Ever After (Love to the Rescue Book 3)

by Rachel Lacey

  “That’s great. They’d be lucky to have you.”

  “Thanks.”

  He pulled into her driveway. “I need to take Timber for some exercise and get a few things done at home, but maybe we can get together later.”

  “Okay.” She gathered her purse and led the way to her front door. Inside, Timber waited exuberantly in the kitchen while Bailey danced in her crate.

  He bent to clip Timber’s leash to his collar, then pressed a kiss to Olivia’s lips. “Good luck.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Call me later,” he said.

  “I will.”

  He took his dog and went home, determined to ignore the feeling that his home didn’t feel quite the same without Olivia sharing it. When he got there, he changed and took Timber for a walk. The dog was itching for a long, hard run, but it would have to wait until his body had finished healing.

  After their walk, Pete showered, dressed, and was about to tackle the mountain of laundry in his mudroom when his cell phone rang. Hopefully it was Olivia—with good job news. He rushed to answer it.

  “Hi.” It was Maggie.

  “Hey, Maggie. What’s up?”

  “Mom got divorce papers in the mail this morning. I thought you’d want to know.”

  “What?” Pete reeled backward, anger raging inside him. His dad had filed for divorce? Of all the selfish, jackass things… His mom had stuck with him through thick and thin, and there had been a lot of thin, and this was how he repaid her loyalty?

  “Yep. She’s pretty upset.” And by the sound of it, Maggie was too.

  “I’m off today. I’ll go over and see her.”

  “That would be great. I’ve got art camp this afternoon with the fourth graders so I’m busy until dinnertime.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Pete left Timber in the kitchen and drove straight to his mom’s house. She opened the door wearing an apron and with flour clinging to her fingers. She’d been baking.

  He nodded toward the kitchen. “Want some help?”

  “Sure. I was just making a batch of banana bread. It always was your father’s favorite.”

  “That’s a little masochistic, isn’t it, Mom?”

  Her gray eyes grew misty. “I’ll go visit him tomorrow and get this all sorted out.”

  “Sorted out? Mom, he filed for divorce. I think that’s pretty clear-cut.”

  “Well it’s not. We haven’t even discussed it yet. He’s hardly in a position to be making life decisions right now.”

  Pete raked a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe you’re defending him! This is so typical.”

  “And you’ve always been too hard on him.” She brushed away a tear. “He has a disease, Peter. Sometimes it gets the better of him.”

  “He killed Troy Hill.”

  “And he will have that on his conscience for the rest of his life. He’s paying for his sins. When’s the last time you visited him?”

  “It’s been a while,” he admitted. Truthfully, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to visit his father behind bars. He couldn’t bear the sight of him there, knowing what he’d done and the role Pete had played in it.

  “You should go. He’s a different man. You’ll see.”

  * * *

  Olivia drove home from the thrift shop with her head in the clouds. The job was hers. She started on Monday. Regular, dependable hours. The salary was nothing to celebrate, but at least she was no longer dependent on tips to pay her bills. And she would enjoy helping people find new love for older things. It wasn’t a career, but it was a step up from what she’d left behind, and that would do for now.

  She fist-pumped the roof of the Prius. Then she dialed Pete. “I got the job.”

  “That’s fantastic.” The sound of his voice sent the best kind of chills down her spine. “Can I take you to dinner to celebrate?”

  “You took me to dinner last night,” she reminded him.

  “You’re good company. And this definitely deserves celebrating.”

  And those chills turned to heat. “Twist my arm, why don’t you? I’m on my way home now, so stop by whenever.”

  “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  She went inside and hugged Bailey, then took her for a quick walk. She went upstairs and changed into a pink dress and boots. She even added a little bit of shimmer to her makeup.

  She did feel like celebrating tonight. Maybe she’d even have champagne.

  Pete knocked on the door just as she spritzed some rose essence on her neck. She hurried down the stairs to let him in.

  “Wow.” His gaze drifted from her eyes to her toes, lingering everywhere in between. He swallowed hard. “You look stunning.”

  “Thanks.” She stepped back to invite him in. He wore dark jeans and a gray Henley shirt, and he was pretty much the handsomest thing she’d ever seen. God, she loved him. She was so filled with emotion tonight that it was all she could do not to blurt those words out right here in her entrance hall.

  “So where do you want to go?”

  “Anywhere.” Anywhere with him.

  In the end, they went to Mikoto’s, where she had vegetarian sushi and he had the real thing. Then they took a bottle of champagne and a bag of chocolate truffles and drove out to Jordan Lake to have a romantic picnic under the stars.

  She spread a blanket across the ground while he brought out a second one to wrap around their legs. Now that the sun had set, the chill in the air was headed toward flat out cold. Olivia lay on her back on the blanket, staring up at the stars. Behind her, Pete popped the cork on the bottle of champagne.

  “I’m probably the first person ever to celebrate a job at a thrift store with champagne.”

  “And that is one of my favorite things about you.” He sat next to her, two plastic cups fizzing with champagne in his hands. “You never do what’s expected.”

  “Thanks, I think.” She sat up and took one of the cups from him.

  He tapped his cup to hers. “To your new job.”

  “To my new job.” She took a long sip, letting the champagne tickle her tongue. “It’ll be fun helping people find treasures in what someone else gave away. It’s right up my alley. Plus regular hours.”

  “There’s a lot to be said for regular hours.” There was humor in Pete’s voice. “And I agree. This job suits you.”

  “For now,” she clarified.

  “For now. And you’ll figure out the forever part soon. I know you will.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” She rested her head on his shoulder and drained her cup of champagne. “This is maybe the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

  His arm tightened around her. “Maybe you should raise your standards.”

  “Maybe.”

  He lifted the bottle, and she held her cup out for him to refill it. Then they opened the bag of truffles. She bit into one and let out a little moan of pleasure. Possibly she was already tipsy from the champagne. Possibly she didn’t need to raise her standards at all, because she’d already achieved nirvana.

  What could top this?

  She lay back on the blanket, staring into the depths of the universe above. The stars winked down at her, crystal clear here away from the lights of the city. A shooting star zipped across the sky, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

  I wish I could be this happy forever.

  She opened her eyes and looked over at Pete. He lay beside her, also gazing up into space. In the dark, she could make out only his profile and the glitter of his eyes.

  “You make me happy,” she said with a sigh. The champagne warmed her belly and sent a happy haze through her system.

  He turned his head to stare at her in the darkness. “I don’t think anyone’s told me that before.”

  “Then maybe you need to raise your standards.”

  He didn’t say anything to that, but he took her hand in the darkness. And when the next shooting star blazed across the heavens, she wished Pete could be
her happy-ever-after.

  “I didn’t think my night would end like this,” he said finally.

  “Rough day?”

  “My dad filed for divorce.”

  “Really?” She absorbed that for a minute through her champagne fog. “Is that good or bad?”

  “I don’t know.” He was silent for a long minute, and she thought the topic had closed. Actually, she was surprised he’d brought it up at all. It said something, a lot really, that he was willing to talk about his personal life with her. “Mom’s upset. I hate him for putting her through this. He’s the fuck-up. It should be her decision to leave. Not his.”

  “Would she have? Ever?”

  He let out a rough sound. “Probably not.”

  “Do you visit him?”

  There was a twinge of guilt in his voice when he answered. “I haven’t seen him since he was arrested.”

  “Do you think you should?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It might help you come to terms with everything that’s happened.” She took his hand in the darkness.

  “Might.”

  “Wanna tell me about it? I’m a pretty good listener.” She gave his fingers a squeeze.

  “I told you. He killed a man.”

  “And I’m guessing it wasn’t quite as simple as that.”

  “He got high and drove. He might as well have played with a loaded gun.”

  “But he didn’t. And maybe he feels terrible about what happened.”

  “He damn well should.”

  She heard the hurt in his voice. “Yes, he should. But drug addiction is a disease. He did a stupid, horrible thing, but it doesn’t mean you can’t still love him.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Not many things in life are.”

  * * *

  Pete couldn’t explain why he was still talking. Lying there in the dark, side by side, was something like sitting in a confessional. He couldn’t see her, couldn’t look into her eyes. And so he spilled his secrets into the night. “Four years ago, my dad turned over a new leaf. Cleaned up his act. He was a good husband, a good father. We were already grown at that point, but he seemed to really have his act together.”

  He paused. Olivia squeezed his hand in the darkness. She was right. She was a damn good listener. Maybe it was true what they said: clearing your conscience was good for the soul.

  “For a year, he was the husband and father we’d always wanted him to be. Then he got arrested on an old charge. They’d finally run some prints on an old drug bust and linked him to the case.

  “I testified on his behalf at the trial. I told them the man who’d once bought and sold crack on Cassidy Street didn’t exist anymore. My father deserved a second chance. They let him go with probation. Two months later, he got high and killed Troy Hill.”

  Olivia sucked in a breath. “Oh—”

  “Yes, Tamara’s husband. Zach’s dad. My father destroyed that family.”

  She moved closer to him on the blanket, her body nestled against his. “Zach’s on the soccer team you coach.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you blame yourself for what happened. Because you testified.” She laid it out for him the way she was so good at.

  “If I hadn’t testified, he’d have gone to jail. Troy Hill would still be alive.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Olivia lay next to him in the darkness. They polished off the bottle of champagne, ate way too much chocolate, and shared more personal stuff than she’d ever dared hope for. It was a terrible weight of guilt he carried, blaming himself for Troy Hill’s death.

  He had to find a way out from under it before it crushed him.

  The champagne had made her all warm and fuzzy so she ignored the little warning bells clanging in her head. Maybe Pete had bigger demons than she’d realized, but he was far from a lost cause.

  And when he dropped her at her house and went home with Timber, she refused to read anything into that either. Because they didn’t live together. It was perfectly fine for him to sleep at his place while she stayed at hers.

  She woke the next morning with Hallie sprawled across her face. The kitten had grown exponentially since Olivia took her in. At her last checkup, she had tripled in size from one pound to three.

  As Olivia shifted beneath her, Hallie stretched, purring loudly into her ear.

  “Hard to believe you used to be feral,” she said as she rubbed the kitten. Hallie bit her finger, then hopped down and headed for the bathroom, where her food bowl was.

  Olivia rolled over and went back to sleep. She woke again around nine. It was one of her last mornings to sleep in. Tomorrow she’d be up early for the rally she’d planned outside Town Hall. And on Monday she’d be starting her new job at the thrift shop.

  After a lazy start to the day, she got up, took Bailey for a walk, and headed out to MacArthur Park to meditate for a little while. To center herself before life got busy.

  She’d just settled on her blanket beneath the pecan tree when her cell phone rang. Pete. His personal line, not his work phone. And that funny little flutter in her chest must have been her heart cheering in anticipation of hearing his voice.

  “What’s this I hear about a protest outside Town Hall tomorrow?” he asked.

  “I told you about it earlier this week.” She heard the rebuke in his voice. It really was a pain in the butt sometimes dating a cop. “I’m tired of being brushed aside. It’s time for the town to realize what’s going on at Halverson and do something about it.”

  He made a sound of frustration. “The sheriff asked for extra deputies to be on duty to keep things under control.”

  “Well that’s silly. We aren’t going to cause any trouble.”

  “These things rarely go as planned.” He still sounded annoyed.

  And that was starting to piss her off. “On the contrary, I’ve protested several times, and we’ve never caused any trouble. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Don’t make me arrest you again,” he warned.

  “I won’t.”

  She hung up completely furious. Her pulse pounded, and she had the strong urge to hurl her phone as far as it would go down the hill before her. But that would only break it, and she couldn’t afford a replacement. And she’d come here to meditate, after all.

  Tricky thing, meditating while pissed off.

  Even trickier holding onto her anger because, if she let it go, she just might cry. And she was not going to cry. Nor was she going to drive across town and strangle Pete for being such a pain in the ass, because then he’d get his wish to arrest her again.

  Argh.

  She gave in to the need to stomp her feet against the cold ground beneath her. Then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and started at her toes.

  Thirty minutes later, she was calm and in control. Ready to take on whatever came her way.

  Starting with tomorrow’s protest outside Town Hall.

  * * *

  Olivia checked her appearance one last time in the mirror. Her hair was blown straight, her makeup polished yet understated. She’d chosen a blue corduroy pea coat to go over her sweater and jeans. Like it or not, she was the face of Citizens Against Halverson Foods, and she’d likely be on camera today.

  The doorbell rang, and she hurried downstairs to answer it.

  “Ready to kick some politician butt?” Merry held up a hot pink sign that read Dogwood Doesn’t Stand for Animal Abuse.

  “Thank you so much for coming with me.” Olivia motioned her inside. “I think we’re going to have a great turnout today. Over three hundred people RSVPed on Facebook.”

  “I’ve got to hand it to you, Olivia. You are good at what you do.”

  She shrugged. “I try.”

  “Really,” Merry said. “Donations to Triangle Boxer Rescue are through the roof since you took over our social media accounts. I hope today gives you a big push in your battle against Halverson.”

  “I just want to quit
being shoved under the rug. I want people to know what’s happening and hold them accountable for the conditions at their plant here in Dogwood.”

  “What happened to having the place shut down?” Merry asked as she stooped to pet Bailey, who was dancing around her, begging for attention.

  Olivia thought of Pete and how he’d helped her adjust her expectations. “I realized that wasn’t realistic. Halverson Foods is a nationwide company, and their plant in Dogwood provides a lot of jobs. It’s not getting shut down, and even if it did, those chickens would still get slaughtered somewhere else. What I need to do is get them to revamp their workplace practices. They can slaughter chickens without abusing them.”

  “That’s very mature of you.”

  “I have my moments.” Actually Olivia felt like she’d done a lot of growing up in the last month or so. She was not the same girl who’d drunkenly spray-painted that chicken factory on her birthday.

  “You’ve always had your moments,” Merry said. “The difference is that now you’re starting to believe in yourself.”

  “What?” Olivia turned, Stop Halverson Chicken Abuse sign clutched in her hands.

  “You’re a star, Olivia. The only person who thinks you’re a screwup is you.”

  “Well, I—” She cut herself off, because it had been on the tip of her tongue to argue that she was a screwup. “Maybe there’s hope for me yet.”

  Merry put a hand on her shoulder. “Oodles of it.”

  “All right then. Let’s go kick some butt.” She put Bailey in her crate, grabbed the box of pamphlets she’d had printed, and led the way to her car. It was just past nine o’clock. The protest didn’t start until ten, but she wanted to be there early since this was her brainchild.

  She drove downtown and parked in the public lot near the sheriff’s office, then she and Merry walked to Town Hall. The deputies had put out metal barricades in anticipation of the crowd, keeping them back from the street and away from the entrance.

  She and Merry took their places right up front, and soon their supporters started trickling in. Terence, Kristi, and various other members of Citizens Against Halverson Foods filled the area. They each took a stack of pamphlets, passing them out to everyone who walked past.