by Melissa West
“Did Sage fire you?”
“No.” Though he might after this, Becca thought.
“Then why do you need a job?” Priscilla placed a manicured hand on her hip and stared at Becca. Even Priscilla looked more put together than Becca. Maybe she should marry Nick, though of course she was old enough to be his mother, so that might pose a little problem for him.
“I’m not doing anything with my life. Being anything. I want to be something. Have a title by my name that garners respect.”
Priscilla opened her mouth, then closed it back and peered at the waitress. “Come on in. Let’s chat about who Becca Stark is.”
They walked into Priscilla’s office, the decor all cherry wood against deep tans and grays—very modern yet sophisticated. A painting of a single boat on a lake hung on the left-hand wall, and Becca couldn’t help thinking that she was that boat. All alone, just her, drifting along, no direction about her at all.
And then, before she could help herself, tears sprang to her eyes and she tried her best to tuck them away, but there was no holding back this meltdown.
“Becca, honey, what happened?”
“You know Nick Hamilton, right?”
Priscilla smiled, clearly well versed in the latest gossip about Nick and Becca. “I do. Though if what I hear is true, not as well as you.”
“Well, he’s a Hamilton.”
“Right . . . the last name sort of clued me in.”
“Well, I’m not. And I’m not a Carlisle or a Littleton or anybody important. I’m a Stark.”
Priscilla released a slow breath and leaned over her desk so she could see Becca properly. “That’s right, you’re a Stark. And you should be damn proud of it. What’s so wrong with being a Stark?”
“Ever heard that story of the guy shutting down all the power in town on Christmas Eve? Stark. The woman who stole all the toys from the toy drive in the Square because she thought it was a free-for-all? Stark. Every horrible story you’ve probably heard in this town all concerned someone in my family. We’re the joke of the town and the Hamiltons are revered like gods.”
“No one decides your worth but you.”
Becca slumped back in her chair. “But see, that’s not true. The town’s already decided that Nick would have to be insane to choose me, and if he does, I should hold on for dear life or else I might lose the best thing to ever happen to me. And maybe he is, but not because he’s a Hamilton. That never mattered to me.”
“Did it ever occur to you that it never mattered to him that you’re a Stark?”
Becca chewed on her lip, considering. “Maybe.”
“I’d say definitely. I’ve lived in this town for twenty years, and that boy has always adored you. Always. Your family name no more matters to him than the color of the sky.”
“Still, I’d feel better if I felt like my life had some direction. Like I’m stepping outside the family shadow instead of living in it.”
“I see. So that’s why you’re here. You want a job.”
“I’ve got a job. I want a career.”
Priscilla went to work awakening her laptop and humming away as she went through the job list. She peered over. “Any special skills I’m not aware of? Any degrees? Education at all?”
At the mention of education, Becca’s chin dipped down a few inches, embarrassment coursing through her. “No. I started my undergraduate degree in nursing but gave it up when Granny became sick.”
“And money’s not the issue?”
Becca shook her head. “No, I’m good there. This isn’t about the money.”
“Then why don’t you go back to school?”
“I’m thirty-three years old.”
“So? People do it all the time.” Priscilla typed in something in her laptop and then turned the computer around. “Maybe online classes to begin with? Or if you really want to do nursing, I hear the University of Kentucky has a great program, and it’s just in Lexington. You could drive to classes and still work at the diner.”
The idea swirled around in Becca’s mind, her thoughts trying to make sense of going back to school, being on a college campus with twentysomethings and her so much older. Could she really do it? Could her ego handle it?
“College . . .”
Priscilla grinned at her. “I’ll pull together some options for you. Swing back by after your shift. I’ll have them all ready.”
“But can I really go back to school and start all over?”
Closing her laptop and peering at Becca, Priscilla’s expression turned serious. “You’ll never get to the end if you refuse to start. Some things are worth putting yourself out there for. You have to decide if this is one of them.”
Suddenly, Becca found herself smiling, hope bubbling up. “Could I really do this?”
“You can do anything you want, honey. You just have to make up your mind to try. Are you ready to try?”
“You know ... I think I am.”
Nick walked into his office, every nerve and muscle in his body urging him to turn around and rush over to Becca’s. He wanted to lose himself in her lips again, but he needed to figure things out at the office first. Plus, a small part of him was nervous that she’d changed her mind.
The last time he saw her, she was tucking him in at his house after the putt-putt episode, him too drunk to be of any use to anybody. Then he had to hit a plane the next morning for a meeting out in California. They’d spoken on the phone, but it wasn’t the same, and he wanted to see her so he could read her expression, see if she was still okay with this.
Whatever this was.
He ran a hand over his face and pushed on, eager to meet with Hamilton Industries controller, Greg, before he did anything else. His meeting with their offices in California had given him hope that maybe they could still salvage the business. California had spoken of some fantastic prospects and ideas that could really turn the business around. But like anything else, those new ideas would take money, and until he spoke with Greg, he had no idea whether those prospects and ideas could be turned into realities. Still, he had hope for the first time in a year and that hope, coupled with the excitement coursing through him at seeing Becca later, made him feel like a renewed man.
Like maybe happiness wasn’t a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Maybe he could find it again and again, which sounded ideological and overly philosophical, but he couldn’t help it.
“Hey, got a minute?” he asked from outside Greg’s office door. The controller had been with the company for as long as Nick could remember, and for as long as he could remember Greg had been gray-haired and hunchbacked.
Greg was on the phone, but he waved him in and motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk.
“Right, no Stables numbers are solid. Yeah. Nope, good work. It’s solid.”
Nick tried to ignore the pang in his stomach that Trip had kept Hamilton Stables thriving after their father’s death and Nick couldn’t do the same with Industries. He replayed some of his riskier decisions over the years, but there was no way of knowing what had caused business to decline. It could be any one of a million things, none of which Nick could predict. And that was one of the main differences between Stables and Industries. Stables had to perform in order to maintain business, but those successes were black and white. They won a title, bred a champion, or they didn’t.
Industries wasn’t so cut and dried, but that didn’t keep Nick from carrying the burden of the state of the business.
“Sorry about that.” Greg pushed his phone away from him and threaded his fingers together on the desk. “What can I do for you?”
“That was Trip?”
“Alex, actually.”
“Ah.” The knot in Nick’s stomach tightened still further. Even Alex was turning a profit for the company. What had Nick done so wrong? Why couldn’t he turn things around?
He thought of his visit with California again and that tiny morsel of hope bloomed. “So, I just returned from Cali and—”
“It’s not going to happen, Nick.” Greg’s grim expression registered in Nick’s mind and he wondered why he hadn’t noticed it before.
“But they said—”
“I know what they said. They’re wrong. Foolish and wrong.”
“Their ideas were—”
“I know.”
Nick jumped up, then. “Stop doing that. Stop interrupting me. Stop treating me like the idiotic kid who never had a chance of making the team. We have prospects here. We can’t let the company go without exploring them.”
Eyeing the door and the staff outside, all watching them now, Greg closed the door, and then sat back down as calmly as ever, but his intent was clear. “Do you want to bankrupt this company? Is that what you want? Because it would cost millions in research and development to explore those ideas. To realize those prospects. Is that what you want? Because these people are counting on you. You, not me. You. Are you really willing to risk their livelihoods to save your ego?”
“I’m doing this for them.”
“No, you’re not. Compton agreed to maintain the current staff. And you can have that outlined in the contract. Which you know. This isn’t about them. It’s about you deluding yourself into believing you’ve failed your father. The business was declining well before he died. You know that, too.”
Nick sighed heavily and took his seat again, this time with the weight of defeat on his shoulders. “What do I do? Let it go? Not try to do everything I can? What kind of man would I be if I let it go without a fight?”
“A smart man. You aren’t letting it go. You’re selling it. It’s business, and this happens every day. Your decision to sell isn’t submitting to failure, it’s preventing failure. Why can’t you see that?”
“I need more time.”
“There’s no more time. The deal has to close or they’ll find another company to buy. You know how these things work.”
Nick stood then and started for the door.
“What are you going to do?”
Nick hesitated, his hand on the doorknob, visions of playing in these offices when he was a kid running through his head and hurting his heart. “I . . .” He shook his head. “I need more time.”
“Well, hurry. You’re right—we are counting on you here. Counting on you to make the right decision.”
Nick peered at the controller, who’d been with his father from the beginning, who he’d known all his life. “I know. Trust me, I know.”
Chapter Ten
Becca scattered all the college applications Priscilla had pulled for her onto her bed. She had community colleges, liberal art colleges, giant universities, private schools Becca couldn’t afford unless she won the lottery. And seeing as how she didn’t even play the lottery, that was a long shot.
For as long as she could remember, she’d always wanted to be a nurse. Her mother used to say that doctors flew in and looked like the heroes, but it was the nurses who really deserved the cape. She wasn’t entirely sure if that were true until she caught a bad bought of viral pneumonia when she was ten. She was in the hospital for what felt like forever, and her sister was still at home, so while her parents and grandparents were there all the time, it was mostly Granny and the nurses who kept her company.
That was the day she decided she wanted to be a nurse. She wanted to be the superhero without the cape, because the truth was Becca had never cared much about attention or recognition. The cape would never matter to her. She simply wanted to help people, and nursing would allow her to do just that while also getting to know the patients on a more personal level.
She’d worked herself to the bone all through high school to maintain perfect grades, and it had paid off. She was in the top of her class, narrowly missing valedictorian, and had a full ride to Duke, the school of her dreams.
Everything was lined up, her future laid out before her, bright. She’d managed a semester and a half before she got the call that Granny could no longer take care of herself. Immediately, she thought back to those weeks at the hospital when she was ten, Granny refusing to leave her side, and knew what she had to do.
Packing up her dorm and saying good-bye to Duke had been one of the hardest days of her life. And while it had devastated her to leave, she learned through that experience that dreams weren’t always a reality for adults. And though she felt the loss of what might have been, she was glad she’d had those years with her grandmother. Her conscience was clear, even if her heart ached for something more than the life she now led.
Now, at thirty-three and not growing a day younger, she felt silly trying to go back to school, starting all over again. Pretending she could just reinvent her life. People were set by the time they reached their thirties, habits ingrained and skill sets mastered—or in Becca’s case, not; how could she erase all of that and start again? And even if she was accepted to a school, how would she juggle going to school and working full-time?
It was all too much.
She glanced at the mirror over her dresser, at her reflection, at the photo of her and Nick in high school framed on the dresser. Of the photo of her and her grandmother beside it. They were the only two people in the world who really understood her, and now she and Nick were starting . . . well, whatever they were starting. Things in her life were changing. If ever there was a time to put herself out there, it was now.
A thrill worked through her, and she sorted the college applications into two piles—the schools she for sure wanted to explore and those that were either too expensive or too far away.
With newfound determination, she forced herself to throw caution to the wind and pulled out her laptop. Which immediately made her wish she’d lived in that moment of high for a beat long.
Apparently, her credits from Duke may or may not transfer, depending on the program, and then she would have to apply to schools almost like she was starting from scratch. This was going to be harder than she’d originally thought, and she was already insanely afraid. The application process was one of those things you were forced to do if you wanted to pursue college, but at least once you were accepted to your school of choice it was over.
Now Becca would have to do it all over again. The likelihood of everything coming together seemed slim to none.
Dropping her head onto one of her pillows, she ordered herself to calm down. Anything worth having required work, or however that saying went. This was just part of the work.
Deep breath, she told herself. One thing at a time.
Now on to trying other things.
She eyed the dive gear in the corner of her room. They’d made it through all the classwork and the final pool session was that weekend. So far Becca had managed to float at the surface, unable to release the breath she needed to drop. Zac had assured her they would adjust her weight belt for this weekend, but she was nervous that maybe this was just another thing on the Becca-Is-So-Not-Athletic list. But she was close, so, so close. After this session, all they had left was the checkout dive in open waters, and then she would be officially certified. Scuba diver Becca.
Now that was a title she could get behind.
But if she was being perfectly honest, the checkout dive scared the crap out of her. So she set all her dive stuff in the corner, but in the open, so she’d have to look at it every day. Eventually she felt her brain would just shrug and no longer be deathly afraid. That shrug had yet to happen.
The problem was that she struggled in the pool with the freedom of the surface within reach. How would she handle being feet upon feet below the surface, sharks and other crazy things swimming all around her? In the pool, she was surrounded by other students and Zac, who was trained to make sure they didn’t die. And then there was Nick, who she trusted more than anyone else in the world. A part of her wanted to ask Nick to go with her on the dive, but he was already certified and had so much going on at the office. She knew he didn’t have the time.
Still . . .
Walking over to the gear, she pulled on the mask and snor
kel and stared at her reflection. “What were you thinking, getting into this mess? Clearly not thinking at all.”
“Talking to yourself again?”
Becca jumped and spun around, yanking the mask off in one fluid motion, only to see Nick in her doorway instead of the serial killer she’d at first feared.
“Not a serial killer.”
Becca scowled. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I . . . Fine, I was thinking it.”
“You don’t even lock your front door. And anyway, when was the last murder in Triple Run?” Nick asked. “Oh, right, there’s never been one.”
Becca walked over and placed the mask and snorkel back with the rest of her gear. “Yeah, well, you know they’d start with me.”
Nick laughed and she peered over, the sound sending a shot directly to her heart. Their eyes locked. She had no idea how to act around him. Sure they’d kissed—several times. But kissing did not a boyfriend make. And did he even want to kiss her again? Or be her boyfriend, for that matter?
As if on cue, his gaze dropped to her lips, and she smiled a little.
“I missed you,” he said.
“I missed you, too.”
They continued to stare at each other, both unsure of what to do next, when Nick motioned to the dive gear. “What’s all that?”
“Dive gear.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m tired, not stupid. What’s it all doing out?”
Becca fumbled with the snorkel, dropping it on the floor. Yep, she was going to be a pro at diving. At this point, she’d be lucky if she didn’t get herself drowned.
“Well, you know how we have just the one pool session next and then the checkout dive to complete our certification?”
“Yeah . . .”
“See, I have to go on the checkout dive.”
“So . . .”
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
Nick’s mouth quirked up. “You’re scared.”
“Oh my God, scared is like the understatement of the year here. I’m freaking out-of-my-mind petrified. What if a shark comes up and eats me? What if one of those giant groupers eats me? What if my air dies or whatever and I can’t breathe? What if I rush to the surface in a panic and my lungs explode?”
