you a match?”
Savannah felt her eyes widen, her breath quicken, and her heart rate revving up enough to launch a nuclear missile.
She shook her head, then lost control of her muscles.
Her body began to slink to the floor, but Valentina kept her upright.
“Baby girl, you’ve been trying to be too strong for too long. There’s strength
in letting go, too, you know.”
Savannah could say nothing. She’d be learning to let go all over again. She could have her PhD in letting go.
Valentina smoothed Savannah’s hair, puffy from the ocean-side humidity. She led Savannah over to the window seat, settling her in amongst the mismatched throw pillows. Savannah inched her way into the corner, grabbing the biggest pillow to clutch to her belly. She felt young, vulnerable.
She didn’t like it.
“Honey, didn’t they tell you the probability was very low for the match? When my family went through something like this, they cautioned us that only something like thirty percent of family members would be a match. But they can find someone else. She’s in the donor bank, right?”
Savannah nodded.
Thirty percent? That would have been freaking nice to know. She wouldn’t have allowed her hopes to be raised for thirty percent odds!
“They didn’t tell you, did they? Oh, girl.” Valentina brushed hair out of Savannah’s face. “They’ll find a way.”
Savannah wasn’t convinced. Her luck didn’t work that way.
“In the meantime, you regaled me with many a tale of a certain man. Now you were never one to talk about your past, but I’m guessin’ that man was a part of it. I’m thinkin’ you shouldn’t have left so quickly. I bet he’s waiting with open arms for you.”
“No, that’s over. I broke it.”
“Can’t break love, my girl. Go back. There’s nothing here for you. It’s all there.”
“You’re here.”
“Oh, honey. If that were enough, I wouldn’t be pushing you out the door. Truth is, you’re a daughter to me. But I’ve kept you to myself long enough. You have another family who needs you. I need you to honor that.”
“Valentina, I can’t—”
“Hush now, my girl. I’m not going to push you out. You’ll always have a home here. But did you even say goodbye to your momma?”
Savannah pressed her cold hands to her hot cheeks.
“You didn’t. Okay, well I’m not gonna lie. That would be heart breaking to a mother. I want you to give that some thought.”
Savannah hugged the pillow closer. She couldn’t say goodbye. Her mother wouldn’t have wanted to hear from her, anyway. Valentina didn’t know Savannah’s mother. She didn’t know how cold and disconnected she could be. She didn’t know the dark, tumultuous energy that swirled around her. She didn’t know that Savannah was not the only one who believed the wrong sibling had died.
“Listen, I’ve got to open up this shop before old Trudy has a nutty. You go on and take a nap or watch some TV or whatever it is your little heart needs to do. Go on into my apartment if you want to take a Jacuzzi tubby. We’ll get things figured out later.”
Savannah could feel the remnants of a lipstick kiss on her forehead even as she trudged to the back of the shop toward her apartment.
“Before you close that door, let me tell you something my auntie used to tell me. She said that being a mother is the hardest job on the planet. Now you know I never had kids—I buried every one of the poor little souls I tried to birth—but there’s nothin’ in the world I’d want more than to have my daughter with me. No matter what she’d done, I’d want her to forgive herself.”
Savannah tried to respond, but her throat felt as though she had swallowed sticky glue, and Valentina had gone to open the door, anyway. So she closed her apartment door and plopped herself onto her bed, shoulders slumped, completely dejected.
She had been fine when she left here.
Her life was in order. She had Valentina and Rocco and no other concerns.
Life had been great.
She looked closer. Her possessions could fit into one box—she had accumulated almost nothing over the last decade. No ticket stubs. No collectable items. No photos of friends or family. From this vantage point, her life looked pretty empty. She’d actually be embarrassed if anyone entered this room.
It was clean as a museum, but with nothing to show off for the time she had spent here.
Savannah whipped off her clothes, not wanting to wear anything associated with her last day in Healing Springs. She could still smell Quentin on her shirt—his scent drifted back to her as she tossed the clothing into the laundry hamper.
She splashed cold water on her face and dressed in running clothes. Rocco perked his head up as she slipped into an old pair of sneakers she hadn’t gotten around to throwing away. Slipping back into her old life felt good.
She ignored the gnawing sensation of emptiness in her gut.
Before she left the room, she retrieved the shirt she had been wearing—the one with Quentin’s scent clinging to it—and tucked it under her pillow, refusing to question her motives.
She closed her eyes when she reached the beach, taking in every sensation and willing it to be enough.
***
Quentin had done everything over the past few days to keep his mind off the atrocities of women. He had picked up extra shifts. He had taken Joey to every park in a fifteen mile radius. He had spent late nights drinking with his buddy, Cole, who was crashing in town for a few days in between projects.
He only had one thing left to do.
Put the house on the market.
Cole had tried to get him to wait for a bit; to give his head time to catch up to his heart. Or vice versa. He couldn’t remember what shit Cole had been flinging, but none of it made sense to him.
Yeah, he loved Savannah. She knew it. He even allowed himself to believe she had feelings for him, too.
He could forgive the fact that she had left him after Brandon’s death. That was about her—not him. He got it.
But this time?
It shouldn’t matter what she was going through. She knew he was here. She knew he could help. She didn’t want him to. She didn’t want him.
“Don’t let what’s happening with Merry affect how you feel about Savvy.” Cole’s wisdom, divvied out between shots, had just pissed Quentin off. Why the hell shouldn’t one affect the other? There had to have been some kind of fucking oath women took to mess with a man any way they could.
He tried to be one of the good guys. Didn’t women always bitch that there were no good guys left?
Lotta good it did him.
“Did I tell you that your old girl is Joey’s kindergarten teacher?” Quentin had appreciated the death look he got from Cole and the subsequent double shot they had each tossed down. “Did I also mention she’s happily engaged? Sucks to be you, huh?”
“Fuck you.” Cole had ordered another round and requested that the bartender keep ‘em coming.
Quentin swallowed some ibuprofen as he filed the affidavit with the court the next day. No way was he letting Merry have joint custody. If she was lucky, maybe he’d let her have supervised visits. Only if it would benefit Joey.
And no way would he let Savannah live in his memory any longer. He had bought the house because he was stupid and in love, even then. He had mistakenly believed he could get her back one day. That they could heal together. That she’d be thrilled to learn the lengths he had gone to make her happy, even in her absence.
Those days were long fucking gone. He’d sell the house and buy a new one with his own specifications in mind. Maybe he’d even move to the city. She’d hate that.
He dropped his head into his hands.
What was he thinking?
She’d never even know the outcome.
This was something he had to do for himself. He had to sell the house to rid himself of her memory. He and Joey and Nana Robby would pick out something suitable. Something perfect. For them. Not for the ghost of the past.
He didn’t need an exorcist to rid himself of any lingering feelings he may be carrying around for her. All he needed was the memory of her leaving without saying a word to him. Of letting him hold her in his arms, all while planning to tear his pathetic heart out of his chest and leave it thumping for her on Main Street.
He had never
known such anger. He’d never hurt her, but he sure as hell hoped he never had to see her again.
Chapter Fourteen
She had to see him again.
She was crazy. She was stupid. She was lost.
And she was in love.
Her morning run on the beach with Rocco had turned into a sprint as she rushed back to the shop to share the news with Valentina. After a full week of living in denial, she couldn’t go one more day without resting her head on his shoulder. Without breathing his scent—the fresh scent, not the rapidly-fading, stuck-to-the-T-shirt scent she was settling for. She needed him to know that he meant more to her than anything else in the world. More than the grief she stubbornly refused to deal with. More than the pain of being in that town, surrounded by memories. More than her selfish desire to wallow in the pain, to torment herself for reasons she now realized weren’t very smart.
She ran faster. Faster than she had ever thought possible.
More than her knees ached when she was hit by the realization that she couldn’t run forever.
And she needed to make things right with her mother and stepfather.
This morning, Savannah had received a message from her stepfather. A donor had been found for Mom. Some anonymous person from the donor bank.
Savannah reached and reached for a word that would describe her gratitude, but none existed. Pieces of the guilt that had been weighing her down floated out into the ocean air. She still wished it could be her giving her mother the life-saving treatment, but since it couldn’t be, she said a prayer of gratitude that this donor had matched. And a prayer of intention that she would be present as her mother went through the procedures. She would be there to help her mother heal, even if Savannah didn’t feel one hundred percent worthy.
After days of missing Quentin and Joey and her stupid hometown and nights of crying herself to sleep listening to sappy music, Savannah had gained some insight.
Not Over You (Healing Springs, Book 1) Page 14
