by K. K. Allen
“And you’re finding them here?” he asks, incredulously. “How is that possible after what your father did?”
“I’m not my father. As much as you want to protect me from what you thought I would become, that’s not me.”
Scott lets out a frustrated breath. “Your father was a sick man, but he didn’t start progressing until he was, what—in his mid-thirties?” He gestures to me with his hands. “You’re still young. Prevention is the key.”
My jaw drops, and every fear I’ve had since my parents informed me of my father’s disorder comes crashing down around me. It’s a flashflood of pain as I move from one emotion to the next. Shock, outrage, hurt… But in a way, I’ve always known Scott had this fear in the back of his mind. It was always on mine. But hearing him say it just cracks everything open.
“You think just because I left you—because I don’t want to be with you—I’m some violent schizophrenic?”
He mutters something else under his breath before trying again. “I’m just saying we should check it out. Go back to Rohls. He’ll run some tests. If anything is wrong, it’s better to catch it and treat it early on, right? Maybe if your dad had been treated sooner, he wouldn’t have…” He trails off.
“What?” I demand. My anxiety is one thing. But I never thought Scott questioned my sanity. “He wouldn’t have let me bleed out as he held me in his arms, rocking me like I was a lifeless child? He wouldn’t have been sent to a psychiatric facility where they couldn’t help him? Where he refused to see his own damn daughter? And he wouldn’t have killed himself because the voices in his head wouldn’t shut up?”
“Stop, Aurora. Jesus Christ.”
“No. You stop.” My heart feels like it’s about to explode from my chest. Maybe I do need to stop. Getting this worked up can’t be good for me. Scott is coming from a good place. I shake my head, not wanting this conversation to end like this. “Trust me, Scott. I know the statistics. I’ve lived in this nightmare for far too long. And I may have issues, but I also know how strong I am. Strong enough to walk away from a situation that made me unhappy without letting you make me feel crazy.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy.”
“That’s not what I’m hearing.”
“Aurora,” he pleads again, but I’m done having the same argument.
“It’s too late, Scott. I have things I need to take care of. You shouldn’t be here.”
His face reddens with anger as he shifts in his stance. “I don’t really have a choice in all of this, do I?”
I shake my head slowly, making sure there’s no mistaking my certainty. Although the recent news about how the cottage came into my possession dampened my outlook some, it hasn’t taken away from why I came. I’m still here for the right reasons. For me. To confront my past and move forward. To find myself again. To love myself again.
“It really is nice to see you.” I try to soften the blow, but I also mean my words. I want Scott to be able to move on, too. He deserves every ounce of happiness he thought he had with me and more.
He shakes his head, his expression telling me he doesn’t believe me. “Yeah. Okay, Aurora.” The crumpled look he gives me next presses heavy on my heart. He starts to walk toward his car, passing me without a word before he turns around, meeting my eyes again. Everything about him—his unsure stance, his sad eyes, and the tremble in his voice—crushes me.
I want to tell him I’m sorry, that he’ll find someone else, but that’s not what he wants to hear right now. I want to say goodbye and not have it mean forever, but I’m afraid it’s the only way for him to let me go. I’m not just losing my ex-boyfriend. I’m losing my best friend. A lifetime of friendship. Not many people are lucky enough to have someone like Scott, and here I am, giving him up.
But none of it gets said as Scott climbs into his SUV, and disappears into the woods.
I’m climbing down the ladder after my shower when I hear odd scratching and tapping noises coming from somewhere nearby. Swiveling my head around the space, I try to brace myself as a rush of adrenaline soars through me. It was just starting to sprinkle when I got in the shower, but the downpour is heavy now.
I turn, working my way in a slow circle as I listen closely for where the sounds are coming from. I’m facing the kitchen when I hear more scratching, followed by a whimper. I lean down to peer around the kitchen counter, spying the shadow behind the plastic entrance of the doggy door.
A breath leaves me in a relieved whoosh.
Lacey.
My stomach twists with emotions I’m too conflicted to make much sense of. I love that Lacey’s here, that she knows she has a place to come to in the rain. I would never turn her away. But selfishly, I hate the fact that the reasons she’s here are less about me than they are about Jaxon’s deceit. He’s been coming for the past year, at least. Maintaining the place, possibly even renting it out. Who knows how many others have been here in all my time away. Why didn’t he just tell me?
It’s still early in the evening, but the cloud cover makes it feel later than it is. With Jaxon still out of town until tomorrow, I’m glad Lacey knew she could come here. I go to unlock the doggy door for her, and she pushes her way in as if this is something we do every single day, her tail wagging happily behind her. I smile through fresh tears and find the dog food and water I purchased just in case she decided to visit me again. I set it out for her and pour myself a glass of wine.
I start a fire in the fireplace, bringing it to a perfect flame before curling up on the couch with my wine. My phone is dead, and I’ve made no attempt to replace it. What’s the point? I’d rather not be that accessible, and I have internet access through my computer. I’ll get a house phone for emergencies, and I have the café phone during the day if I need it.
Lacey pads over to the couch as if she can sense my anxiety, asking permission to join me with a nudge of her nose into my legs. I laugh and pat the empty spot next to me. She jumps up and wraps herself in a ball at my feet, her chin on my ankles and her beautiful blue eyes staring back at me.
“I’ve missed you too, baby girl.” I scratch her head, watching her eyes fight sleep until they fall closed and stay there.
Time passes, I’m not sure how much, but the downpour outside is steady as I finish my wine and set the glass on the side table, too tired to get another and too wrapped up in all the reasons why Jaxon could possibly choose to omit something so incredibly important. I don’t want to feel this way, like he’s poisoned everything we’ve started to rebuild, blistering my already bruised heart. I don’t want to question him after everything we’ve been through. But how else am I supposed to feel when the entire reason I’m back in Balsam Grove suddenly feels like a setup? I’m not entirely sure if I’m mad that he gifted the cottage to me, though. I guess it depends on his intentions.
A knock on the door startles me and wakes Lacey from her nap. I have every intention of ignoring it when I catch a glimpse of Jaxon’s eyes peering in through the glass. He’s drenched from head to foot, and he’s pointing to the door to let him in. Did he ride on his motorcycle in the rain? From Asheville? He’s not supposed to be back until tomorrow.
My heart pounds in time with his fist against the door, and then I hear his voice over the rain. “Aurora, it’s me. Let me in.”
No. After an odd look or two from Lacey, she leaps from the couch and walks lazily to the door, pressing her nose against it, then pawing at it. I take in a deep breath and follow her, debating my next move. I wasn’t expecting him tonight. I thought I’d have more time to come up with something to say. To tell him I know about the deed and that I’m angry as hell that he kept it from me.
“It’s not a good time right now.”
“What? Why? I’ve been trying to call you since last night. I’ve been worried.”
“I’m fine, Jaxon. And Lacey’s fine, too. She can stay if she wants. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay? It’s late.”
“Can you at lea
st open the door? I’ve missed you.” His voice cracks as he lowers his boom to something softer.
I let out a breath, slamming my lids together and holding onto my resolve a little bit longer. “No, Jax. Tomor—”
“Damn it.” His fists slap the door, jolting me upright. There are a few seconds of silence before he speaks again. “If something is wrong, can you just tell me what it is? We don’t need to play this game, Aurora. Not after everything we’ve been through, okay? Why are you avoiding me?”
With an angry breath, I pull the door open, letting it stop hard against the chain. “I have nothing to say to you right now.”
His eyes grow wide, and his face twists in confusion. “What? Why?”
“You lied to me. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The deed, Jaxon.” His face crumbles instantly. “My father didn’t give me the deed. He couldn’t have. The bank repossessed it and auctioned it off to the highest bidder. To you.” My eyes blur with tears, and I wipe them away angrily.
I watch his face morph from realization to guilt. I almost fall to my knees at the confirmation. “I can’t believe you. You’ve been lying to me this entire time.”
He shakes his head, throwing his hands against the door and then shoving off from it when he realizes he can’t get closer to me. “It’s not like that at all. Just let me in and I’ll explain.”
Hot tears fall from my eyes, and for a moment, I consider opening the door. Maybe I pause too long because he stands straighter and opens his mouth to speak.
“Fine. Keep me out, but I’m saying what I need to say before I leave. Christ, Aurora, is it so awful I wanted you to have your home back? Does that make me a bad guy? This cottage belongs to you. And I didn’t tell you it was me who gave it to you because I wanted you to decide for yourself what to do with it. All I did was leave it in your hands. I didn’t know you were going to come back here. Did I hope you would? Yes. Was I still fucking pissed at you for pushing me away years ago? Yes. Did my heart almost split open when I saw you that night in the storm? Yes, goddammit, yes. Because I didn’t think you were real. I had convinced myself I would never see you again, but there you were, standing in the window like a goddamn ghost. You came back. On your terms. For your own reasons. All I did was hand you the keys to what already belonged to you. If you need to be mad at me, fine. You know where to find me if you want to talk.”
He pushes off from the door again, his face flushed with passion.
It’s so easy to trust him. To forgive him. I wish it could have been that easy years ago. Maybe he should have told me about the deed, but he’s right. It doesn’t matter how I got here. He didn’t force me to come.
“Wait,” I call. My hands move quickly to unlock the chain and open the door, leaving just enough room for him to walk in. He doesn’t look at me as he slams the door behind him and kicks off his shoes, petting Lacey as she shoves her nose between his wet, jean-clad legs. I take his rain jacket from him and eye his black button-down shirt.
“You’re back early.”
He nods, jaw hard, like he knows I’ve forgiven him, but he’s still pissed at me. “I tried calling you yesterday and today, and when Claire said you seemed upset and went home early today, I got worried. I thought maybe something happened.” He swallows, and my heart drops to my feet.
A new reality dawns on me. “You thought I left?”
His stares at me, and his throat moves as he swallows. Then he looks away as if he’s ashamed of his thoughts. “It crossed my mind.”
I guess there was a part of me that considered it, so I can’t fault him completely, but is this going to be the conclusion he jumps to every time he can’t get ahold of me?
“I’m sorry for thinking the worst,” I say quietly. “I just—I didn’t understand why you would keep that from me. But that’s not why my phone is off. I dropped it in the hot tub last night. It’s done for.” I cringe with embarrassment. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
“You are?” He looks doubtful.
“Yes, Jax. You should have told me about the deed, especially when I brought it up the other day, but I understand your reasons for gifting it to me.” I swallow. “Thank you. It’s actually pretty sweet of you.” I catch a hint of his smile break through that gorgeous face of his.
My heart twists in my chest. It feels so natural to want to wrap my arms around him in a hug, but he’s soaking wet. I laugh.
“Maybe you should take your clothes off.” He raises his eyebrows in amusement, and my cheeks flush at my words. “I can throw them in the dryer,” I add quickly, and then I point to the fire. “I have a fire going, so you’ll be warm enough. And I just opened a bottle of wine. If you’re hungry, we’ll have to get creative, though. I don’t really have anything—”
“Not hungry, but the rest sounds good,” he answers gruffly, his eyes drinking in my body. I’m dressed in thin, dark gray sweats and an oversized white muscle shirt. Nothing sexy at all, but the way Jaxon’s looking at me now makes me feel beautiful.
I clear my throat as he strips and, with a smug grin, hands his clothes over to me in a crumpled-up ball. I avert my gaze and take the two steps to the open door of the laundry room to toss his clothes into the dryer. When I walk back out to the living room, I find Jaxon moving some logs in the fire. Two fresh glasses of wine sit on the coffee table behind him.
He turns and greets me with a tired smile. I fight to keep my eyes from dropping down to take in more of his sculpted body and red boxer briefs. Ugh. Jaxon always did get my heart revved up when he wore red. It works well with his tanned skin, turbulent eyes, and wild hair. But now, standing in my cottage, which suddenly feels too small, he looks…dangerous. And not in a bad way.
We meet each other in front of the couch, and I wrap my arms around his waist. “I’m sorry,” I say softly as I peer up at him. “It’s just—when I’m around you I turn into, like, this teenage girl again. I’m just a bundle of nerves I have no clue what to do with.”
He shakes his head, chuckling at my confession. “I should have told you when I saw you, or at least when you brought it up the other day. But you were adamant that the deed was some sort of sign. I didn’t want you knowing that I gave it to you to change any of that, because it changes nothing, Aurora. I don’t regret doing it. You needed to make the decision to come back on your own. I’m sorry you didn’t find out the truth from me, though.”
“So, we’re even?”
He smiles. “I’d say we can call a truce.”
I remove my hand from around his waist and offer it to him with a laugh. “Good. Truce, then.”
He shakes his head, then tugs my arm forward and wraps it back around his waist with a grin. “I think we’ve moved past handshakes, don’t you think?”
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before he kisses me, slow and sweet. And just like that, here in his arms, I’m transported back to the second time we ever kissed.
It was two long years after we first kissed on the rock at Hollow Falls. I was seventeen. We had met in the same spot on the bridge every single day for ten days, just the two of us. Catching up. Apologizing for how he’d pushed me away two years before because he was afraid of his own feelings for a girl too young for him to pursue. Playing with Lacey. And then one day, when I was laughing at something he said, he gave me a look that hit me deep in the chest. He leaned in until I could feel my heart crashing inside me. And then his lips touched mine.
I was buzzing. All I could feel was the spray of water coming off the rocks and a rush of adrenaline like I was leaping into the falls. I knew, without a doubt, he would be there to greet me after the fall. He still is.
I’m left winded when our kiss ends, and my cheek falls to his chest.
“You’ve changed so much,” I say, my palms moving up and down against his back. I look up into his eyes and swallow, wondering if I’ll ever get used to seeing Jaxon
with a beard. I run my fingers over it, and something warms in my belly. Yes, I think I’ll get used to it just fine. “As soon as I saw you on my back porch, I knew it was you. It was your eyes.” My lips turn up shyly. “Other than that, nothing about you was the same.”
“I thought I was dreaming,” Jaxon confesses in return, his forehead dropping to mine as he pulls me tighter, closer. “I’d wished for you to come home for so long, Aurora. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. But then I saw you in the café staring at our painting.”
I smile, my heart skipping like rocks across a creek. “You always did call them ours. Those are yours, Jax. Your hard work.”
He shakes his head. “Anything good I ever created was inspired by you.”
“That’s not true.” I wish he wouldn’t give me so much credit. Jaxon was painting masterpieces before anyone had ever seen his work, but he always insisted that I was the inspiration for everything he was proud of.
“It is true. I would have never had the courage to show my work to anyone if it wasn’t for you. Every piece in Creek Café was inspired by you. I can’t imagine creating anything great that you’re not a part of in some way. Can’t you see it when you look at them?”
I look at him with questioning eyes.
He breathes out and tries again. “You’re the shadow in the falls, and you’re the one who tipped over the canoe. It was your shoe that slipped off at the top of the mountain. And you were the one that picked that flower that fell in the creek. I’ve only ever been truly inspired to paint what you’ve already brought to life. I just tried to hold on to those memories the best way I knew how.” A teasing smile flashes across his face. “It’s a good thing you came back when you did. I was beginning to run out of memories.”
The way he’s looking at me now with such honesty fills my chest to the brim. They say before death, life flashes before your eyes. But what about before life begins again? Because in this moment, here with Jaxon, with our pasts wide open between us, it all comes back to me in a rush. The good parts of it, anyway. The first time we met, our adventures together, the way he looked at me when he knew he shouldn’t. The first time he held my hand. Our first kiss. In a tortured youth filled with far more responsibilities than two kids should ever have, we found each other and fell into a deep, irreplaceable kind of love.
