Write Me Home

by Crystal Walton

  All cleaned up from the feathers, she heaved two gallons of paint out from the trunk.

  He was at her side before she reached the stairs. “Here, let me.”

  “I got it.” She kept walking, face as determined as ever.

  Was she still upset over how rude he’d been to her and Nick, or was she stressing over the cabins? “Cassidy, about earlier . . .”

  “I already ordered new mattresses. The sheriff said he’d come check it out. If it ends up being vandalism, hopefully my insurance will cover some of the cost.”

  Across the deck, he grabbed the door for her before she set the cans down. She could raise her chin all she wanted. Her eyes were like windows whether she wanted them to be or not. It wasn’t easy to hide being overwhelmed. He rested a hand on her arm. “It’ll all work out.”

  Nodding, she blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “Ti’s testing out paint colors in the cabins, and I’m going to start on the bedrooms upstairs. If you can stay in the canteen, that’s where I need you.”

  Business as usual. So much for finding a hole in her armor this morning.

  Curls drifted over her shoulder as she adjusted her hold on the cans. “I’ll be making another run into town tomorrow. Is there anything you need?”

  A do-over? He backed up and shook his head. “Nothing at all.”

  “Okay, then.” She disappeared inside, and he returned to his post.

  Ti met him on the lawn, swinging a water bottle. She’d traded her crazy hat and hippie-looking skirt for an oversized pair of sunglasses and cutoffs. She might’ve looked halfway normal if it weren’t for the flower power rain boots she was rocking.

  “Going to the creek?”

  Her glance bounced from her boots to the sky and landed on him. “It’s gonna rain. You don’t feel that? A storm’s blowing in.”

  A photographer and a meteorologist. He hid a smile and opened the side door to the canteen. “Hope you’re right. This place could use some cooling off.”

  From outside, she leaned onto the counter. “It’s a defense mechanism.”

  He lugged his nail gun up from the dusty floor. “What is?”

  “Cass’s shell.” She set her water bottle down and rubbed paint off her fingertips. “Underneath it, she still has some of that kid left in her.”

  Ethan slanted a brow.

  “No, really.” Laughing, she withdrew some kind of hemp wallet thing out of her pocket, flipped to a picture, and held it out. “Here. See?”

  He hunched over a faded photo of the girls in the main building’s kitchen, from the looks of it. Covered in suds, they each held half of a broken plate up to the other.

  “We were twelve. Not a care in the world.” She stared past him as though reliving the memory. “You should’ve seen the head cook’s face when we dropped that plate. We knew we were in for it, but we kept our cool. And a token.” She ran a thumb over the photo. “Best friends forever.”

  He steadied her wrist for a closer look at the picture. Cassidy’s hair was shorter, her legs lankier, but that smile . . . one like he’d never seen from her.

  Ti must’ve read his expression. “Yep. That’s pure, bona fide joy right there, my friend. Captured in a photo as proof.”

  “She looks so full of life.” Young, open, carefree. Everything he wished she’d let herself remember how to be.

  “She was.” Skin wrinkled around her eyes as she returned the wallet to her pocket.

  The screen door on the deck creaked open. Cassidy strode toward her trunk, probably for more paint.

  Ti glanced backward and wound a straw wrapper around her index finger. “She’s six months younger than me, but she’s always filled the big sister role. Always the responsible one.” She let the wrapper unfurl. “Guess we all deal with pain differently.”

  He knew that as well as anyone. He unhooked the hose from the gun and coiled it into a circle. “Sounds like you guys have been through a lot together.”

  “After twenty-seven years, you could say that. Don’t know what I’d do without her.” She turned, leaned back on her forearms, and lowered her sunglasses over her eyes. “I couldn’t talk her into moving to London with me, though.”

  London? “You live in England?”

  She angled toward him. “At the moment, I live here.”

  “So, you came back just for her?” He set the rolled-up hose on the counter beside a daddy-longlegs making his way to the corner.

  “And for me.” She peered across the grounds. “You can travel the world, chasing after something that’s missing. But sometimes it takes coming home to remember who you are.”

  The door swung behind Cassidy as she toted the paint inside. Off to work on her own. Would she ever find that joy again? “What happened to her?”

  Ti stirred the straw in her water bottle. “Same thing that happens to all of us. Life.” Smile sagging, she tapped the ledge and pushed off it. “Not all stories are mine to tell.”

  He stretched forward. “What if she won’t tell me?”

  “Wrong question, Ethan.” She looked over her shoulder. “The one that matters is what you do when she does.”

  She’d crossed the full length of the lawn leading to the cabins before he finally moved. But even then, her words kept every muscle in his body locked in a grip he couldn’t explain or release. “Sometimes it takes coming home to remember who you are.” What if there was no home to come back to?

  A white sedan with a city logo on the panel rolled up the driveway. Ethan’s already-taut muscles clenched so hard they could’ve snapped. He pressed his back against the wall in the shadows and peeked through the window. Was Mom sending someone to check up on him?

  Cassidy met the city worker at the bottom of the deck. All business, the guy handed her some type of letter. Ethan couldn’t hear the conversation from this far away. But if that glimpse of vulnerability flashing across her face meant anything, it couldn’t be good. What now?

  Shoulders rigid, she uttered a response, nodded, and backed up two stairs. She didn’t so much as blink until the city vehicle disappeared from view. Alone, she gripped the rail and closed her eyes.

  The strain in her movement propelled Ethan toward her. He didn’t slow until three feet away from the steps.

  Her eyes flashed open toward the sound of his boots over the gravel. She shoved the paper into her back pocket while he stood there, rubbing the sap left on his hands. Everything he wanted to say stayed buried under his ribcage, but it didn’t matter. His face must’ve said enough.

  She stared at the steps. “You can’t fix everything.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You see me upset and run over here like . . .”

  “Like what?” He jogged up the stairs toward her. “Like I might care about what’s going on with you?”

  She backed into the post. With her face just below his, she inhaled and blinked away from his gaze. Her voice caved to a whisper. “Like you feel sorry for me.”

  What? “Cass—”

  “I need you to fix the camp, Ethan. Not me.” She slipped past him, still dodging his eyes, and hurried toward the door.

  It took less than a second for the knot in his chest to burn. Fix everything? Couldn’t she see he was genuinely concerned about her? Temples pounding, he got in his Jeep and took off. Let her worry about her own problems if she wanted to make everything about work.

  At the bottom of the driveway, Deputy Harris’s cruiser waited to turn in. Their gazes locked as they passed, but Ethan kept driving. He didn’t let up on the gas until a sign for an old friend’s café beamed with the remedy he needed.

  Coffee.

  He parked on the side of the building, stared at the creek behind it, and stalled a minute before killing the engine. If as many people hung out here as in the past, he’d need a lot more than a caffeine-fix to tame his headache. He tapped the dashboard, debating. It had to be better than sitting here, fuming over Cassidy.

  A light sprinkle dotted
the windshield and garnered a grin out of him. Ti had more instinct than he gave her credit for. He unrolled the Jeep’s soft-top header, secured it in place, and hustled inside the shop.

  A dozen heads turned as he strode across the black and white tiled floor toward a bar with low hanging lights. In front of the multi-colored chairs, he smiled while perusing an overhead menu written in fluorescent chalk. Same old, eccentric Amy.

  On cue, she came out from the back and stopped with two plates balanced on her arm. “Ethan DeLuca. Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

  He sat down. “Love the new look.”

  “Thanks.” She blew a strand of spiky, bottle-red hair from her dark-lined eyes and fiddled with a half-inch gauge in her lobe. “It’s a work in progress.”

  Grinning, he lowered his gaze to the bar. “I meant the shop.”

  “Oh, right. That too. It’s a far cry from the hole-in-the-wall place I started with, isn’t it? We’re even serving food now.”

  “Perfect. Give me your favorite.” He’d burned off that pastrami sandwich hours ago.

  Her lips pulled to the side as her gaze traveled over him. “You got it.” She whirled around the counter to deliver the plates to a couple in the corner.

  Whispers swept across the room with about as much subtlety as the blatant stares pointed his way. Keeping his head down, he dragged a silver napkin holder over from the spot beside him and toyed with the dispenser.

  “Jenni know you’re here?” Amy glided past him to the register.

  He glared around the room full of busybodies. “No. But I have a feeling she will now.”

  Amy set a glass of water in front of him. “Ham, egg, and cheese croissant okay?”

  “As long as it comes with the largest coffee you got.”

  She laughed. “It’s good to have you back, man. Most of these guys can’t stomach the kind of coffee we’re used to. They only want the frou-frou kind.”

  He shook his head. “Amateurs.”

  Another laugh led her through the swinging door into the kitchen at the same time a bell above the front door chimed.

  Deputy Harris planted himself on the next chair over. That was fast. He probably spent a whole whopping five minutes inspecting the cabins.

  “Ever plan on telling anyone you were back in town?”

  Without facing him, Ethan lifted his glass and swirled the ice cubes around. “Figured my mom would have that covered. Haven’t her scouts filled you in by now?”

  “There ain’t nothing wrong with a council woman taking an interest in her city.”

  Ethan snickered. “You’re telling me I’ve gotten it wrong this whole time? I just have to move back into her jurisdiction for her to care about me. Good to know.”

  Amy whisked in with his coffee.

  Harris nodded at her. “The usual.” He pivoted toward Ethan and adjusted his belt buckle. “I see you haven’t lost that attitude of yours during your time away. And here, I thought you might be able to set an example for that big city girl you’re working for.”

  Ethan clanked his glass onto the counter. Stares shot toward them from around the room. “You know, Cassidy says we’re small town people. Can’t imagine where she gets that idea from.” He shoved away from the bar and dug out his billfold. “Sorry, Amy. I’ll take mine to go.” He never should’ve come in here.

  The over-the-door bell rang again. “So, it’s true. The cowboy has returned.”

  Ethan dropped two bills on the counter and froze, gripped by the voice that had broken his heart too many times. Finding his breath again, he inched around and tipped his chin. “Jenni.”

  Outside light filtered through the windowed door and set off her blond hair. She stood with her thumbs hooked in her jeans pockets, looking as unfairly gorgeous as she always had. She nodded behind her toward the door.

  Inhaling, he followed her out. Probably better that way. Whatever showdown she expected, he wasn’t about to let it happen in front of an audience.

  Clouds filled the sky, but the sprinkle hadn’t turned into a full-on rain yet. Shame. He needed that cool-down more than ever. Couldn’t his pager go off with a reason to leave? At least he had the excuse to go back and get his sandwich if she tried to drag this on.

  She smiled. “Oh, c’mon, Sour Puss. Give me a hug.” Rather than wait for a response, she curled her arms around his neck. Her curves pressed against him, feeling way too familiar.

  He rolled his eyes, forced in a breath, and pushed her back by the waist. “I’m on the clock, so I should probably run.”

  Like it’d be that easy. She dragged him down the hill toward the creek. “We haven’t seen each other in ages. I think you can spare a few minutes for a friend.”

  Except they weren’t friends. Not anymore. And their old stomping grounds were the last place he wanted to be right now. Not that going back to the camp would be much better.

  Alongside the creek bed, she pressed her shoulder into his. “You wanna talk about it?”

  “About what?” He knelt and rifled through the rocks for a smooth one.

  “Whatever’s got your face creased like that?”

  She shouldn’t still be able to read him like an open book. The connection tore at the edges of the nine-year-old scars she’d given him as a parting gift when they broke up.

  Shadows darkened overhead. He flipped a stone around in his hand and skimmed it across the water.

  Hands in her back pockets, she swayed from side to side. “O-kay.” The dragged-out word ended in the same laugh that used to set everything in his life in balance. “Guess some things haven’t changed.”

  He rose to his feet and met her stare. “Guess not.”

  She tilted her head. “Ethan . . .”

  Without giving them a chance to take cover, the drizzle merged into a downpour. Cold beads pelted his skin through his clothes. She squealed, grabbed his hand, and ran up the hill to his Jeep. They both jumped in and swung the doors shut. Good thing he’d put the top on earlier.

  Laughing, she shook the rain off her bare arms, but her soaked clothes stayed glued to her body. He kept his gaze neck up as she scooted toward him and shivered. “Summer rains. Gotta love ‘em. Brings back a few memories, doesn’t it?”

  Regrettably.

  He reached in the back seat for his station sweatshirt and handed it to her. Taking it slowly, she grinned wider than necessary. He jerked his focus to the steering wheel, hating the effect she still had on him. “Where’s your car?”

  She pulled the shirt over her head. “I walked.”

  Great.

  They could go back inside the café, wait out the rain. Except that’d mean instigating even more gossip. His sandwich wasn’t worth it. Blowing out a breath, he started the Jeep. At least she didn’t live that far away. This interaction had already lasted long enough.

  Rain whirled off the windshield as they drove. The silence might’ve been nice if Jenni’s stare from across the seats weren’t burning into him like a heat lamp. He snapped on the air, bumped the wipers up another notch, and massaged his forehead. What he wouldn’t do for that coffee right about now.

  “You’re really not going to talk about it, are you?”

  He flicked his blinker on. “What’s there to talk about?”

  “Us.”

  In front of her house, he lined the Jeep beside the curb but didn’t face her. “There’s no us. You ended that conversation a long time ago.”

  “We were kids, Ethan. What did you want from me?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Commitment, maybe. That little thing you promised when you agreed to marry me.” He jabbed his seatbelt buckle and wrenched if off.

  “I tried.”

  He sneered. “I’ve heard that copout one too many times.” They weren’t rehashing the past. It was over.

  “That’s not fair.” She twisted in her seat. “You avoided me for years, refusing to give me a chance to make things right. Then you just up and moved away without a word. You have any idea h
ow many times I wanted to come find you?”

  “Figured you had your hands full with Nick.”

  She stretched out her seatbelt. “You knew that wasn’t gonna last.”

  “What, did all those years sharing his bed get a little boring for you? Or let me guess, it got too crowded?” He flipped the unlock button. “Actually, don’t answer that. It doesn’t even matter.”

  “He proposed,” she almost whispered.

  “And you bailed.” He shook his head. “At least the next guy down the line has a fair warning of your MO—”

  “Nick’s not you, Ethan. That’s why I said no, okay?” She lowered her chin and her voice. “I should’ve realized sooner.”

  The door handle dug into his fingers. “You made your choice.” He shoved the door open, stalked into the rain, and pushed his wet hair out of his face.

  Her door slammed right afterward. “You want to blame me? Fine. But you’re the one who pushed me away. It’s because of this.” She barreled around the bumper and waved a hand up and down him. “This hurt inside you. It consumes you, Ethan. It has ever since the fire. You ran off with Habitat, then off to some fire station, thinking if you rescue everyone, the pain will go away. But it won’t. You can’t bring Isabella back.”

  She faced the sky and swiped the wet hair off her forehead. “After all this time, I thought you might’ve realized that and finally been ready to let someone in.”

  He turned and banged his hand against the top of his door. “Enough.” He couldn’t hear the truth. Not from her.

  Rain cut right through him and pounded the pavement as if he were nothing but empty space.

  Jenni set her hand on his shoulder. “Ethan—”

  “Don’t bother.” He got in the Jeep, tore down the road, and didn’t look back.

  Trouble was, even in the rain, some fires still raged.

  chapter nine