by K. K. Allen
How can two people so deeply in love fall apart so quickly? My stomach churns acid at the thought of how far we’ve grown from each other over the past year. He shuffles his feet, showing me he’s nervous, too.
Why did he come? Was his intention the same as the others’? To get gratification from the final verdict? To celebrate the conviction of the Balsam Grove Monster? Was the drop of the gavel enough to bring the nightmare to a close for the town? Probably.
But me? I’ve lost everything.
I look up. “You shouldn’t be here,” I say, my voice shaking with anger.
“Neither should you.” His retort is quick, steaming with the same frustration from our last conversation.
In the past nine months, I’ve only seen or heard from him a few times. First, on the phone after leaving the hospital when I was too weak to avoid him but too hurt to hear him out. Then at Aunt Cyndi’s when he showed up months later, uninvited, to warn me he was going to testify against my father in court. And finally, one month ago, when he sat in front of the courtroom and divulged information about my father’s character, situations he’d witnessed, and private conversations he’d had with me—thoughts and fears I was ashamed to have, let alone have made public. And each time we spoke, he pleaded his case for why I belong in Balsam Grove despite the horrific events I was a part of. Maybe he can ignore the reasons I left, but I can’t.
Even if I wasn’t furious at Jaxon for his betrayal, I would have never gone back to that town. Not with my father’s alleged crimes hanging over me like a dark cloud. Not with the harsh whispers of my peers and neighbors nipping at my back. And on top of it all, Jaxon and I weren’t on the best of terms when it all went down.
Sighing, he dips his fingers into his pockets and looks at his shoes, a lock of wavy hair shielding his eyes. “I didn’t come here to argue.” His voice has softened, but somehow the pain in his tone has grown louder. “I’m sorry—about your father. I really am, Auror—”
A bubble of disbelief escapes my throat as tears threaten to follow. “You always hated my father. Don’t give me your sympathy, Jaxon. Not now.”
His eyes snap to mine. “Then what do I give you? I won’t lie to you. I’ve never told you lies, and I won’t start now. Yes, I may have had trouble understanding your father’s…actions at times, but I never hated him. He’s your dad, Aurora. And that means something to me. But I wasn’t going to stand by after what happened without saying a word. Whether he was responsible for his actions or not, you almost died. The man needs help, and now he’s going to get it.”
I lower my eyes. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It will always matter.” His words come out choked, and he takes a step forward like he wants to comfort me. But something stops him in his tracks as if he senses I’m not ready for his embrace. That his touch would be anything but comfort. He deflates a bit.
“There’s so much to say, but now isn’t the time. Come home, Aurora. You belong in Balsam Grove. With me.”
A sting hits the back of my eyes at the mention of my old home. Does he really think I could just go back to a town filled with rage and live a happy, normal life? Typical Jaxon. Ignoring the issues for the sake of moving on. Meanwhile, the issues never go away. They chip away at us, piece by piece, until we’re finally forced to confront them. By then, it’s too late.
It’s too late now. There’s too much damage. Too much left unresolved. Too much history tainted by what my father did. And Jaxon testifying in court only adds insult to injury. Grief for all the above swells within me, like a humidity weighing me down until my breaths are pure vapor, and all that I need to overcome thickens into a dark sea of loss.
I won’t fight the current. Not anymore. I take a stuttered breath and regain my composure to speak again. To close this door once and for all. To remind him why this could never work.
“I think you’re forgetting the reason I ran into the storm that night in the first place.”
That was a low blow, I know, but he’s the one who stepped into this courtroom while the wounds of my father’s conviction were still fresh. He might as well have stepped into a warzone.
“That’s not fair,” he growls, his expression twisting with shock.
My chest flames with determination. I feel like I’ve just found my enemy’s weakness in the boxing ring. I don’t believe in violence, and I’m sickened with myself for sharpening my words as if they’re weapons, but this is just as much about protecting Jaxon as it is about protecting myself.
“Not fair? Let me tell you what’s not fair, Jaxon. You keeping secrets from me. You making decisions that affect the both of us, alone. You giving up everything you’ve been working so hard for, just to wait around for me when your life could be so much better than that.”
His face twists in disagreement. “How can you be upset at me for wanting to wait for you to finish school?”
I ignore him, not wanting to admit that there are still parts of that night before my abduction that feel fuzzy. I remember showing up at his house in a rage. I remember our fight. I just can’t remember what prompted it. How had I found out about his decision to give up his dreams? And why couldn’t I listen to his side of things? Instead of sorting through it all, I ignore his question.
“You want me to come back to Balsam Grove? You don’t even want to be there. Why are you still there, Jaxon?”
“I’m there for you. I’ve stayed for you.”
“I never asked you to.”
I know immediately this was the wrong thing to say. I can see it in his pinking cheeks, in the rough fingers that push through his hair and grab the back of his neck as he struggles to find his words.
“You didn’t. You’re right. You would never ask me to stay, which is exactly why I made the decision without you. You’re so damn strong, Aurora, and so incredibly selfless. But I would have never regretted my decision.”
His words are a chain wrapped around my heart, and every pleading, soft-spoken syllable feels like he’s tugging and tugging, as if force will eventually make me learn to follow him on my own.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. You’re my life.” His voice cracks as he takes another step, but he stops just as fast, assessing my reaction. When I don’t protest, he closes the distance and takes my face in his palms. I let him touch me. My conflicted heart wants him to touch me. But what I want doesn’t change the facts, especially the most painful one of all—that Jaxon is part of the reason my father was convicted of crimes too horrifying to believe.
“Come home.” It’s a passionate, desperate request that first fills my heart, then breaks it into a million pieces. My knees weaken, and it would be easy to fall to the floor. I can’t take this anymore. Nothing feels right. No matter what I choose, it will be wrong.
“I don’t have a home,” I remind him, my voice thick with emotion.
Jaxon’s face crumbles as he leans his forehead against mine. His skin is soft and warm.
“Your home is with me. Anywhere you want it to be. We don’t have to go back. We can go anywhere. We can change our names if you want. Disappear forever. You’re eighteen now. There’s nothing tying you down.”
God, how I wish he wouldn’t feed me such tempting offers. To disappear. To be someone else. To be with Jaxon. It all sounds too good to be true, which means it probably is.
I shake my head and focus on the reality we’re standing in. My eyes catch on the defendant’s desk where my father stood not thirty minutes ago.
“What about my father? He’ll be alone. I’ll need to visit him—”
Jaxon releases me and pushes himself up to full height, a deeper shade of red taking over his expression. “Jesus, you’re still doing it. You’re still protecting him.”
“He’s my father!”
Jaxon steps back, an incredulous look on his face. “The man took a plea deal today in admission to abducting you. You were there. I watched you when they announced his sentence. Who the hell cares
what his mental state is. How can you want to be anywhere near him after that?”
Wrapping my arms around my waist as if the pressure could hold in the ache, I shiver. “He didn’t admit to taking those girls.”
Jaxon’s face falls. “You can’t be serious. How is it obvious to everyone but you?”
“If it were obvious, then there would have been enough evidence to convict him. I shake my head hard, forcing a swallow over the lump in my throat. “I can’t accept that he did it. I can’t even bear to think it.” I blink back tears, my eyes hot and stinging. “And if you still do…” I shake my head, unable to finish my sentence, but I don’t have to. One thing I know for certain about Jaxon Mills; he knows me better than anyone.
“So, now what?” he says on an exhale. “You can’t hold on to your father’s innocence forever. You’ll never move forward if you do. What will it take, Aurora?”
One year ago, we could barely keep our hands off each other. We’d overcome the distance and time that had kept us apart for two years before finally getting our chance. We surpassed the awkwardness of our first summer together—the summer I was much too young for him but much too in love to care. After that, every moment was as precious as the last grain of an hourglass. As if we knew our time was running out.
Our time has run out.
The door opens behind Jaxon, revealing the concerned face of Scott, my best friend from childhood, from when I led a happy, normal life in Durham, North Carolina. His eyes flick between the two of us. Jealousy has festered between them for years, but Scott has only ever been a friend in my heart.
“You okay, Aurora?”
“Of course she’s not okay,” Jaxon snaps.
I shoot him a warning glance, then turn to Scott, my face softening. “I’m coming. I just need another minute.”
Scott’s worried glance drifts between me and Jaxon, his lean frame blocking the view of the hallway behind him. His freshly cut, sandy blond hair is perfectly styled atop his head, a complete contrast to Jaxon’s tanned and rugged appearance.
“Okay.” He hesitates for another second before sighing, then stepping out and shutting the door behind him.
“You’re not seriously going to leave with that guy. I thought—”
Jaxon looks genuinely confused right now, and so damn hurt. Part of me wants to fix it. I’ve only ever wanted to fix everyone. But clearly, I’m the worst person for that job.
“You thought what, Jax? That my father would be convicted and everything would go back to the way it was before? You think Sheriff Brooks will allow me to step one foot back into that town without a challenge?” I scoff. “Even my father’s best friend thinks he’s a monster.” I shake my head, trying to rid the memory of the town’s angry eyes watching me as I entered the courtroom earlier today.
“This isn’t about the town. This is about you and me.”
I cringe, knowing this conversation will only take us in the same circles, and neither of us is ready to end the loop. I charge toward the door, but I have to pass Jaxon to get there. As I do, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me in, his hot breath heavy with desperation against my ear. “Don’t go.”
I crumble instantly, his arms my only chance of standing. I’ve missed his hold and his sweet, whispered words that ignite a heat between us no extinguisher could ever dissipate.
“We need more time to figure this out.”
My eyes flutter closed, relishing in his embrace one last time. How easy it could be to fall victim to our love once more, forever. But I can’t.
“Let me go, Jax.”
He does, and the move is so quick, my lungs deflate with the loss of him.
Jaxon has always been the wild rush of the creek barreling by, a force powerful enough to alter even the sturdiest of landscapes, and he halted me with his eyes. Icy gray orbs with a stormy finish. And I wanted to fall. To let his rapids carry me and take me over the edge.
I wanted to live in his waterfall.
Not drown in his cascade.
Stale air whirls amid a buzz of the fluorescent lights as we hold our gaze and cling to this moment, prolonging our goodbye. That’s what this is, isn’t it? If we can’t be together…if I can’t return to Balsam Grove…if I can’t forgive him. Goodbye is the only way forward.
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British Bachelor
Releases January 24, 2021
British Bachelor (Sneak Peek)
Chapter 1
The bell above the door chimed as I pushed my way into the quaint Victorian building in Wayland Square, a historic area on the east side of Providence, Rhode Island. One look at the corner establishment with a hanging sign that read Spill the Tea could easily trick a person into thinking it was owned by an actual Brit. The truth was, my parents had just traveled to Europe one too many times.
The locals didn’t mind who ran their favorite gossip joint. They came for the social hour, gathering at round tables while the mounted televisions around the room played delayed British news and drama shows. Guests loved their afternoon tea and the array of fancy finger foods offered, and my parents loved the guests right back.
“Oh, it’s Chelsea,” greeted a bubbly brunette named Gwen. She sat at a round table by the window with a few other women, all frequent visitors to the small tearoom and all around my mother’s age. They loved to adopt English accents while they chatted, and with seemingly nothing better to do, they were also oddly curious about my personal life.
Groaning internally, I forced a friendly smile while slowing my walk toward the front counter. Since my mom was helping a customer, it would be obvious if I avoided the woman like I wanted to.
“Hi, Gwen. How’s the tea today?”
She raised her cup, pinky out, and nodded her approval. “Absolutely delicious.” She looked past me to the door that had just closed behind me. “Where are those little rascals who usually accompany you?”
Gwen was referencing the three kids I nannied for full-time—three-year-old twin girls and a twelve-year-old boy. Their parents worked at the hospital, Simon as a doctor and Bridget as a nurse. Two months ago they’d hired me to live in their pool house and watch the kids while they worked. Conveniently, their house was within walking distance from Spill the Tea, so we often strolled around the nearby park before stopping in for treats on our way back home.
When I didn’t answer her quickly enough, Gwen’s face fell into exaggerated sympathy. “Oh no. You are still employed, aren’t you, dear?”
I let out an awkward laugh. “Yup. Still employed. They’re just on a family holiday in Europe visiting their grandparents.” I decided to leave my response vague. I always felt like the woman was fishing for something to elaborate on.
“Oh, that sounds splendid.” Gwen set her tea down and placed her hands in her lap. “I do hope you’re making the most of your days off.” She eyed my hot-pink leggings and fitted black tank top with a frown. “I’m sure, with a bit of sprucing up, a pretty girl like you could easily attract a nice young lad around town. Maybe work on getting a few rascals of your own soon.”
I groaned inwardly, regretting my decision to allow the conversation as I walked in. There was no hope of this going anywhere good. Gwen was as old-fashioned as they came, and I was certain that, in her eyes, being single in my late twenties was some sort of sin. Not that she was the only one in the joint who would have loved to see me hitched by then. I threw a sharp accusing glance at my mother, who was still helping a guest from behind the counter.
My mother had been talking about her future grandbabies since the day I’d graduated high school. It was like she’d had it all mapped out for me. I would go to college, meet a man, graduate, get married, then have a litter of babies. Nearly twelve years later, and my life hadn’t panned out that way at all. I just wished my mother wouldn’t be so open with her customers about my situation.
“For sure.” I broadened my smile at Gwen to appease her after her rascal comment.
“Well, good. I’d hate to see a pretty girl like you wind up alone.”
I’d had my share of boyfriends over the years, but after my most recent breakup, I knew the last thing I needed was another man in my life. It was time to focus on me, on dreams, my journey, my happiness. I felt stronger than I had in years, and I wanted to enjoy that time until the right man came along. Unfortunately, my mom and her old-fashioned friends would never understand. A woman like Gwen wouldn’t want to hear that. She only wanted the juicy gossip, even if it was as fake as the jewelry she wore.
It took all my energy to keep the smile on my face. “Oh, I’m not alone. I just stopped by to get my tea and scone fix before the big night.”
Gwen’s eyes brightened, and she clapped her hands excitedly. “The big night, eh? Oh, do tell. Do you have a date? Is he as handsome as Dean?”
I cringed at the mention of my ex-boyfriend. I dropped him right along with college. He hadn’t understood my need to pursue my dreams of writing, and that was enough for me to let him go. “Well, actually—”
Gwen cut me off, leaning forward as if no one else in the joint could hear her prodding questions and asking, “Is he the one?”
“Well, I don’t know—”
“C’mon, dear,” she jumped in again. “What does your gut tell you?”
With every interruption, my frustration grew. Still, I maintained my calm. “It’s all too new to—”
“Have you shagged him yet?”
I heard my mom’s gasp clear across the room. “Gwen!” she scolded. “Hush and leave the poor girl be. Who Chelsea chooses to shag is none of your business.”
Holy hell. My eyes darted around the tearoom to see every single eyeball staring back at me except for the man at the counter who was thumbing through a stack of cash. But just because he wasn’t gawking at me didn’t mean he hadn’t heard the entire exchange. Heat flooded my face as I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling, wishing I could crawl beneath the baseboards.
