by Donna Alward
He spent the next hour lugging in the materials, taking longer than normal since he could have used two arms at 100 percent. Still, he managed, including a large tote that held all the tools he’d need for the job as well as a spare battery and charger for the cordless drill.
It helped that the shelves were pre-cut and only needed to be installed. Once Rick made sense of the lengths and where they’d go, he sorted through the hardware and organized brackets and screws into neat piles. He measured, then marked everything with the level, and it was all going smoothly until he went to screw the first bracket into place. He was holding the metal piece with his prosthetic, and the screw clung to the magnetic tip of the drill bit, but he didn’t get it set quite right and the moment he pulled the trigger, it spun off the tip and went careening away, tap-tapping on the floor as it fell.
Rick sighed.
“Do you need help?”
Jess’s voice was soft, coming from the doorway. He looked up, irritated. Her expression had softened and she’d lost that condemning look she’d had when he’d first arrived. Just looking at her made his body react in ways he wished it wouldn’t. It made things damned uncomfortable. How could he possibly be attracted to someone who made him so angry?
“I’m fine.” He retrieved the screw from the floor, then marked the spot, gave it a tap to set the tip, put the bracket back in place, and pressed the drill bit firmly against the top of the screw. To his relief it went perfectly into place.
“Rick, I’m sorry I was so angry.”
For some reason her apology made him nearly as mad as the accusation. Maybe he should do the gracious thing and accept it. He didn’t feel like it. Maybe Jess needed to learn to think before she spoke … and that words were more than just words.
“Okay,” he answered. He picked up another screw. This one was easier now that the first screw held the bracket in place. The drill whined through the silence.
“You’re mad at me,” she said, and he looked up. Sure enough, her eyes were asking for forgiveness. He should give it. He knew that. But because Jess made him feel weak, he held back.
“I’m busy here, Jess. You want your job done or not?”
She turned on her heel and disappeared again.
When she was gone Rick dropped his head and let out a breath. This wasn’t good. His feelings for Jess weren’t exactly friendly. They were more, much more, and she was convinced that he was nothing more than a disappointment.
The old Rick would have shaken that off, put on the charm, and proved her wrong. The problem was, he wasn’t convinced she was wrong. And until he was, he had no business messing around with the likes of Jess Collins.
CHAPTER 5
Jess had just rolled the quilt and was now immersed in making tiny, even stitches. She loved the feel of the needle and thimble, the slight popping sound as the needle poked through the taut fabric, the bubbled texture of the previously quilted spots under her fingertips. Summer Arnold, one of the regulars from Jess’s craft classes, sat beside her looking like the last person to be spending an afternoon with a needle and thread.
Summer’s hair had a pink streak down one side, a silver nose ring looped through one nostril, and her jeans had tears at the knees and thighs. Her youthful face had a healthy glow, though, and she seemed to blend an edgy rebel look with a natural, earthy vibe.
It was a relief for Jess to spend time with Summer, one of the few friends she had who was unmarried. It seemed lately that every time she turned around she was faced with her family and friends and their perfect husbands, perfect families, perfect lives. Sometimes it put Jess’s life in stark relief. It seemed like everyone was married or in love these days. And Jess was alone.
Which was her choice. She’d rather be alone than settle just because she was lonely, but sometimes—not that she’d admit it to another soul—that choice sucked.
She focused on the pieced blocks that made up waves and a sailboat. Summer tied off her thread and grabbed the spool for more. “Hey Jess, I heard you and Rick took some donations to the shelter. How’s he doing?”
Jess started at the mention of Rick’s name. The last few days she’d had to endure his presence in her workroom, and he barely said two words to her. He was still angry at her accusations that first morning. But she’d taken one look at his bloodshot eyes and tousled hair and had known. She wished she had better control over her reactions. It didn’t seem to matter what she knew intellectually—certain things still triggered an automatic response, like a muscle memory to a threat. One of those things was the way a man looked after a binge. In her experience they were irritable at best, and a hair trigger at worst.
Once she’d had time to process things, she’d calmed down. And felt a little foolish for being so snappish.
“Oh, you know,” she said as lightly as she could manage. “Okay, considering.”
“I saw him the other night. He was with Bryce.”
Great. Rick plus the police chief. “What trouble did he get himself into this time?”
“Trouble?” Summer’s brows pulled together in confusion. “No trouble. He was having some dinner at Breezes and I was on shift that night. He’s moved back into his mom’s house, you know.”
Jess hadn’t known. She’d tried to keep her nose firmly out of Rick’s business. It was too complicated and all they usually ended up doing was arguing anyway. “That’s good,” she said, concentrating on a line of stitches. “It’s got to be better than where he was.”
“Sure, but I bet it’s hard, too. Bryce said Rick really seems to be making an effort to get his act together. Shame he’s laid off. It would probably be easier if he were working.”
Keeping busy was always a good idea, Jess knew firsthand. It was a rare thing for her to sit idle. It gave her too much time to think. Like think about how Rick’s mouth had quirked up when he was teasing her in the car, or how the muscles had rippled his shirt when he lifted boxes. Now she felt smaller than ever, because Rick had really needed this job and she hadn’t made it easy for him.
“Anything else new?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.
Summer shrugged. “Remember Karen Greer? I heard she and her husband just moved back to Jewell Cove. Apparently, she has cancer and isn’t doing so well, so Brian moved them back to town. Says she wants to be by the ocean.” Summer paused to shake her head sadly. “Word is, Brian called the kids and asked them to come home. I guess they don’t want to wait until Christmas. It might be too late by then.” Her words were quiet, in deference to the sad subject.
Jess’s body went suddenly cold and her hand stopped midstitch.
“Didn’t I hear that you went out with Mike Greer back in the day?” Summer’s voice perked up as she knotted a new thread. “I think Bryce mentioned that.”
Summer had continued on as if the mentioning of Mike Greer’s name was simple gossipy conversation. Her stitches were smooth and even; she was utterly unaware of how Jess had frozen in her chair.
Mike Greer. Just the name was enough to make her tremble. Josh had made him promise to never come back to Jewell Cove and to her knowledge he never had. Of course, Josh had also promised Mike that if he did return, he’d never walk again. And he’d meant it. The quilt in Jess’s hands faded as she struggled to breathe, trapped in her memories. Josh had been the one to tend her cuts and bruises. He’d been staying at their mom’s place, home on leave, when he’d stopped by the little house she and Mike had rented from his parents. She had been so young back then, so determined to have her own way by moving out, unwilling to admit that her boyfriend would never change. But when she saw Josh’s reaction to her injuries, she’d known enough was enough.
Jess’s fingers tightened on the scrap of cloth in front of her. That night she’d left Mike, but no matter what Josh said, Jess had felt so stupid. She’d refused to let anyone else see just what her life had become. Instead, Josh drove her to the shelter and held her hand as she’d called their mother and explained that she and Mike had
broken up and she was visiting friends for a while to clear her head. He’d made sure that Mike was really gone, and once the visual evidence of that night was gone from her face, she’d returned home. Started getting on with her life.
Sort of.
“Jess, are you okay?” Summer’s voice came from beside her, deep with concern. “You’ve gone really pale.”
Breathe. In, out. In, out. Jess forced a smile and slipped the thimble from her finger. “Sorry. I’ve got a bit of a headache. I felt a little woozy there for a minute.”
“We can stop for today. Maybe you need to lie down? Or maybe it’s the fine detail of the stitches bothering your eyes. Do you want to take something for it?”
Bless her, Summer was in mothering mode and it was hard for Jess to say no. Mike had no power over her now. Never would again. She’d repeat it to herself until she believed it, just as she’d done in the years since she’d left him. And it would be okay.
“I’ll be fine. I just need to make some tea or something.”
Summer popped up from her chair. “You need to relax. Let’s leave this for now and go up to your loft. You can chill out and I’ll make the tea.”
What Jess really wanted was to be alone, but she could hardly throw Summer out. Truth be told, she was tired. The foot traffic was picking up again and she had added extra evening classes. During the day she’d been working on replenishing her stock—something she didn’t have much time to do over the summer months. Yesterday she’d spent the whole day on candles, which sold briskly when the autumn set in. There were still the necklaces for the wedding to make, too …
They climbed the stairs to Jess’s loft—her living space above the store and workroom. It was a huge area, the entire second floor divided into a single bedroom, bathroom, and common-area living room and kitchen. She’d kept the colors deliberately light and restful—creamy white and pale aqua with the smallest splashes of taupe and apricot in the decoration. The floor was natural maple hardwood, adding to the impression of light and space. An array of Jess’s candles and seashells were arranged atop a glass-topped coffee table. The same wall of windows faced the harbor, with white roman blinds pulled open now but ready to drape down for privacy as needed.
Jess preferred to keep them open as much as possible.
Just being here brought her stress levels down. Summer instantly went to fill the kettle sitting on the stove and told Jess to sit.
Jess obeyed, sinking into the soft cushions of her sofa. From there she directed Summer to the cups and tea bags, leaned back, and gratefully closed her eyes. It made sense if Summer thought she had a headache, but truthfully she was just trying to calm down and not have a panic attack. She’d already felt her head go light, her leg muscles tighten up, the telltale tingling of her scalp. It didn’t happen often, not anymore. The mention of Mike Greer was enough to set it off.
“You like milk, Jess?”
“Just a little, yes, please.” She opened her eyes, feeling slightly more in control. “Thanks, Summer. I don’t know what came over me.” Liar, a voice in her head accused, but she ignored it. She’d learned how to cover a long time ago.
“Please,” Summer chided, bringing over a steaming mug. “You’re always taking care of everyone else, Jess. Sometimes you need looking after, too. How’s the head?”
“A little better, thanks.” She sipped at the hot tea … delicious. More of the tension drained away. Summer, for all her quirky appearances, was a nurturing soul.
“I really love it up here, Jess. It’s like having the beach right in your apartment.”
“That was the general idea.” She smiled faintly. “Thanks for this. I think I needed the sit-down.”
“Tessa’s got the store and you’re right here if she needs anything. You should have a nap. You’ve got that burning the candle at both ends look about you.”
“I might do that.”
“In that case I’ll let you go. I want to stop by the soap shop on the way home. I’m out of lavender oil.”
Summer took her mug to the kitchen and came back, giving Jess’s hand a squeeze. “Take some time for yourself, sweetie. You deserve it as much as anyone else. See you later.”
When she was gone Jess sighed and put her mug on the coffee table and slid down on the sofa, pulling a cream-colored throw over her. Maybe just a short nap. Just for a few minutes …
* * *
Darkness filtered through the windows as Jess jerked awake from a nightmare, sitting up abruptly. Her breath came hard and fast; sweat trickled down her temples and she pulled her knees into her chest while she tried to get her bearings.
God, it had been so real. Like he was right there, back in the Greer summer cottage where they’d moved in together. Sheltered by the woods on three sides and with wide open water on the other, the property was secluded and private. More like isolated. A prison. Over the years, Jess had learned a lot about abusive relationships, about the emotional and psychological damage that came with living with someone like Mike. But at night, she just remembered the sight of his face twisted with ugly anger, the sound of his hand hitting her cheek echoing through the air the millisecond before the numbing pain struck.
Jess smoothed her hands over her face, trying to shut the memories out and focus on the present, but in the dim light of her living room, she could still feel Mike’s hands circling her neck until she saw black and gray blotches. Not long enough for her to lose consciousness. Only long enough to keep the fear pounding through her veins, just the way he wanted it.
She trembled all over and couldn’t stop. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she fought to banish the images from her mind. She was in her home. She was safe, and Mike Greer was long out of the picture. But his family had just moved home, and his mom was sick. There was no way one promise made years ago was going to keep him away for good.
Shoving her damp hair back from her face, she rose unsteadily, went to the kitchen, and poured herself a glass of water. Then she picked up the phone and dialed.
“This is Josh.”
“Hey, brother.” Her voice came out slightly shaky. Damn.
“Jess. What’s wrong? You sound funny.”
“I’m okay. Just a bad dream.”
“Aw, honey. You want to come over?”
Josh lived in a house just down the street from Sarah and Mark. But Jess didn’t want to risk seeing anyone else, not in her state. “No, it’s okay. I just … it’s the reason for the nightmare that I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Yeah?”
“I heard today that the Greers moved back. Karen has cancer. And Brian has asked the kids to come home.”
Josh let out a long breath. It sounded like a whistle in Jess’s ear and she closed her eyes. After their dad had died, she’d relied on Josh. He was so much like their father. Caring but tough. Reliable. Just talking to him helped immensely.
“You worried about him coming near you?”
There was a long pause, and then she whispered, “Just hearing his name made me melt down, Josh.”
Josh cursed under his breath. “We should have had him arrested back then. Do you want to tell Bryce? I doubt there’s anything he can do about it, but it wouldn’t hurt to have him know.”
“No!” Jess tried to temper her voice and not panic. “You’re the only one who knows what happened that night. And I want to keep it that way. Please, Josh.”
“Jess…”
“I just … I don’t know what I want. To give you the heads-up, I guess. To … to tell someone rather than keep it inside. This way if I show up on your doorstep, you’ll know why.”
“You can come stay here,” he suggested. “I doubt he’ll be in town for long if he shows up at all. I could always use a roommate.”
She thought of Josh’s hours, and his dislike for housekeeping and cooking. “Thanks, but no thanks. At least not for now. Talking to you has helped.” Besides, she’d fought hard for her independence, moving out, taking night courses in business, and open
ing the shop. She wasn’t about to give that up at the first sign of trouble.
“If he causes any grief—and I mean any at all, I want you to promise me that you’ll talk to Bryce about it.”
“I’d rather keep it quiet.”
“Promise me, Jess. Mike Greer is a manipulative asshole who thinks he can have whatever he wants. I convinced him otherwise once, but I don’t trust him and neither should you.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t. Not for a second.”
“So promise me.”
“I promise. You’re a good brother, Josh.”
“Of course I am. And remember—you’re not in this alone. You never were. And I can guaran-damn-tee you that you’ve got backup in me, and Tom, and Bryce, and even Rick if it comes to that. The slightest whiff of trouble and you go to any one of us, okay? We’ve got your back one hundred percent.”
Her throat closed over a wad of tears. “Okay,” she whispered into the receiver.
“Love you,” he said, making her even more weepy.
“Love you, too,” she said.
After she hung up the phone, she went to the bathroom and ran a hot shower, scrubbing away the sweat and the lingering dregs of the nightmare. Too bad she couldn’t scrub away the memories of the past, too. But they were there to stay. She ran the puff over the puckered scar on her belly and swallowed the tears that clogged in her throat, refusing to let them out.
He’d marked her for life.
* * *
As maid of honor, it was Jess’s duty to hold a bridal shower for Abby, and she hosted it on the Saturday night one week before the wedding. She closed the store at five, and at seven thirty about a dozen women would descend on her apartment for an evening of food, wine, and silly shower games. She was also aware that the boys were having their stag night tonight.
