The One That I Want (Scorned Women Society Book 3)

by Piper Sheldon

  “Sanders doesn’t know this,” I realized. It explained why he felt the need to always be the life of the party. The strong one. Although while it did explain a lot, it didn’t excuse his actions. Sanders needed to heal. He needed help that Skip and I couldn’t give him. We would be there for him and love him as best we could, but he was the one who needed to want to change.

  We fell quiet again. Eventually, he said, “It’s not that I don’t like it in Green Valley. I actually think it would be great to move here. For a few reasons. But I have a life in Denver and he does too—”

  “And he needs to fix some things.”

  “He does,” Skip finished. “He needs to face the music.”

  I realized that I might not ever see Sanders again. Wasn’t that what I wanted? Maintaining control over my life had always been so important. I stared into the final sliver of light before it evaporated into dusk. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore.

  Sanders

  The boxes stared at me for over a week. Not that time mattered. Not that anything mattered. I was alone. My best friend was mad at me. The love of my life pushed me away. Yeah. I said that.

  LOVE OF MY LIFE.

  I glared at the boxes. The stack of old and worn ones. The stack of new and freshly taped ones. All of them sat staring at me, silently judging, waiting for me to make progress, from the corner of the downtown Denver loft I shared with Skip. The loft I used to share. The day he came back from Green Valley, he told me he was moving out.

  I was growing to hate those boxes and everything they represented. A daunting task was ahead of me but I would open them. I would deal with my father’s death once and for all. I would be okay. I had already scheduled my first therapy session for next week. I needed to learn how to stop running and start processing the deep pain the loss of both parents has left in me, no matter how I tried to hide it.

  With a final bracing breath, I stepped toward the boxes of Dad’s stuff. My hands shook as I opened the first few things. The first boxes contained old clothes that could be donated or thrown away and a few trinkets I would hold on to. I even found a few old newspapers that had featured about Outside the Box. Then came the pictures. Lots of pictures. Pictures that caused a pain to shoot into my chest with such sudden force, it felt splintered and shattered, like a wrecking ball hitting a windshield.

  I had no idea he had all of these. Mom and Dad. Dad holding me on his shoulders with the western coast of Perth behind us. The three of us grinning like fools at the camera. Another of Skip and me as non-smiling teens.

  Pictures from a time I would never get back. Pictures of the pure, innocent love a child has for a parent that I would never feel again. Getting older was so hard. Growing up, you never knew you were living in the best moments until you looked back. Or maybe it was looking back on them through the lens of your current life that made them the best. The longing for something I could never have back hurt so physically, I thought I might never take a full breath again.

  I loosed a shuddering sigh and sat back.

  There was one last box. A small cigar box, completely worn on the edges so the cardboard layers showed. It was wrapped in dry-rotting rubber bands that crumbled away as it opened.

  “What’s this?” I asked the empty room.

  Inside there were letters in dozens of unsealed envelopes simply addressed to “Eleanor.” They weren’t worn but they were yellowed with age.

  I slowly unfold the first one, holding it with reverence that I instinctively understood it deserved.

  The date at the top of letter was exactly one month after my mom died. Her birthday.

  My hands shook as I read the first one.

  Eleanor,

  Happy Birthday, wherever you are. I never really put a lot of thought into the afterlife but now I pray every night for a place where I will hold you again. I miss you so much. Every morning I wake up and I have an instant where I wish I dreamt everything. Then I remember the truth and I don’t think I can even breathe.

  Then Sanders comes tumbling into the room and I smile for you. For him.

  I don’t know if I can do this without you. I’m not strong enough. I thought it would start to get easier but it hasn’t. It hurts more every day, in different ways. Sometimes I feel so angry I think I’m going to burn something to the ground. Some days I’m sure I won’t be able to get out of bed ever again.

  I stopped reading when the words blurred in front of me. I wiped my eyes on the sleeve of my shirt, feeling such intense pain. A physical blade. Sharp enough to cut me into pieces.

  I grabbed a different letter and forced myself to read on. No more running. Just confronting this pain head-on. This one was dated a few years later, also on her birthday.

  I know it’s silly to write these letters to you. I look forward to it now. It reminds me of when I was your Farmer Charmer trying to court you and I had to sneak letters past your dad. I felt like I was able to be myself more in those letters. Talk more freely than I could in person. I hope Sanders isn’t afraid to share his feelings. I try to impress on him that it’s okay to feel things and not hold on to them. Sometimes he seems so okay and other times I know he’s hurting. He feels so deeply. He’s such a sweet and strong boy, that kiddo of ours. You wouldn’t believe how he’s grown.

  Skip lives with us now too. I couldn’t see the bruises anymore and stand by. That poor boy. I went to his good-for-nothing father’s house…

  I read on and on. Letter after letter as my body shook with sobs I tried to hold back. I had to stop several times to blow my nose and take a few deep breaths.

  I never knew he felt so much. I never knew he hurt so bad. He had tried so hard to be strong for me. He loved her so much. It never weakened. It never stopped. I understood that he had been trying to teach me to accept the pain as it came, not to run from it.

  Boy, was my new therapist going to have a lot to unpack with me next week.

  I don’t think I’ll ever love again. At least now how I love you. I think a lot about the first time I saw you. You never believed me but I knew it the moment I saw you. I knew that if I didn’t get your name, I’d go crazy. I was a stupid American and you were way too good for me but I took a chance. And then I never let you go. I wasn’t the smartest. I wasn’t the most handsome. But I had something none of those other fellas had: a secret weapon. I knew, without a doubt nobody would ever love you as much as I did. It was that simple for me.

  I know we fought. I know times were hard. Sanders never slept as a baby (already worrying about missing out on life probably) and we struggled to make ends meet sometimes. But God, what I wouldn’t give to struggle through anything and everything with you at my side.

  I took a deep shaky breath and reread the paragraph again.

  That was exactly how I felt about Roxy when I first saw her. It was like somebody shone a spotlight on her and a tiny voice in my head said, “You’re gonna wanna talk to that one, mate.”

  I clenched my jaw so tight, my teeth ached. I’m not saying I would believe it if I heard it from anybody else, but I knew my father and I knew myself. Us Olsson men, when we fall, apparently, we know.

  Nobody would ever love her like I would. I just needed to prove that. I needed to show her. It wasn’t enough to just say it, not after a lifetime of running. Starting now, I vowed to change everything.

  What I wouldn’t give to struggle through anything and everything with you at my side.

  I would give anything to be the person that struggled through life with her.

  Fueled by my resolve, that week, I met with Dev and the rest of the team of Outside the Box and explained the situation. Of how I had screwed up and it cost the business but also of the potential in Green Valley. They were patient and understanding with me but had still decided to leave to join Callum and Dev, staying in Denver. I promised to send any remaining business in Denver their way. We departed on amicable terms even though it felt like the end of an era. That just left Skip and me. Skip, who wasn’t talkin
g to me at the moment.

  After our meeting with the rest of the team, I stopped him in the hall.

  “Can we please talk?” I asked him, knowing I didn’t deserve the chance.

  Reluctantly, he stayed and listened because Skip was nothing but a great guy. I explained that the Lodge had agreed to wait before signing anything official with OTB. I was done with rushing into situations and screwing things up. We had enough business here to get us through the end of the summer.

  “Do you want to close down OTB? Tell me what I can do to show you I’m serious,” I said.

  “I need to think,” he said. “I have a few more clients to wrap up over the summer. I’m not taking on anything new for fall. Let’s reevaluate then.”

  Read: I’m still not ready to talk to you.

  The days dragged by. Skip and I wrapped up the rest of our events in Denver, speaking only when necessary. Soon a whole month passed. I hadn’t called Roxy back yet. No texts. No emails. Nothing. I was ashamed but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t feel ready. She deserved me at my best, not the mess that I was. With every conversation I had with my therapist, the more I realized about myself. Let’s just say I had a lot of work to do. She didn’t need a partner that was so messed up or one that made her feel like she was nothing more than a passing distraction. No. When I came back to her, I would show her I meant business. And if she had moved on, well, I would cross that bridge then. I wanted us to be a team but I also knew I needed to be a better man for her first.

  Green Valley felt so far away. Like I had dreamed this most perfect scenario but had since woken up to cold, harsh reality.

  Roxy. She was in my mind all the time. She took up more real estate than anybody else. The longer I was away from her, the more I realized that maybe she had been right. Skip had been right. I had tried to drown myself in her rather than deal with my feelings. Now it was time to be better. I had to make things right. No more running.

  I dug through a drawer to find a pen and paper. If Dad could pour his heart out fully on paper, then maybe I would try it too.

  Dear Roxy …

  Chapter 26

  Roxy

  Months passed. Weeks. Days. Seconds. The measurement of time didn’t matter. I worked until I collapsed. I had my new office. My new title. I had the prestige that went along with it. At this point, everyone in Green Valley knew I was the events coordinator at the Lodge. Sure, maybe some narrow-minded individuals still saw me as a Wraith’s girl. But you know what? I didn’t care. They could see me however they wanted. Just like the calls with my parents, it didn’t change what I knew about myself. I had worked hard to change my life. I had done it by myself with the help of a few people who had my best interests in mind. What others thought of me wasn’t any of my business and I couldn’t care less.

  But I didn’t have Gretchen. I’d still not been able to talk to her. Nor did I have Sanders because I pushed him to go. He needed to return to Denver but it still hurt to know that I had sent him away. I’d tried so hard to prove that I was living my life to its fullest and yet I worked every day until I passed out. I missed Sanders and our nights together. I missed the SWS and knowing what was happening in their lives. If only I could get over myself and reach out.

  I was so alone.

  I sighed as I watched a group of forty-something women chat happily about their upcoming girls’ trip that weekend. They complained about their husbands and children in a way that said they couldn’t be happier to have so much to miss back home. The ache in my chest sharpened to a point that jabbed my heart every time my lungs filled with air.

  Maybe I should have gone with him. I used to think that one day I would know what the right thing was to do in every situation. But there was no right thing. There’s what your head wants. And what your heart wants. Add in what you think the world wants for you and somehow none of it ever seemed to sync up. I fought the idea of flying out to be with him in Denver every day, but then what?

  I needed to talk to Gretchen. I realized that I had felt like a burden to her ever since she pulled me from the Dragon Bar. That I owed something to her, even though she was simply trying to give me a second chance.

  “Hey, Roxy?” Vincent approached with one hand in his pocket and a cool look on his face.

  “Hmm?” I asked straightening. I had been staring off into space. Just standing in the middle of the lobby without anything to do. Everything was taken care of. Everything was running smoothly. Which, unfortunately for me meant I had nothing to distract me.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  His handsome face showed a hint of concern. I hadn’t thought he’d been paying attention. Now that I looked at him, really looked at him, I could see what a catch he was. Handsome, successful … here. Vincent had completely intimidated me at first but now we had become not friends exactly … but peers? The idea made me happy. I’d spent so long feeling like I needed to prove myself to him but he didn’t care. He was never judging me. To be fair, he probably never thought about me at all. That’s the secret I would pass on to all graduating classes from here out: Hey, it’s depressing but also majorly freeing once you realize nobody actually cares about you. Everybody is too busy worrying about themselves.

  I frowned. “I’m okay. How are you, Vincent? It’s been a crazy last few months.”

  “It’s been nuts. I tried my best to keep my side of the Lodge running smoothly, but I need to go back to the city.”

  “Oh,” I said. I had grown to like working with Vincent.

  “You’ve been doing a great job here. You earned that events coordinator title. But don’t let it be your whole life. It’s just work.”

  I gave him a look.

  “I’m just saying that I recognize the sign of early-onset workaholism.”

  He had no idea. What else was there for me? Sanders had said I was worth more than what I did for other people but I still couldn’t help but think if I had just done more, then I wouldn’t be alone right now. If I had just …

  But I was the one who pushed everyone away, determined to prove something.

  “I’ll have my doctor run some tests,” I said.

  He grinned at me.

  “And I appreciate you allowing me time to get to know you more,” he said. “When I read that initial recommendation email for your hire, I had some concerns. But I figured, if you could handle a biker bar—”

  “I can handle pretty much anything,” I finished. I didn’t flush worrying what he thought. That was forever ago. It wasn’t who I was now.

  “It’s a shame I never got to meet this Bethany Winston. It sounds like she was a major matriarch of this town.”

  I blinked at the random reference of Jet’s mama, who I’d never met. “Bethany Winston?”

  “She was the one who emailed Diane recommending you for hire. It was way down in the emails but I got the impression when Bethany suggested something, people listened.”

  I nodded dumbly. How had Gretchen convinced Bethany Winston to email Diane Donner about me back in the day? I didn’t even know Jet’s mom. None of this made any sense.

  He went on but I was still focused on his last comment. “I’ve enjoyed working with you.” He swallowed and I watched his Adam’s apple move up and down. “I had hoped maybe we could get to know each other more.”

  I blinked in surprise. Wait, what? All these months of thinking he was judging me for being small-town trash and he’d actually been looking at me like I was a woman he was interested in? I replayed all our interactions in a new light. But there was nothing there. There were no zips and fizzes. He was a good guy but he wasn’t mine.

  When I didn’t say anything fast enough, he sighed. “But I suspect that you’re interested in getting to know Mr. Olsson better?”

  I made a sound that came out like a groan and a growl.

  Vincent scratched at his eyebrow under his glasses. “Yeah, I had a feeling. Had I known I was pushing you two together …” He shook his head and cleared his th
roat. “I lost my wife a few years back.”

  “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” I watched his face closely.

  “I don’t like to talk about it but I’m just bringing it up because well, if you have strong feelings for someone, you should give yourself a chance to explore them.”

  “Oh—okay.” I straightened my bangs, wondering where he was going with this.

  “I know it’s weird for me to say this to you. I’m not trying to be unprofessional. But since I’m leaving anyway.” He shrugged. “I witnessed the way you two looked at each other when you thought nobody was looking and … it made me think of my wife.”

  Emotion tightened my throat. I had no idea what to say. This was by far the longest and weirdest conversation the two of us had in all our months working together. Not that it was his fault, I didn’t exactly scream “people person.”

  He cleared his throat and went on, “Also, I was organizing some files and found these mail slots in the back office.” He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket. “The mail cubbies look like they’ve been long forgotten but I found these. Addressed to you.”

  He handed me a stack of letters.

  “These were in the cubby with your name on it,” he explained. “That kid at the front desk said he’d been putting them there instead of bringing them to you.” He made a face that shared my opinion of the kid. “I assumed you didn’t know they were there.”

  I shook my head dumbfounded. The shocks kept coming with this one. I recognized Sanders’ all-caps scrawl on each one. My heart hammered. Letters. At least a dozen of them, addressed to the Lodge, care of me.

  “People use email … since like the nineties,” I said numbly.

  What had Sanders been thinking? Nobody had used those mail cubbies since the construction started. That room was for storage mostly.