by Beth Ciotta
She was no longer worried.
She was floating and hopeful and incredibly happy.
She stepped into the hall intending to follow in Val’s footsteps, but someone clasped her hand and whisked her in the opposite direction. A scream lodged in her throat as she came face to face with…Carson.
Not Pratt. Not some goon.
Relief whooshed through her being, followed by a heady dose of anger. “For the love of God, what are you doing here?”
“I came to talk sense into you.”
Her brain glitched as he steered her into a secluded courtyard. Carson in Chicago. “What do you mean talk sense into me?”
“Shacked up in a hotel with man you barely know? A man accused of police brutality? People know and people are talking.”
“What people? What…” Bella jerked free of Carson’s hold, burning with indignation. “I can’t believe this. You flew to Chicago, tracked me down at this party to talk sense into me?”
“You’re not yourself. Take that dress and those shoes. They’re not you. They’re…desperate. A thinly veiled attempt to play the bad girl. I get it, honey. You’re torn up about your mom. Feel sorry for your dad. You’re worried about your job. Your future. Savage came along and provided you with a chance to act out, to be someone else. Because your life was too painful and I was too ordinary. You’re all about escapism. Always have been.”
“And you’re all about winning.”
Fists clenched at her side, lungs burning, Bella stared down the man who’d stepped in to save her world and instead sought to conquer and rule. Because she believed the best in Carson, even when he acted like a jerk, she’d never wanted to crush his feelings. She could see now that she’d been naïve to think they could be friends. Worse, she’d been a coward not to fully own up to her mistakes. She’d spent a lifetime running from ugly. If she’d learned anything from Savage, it was the futility of dodging demons.
Squaring her shoulders, Bella stood firm. “I need you to listen to me, Carson. And I need you to hear what I say. You’re right. Mom’s death hit me hard and compromised my senses, my judgment. Otherwise, I never would have started seeing you to begin with. God knows I never would have slept with you.”
“Bella—”
“I ignored my heart, thinking love would come with patience. I tried to force my feelings for you because, at the time, you soothed my aching soul. You filled a void. You distracted dark thoughts. I used you. You dangled a beautiful future in front of my eyes and I so badly wanted everything you offered. Marriage, children, family, stability. You treated me like a princess, but then somehow, somewhere along the way, I fell off my pedestal. You no longer viewed me as perfect. You criticized my choices.”
“I voiced concern.”
“You redirected the focus of my work.”
“I suggested a more logical, profitable angle.”
“You want a wife who’ll look good on your arm and by your side in those self-made car commercials. You want a woman who’ll take an active part in your auto family. There’s nothing wrong with that except it’s not what I want.”
Hurt flared in his defiant gaze.
Bella pressed on but softened her tone. “I’m not what you want either, Carson. You don’t love me. You love the idea of me. An attractive, outgoing, homegrown girl. A trophy wife your dad would approve of. A woman the town would adore. A woman you saved from miserable circumstances—which would make you even more special in their eyes.”
“Jesus.” Hands on hips, Carson dropped his head, blew out a breath.
“I don’t care if people are gossiping about me, Carson. But you do. Because in your eyes, you lost the prize to another man. You’re not here to protect my reputation. You’re here to salvage your ego.”
Carson looked at her then and she knew she’d cut him deep. Even so, she swore she saw honest affection swirling in his raw gaze. “Okay. You had your say. I listened. Now you listen to me. I don’t think of you as a prize, Bella. But I do think you’re special. You can’t blame me for fighting for special.”
Bella swallowed hard, her heart pounding as he moved toe-to-toe.
“And you can’t blame me for worrying. Everything else aside, Savage has a volatile history.” Gaze pained, he placed his hands on the wall, caging her in as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Come home with me. I’ll back off, call it quits, but please move out of his house. You say you acted rashly with me but you’re doing the same thing with him. Can’t you see it?”
Carson’s words cut as well, because, yes, she did see a pattern. Difference was, this time she hadn’t settled. “I appreciate your concern, Carson. I mean that. Truly. But I’m not leaving Joe.”
After a tense moment, Carson’s shoulders sagged with resignation even as he slapped the wall in frustration.
A door banged open and suddenly Carson was ripped from her personal space. Bella grappled for words as Savage backed Carson into a corner.
“Go on. Take a swing, Savage. Nothing would make me happier.”
“Don’t taunt him, pretty boy,” Val warned as she moved in. She looked nearly as pissed as Savage. “Who are you? Why are you here? And why the hell were you threatening Bella?”
“This is personal, Val,” Savage said without turning.
“Damn right,” she shot back. “This asshole crashed my party and harassed one of my guests. If Pratt sent you—”
“No connection,” Savage said, fists clenched, chest heaving. He’d yet to take his eyes off of Carson and if looks could kill…
Heart wedged in her throat, Bella placed a calming hand on Savage’s arm. “Carson didn’t threaten or harass me.”
“He was in your face.”
“I apologize for that,” Carson said directly to Bella.
“Apology accepted.” She believed him. He’d been angry and frustrated, but he’d never hurt her. Even now he looked torn thirty different ways.
Val looked anxious to diffuse the situation. “Allow me to show you out…Carson.”
Savage blocked his way. “Why are you here?”
Carson sighed. “Because, unlike Bella, I don’t trust you. If she wasn’t standing here, I’d wager you’d be mopping up the floor with me. You’ve got a temper. And a history. What you do affects her. Tell me I shouldn’t be worried.”
Savage worked his jaw. “Go home, Anderson.”
“Yeah. That’s pretty much what, Bella said.”
“Call you a cab?” Val asked.
“No. Thanks.” He eyed Bella. “Take care. And goodbye.”
Bella stomach churned with sadness and relief. She hated that things had turned ugly, but Carson had finally seen the light. They were over and she was with Savage. She hoped he’d find happiness with someone else. He’d shown himself to be the good guy she’d always believed him to be. Although she doubted Savage would agree.
“Well, that was fun,” Val said as Carson blew out the side door. “Not.” She eyeballed Savage. “Restraint. Impressive.”
Bella had thought the same thing. She slipped into his arms, pressed her cheek to his chest. His heart pounded as though still in the heat of a fight. She hugged him. Hard.
Val cleared her throat. “I better get back to the party.”
“I’m going to take Bella home,” Savage said. “I’ll be back in a day or so to tie up loose ends.”
Val blew out of breath as if reading between the lines and not agreeing. “Take care, honey,” she said to Bella, then left.
Bella glanced up. “What do you mean you’re taking me home?”
“Where’d you fly out of?”
“Crawford with a connecting flight out of Denver. Wait. When?”
“First flight out.”
“But—”
“I’ll see you safely to Crawford. I’ll call ahead, have McClure meet you there and then I’m flying directly back to O’Hare. I have unfinished business here.”
“Pratt?”
“Not in the way you think.”
&n
bsp; Alarmed by his distant tone, she clasped the lapels of his jacket. “But you’re coming back to Nowhere, right?”
“Eventually.”
Something was off. “Don’t push me away, Joe.”
He smoothed her hair from her face. “Anderson’s right. About my temper.”
“But you just proved you could control it.”
“Only because you were here. He was right about that, too.”
“But—”
“It’s what I wanted to do, what I’m capable of that worries me, Bella. If he’d been someone else. A mugger, a rapist, a thug—”
“But he wasn’t.”
“I’ve got to get a handle on this, babe.”
She tried to summon one of her mom’s proverbs. She couldn’t. Heart heavy with a fractured dream, Bella dropped her forehead to his chest. “Why are you doing this?”
He pulled her back into his arms, a rib-crushing hug, that brought tears to her eyes. “Because I love you.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Once upon a Thursday…
Two months later
Bella trotted up the steps and blew into Café Caboose ten minutes behind the rest of the Inseparables. “Sorry I’m late,” she said as she slid into the booth next to Angel. “I didn’t realize the Jeep was so low on gas. I stopped to fill up at Sinclair’s and Kenny noticed the air in my tires was low so…”
“You sure Kenny wasn’t looking for an excuse to spend extra time with you?” Emma asked with a brow waggle. “He’s newly single, you know.”
Bella rolled her eyes.
“You should ask Tank to inspect that gas guzzler,” Georgie said. “It’s not like you drive anywhere except to and from work and it seems like you need gas every two days.”
“You’re exaggerating,” Bella said.
“Not much,” Angel said.
Bella signaled the waitress on duty. “Laura, could I get a mocha latte, please? Thanks.”
She didn’t want to take her car to Tank’s. She knew from Zeke and Jimbo that Savage dropped in there quite a bit. He’d been back in Nowhere for six weeks now and she’d only spent a few minutes with him. Just long enough for him to update her on Pratt’s death, Sasha’s relocation, and the fact that he thought it best if they took a step back while he got his “shit together”. She’d cried herself to sleep for a week and then after a secret heart-to-heart with the ever sage and astute Sinjun, Bella had bucked up and attended to her own…stuff.
She could have stayed with her dad. He’d welcomed her back from Chicago with a long hug and tender words—as if he commiserated with her loss. Only Savage wasn’t gone for good, only for a while. She didn’t want to wallow and something told her if she holed up under her dad’s roof, they’d fall back into old dependent ways. Archie Mooney was on the upswing and Bella had no intention of dragging him down.
She’d learned that the Cartwright’s had a small place to rent on their lavender farm. A renovated three room apartment above their country store. She didn’t need much room but she did need her own space. A place to reflect and to regroup.
Carson had touched on something that Bella couldn’t refute. Things had moved very fast with Savage and although she didn’t think she was using him as a way to escape her troubles, she realized now that she had shifted all her energy to perpetuating a romantic dream instead of nurturing a solid relationship. The key was to find balance and she hoped to find it above Cartwright’s Country Store amid the lovely and calming scent of lavender.
The apartment was affordable, so she snatched it up on a month-by month basis. It was close to her dad and Angel and, okay, Savage, although she tried not to dwell on the latter.
Instead, she focused on rewriting her children’s fairy tales, infusing them with deeper emotions and experiences based on her own mini-adventure in Chicago and a couple of more recent weekend excursions. Hiking in the Black Hills with the girls. Attending a Huskers game with her dad and uncle and Zeke. She’d devoted a huge chunk of time to her romantic superhero novel, Pendragonites. She was inspired to the point of obsessed and had been eager to finish it as soon as possible. She’d also put in extra time at the library, hoping to implement some of those new kids programs although that wasn’t looking so good.
In short, she kept as busy as possible and tried not to think about how much she missed Savage. Sinjun had mentioned the power of patience and Bella remembered that as being a quality highly suggested by Impossible Dream.
We provide the magic. You provide the derring-do. True passion and faith required. Patience recommended.
It seemed like she’d applied for that dream a lifetime ago. But she hadn’t given up. She still believed love conquered all, even if it took time. She’d catch herself glancing at the door—at the library, at Café Caboose—expecting Savage to waltz in and sweep her off her feet. After eight weeks, she was beginning to feel a little stupid, but some part of her clung to the magic. Some part of her still believed.
Out of the blue, something Savage once said floated to the forefront of her mind.
“Blind optimism is dangerous, Bella.”
Frowning, she rubbed an ache in her chest.
“One mocha latte,” Laura said, serving up Bella’s java then whisking off to another booth.
“Now that we’re all here,” Chrissy said. “I have presents.”
“I love presents,” Bella said, glad for the change of subject and marveling, yet again, at her cousin’s ongoing transformation. It wasn’t just her hair, which she’d allowed Angel to cut even a little shorter and wilder on her first maintenance visit, it was her attitude. Over the last two months she’d made a conscious effort to be less cranky and judgmental. She was still opinionated and sometimes snarky, but come to think of it, she’d always been like that. Mostly though, she seemed happier.
They all attributed that to her new passion—Gypsy Folk Yarns—a one-woman cyber business owned and operated by Chrissy herself. She knitted unique scarves, shawls, cowls, hats, gloves, mittens, sweaters…and sold them to a growing list of loyal online customers. There seemed no end to her imagination and motivation. Gypsy Folk Yarns was not only a creative outlet, but a money maker.
“I love presents, too,” Emma said while shoving aside her cappuccino.
Georgie chugged her espresso. “I could use a pick me up.”
“What did you make us this time?” Bella asked.
Chrissy handed them each a cute little gift bag. “See for yourself.”
Angel revealed hers first. “Fingerless gloves. How cool!”
“And functional,” Chrissy added as each Inseparable admired her customized gloves, each knitted with funky, fun yarns and meaningful colors. “The weather’s starting to turn,” she said. “I thought these would be a nifty segue into fall. Angel, your hands will be warm but your fingers free enough to utilize a pair of scissors. Bella, you can type like a fiend and still be cozy. Ideal for camera work, right, Emma? And Georgie—”
“They’re perfect,” Georgie said, with an awkward smile. “Thank you.”
Georgie had parted ways with and yet another job, two days before. She couldn’t seem to catch a break, but she hadn’t said much about this last debacle.
“They really are fabulous, Chrissy,” Bella said with enough enthusiasm for both her and Georgie.
Angel nudged Chrissy. “You know what else they’d be perfect for? Playing your violin.”
Bella cringed.
Chrissy frowned. “Did you have to go there?”
“It’s just that we’re inching our way toward the holiday season and I’m on the charity committee—”
“I’ll knit anything you need, bake dozens of cookies, but I am not participating in the Christmas Concert.”
“Just thought I’d ask.”
“Request noted and rejected,” Chrissy said.
Georgie sighed. “So did you see the film footage yet for that documentary, Emma?”
“No.” She grunted. “Some sort of funding snafu.
Zeke said it’s just a glitch and that the film is still a go. I’ll believe it when I see it. Literally.”
“Five Choo-Coo Cheeseburgers with extra fries.” Laura served up the chargrilled delights with an extra big smile.
“What are you so happy about?” Emma asked.
“Just got a call. Well, actually an invitation. I have a date this weekend,” she said, pulling a fresh bottle of ketchup from her apron pocket and setting it on the crowded table.
“With who?” Georgie asked.
“Oh. Uh. I’d rather not say. It might be, um, awkward.”
“Fess up, Laura,” Emma urged. “We’re all adults. Usually.”
“Oh, all right. It’s Carson.”
Well, what do you know? Bella smiled. “That’s great, Laura.”
“Really? I mean, Carson did assure me you two are history.”
“Ancient history.” Ever since Chicago, Carson had kept his distance and for that she was grateful. She was less pleased to learn he’d taken to working crazy long hours and rarely socialized. The fact that he’d asked Laura for a date meant he was ready to move on with his life. When Bella thought about it, they’d probably hit it off very well.
There’s someone for everyone.
Bella glanced toward the door.
Cue the romantic music.
Or not.
She focused back on her fries.
“Okay, then,” Laura said. “Great. Oh, and Georgie sorry to hear you got fired again.”
“I wasn’t fired,” Georgie said. “I was replaced. By the owner’s niece who needed a job.”
“Whatever. If I hear of anything, I’ll let you know. Too bad Joe razed Funland. If only he’d reopened it, you could have hawked cotton candy or something.”
“Something is more what I have in mind,” Georgie mumbled as Laura practically skipped away.
