Something to Prove

by Kimberly Lang

  Oh. Mr. Harris had been a mean son of a bitch, and everyone knew he often took it out on his kids and his wife. The cops and the state had made more than one trip out to the Harris place to investigate. Helena had probably saved Tate from one hell of a beating. It was a brave, kind thing to do, but looking back, she’d taken a big risk and gotten lucky. Tate had still been a minor at the time and legally, at least, he would have gotten off easy. But Helena had already turned eighteen, and the police could have easily thrown the book at her. Luckily, she’d just gotten community service and reparations instead of jail time. There was no way she could have known that when she confessed, though, so she’d taken one hell of a risk for her friend. “You’re a good person, Helena.”

  She tried to shrug it off, but he saw the smile tug at the corner of her mouth. “It’s what friends do. He was always there for me, and I owed him. But I’d appreciate it if you kept this information to yourself. No one needs to know the truth now.”

  Philosophically, he was all in favor of honesty and clearing someone’s name, but since Helena wasn’t interested in doing so, he had no reason not to agree. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Thanks. And anyway, it worked out even better than I could have hoped. Do you think Dr. Harris would be a pillar of the community today if people knew he’d once set the football shed on fire trying to light his own farts like a fool?”

  Oh, he’d be hard-pressed not to casually drop that into his next conversation with Tate. “I guess it beats doing drugs or something. Youthful stupidity is forgivable.”

  She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort, and it took him a second to figure out why. Her youthful stupidity was still being held against her. “If it makes you feel any better, Uncle Dave called you a real pistol.”

  Eyes wide, Helena went slack-jawed in surprise. “What?”

  “He said you were just up to teenage mischief—and not even malicious mischief at that.”

  “Your uncle Dave? The same one who hauled me up in front of the city council when I graffitied the water tower?”

  Now he knew what he’d looked like when Uncle Dave had dropped this info on him. “Same one. He told me to tell you ‘welcome home.’”

  Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. Then she shook her head as if trying to clear it and laughed. “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Neither was I, honestly.”

  “Hmm.” She laughed quietly. “Wow.”

  “Hard to process, huh?”

  “Indeed.” She blew out her breath. “Well, that’s far enough down memory lane for one evening. I need to get back to work.”

  “Aw, come on. I still have so many questions.”

  “What am I? The Magnolia Beach Petty Crime Encyclopedia?”

  “It seems so.” He grinned and she made a face at him. “Just one more. Mrs. Delaney’s classroom—”

  She cut him off. “That was not me. I liked Mrs. Delaney and wouldn’t have done that anyway. That asshattery was courtesy of Rich Kendall and Mike Swenson. I’d have turned them in if I thought anyone would’ve believed me.” She looked truly angry about it. “And before you ask, yes, that is why both Rich and Mike got their tires slashed, but no, I was not the one who did it. Wish I had, though. The little shits.”

  The vehemence in her voice caught him off guard. “But I thought you and Mike . . .” The look that crossed her face stopped his words.

  “That Mike and I what?”

  “That you two were . . .” Damn, she did not look happy. “Um, friendly.”

  “Friendly. Interesting.” The words were clipped, and her lips pressed into a hard line. “Not really.”

  “Look, Helena, everyone knows. And we’ve all done people”—damn—“I mean things we’re not proud of.”

  “You mean the sexcapades at homecoming? Featuring acts that are still illegal in several states?”

  Hand me a shovel. He just wasn’t digging this hole fast enough with his mouth. “Well . . . I figured there might have been some exaggeration.”

  “‘Some’? Try ‘all.’ I know what he told everyone, but let me assure you, Mike Swenson wasn’t even allowed anywhere near my ballpark, much less given the chance to run the bases.”

  Mike had lied? In retrospect, it made a hell of a lot more sense than his claim. Revenge for the tires, probably. “Why didn’t you call him out on it?”

  “Who would have believed me? Hell, you barely believe me now.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Good or bad, a reputation is hard to live down, and a bad reputation is nearly impossible to shake, so anything anyone decides to say is considered the truth, no matter how crazy it might seem, simply because it fits the narrative.” She poured out the last of her beer into the sink and tossed the bottle at the bin. “And people wonder why I left town. I understand Julie believing it. She’s always hated me and is arrogant enough to think I’d sleep with Mike just to hurt her. But I assumed everyone else would figure out the truth eventually, whether or not Mike ever ’fessed up to his lie.”

  “There’s no way Mike would ever retract that statement. It made him a hero.”

  “Yeah, at my expense. It’s a wonderful double standard. He wasn’t the slut. I was.” She looked at him and laughed—the dismissive, at-your-expense laugh he remembered so clearly. Then she plastered a fake, mocking smile on her face. “Well, wasn’t this fun?” Sarcasm dripped off her words. “Now, you’ll have to excuse me as I’ve got to get back to work.”

  Helena pushed past him, leaving the door swinging in her wake, and he was smart enough not to go after her. He owed her an apology, but he doubted if even a sincere apology would be received well right now. He’d been an ass and would have no one but himself to blame if she threw a well-deserved punch. Self-preservation kept him in place.

  That conversation had been eye-opening, even if it had gone very bad, very fast. He now had to rethink everything he thought he knew about Helena Wheeler—both the Hell-on-Wheels she used to be and the woman she was now.

  And that was an awful lot to think about.

  * * *

  Helena could practically feel her arteries hardening with each bite, but the famous Frosty Freeze bacon-chili-cheese hot dog might just be worth the heart bypass surgery later in life. When coupled with a strawberry-banana shake, the meal was both heaven on earth and hell on the waistline. And while diner’s remorse was already setting in, making her feel a little ill as well as ashamed, it was still all she could do not to lick the last bits of chili off the wrapper.

  Grannie would kill her for the display of bad manners, so Helena crumpled up the wrapper and tossed it toward the trash can before she could succumb to the temptation.

  “Good shot. Two points.” A red-faced and sweaty Molly swung a leg over the bench and sat across from her, breathing hard from her run. She took a long drink from her water bottle and swiped a hand across her forehead. Faced with Molly’s healthy living, Helena felt even worse about the bacon-chili-cheese hot dog she’d inhaled. “I missed you this morning at the shop. Everything okay?”

  “I spent all morning on the phone with a client,” she explained. “And since I was not properly caffeinated, it took forever. Then I was supposed to meet Tate for lunch, but he texted to say he had to go deliver puppies and canceled on me. The day’s been a bust all the way around.”

  “Puppies?” Molly’s forehead wrinkled. “I thought dogs pretty much had that under control and didn’t really need humans around, much less a vet.”

  “That’s kind of what I thought, too, but maybe not.” She rubbed her stomach. “Ugh. I shouldn’t have eaten that.”

  “Chili-cheese dog?” Molly asked.

  “With bacon.”

  “Mercy. Tasty, but . . .”

  “Yeah, tell me about it. I think I’m g
oing to go home and lie down for a while.”

  “I’ll walk with you. I wanted to talk to you about doing some design work for me,” she explained as she jumped to her feet. “Maybe tweaking my logo, helping me with my Facebook page, stuff like that.”

  Helena also stood, albeit far more slowly than Molly. “You’re the only coffee shop in Magnolia Beach. Do you really need to worry too much about advertising?”

  “I’m not looking to bust my budget with a massive campaign, but I do want to increase my visibility.”

  “That’s smart thinking.” The voice came from behind them, causing Helena to jump—which she immediately regretted.

  “Well, hello there, Mayor Tanner,” Molly said with a big smile. “Good to see you.”

  “Ladies,” Ryan responded with a nod.

  And this is one of the many reasons I hate small towns. The chances of running into people she really didn’t want to see were just too high. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that she even had a list of people she didn’t want to see and that Ryan Tanner was sitting at the top. She thought she was long past caring what people believed or thought about her, but last night had stung. A lot. And that surprised her.

  ’Fessing up to the sins of her youth had been oddly liberating and sort of fun. Ryan’s response had given her a tiny hope that things might be different this time. Instead, the staying power of Mike Swenson’s lie—and that Ryan had accepted it at face value even after all this time—just drove home how things would probably never change. It hurt, and she hated that it could.

  She hated that she’d let Ryan see that it hurt her even more, though.

  She had her pride, and she wasn’t going to let Ryan know that it still bothered her today. “Hi, Ryan,” she said with forced casualness.

  “Hey, Molly. Helena.” Another man joined their little group, handing Ryan a Frosty Freeze bag smelling of chili. As the man looked a lot like Ryan, it was easy to tag him as a Tanner, but once again, it begged the question of which one.

  Ryan saved her. “You may not recognize him all grown-up, but this is my youngest brother, Eli.”

  “Of course. How are you?”

  “Good. Welcome home, by the way.”

  Eli seemed friendly enough and the “welcome home” seemed sincere, not snarky. If she remembered correctly, he was at least four or five years younger than she was, so any issues he had with her would either have to be those shared by the general population or grudges carried on behalf of his older brothers and cousins.

  “Thanks.”

  “And please tell Ms. Louise we’re all hoping she can come home soon.”

  “I will.”

  “How are things coming along?” Molly asked. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Not yet,” Helena answered. “But Ryan’s making a lot of progress, so I might be calling on you sooner rather than later.”

  “Just let me know and I’ll be there,” Molly promised.

  “And I’ll be by later today,” Ryan added. “I want to try to get the floor finished, at least.”

  “No problem,” Helena said. “I’m going to go see Grannie this afternoon, so let yourself in and do what you need to do. I’ll be back around seven or so.”

  “I probably won’t even get there until then.”

  “That works.” I’ll hide in my room so we don’t have a repeat of last night.

  “You’d better be careful,” Molly said in a singsong voice. “All these evenings working together . . . People are going to start to talk.”

  She knew Molly was teasing, so the words, however true, lacked any sting. “Well, I haven’t done much else for people to talk about lately, so—”

  “People like to run their mouths,” Ryan interrupted, and if Helena hadn’t known better, she’d have thought he sounded downright testy. It changed the whole tone of the conversation instantly, drawing surprised looks from all of them. “Sadly, this town’s full of busybodies with nothing better to do than listen, and they should be ashamed of themselves for listening to rumors and gossip, much less believing or repeating it.”

  Ryan had been looking directly at her as he spoke, keeping an almost unsettling degree of eye contact. And coupled with that tone . . . Was that some kind of apology?

  “Amen to that,” Eli said.

  There was no sense pretending now that any of them didn’t know exactly whom they were talking about in general, even if she thought Ryan might be speaking specifically about last night. She shrugged. “I’m trying not to let it bother me, y’all. I mean, really, what difference does it make?”

  “You’re a far bigger, better person than I would be about it, Helena,” Molly said.

  “Some things just aren’t worth getting too upset over. People who want to believe the worst will, and I can’t change that. I’m used to it, and either way, I don’t care.” Who are you trying to convince? Them or yourself?

  “If you wanted to punch people for that kind of gossip,” Ryan added, “I’d get your back. Make sure the charges didn’t stick.”

  Helena fought back a smile. “It’s tempting, but unnecessary. Fisticuffs might ruin my manicure.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, Mayor Tanner. I’m sure.”

  “Let me know if you change your mind,” Eli said. “I want to make sure to put my money on you. And I want a front-row seat.”

  Helena wasn’t sure, but she might end up liking Eli Tanner. “I will.”

  Ryan gave her another of those heavy looks. “So we’re good?”

  “Yeah,” she replied. “I’ll see you tonight at the house.”

  Molly waved as Eli and Ryan walked back to Ryan’s truck. Then she turned to Helena as they started back toward Grannie’s house. “Okay, what the hell was that about?”

  “What was what about?”

  “Ryan staring you into the ground, talking about punching people who say mean things about you.”

  Helena hadn’t noticed. She’d been too busy being stared into the ground by Ryan, as Molly put it. “It’s nothing, really. Just a little disagreement we had last night about facts and fiction.”

  Molly laughed. “Oh, I’d have liked to see that. I assume you prevailed in the facts department.”

  “Of course.” That might have come out a little smug, but Helena couldn’t help it.

  “I’d heard of you, you know, before you got back, and I’ve heard a lot more about you since you did. You are a legend.”

  “Um, thanks?”

  “I knew it had to be mostly fiction. I mean . . .”

  “Sadly,” Helena interrupted before Molly could paint her as some misunderstood victim in this story, “it’s probably safe to assume there’s at least a kernel of truth to most of it.”

  “Then you’re not just a legend. You are truly legendary. I feel both cooler and more badass just hanging out with you.” Molly added a swagger to her walk, causing Helena to laugh.

  “You’d better be careful. You could find yourself tainted by association.”

  “It goes both ways, you know. Folks might assume some of my stellar qualities are rubbing off on you.”

  Helena rolled her eyes. “Then alert the churches, because that would be a miracle.”

  Chapter 8

  Helena’s car was in the driveway when Ryan pulled up that evening. Much to his shame, it caused him to hesitate instead of heading directly inside. While Helena had seemed friendly enough this afternoon, she would be fully within her rights to still be mad at him.

  He knocked and waited until he heard her call, “Come in,” before opening the door. She was stretched out on the couch, her laptop in her lap, and her hair twisted on top of her head in a messy knot.

  He must have paused too long at the door, because her mouth twitched. “You can come in. It’s safe.”

  Ryan had t
o admire her straightforward attitude. She seemed genuinely fine, not repressing any hostility, and pretty relaxed overall. He looked at the glass that sat on the coffee table, but it looked like tea, so it wasn’t alcohol-induced civility. It prodded him to be as straightforward with her. “I owe you an apology.”

  “It’s okay. Really. It’s not like you were the one spreading lies.”

  “Still . . .” When she didn’t say anything, he sighed. “That is a very mature attitude.”

  She laughed. “Five years of therapy, dear. Anger gives too much energy to people who don’t deserve it. Life’s too short.”

  It seemed she was going to let it go and not even hold a grudge against him. She really was more mature than half the people in Magnolia Beach. He came the rest of the way in. “I’ll go on into the sunroom and leave you to work.”

  “I probably should be working, but I’m not.”

  “Do I want to ask what you are doing?” He’d heard about some of the pictures people had seen on her computer when she worked at Latte Dah.

  “I am trying to look up some people.”

  “Who?”

  “Sid. Paulie. That crowd.”

  Well, that was a change. He set his tools down next to the door and leaned against the wall. “I thought you weren’t interested.”

  “Not exactly,” she corrected. “I said that when I was trying to forget my past, it didn’t make sense for me to look up the people who were a part of that past. But since I’m now sitting smack-dab in the middle of the past, practically wallowing in it, I got curious.” She shrugged self-consciously.

  “And what did you find?”

  “Enough to thoroughly depress me. Not a lot of success stories.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that. “Sorry.”

  She set the laptop aside, then stood and stretched. “It sounds horrible, but I can’t say I’m all that surprised. Disappointed, yes, because I had hopes for those guys. But not surprised.” Picking up her glass, she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the door open.

  “You did run with a rough crowd,” he called after her.