by K. K. Allen
“Why?” I asked it boldly, wanting the no-bullshit answer. The one I doubted Jaxon would give.
He remained silent.
“I leave in a week.” The hurt in my tone reeked of desperation, I knew it. I looked at him, trying to read his expression in the dark, but his profile was all I got. “I don’t want the summer to end. I don’t want to leave.”
His head dropped as a sadness filled the air.
That’s when I knew it wasn’t just me. Jaxon would miss me too. Maybe he’d been keeping me away because he knew I was going to leave anyway. Everything ached—my heart, my soul. Everything felt so clear, yet so wrong at the same time.
I swallowed my nerves before reaching for his hand, just the tips of his fingers to mine. He allowed it—the touch innocent—but the look he gave me next wasn’t. He stared at me in a way that pinned my heart to the walls of my chest. His fingers wove through mine, fully, pure with intention, and they squeezed.
And then he leaned in, eyes darting to my mouth as I wet my lips in anticipation. I’d waited eight summers for this moment. For that kiss that would change everything. For my feelings to be returned. It didn’t matter that there was a river filled with Jaxon’s closest friends below us. It didn’t matter that The Black Eyed Peas’ “I Gotta Feeling” wasn’t the most romantic soundtrack to our first kiss. All that mattered was that his lips touched mine, my eyes fell shut, and I let Jaxon take my very first first.
My insides exploded with fireworks, leaving me light-headed and quivering with nerves as I leaned in for more. I was aching for him and wanting him to know. “Jax,” I murmured against his lips.
I wish I had known that my voice was all it would take to break the spell. I would have happily become mute. Suddenly, he was ripping his mouth from mine and pulling his hand away like he’d been burned. “Shit. What the hell are we doing?” he hissed. “We can’t, Aurora. Fuck. You’re too young.”
My eyes stung with unshed tears. “Who cares?”
“I care!” His angry whisper zipped across the space between us, stinging me with his poison. He growled and shook his head. Then he ripped off his shirt and stood. “Go home, Aurora.” He leapt, arms first, body arched, fingertips piercing the water first.
That splash was like a sledgehammer to my gut. And that wasn’t even the worst part. When he surfaced, he swam straight for the pretty girl with the perfectly bronzed skin whose name I’d learned was Presley. Time slowed as my heart hardened, preparing to be shattered as he sidled up to her. She giggled, oblivious to the girl in the shadows who he’d just kissed, and wrapped her arms around his neck as his gaze shot up at me, signaling his final farewell.
This time I listened. This time I left.
I arrived back at the cottage in tears, hiccupping each breath as it came. I slid through my window at close to two in the morning, just as my mom burst through the door, her eyes ablaze with anger.
“I don’t even want to know where you’ve been, young lady. It doesn’t matter. Pack your things. We’re leaving first thing in the morning.”
She retreated with a slam of my door.
It wasn’t until the next morning that I learned the reason for her outburst and for our early departure. My parents sat me down to announce their separation and that my father would be staying in Balsam Grove, alone, while I returned to Durham with my mother.
Those two days should have been the worst days of my life. Unfortunately, the worst was yet to come.
Breathing becomes a foreign concept as I try my best to ground myself back into reality. I watch the man tense as his hard eyes meet mine and my ears become the subwoofer to the pounding in my chest. Although there’s no lightning to accompany his gaze this time, shock zaps through me.
Jaxon Mills.
My savior. My destroyer.
He’s here.
The coffee shop has gone silent, save for the sound of my sharp intake of air, the rustle of my shorts as I run my palms against them, and the AC unit on full blast. I swallow to reign in my hammering heart, because although I regularly punch fear in the face, this feels like something else.
There’s a casualness in his stance as he waits, assessing me as if he can’t believe I’m really here. I’m assessing him right back, and like an addict, I can’t get enough.
The natural curls of his thick, reddish-brown hair hide behind a slouchy, navy knit beanie, and a full beard masks his strong jaw, calling attention to the overcast sky of his eyes. My heart grows full knowing that he’s kept his hair long, the way I always loved. I can’t believe he’s here.
I had almost convinced myself that last night was a dream and that Jaxon wasn’t really still in Balsam Grove. I even lied to myself, told myself I didn’t want him to be here. I know now there’s nothing I wanted more.
The treble in my heart quickens.
His athletic build is thicker than I remember, harder, cut with age and his outdoorsy nature. The strong lines of his thick arms are visible under the short sleeves of his solid red shirt. Tattered jeans splotched with paint cover his legs and lead to the brown flip flops on his feet.
He’s different than I remember in more ways than one, but the feelings swarming in my chest are all the same. I’m gutted at the sight of him, yet magnetized by his presence. My senses awaken at the nearness of it all.
Not knowing what to do next, I do what comes naturally when it comes to confrontation. I step directly into it, closing the gap between us as my hands move to my hips, my fingers curling into fists. I tilt my head to let out a breath.
“I thought that was you creeping around my place last night.”
His jaw hardens, eyes shining with anger. “Nice to see you, too, Aurora.”
Everything about his rough voice fills me with the same shame I felt walking away from him after my father’s trial. He must hate me. But the way he curls his tongue on the first “r” of my name, transports me right back to our last day together. Back to the courtroom. Back to his pleading, desperate eyes I failed to get lost in. If I had, there is no way in hell I would have walked out that door.
Or maybe I would have walked out that door no matter what. I knew there was nothing I could do to repair the damage and embarrassment that riddled my soul. That day in court, I officially became the daughter of an attempted murderer. Unofficially, I was the daughter of a serial murderer who had taken the lives of six innocent people.
But my father wasn’t the only guilty party. Jaxon should have never confessed my secrets. He had no right. And because of that, two hearts broke that day.
Fast forward to today, and nothing has changed. The debris from the destruction so many years ago still exists. We’re ruined.
Still holding my gaze, Jaxon finally breaks the silence. “Let’s get one thing straight. I wasn’t creeping around your place last night.”
I let out a laugh, nerves rattling my chest. “So you just happened to be traipsing around my cottage on my first night here? C’mon, Jaxon.” My attempt at playful comes off all wrong, more accusing, and I instantly regret it.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he growls, his face darkening in color. “I had no idea you were back.” After a few heart-pounding beats, he shakes his head and looks away.
“So that was you last night. I thought maybe I’d dreamed it.” His eyes flicker to mine, spreading heat up my neck and into my cheeks. “What were you doing walking around in a storm?” I ask, quickly trying to cover the fact that I do still dream about Jaxon, even if that’s not how I meant it. “A tree could have taken you out.”
He lets out a sarcastic breath. “I can manage the woods just fine. But I had no choice last night. My dog gets spooked during the storms, and sometimes she runs off.”
Does he still live with his parents? The air grows cold. The town’s opinion doesn’t worry me so much, but I was never good enough for Jake and Diana’s son.
“And you think your dog found my cottage last night? Why?”
He shrugs, his thick lips pursing in annoyance, bringing my attention to his perfect mouth. There was a time I knew every inch of Jaxon well. There was a time when those lips belonged to me.
“Your cottage has been empty for a long time. She slips through the doggy door and sleeps there sometimes, especially when there’s a storm.”
“What? What doggy door?”
My heart is beating fast. How has everything changed yet stayed exactly the same? He doesn’t respond, but in the seconds that follow, realization dawns on me way too fast.
How could I have forgotten?
A few weeks after I’d moved in with my father I hadn’t even had time to adjust to the fact that the cottage was now my permanent home. After my mom died, my world blackened. I didn’t speak. I barely moved. I certainly didn’t eat. Voices penetrated the sound barrier to my brain like waves of white noise.
Aunt Cyndi tried to keep me with her in Durham, pleading with Child Protective Services to allow me to spend the final year of high school with my friends where I’d lived my entire life. She tried to tell them that my father wasn’t well, but just because a person has a mental disorder doesn’t make them an unfit parent. There needs to be proof that they’re dangerous or neglectful. My father had never harmed a single hair on my head, and his distance over the last two years had everything to do with my mother keeping me away from him.
So I moved to Balsam Grove, locked myself in my room, and made no plans to come out. But that day, instead of ignoring the sound of the doorbell, I pushed myself to stand…to walk to the door…and to open it.
My father stood there, a smile plastered on his face as he stared down at a white and black puppy. She had sharp, foxlike ears, stubby legs, and ice blue eyes, and she was playing with an old pair of shoelaces, pawing them into her mouth. I looked back up.
He was smiling. That was the first thing I thought. Before thinking about the puppy he held close to his chest—before remembering that I had spent the last three weeks dwelling in unspeakable grief—I thought about my father’s smile and how I hadn’t seen it in years. A pang hit my chest. I missed his smile, but I missed him more.
He handed her to me. A Siberian Husky, he told me. Lacey, I named her as we played tug of war with the shoelace. And suddenly, my world wasn’t so dark. I had my dad back. I had a new friend in the form of a little yelping puppy. I had distractions.
Unfortunately, I’d already learned that distractions come and go, but the darkness always remains. It was up to me to keep the light that still burned inside me from flickering out.
“Oh my God. Lacey.”
Swallowing, I force myself to breathe against my quickening heartbeat. “How is she?” Heat and tension waft between us.
“She’s happy. Just has a thing about storms, that’s all.”
And now I get it. Totally. Completely. My chest swells with sadness, and a sting pricks the backs of my eyes. How could I have forgotten about my Lacey? The last time I saw her there was a storm, just like the one we had last night. She didn’t seem afraid of it then, though maybe I was too busy being angry with Jaxon that night to notice much else.
Panic works its way through me. “Did you find her last night?” I ask, praying for an answer that will stop an attack in its tracks.
“Yeah.” He says it like it’s no big deal. “It happens all the time. If she doesn’t go through the doggy door in your kitchen, she hides under the back porch. That’s where I would have checked, but then I saw you in your window, and, well…she came home this morning.”
My chest ripples with heat, realizing he wasn’t there for me at all. What did I expect? Jaxon and I haven’t spoken in years. And besides, how could he have possibly known I was back?
“Just do me a favor and knock next time.” My annoyance seems to fuel his arrogance, and a glare lights up his face.
“Sure thing,” he spits back, angrily. “But I did knock. Pounded pretty hard, actually. Saw a car in the driveway and figured someone was there. I didn’t want to scare whoever it was since it was past midnight and all. And by the way”—my laser beam of a glare hits him right between the eyes—“you should really put that thing under the carport. You’re lucky a tree didn’t take out a window.”
When his white smile flashes wide, I have the distinct urge to stomp on his toe. It’s a ridiculous thought. Childish, even. But I can’t help but think how good it would feel to wipe that condescending look right off his face.
Instead I step up to him, toe-to-toe. It all feels so forbidden, just like my feelings for him when I was too young to have them. “Look. I’ll tell you the same thing I told Tanner to give you some peace of mind. I’m not here to cause trouble.” I take a deep breath, gathering my cool before opening my mouth again. “I’ll be in and out of town before you know it.”
“That’s probably for the best,” he says, not even a smidge of hesitation.
Who knew the pieces of my heart were still whole enough to break again? But they do. They crumble and fall to my feet at his words.
His expression softens. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
I let out a laugh. “Yes, you did.”
My eyes flicker away, attempting to hide the hurt I still feel when he looks at me with those blustery eyes, the ones made from marble and magic and a little bit of mystery. I wish I could say they do nothing to me. I wish I could say that staring back at this gorgeous man confirms that the numbness I’ve felt for years is permanent. But I can’t. I’m captivated by everything he is, even though he’s a stranger to me now.
The sound of the door alarm breaks our staredown. After a rocky step backwards, I look toward the entrance to see Tanner approaching the counter with a nod in my direction. “Miss June, I see you’ve discovered the best coffee in Balsam Grove.” He nods at Jaxon. “Morning, Mills.”
“Deputy,” Jaxon greets in return, never taking his eyes from me. He quirks his lip. “Don’t you mean the only coffee in Balsam Grove?”
Tanner flips around when he gets to the counter, leaning back and folding his arms. “I guess that’s true, now, isn’t it?” His eyes move between us for a few beats before frowning at us both. “Well, this is awkward.”
My jaw tightens. Did he follow me in here just to harass me? Or is this his normal morning stop?
“Not sure why you care.” Jaxon cocks a brow. “Nothing better to do today, Deputy?”
Tanner’s lip tilts up as his eyes narrow in on Jaxon. “Sure as hell nothing better than this, Mills. I’m claiming my front row seat to watch this shit show from start to finish. Is this what they call a love triangle? Or maybe I’ll get lucky and find myself with a front row seat to some full-on ménage a trois action.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Jaxon growls.
My cheeks flame with embarrassment, and Tanner tosses his head back with a laugh. “Balsam Grove’s tragic love story continues, with a twist. What does your fiancé think of you getting reacquainted with your ex, Aurora? That why you kept him home today?”
Everything freezes, and all I can hear is the pounding in my chest.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Claire’s voice cuts through the silence as she rushes in from the back door. “I’m so sorry. You have to forgive my—” She rounds a pillar and almost jumps when she sees the three of us, stopping in her tracks. “Oh my. Aurora, it looks like you’ve made some friends.”
My skin tingles at the word friends. I look at Jaxon, whose eyes have hardened in Tanner’s direction. A wave of unease fills the air.
“Why do I feel like I interrupted something?” she asks with nervous humor, glancing between the three of us. No one answers as she places her apron around her neck and starts to fix a couple coffees.
Feeling the flush of my cheeks heat beyond reason, I slide past Jaxon, trying to ignore the gale of his eyes as I grab my to-go coffee and toss my pastry into the thin paper bag Claire left for me.
“I better get going,”
I say to no one in particular. “Thanks again, Claire. It was nice to meet you.” After a quick nod to Tanner and a fleeting glance at Jaxon, I make fast work toward the exit.
As the door shuts behind me, I hear Jaxon’s faint voice speak to Claire. “Wait a second. Was that the last chocolate croissant?”
“Can one of you please tell me why my customer just walked out of here like she saw a ghost?”
I don’t even have time to process what just happened before Claire starts in on us. She stands behind the counter wearing an incredulous expression, her head cocked to the side and a hand pressed to her hip.
I swallow as my eyes flit back to the door just as Aurora’s petite frame slips out of view. My heart lurches in my chest, toward her, and I’m not opposed to chasing after it.
Aurora June. With her round-shaped face and prominent, deep-set blue, she’s still a vision of innocence and beauty, with a defiant edge. I’ve never met a more curious girl in my life. I always did feel like she could see right through me, too. Just like last night as she stared back at me through the window. And today, the moment our eyes locked.
“That’s all your boy here,” Tanner says, tipping his coffee at me with accusing eyes. “Seems nothing has changed. Am I right?” He raises his brows at me in a challenge. I clench my fists and roll my eyes. Now is not the time for Tanner to start shit with me.
He must notice my agitation because he lets out a knowing chuckle and shakes his head. “I need to run back to the station, doll. Let me know if you need anything while Danny’s covering for Pops.”
Tanner tips his hat at Claire and then leaves—without paying, as usual. By now, she’s used to it, so she doesn’t even bat an eye. The dick could at least leave a tip.
Claire’s husband and my best friend, Danny Andrews, has been working round the clock for three days while Sheriff Brooks helps a rescue team up north search for a helicopter that crashed somewhere in the woods. When Danny got the call from Sheriff Brooks to cover him, he didn’t hesitate one bit. I imagine Tanner’s pretty peeved about that, since they’re both in the running for sheriff once Brooks hangs his belt.
