by Joss Wood
Kai had no concept of unconditional love.
“What happened twenty-five years ago?”
Kai flinched and Flick closed her eyes, imagining the emotional whip across his back. She winced internally but didn’t drop her eyes from his. She needed to know. Until she did, she couldn’t tell him that she would love him despite it.
“I killed my mother.”
No, he didn’t. It was inconceivable that an eight-year-old Kai would kill his mother. It hadn’t happened. Something had happened but not that. “No, you didn’t.”
Surprise flashed in his eyes at her firm statement. I will always believe the best of you, Kai, even if you don’t believe it yourself, she silently told him.
“It wasn’t a gun or a knife but I bought and handed her the instrument of her death.” Before Flick could absorb those words, he spoke again and his voice was cold and hard. And desolate. “I’m not good for you, Flick. I’m not what you want, and I’m definitely not what you need. I’m not one of your strays that can be rehabilitated or nurtured back to health.”
“Uh—”
Kai stepped off the porch and turned to look back at her. “I’m leaving Mercy for a while. When I get back, if I ever come back, this—whatever this was—will just be a distant memory.”
Flick felt the verbal slap and jerked backward. She’d expected the end but hadn’t expected it to be this brutal. This clinical. “Jesus, Kai, seriously? Take a step back and let’s talk about this.”
Kai jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged. “There’s nothing to talk about. We had a fling, it’s done. Be happy, Flick. You deserve it.”
You make me happy, you moron! Flick wanted to scream the words but pride and stubbornness and sheer astonishment kept them behind her teeth.
She managed to get out another sentence. “Are you going to just walk away?”
“Quick and clean, Felicity.” He gave her a humorless smile. “It’s better this way.”
Better for whom? she thought as he walked away. Not, in any galaxy or in any way, for her.
***
“You’re running?”
Kai looked up to see Sawyer standing in the doorway to his bedroom. Ignoring him, he lifted a pile of shirts and dumped them into his suitcase. He wasn’t even going to reply, wasn’t going to dignify that stupid statement with a response.
“I am not running. I’m leaving Mercy to go back to doing what I do best.”
“Being a grumpy, lonely, reticent asshole?”
Kai tossed him a fuck-you look. “I stayed and ran this place while you were away. I did what you asked. Now you’re back and it’s time for me to go.”
Kai picked up his running shoes and tossed them on top of a white dress shirt, not noticing the streak of dirt that appeared on the white fabric. Why was everyone overreacting to his leaving? He’d never lied, hadn’t made any promises to stay. Mercy, helping Sawyer out, his thing with Flick—all of that had always been a temporary gig.
“Kai, you’re being a dick,” Sawyer said, his tone conversational.
“Noted,” Kai responded through gritted teeth. He felt like his skin was too small for his body, like his heart was about to burst out of his chest, and he didn’t need Sawyer on his case. He didn’t need him to tell him why he should stay, because God knew he could be easily persuaded.
“Talk to me, Manning.”
“I can’t do this.” Kai sat on the side of the bed and looked at the floor.
“Do what?”
“The town, the friends, the staying in one place,” Kai said. “It’s not me.”
“Or maybe it is you and you’re too damn stubborn to admit it.”
“This isn’t my town, this isn’t my home.”
“You don’t have a town and you don’t have a home,” Sawyer pointed out.
“Exactly!” Kai snapped. “Small-town America is not where I want to be.”
“Why not?” Sawyer folded his arms. He lifted an eyebrow. “The air is clean and it’s a fairly pretty place. You have friends here and a girl who seems to be—stupidly, in my opinion—crazy about you. So, what’s the problem?”
“My work takes me all over the world,” Kai snapped back.
“Sure, but they have these amazing things called planes that transport people over long distances in the quickest time possible.”
Kai scowled at the sarcasm.
“Your reasons are crap and you’re looking for a reason to run, to stop yourself from liking Mercy, from loving Flick, and from being happy.”
Sawyer’s words felt like a punch to his throat, but he couldn’t back down. He couldn’t admit that Sawyer might be onto something. That he was scared. Because he was. Scared of loving and of being loved, scared that he’d tumble into a life in this cute town with that spectacular woman. If he did, he would always be waiting for the sky to fall down, for the other shoe to drop. He didn’t think he could survive that. He didn’t think he could go on if he loved and lost Flick, in any shape or form. It would be one blow too many, a step too far.
It hurt now—God, it stung like a bullet to the heart, but he could still walk away and function. This one time, this only time, he would run from this fight. He didn’t need to compete, didn’t need to try.
Because, in this battle called love, he’d always been destined to fail.
Kai stood up and straightened his spine. He looked his friend in the eye, his jaw tight and his eyes bleak. “Conversation over, Lawson. Let it go.”
“Then get the hell out of town, because if Flick is upset then you’re going to have Jack to deal with.” Sawyer narrowed his eyes in response. “And me. And Axl.”
Kai scowled, stung at Sawyer’s lack of loyalty. “Because I had an affair with a woman who I never, not once, led on? Who always knew the score? I never lied to her. I never promised her a damn thing.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Sawyer agreed.
“So you all want to punch me because you think that Flick is going to be hurt?” Kai retorted. “Have any of you considered that she might be happy to get rid of me?”
“Try not to be any more of an asshole than you’re currently being. Flick adores you, any moron can see that, and we know that she’s going to be hurt. And that’s not why we want to punch you.”
Kai lifted his eyebrow, a silent command to tell Sawyer to get the hell on with it. “We want to punch you because you’re a dick.”
Fair enough, Kai thought as Sawyer walked way.
***
Your heart isn’t actually breaking, Flick thought, waking up to an overcast day and a chilly fog in her heart. Yes, you miss him and you will for a while, but in a couple of days, weeks, months, you’ll forget about him, forget about his hard body and his crooked smile, his gentle sarcasm and the glint in his eye. You’ll forget the taste of his skin, his smell, how complete you felt when he slid into you.
Her world, the one she’d thought she had such a handle on, had caved in. Without Kai, Mercy and the Artsy Tartsy made no sense at all. It was like he’d removed the heart of her world, the puzzle piece that made the picture clearer, the one that gave meaning to the picture.
Flick rolled over and placed her wrist over her eyes, hating her tears. She’d told herself she wasn’t going to cry over a man again, that she wasn’t going to do this, but here she was. She’d wasted her tears so many times before, but she couldn’t help thinking that Kai, more than any other man, was worth her tears.
Oh, he wasn’t perfect—she’d have hated it if he were. He was surly and annoying and reticent, but he was also loyal, kind, and funny. He was a real man, with a murky history, someone who was trying to be better, to shake off the shackles of his past. He’d succeeded in every way he could, except where it mattered most.
He couldn’t love, he couldn’t trust, he couldn’t believe in happiness.
>
He couldn’t give her everything that she craved: security, commitment, love.
Flick knew that she couldn’t demand his love; that love and trust that weren’t freely given weren’t worth anything at all. She couldn’t force him to believe in her, to believe in them, to take that risk. She wished she could, but his hang-ups and emotions were out of her control. Below the heartbreak and the constant throbbing pain, she was angry at him, angry that he was tossing away something that could be so damn wonderful.
She loved him. But she wished she didn’t.
Flick used her sheet to wipe away her tears and rolled out of bed. It was nearly four and if she didn’t get to the bakery, the good folk of Mercy would not get their breakfast muffins and she’d have a riot on her hands. But she couldn’t help stopping for a moment, wondering what her life would look like if Kai was in it. Would she stay in Mercy, constantly waiting for his return? Or would she join him on his travels? Maybe a little of both?
It didn’t matter. It would never be a question that she needed to find answers for, because Kai had left her behind. And it hurt to wonder.
***
Flick walked into the bakery via the back door and was surprised to see Pippa sitting on the stainless steel table, hands tucked under her thighs and her eyes wary. Oh, yeah, exactly what she needed—an early-morning fight with her ex-best friend.
Flick hung her bag and jacket on a hook and reached for an apron. It would be better to head this argument off at the pass, to beg Pippa to postpone whatever she had to say. She couldn’t handle it this morning. She was emotional and psychically exhausted.
“Pippa, not today, please,” Flick asked quietly as she wrapped the apron around her waist and tied the strings. “I can’t argue with you today.”
Pippa nodded, her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m not here to fight with you, Fee.”
Flick raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You’re not? Then why would you get up at the crack of dawn?”
“Sawyer called me late last night. He told me that Kai left. Probably for good.” Pippa’s eyes radiated sympathy. “No matter how mad I am at you, you’re still my best friend, and Kai leaving has got to hurt.”
God, the empathy in her voice pulled tears to Flick’s eyes. Not wanting Pippa to see them fall, she turned away to reach for her biggest mixing bowl. Bran muffins this morning, she decided. She could make them with her eyes closed. “I appreciate the gesture and the sentiment but, in all honesty, I shouldn’t be crying. He made me no promises. I knew going in that he was a temporary gig.”
“That doesn’t mean it hurts any less.” Pippa jumped off the table and walked into the pantry, bringing back a sack of flour. “Do you love him?”
Despite the barriers between them, the misunderstandings, Flick couldn’t lie to Pippa. “Yes.” She saw doubt cross Pippa’s face and held up her hand. “It’s not like before. What I feel for him has nothing on that. This is real and ugly and tangible and . . . God, Pips, it hurts so much.”
Pippa pulled the mixing bowl from her hands, slapped it onto the table, and wrapped her arms around Flick, her temple resting in her hair. Flick dropped her forehead onto Pippa’s shoulder and let the tears fall. “I have no right to cry, and you can’t tell Jack. He’ll take it out on Kai.”
“Kai can handle your brother,” Pippa soothed, her hand gliding over Flick’s messy hair.
“I thought I knew what I was doing, thought that I had this under control,” Flick said between hiccups and sobs.
“Honey, love isn’t something that you can control. Though I have to agree, I wish you hadn’t fallen in love with a commitment-phobic, ex–Special Ops guy who’s seen too much and done too much.” Pippa pushed Flick onto a stool and grabbed another one before holding Flick’s trembling hands in her own. “Fee, are you sure there’s no chance?”
Flick shook her head. “He’s not interested. I was a fling, a fun time, someone to waste some time with.” When Pippa’s eyes narrowed in anger, Flick hastened to explain. “It’s not his fault. That’s what I was spouting when we first met, when we started sleeping together. He didn’t move the goalposts, I did. I just thought . . .”
“What, honey?”
Flick gulped and tears streamed down her cheeks. “I just thought that I made him happy, that there was a chance that we could . . . I don’t know, have something more than that.”
Pippa picked up the corner of her apron and gently wiped the wetness away. “I’m so sorry that you’ve been going through all this alone, that I wasn’t there for you.”
“Again, not your fault.” Flick sucked in a breath. “That is all your mother’s fault, and it’s not a situation I intend to leave festering for very much longer.”
Pippa’s hand stilled. “So you’re going to tell me?”
“I’m going to make Gina tell you. We’ll visit her tonight and we won’t leave until she spills the beans.” Flick hauled in a big breath and her shoulders lifted and dropped. “It’s nothing to worry about, Pips. Well, it is, but not in a she’s-going-to-die way.”
Pippa looked like she was about to argue but then she seemed to swallow her words. “Okay, tonight. That’ll be good. So, how are we going to fix your broken heart, Fee?”
Flick closed her eyes. “I’m going to do what I always do. I’m going to work through it. I’m going to make breakfast muffins and croissants and I’m going to greet my customers. Then I’ll make bread and do inventory and take my dog for a walk. I’m going to draw up a quote to cater that wedding and I’m going to do a sample range of meals for the boys at Caswallawn. I won’t think about him or miss him. I’m done crying for him!”
Pippa wiped a tear off Flick’s cheek. “Oh, Fee. You’re not nearly done crying and I suspect that you won’t be for a while. Why don’t you take the day off, climb into bed, and try to sleep? You look exhausted.”
Sleep and a smashed heart weren’t happy bedfellows. Flick gestured to the mixing bowl and the flour. “I need to make muffins. Moses isn’t coming in until later.”
“I’ll make the muffins,” Pippa told her.
“You?” Flick shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Hey, Gran taught me to bake too. I can do breakfast muffins,” Pippa said. She stood up and walked over to the shelves holding all their recipe books. “Hand me a recipe and I’ll do it.”
Her love life was going to the dogs but Flick didn’t think that was a good enough reason to punish the residents of Mercy with Pippa’s baking. “I’ll make them, Pips. But thanks.” Flick pushed back her hair and pulled it into a messy tail. “Thanks for being here. It means a lot to me.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Muffins I can do, anything else is up for debate.”
“God, I could just kick Kai,” Pippa muttered, hopping up onto the counter as Flick got to work.
“You know the saying ‘It’s better to have loved and lost than not loved at all?’” Flick asked, reaching for the packet of flour.
“Yeah?”
“Bullshit.” Flick sighed. “Perfect, utter bullshit.”
Chapter Fourteen
MayorBob: It has come to our attention that this forum is being misused. It was created so that the residents of Mercy would have a place to—anonymously, if necessary—make comments on local politics and council decisions. It is not a vehicle to sell items or to dissect the personal and private lives of Mercy residents. Please refrain from doing either.
HankPriceCheatedOnMe: So sorry to see you so miserable, Flick. ALL men are bastards and Hank Price is their king!
***
“I wouldn’t look good in prison orange,” Pippa said into her glass of wine. Flick grimaced as Tally reached across the table and topped off Pippa’s glass. Pippa took a long pull, cradled the glass to her chest, and glowered at Rufus. Ru placed his paws over his eyes and whimpered.
�
��You’re upsetting my dog, Pips,” Flick said, putting her running shoes up onto the porch railing. They’d just returned from inspecting Gina’s house and Flick had had to steer Pippa from one room to the next, her cousin almost robotic with shock. Eventually, her reaction had morphed from shock into pure anger and apparently the solution was red wine.
Flick wanted to tell Pippa that dealing with the house and its contents was hard enough but dealing with it with a hangover was going to be a lot harder. But she knew her cousin, and Pippa wasn’t in the mood to listen.
Pips had taken the news that Gina was a sort-of hoarder rather well last night, thinking, no doubt, that Flick had been overreacting. Gina downplaying the situation hadn’t helped either.
“It’s just a little bit of collecting,” Gina had finally said after realizing that her daughter and niece were going nowhere until she opened her can of worms.
“And I’m a little short of cash,” Gina had added.
“Gina,” Flick had warned.
Gina, the manipulative witch, had just sighed, closed her eyes, and waved a languid hand. “I’m feeling a bit tired. Flick will fill you in on the details, darling.”
Flick thought that the easiest, quickest, and most direct way to fill Pippa in was to take her to the house and show her how much Gina was downplaying her problems.
Seeing how furious and shocked her cousin was, she didn’t have the heart to tell Pippa that Gina was flirting with bankruptcy as well. One problem at a time . . .
Flick exchanged a look with Tally, who’d joined them on the tour of the house to answer any questions Pippa had on the value of some of the items. Pippa hadn’t started to think about values yet—she was still stuck on how much junk there was in her old house.
“I’m going to kill her, I really am,” Pippa muttered.
“You’re not,” Flick assured her. “The shock will pass.”
Pippa lifted up her head to nail Flick with a hard look. “Any other surprises I should know about?” she demanded.
Flick gnawed on her bottom lip. “Why don’t you wrap your head around the fact that your mom is a borderline hoarder first?”
