Certainly not yet another piece of her heart snapping off from the rest.
Thank goodness, Ethan was working tonight. Chase really didn’t want to have this conversation with an audience, especially not someone in his family. They’d have to cross the family bridge at some point, but for now, he just wanted to talk to Stella. Tell her the revelation he had at the fire station the other night with Darren.
Just wanted to sit with her on Ethan’s back patio swing and watch the stars and tell her that he had begun to feel a little closer to God than he’d had in a while. As if maybe something in his life was lining up, for the first time in a long time.
Her timid knock on the front door rang through his heart like a gunshot. He flung open the door a little harder than he intended.
“Hey, there.” She looked beautiful as always, though a little tired, weary around the edges. “How did tonight go?” She’d been at the shelter for the fund-raiser, and if it hadn’t been for her volunteering that night with Kat, he’d have gone too. But there was no need to push Kat’s acceptance of them before he even had a chance to tell Stella what was on his heart.
The other stuff could wait.
“It was okay.” Her tone said a lot more than her words, and he gestured for her to follow him through the kitchen and out the back door. “We got a lot of stuff labeled for the sale.” She stepped outside onto the patio and settled onto the swing.
“That’s good.” He turned on the patio light and joined her, pushing them off gently with his feet. “Was Howard there?”
She smiled now, a real smile, one that threatened the stars above their heads. “Yeah, he was. He built a rocking horse for his donation. I was going to ask you if he could use the leftover stain from the Cameo stage to paint it. It needs a little finishing touch.”
“Sure. I’ll send it with him tomorrow.” He rocked them again. “That’s pretty cool that the residents of the shelter are helping too.”
“I know what you mean. I don’t think anyone would judge them for just stepping back this time and letting others who can give more easily contribute.” Stella tilted her head back to look up at the night sky, and he averted his eyes to keep them from tracing the long length of her neck. “They’re good people.”
“Even if they are creepy?”
She shoved him, then, so hard and unexpected, he almost fell off the swing. “Sorry! Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”
She was laughing now, almost as hard as he was.
“You got me. I deserved that.” He settled back into the swing beside her, this time draping his arm around her shoulders.
She hesitated for a minute, then slowly relaxed against his side. “I think maybe you were right about Dixie. She is creepy in a way, but not in a bad way. More like in a hears-from-God kind of way.”
He nodded, pushing them higher in the swing with his foot. He could see that—especially after his conversation with Darren the other day. God spoke to people through people, and He definitely chose to use Chap.
Just ironic that He also chose to use Chap to speak to Kat’s husband.
“I’ve had some interesting conversations about God myself lately.” He let out a slow breath, unsure how to dive in, unsure exactly how much to say. He knew the timing was right—just didn’t know how to express that sentiment in the right way.
“Dixie showed up in the graveyard the other day.”
That was unexpected.
Stella kept gazing at the sky, adjusting her head slightly on his shoulder. “I was taking flowers to my aunt’s grave, and she was just there, out of nowhere, by a tree. We talked for a while.”
“What did she say?”
She hesitated. Maybe, she, too, was wondering how much to reveal? The thought gave him hope, and he tightened his grip slightly around her shoulders. “She said several things, but the most noteworthy was for me not to be afraid of being broken.”
“That’s wise.”
“And then she said for me to also not be afraid of healing.”
“That’s creepy.”
She half sat up and nudged him in the ribs. Hard. He grinned. “What did you say to that?”
“Not a lot.” She shrugged, settling back against his side and getting comfortable again. Her shoulder was digging into his rib cage, but he wasn’t going to move for the life of him. Not with her tucked so safely under his arm. “What can you say to that?”
True. Not much.
“Do you think you’re afraid of healing?”
“No.” She said it too quickly, though, and he filed that fact away for future thought. He didn’t want to start another argument tonight—and if you disagreed with Stella Varland, you were going to get at least a temporary argument. “Who would be afraid of healing?”
Stella, he thought. But he wasn’t going to say it without a solid example to back himself up. And right now, he didn’t have one.
“Anyway. You didn’t ask me over to talk about Dixie.” She twisted her neck and wrinkled her nose up at him. “I’m assuming?”
She was adorable, and had no idea. Not anymore. He tapped her nose. “Nope. You guessed right, Tiara.”
Her eyes flickered with emotion, and she twisted back to face the night. “So what’s up?”
Her. Them. Us. He wanted to say it, but knew he couldn’t be too abrupt or she’d take off running. Literally and figuratively.
Then again, she’d been the one attempting their last kiss. So maybe she wasn’t as much of a flight risk as he thought. “I had a thought the other day. One that won’t go away.”
She stilled, listening, so quietly he could feel her heart beating through the contact of his arm wrapped around her.
“I thought about the past. And about all we’ve been through. Divorce, engagement, death of loved ones . . .” His voice trailed off, and he half wished she’d look at him and half wished he could just talk to the top of her head all night. Safer that way. “I’m tired of living with regrets, and Stella, you’ve been one of my biggest ones.”
She turned to look at him then, her eyes searching his for . . . sincerity? Confirmation? She pulled in her lip and studied him, so intently he felt almost as if he were taking a quiz.
And had no idea of the correct answer.
“I don’t want you to be a regret anymore, and well—if I don’t tell you how I still feel about you, then I’m going to regret it forever.” He reached up and smoothed the worry crinkle between her eyebrows. “I still care about you. A lot.”
She closed her eyes, resting in his touch, and he cradled her cheek with his palm. “I shouldn’t have kissed you the other day. It was too fast, too much . . . and that was right after you told me at the museum not to rush.”
“Wasn’t your fault.” Her words floated out in a whisper, her eyes still closed, her face still heavy in his hand. Pure contentment rested across her face.
He wanted her to feel that safe forever.
“Regardless, I take responsibility for it. I want to do things right. Want you to see that I’m not the immature boy you used to know. I’m different now, different from the guy who hurt you, ran out on you—and hurt your sister.”
Her eyes opened then, as if reality had knocked hard on the front door. “Kat.” She stared hard into the darkness of the back lot, as if heading into a trance. Or coming out of one.
“Right.” He frowned. Not like she had any other sisters. “Kat.” Was she okay? “Stella?”
She snapped out of it then, easing away from him on the swing, drawing her legs up to her chest. “Stella, don’t do that.”
She rested her chin on her knees, her voice tightening. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Yes, you are. You’re turning invisible.” He wanted to shake her out of it. “Quit it.”
“We can’t do this.” Crickets chirped from the trees overhead, arguing their point. Or agreeing with her.
No matter. He was going to argue.
“Yes, we can. We just were. Just did.” Or almost did, anyway. S
he’d been so receptive just moments ago. What had changed?
The mention of her sister. He closed his eyes in defeat. Now reality pounded on his door.
She’d already talked to Kat.
“What did she say?” His voice deepened with a mixture of emotions, ones he couldn’t quite identify.
Stella inched even further away from him on the swing. “She thinks I’m an idiot.”
“Of course she does.” He let her go, let her scoot away. He wasn’t going to fight a battle before knowing the full terms of war. “She doesn’t know me anymore.”
“She said she’s trying to protect me.”
He wanted that job. Not Kat. He wanted to protect Stella, to rescue her, to be a part of her healing. To watch the broken pieces form into something beautiful, as he knew they could with the right timing and prompting. Timing he felt certain God had revealed to him was now. “Do you feel like you need protection from me, Stella?”
She shook her head, her voice so quiet he could barely make it out. “No.”
Frustration reigned. He tried to dial it back, knowing the anger was simply a projection of his fear. Fear of losing her.
Again.
He waited until he could keep his voice even, his tone level. “Then what’s the problem? This is our decision. Not your sister’s.”
She bit her lower lip, turning her face into her knees. “Not completely.”
“How is that even possible? You don’t have to answer to anyone but yourself.” And God. But he already had that part figured out for the both of them. He’d taken care of that, checked into the cosmic calendar. Darren had all but said so right there in the fire station.
“I can’t be the reason my sister doesn’t speak to me again, Chase.” She craned her head, still resting on her knees, to face him, eyes pleading with him to understand. But he didn’t. Couldn’t. “I can’t be the cause of any more family strife. You have no idea how long it took me to build that back with my sister.”
“She’s married, Stella. Why is she holding on to this so hard? She can’t possibly have feelings for me still.”
“It’s not that. She and Lucas are stupid-happy together.”
“Then why does her opinion matter so much?”
And then it hit him. Like a two-by-four across the forehead. He eased away in the swing, pulling back to look her in the face. “You are afraid of healing.”
She sat up straight, shoulders square, the swing bouncing off balance. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Your sister has a problem with us, but it’s nothing we couldn’t work through if you wanted to badly enough.” He stood up, the swing rocking wildly. She put her legs down for balance, gripped the bottom of the wooden slats. “You’re afraid of healing.”
She was hiding behind her sister. Hiding behind the feud. Dixie was right. Stella was afraid to heal. Because healing meant being put back together, being fused. Fusion hurt. Healing hurt.
She’d gotten lost in her brokenness. The raw edges were familiar. He knew as well as anyone that bad familiar could be a lot more comfortable than the unknown. He was Stella’s unknown. He represented her healing.
And she was clinging to the false safety in her brokenness.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. You think you can figure things out just like that.” Stella stood up, abandoning the swing altogether. “Did you ever think that maybe you’re wrong? That maybe I don’t feel all that strongly for you after all and am just trying to let you down easy?”
The words shot into his heart like an arrow hitting its target. But it wasn’t a bull’s-eye. She was lying.
“I’m calling that bluff.” Before she could argue, or even take a breath, he covered the two steps between them and gathered her into his arms, kissing her soundly.
She whimpered once in protest, but before he could let her go, she collapsed into his kiss, her arms tightening around his back, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. She held on as if she’d fall into a million pieces if she let go.
He knew the feeling. He’d do the same.
Their kiss deepened, his arms pulling her so close, so tight, until he felt he almost couldn’t breathe. But didn’t want to. Didn’t have to. He could breathe her in, and that was plenty.
Then her lips found his neck, and a warning alarm lit the haze in his mind. He gripped her by her upper arms and gently held her away from him, pulse racing like a prize thoroughbred. They both fought to catch their breath.
He let her go, reluctantly, and took a step back, already missing the warmth of her hands on his back. “Still want to go with the ‘let me down easy’ argument?”
She opened her mouth, shut it, opened it again. Then shook her head, piercing him with her stare. “Thanks for showing me you’re different.”
His stomach twisted in regret.
Bull’s-eye.
seventeen
The Ninth Cameo was almost complete.
Another two weeks, tops, and they’d be ready for a grand opening. Lyle and Howard were painting the theater now, and as soon as the paint dried, she’d be able to hang her tapestries on each side of the stage curtains and start plugging in all the other details that would breathe fresh life into the Cameo.
She could use a dose of that herself.
Fortunately Chase was working somewhere outside of the Cameo today, and she wouldn’t run into him. A welcome reprieve, after their last disastrous meeting.
She grabbed a roller and an extra paint tray and set to work in the lobby, rolling a fresh coat of gold over the accent wall behind the refreshment counter. Watching the tired texture get a shiny new layer whispered inspiration into the recesses of her heart.
After dashing the hope right off of Chase last night, she needed inspiration.
But how dare he stand there and affirm that Dixie was right, after he’d just accused her of being creepy? Either God used the unique woman, or He didn’t—and who was Chase to get to determine that fact, anyway? He couldn’t keep twisting words to mean what he wanted them to.
She reached high and pressed the roller to the wall, trying not to take her aggression and irritation out on the paint job. He’d said he was different, that he wanted to show her he had changed—yet he proved his point by kissing her, using her, just like the others. How could he preach to her that her beauty was inward when he kept resorting to the physical?
Not that it had exactly been one-sided. Her face heated at the memory. He’d called her bluff, all right. After his accusation that Dixie had been onto something about her fears, she’d tried to take the easy way out. And it had backfired right in her face.
Afraid of healing. What did that even mean?
Still, a niggling hint of truth wouldn’t quite leave her alone, the sensation that maybe there was something to it after all.
Her roller slowed its rhythm on the wall. What if Dixie was right, though? What if Stella was allowing Kat’s hesitations to determine her own life? What if she was essentially hiding behind her family?
Being with Chase would be a risk. It would potentially hurt.
And having him leave her for a second time would hurt to the point of no return. Her heart was already so broken that she wondered if healing was even possible. Reliving something like that would shatter her into oblivion. There’d be no coming back from it.
How could she intentionally choose to set herself up for potential disaster? Didn’t her heart deserve a break?
She painted faster, covering more of the wall this time as she attempted to channel her energy into something productive. The Cameo was almost complete. After a few more days, a week or two, max, she wouldn’t have a reason to see Chase regularly anymore. If he wanted to pursue her after that, try to win her over from her fears, fine. He was welcome to try.
And fail.
But there was something else bothering her. Even more than she feared his attempts, she feared he wouldn’t even bother.
“Nice job, Stella!” Cowboy Bob’
s booming voice filled the lobby. Stella jerked, the roller splattering gold onto the tarp she’d laid on the floor.
“Thanks, Bob.”
She turned. The Downtown Director wasn’t alone. Chase and Tim stood flanked on each side, like a set of uneven spurs.
“I came to see your progress, and the boys here told me you guys were nearing completion. That’s ahead of schedule, I believe.” Bob looked around, appreciation lighting his face. “I’m impressed, I must say.”
The compliment warmed her all the way through. She was back. She might be alone, and destined to be that way, but her work was proving itself again. Maybe this job would open up new doors for her and her career, after all. She glanced at Chase, who carefully avoided her eyes.
Maybe it was time to start looking at jobs out of state again.
“You’ve all done a fine job so far.” Bob rocked back on his heels as he took in the entire lobby.
“You should see the girls’ bathroom!” A usual, Tim spoke before completely thinking his sentence through, and blushed at the look Stella shot him.
“I’ll do that.” Bob chuckled. “And I won’t ask, son. I won’t ask.” He turned to Chase. “The committee wants to schedule a big grand opening night, once we get an official completion date on the record.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem.” Chase crossed his arms, nodding slowly, looking so handsome and focused Stella wished she could relive last night’s kiss. Just one more time before saying good-bye to the idea forever.
But hadn’t she just convinced herself that she was offended by his kissing her?
Man. She was starting to get on her own nerves.
“How about August sixteenth?” Bob began typing the date into his iPad. “That work for you?”
The shelter’s big sale was scheduled for the night before. But that shouldn’t matter. Stella nodded. “Sounds good to me.”
Chase nodded, too, not even bothering to check his calendar. He patted Bob on the shoulder. “You’ll have to excuse me, Bob. I need to get back to work.” He disappeared inside the theater without another glance.
Tim lingered in the lobby with the two of them, frowning after Chase’s back. “What’s wrong with him?”
Love Arrives in Pieces Page 21
