by Joanne Rock
She allowed the comfort of that touch to sink in as she drove. Let herself feel the warmth of it. The caring. For too long, she’d let her memories of Clayton get tangled up in the attack, her online conversations with the man she’d thought was Clay clouding her perspective on the friendship they’d shared.
Seeing him again helped her to detangle it all. More important, being around him made her realize her feelings for Clay back then hadn’t been one-sided. He’d cared about her.
And from the feel of his touch right now, she would say he cared about her still. The idea tripped over her, unsettling and enticing at the same time. To a certain extent, she felt like she knew Clayton well based on the experiences they’d shared as teens. They’d both been abandoned in different ways by their parents. That shared experience had bonded them fast—a bond she’d trusted so much she hadn’t been afraid to meet him in the woods alone.
Yet there were new factors complicating any kind of friendship—or more—with Clay. She didn’t understand the man he’d become, for one thing.
“Zach and Sam and I didn’t go far for the first couple of weeks after we left Heartache.” She’d wanted to get as far from home as possible, but Zach wouldn’t hear of it until he had a plan. “My brother had a lot to arrange with my mother to make sure she wasn’t going to worry about us or report us missing. Plus, we needed to have enough money to get us started. Our birth certificates. All the right paperwork.”
She’d been in no shape to help, letting Zach and Sam figure everything out while she sat by the river day after day near the campsite where they slept for the next week and a half. “Finally, when Zach said it was time for us to leave for good, he arranged a time for me to go back to the house and get some personal things when my mother wasn’t around since he was afraid I’d lose my nerve to leave if I started again with another round of goodbyes. Anyway, I made a beeline for the medicine cabinet.”
A pothole in the road jarred the car, the thump reverberating through her while the traffic around them increased.
She’d been overwhelmed with guilt about everything Zach and Sam were giving up for her sake. She’d been too deep in her own problems to understand how much more damage it would do to everyone around her when she took those pills.
“How long before someone found you?” He still hadn’t moved his hand away from her knee.
She wondered if he took as much comfort from that simple connection as she did.
“Less than an hour, I think. I just lay down on my bed and waited for it all to be over.” What a fool she’d been. “I abdicated all responsibility, letting my brother rush me to the hospital to have my stomach pumped.”
“You were young, Gabby. You were dealing with far more than most adults ever have to manage in their lifetime.” He glanced over at her. “I’m surprised the hospital would have released you into your brother’s care.” He pointed to another exit. “I think that’s the road we want for the courthouse.”
Startled at how easily she’d been distracted by Clay, she put her blinker on. They were almost there. Butterflies started in her stomach at the thought of stepping into the courtroom.
“My mother did show up at the hospital for checkout. But by then, she knew the plan and seemed comfortable with us leaving town, so...” She shrugged, unwilling to make today all about her. “Without us at home, my mom was able to leave Heartache and move to Kansas where my father was imprisoned. She’s happier being close to him, so she let us go.”
Her life had plummeted from being the daughter of a well-to-do businessman and his proud wife, to being the unwanted child of a convict and a woman who had no interest in raising kids alone.
“Damn. That’s cold. Guess there’s more than one way to check out on your family, isn’t there?” He pulled his hand away from her knee as they turned off the exit. “I thought my parents were bad with the alcoholism and neglect. But your mom bowed out of parenting, too, didn’t she?”
“Pretty much.” Gabby turned up the volume on the car’s navigation system to make sure she didn’t miss the turns for the courthouse again.
“Can I ask you something personal?” Clay cast a sidelong glance her way.
She could feel his eyes on her even as she kept her attention fixed on the road. Traffic was even heavier near the courthouse. The case had attracted attention all over the state.
“I guess.” She wasn’t sure how personal she wanted to get right before she stepped into the courtroom to face Jeremy Covington again. But she’d already confided some of her most closely guarded secrets in an effort to clean the slate of the past.
“How did you move past that hurdle and find a way to forgive your mom?” He went quiet for a moment before adding, “It’s not that I’m trying to put you on the spot, Gabby. I just thought maybe your answer would help me as I try to face my father again when I’m still so damn resentful of the old bastard.”
She wanted to say that her mother was nothing like his father. Mom hadn’t abused her. But then again, who knows what might have happened if it hadn’t been for Zach finding Gabriella the day she’d overdosed? She knew her mother wouldn’t have knocked on her door that night. And maybe not the next day, either. There were so many different kinds of abuse. She saw that more as an adult than she had then.
“I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask,” she admitted, pulling into a parking spot at the back of the courthouse lot. “I never blamed my mother for the turns my life took. So I never felt like I needed to forgive her.”
As she tugged the key from the ignition, she peered up at the courthouse and wondered how she’d get through this day. She’d waited a long time for this moment, and now that it was here, she felt more nervous than anything.
She pivoted in her seat in time to see Clay’s eyebrows arched in surprise. She’d almost forgotten what they were talking about.
“It might not have been your mother’s fault that you were assaulted or that you overdosed, but she could have been a support for you in the aftermath.” Clay frowned. “She abdicated her job as a parent, handing it over to her son. It must have been tough for you, not having your mom around—”
“No tougher than it is for Mia. At least I had my brother to step in to guide me—” She cut herself off, realizing she was lashing out at him unfairly, her nerves getting the best of her. “Sorry to bring that up again.” She shook her head. “I’m just nervous, I think.”
“I shouldn’t have pressed it.” His jaw was tight. Tense.
“Maybe it’s best if we table that conversation for now.” She had enough to deal with today. Her eyes followed the progress of a camera crew through the parking area toward the county building, a well-coiffed reporter leading the way. Anxiety spiked, squeezing until her ribs felt brittle. “I mean, you may have a point, but I need to get my head on straight before I walk in there.”
Clay turned to peer out the windshield in the direction of the entrance. Even from his profile, she could see his expression grow grim.
“Of course.” With a clipped nod he shifted toward her and took her hand in his. “I lost sight of what today was about. Is there anything I can do for you to make this easier?”
She appreciated the way he focused all his attention on her, his dark eyes empathetic. She locked on his gaze, taking comfort in knowing he was there for her. With her. Maybe it was strange that she felt the old connection to him renew itself so quickly. But holding his hand made the years they’d been apart disappear. Made all the unsettling nightmares fade in significance. It was just her and Clay. The guy who’d always had a way of making her feel special.
Important.
“Keep holding my hand.” The words leaped out before she had a chance to measure them, a true wish from her heart. She blinked at the realization of how much she craved that connection with him. Her cheeks warmed. “And if you could lead the way in ther
e, maybe, and find us some seats, I’d be grateful just to follow you.”
Her heart beat faster. A combination of nerves and ill-timed attraction. Or, hell, maybe it was well-timed. She didn’t know anymore. But she was so glad that Clay was with her today. Her brother would be glued to Heather Finley’s side. Sam had Amy Finley in his life. If Clay hadn’t been sitting with her right now, would Gabriella turn her car around?
She was glad she wouldn’t be finding out.
“I’m here for you, Gabriella. Once we’re out of this car, I’m not letting go.” Clay took her hand in both of his, surrounding it like a treasure. Raising it to his lips, he brushed a kiss along her knuckles. “You’re going to be glad to see Covington in front of the judge, being held accountable for everything he’s done to hurt people.”
The warmth of his lips tingled against her skin, the memory of that tenderness giving her courage. Swallowing hard, she nodded, focusing on the brick, Federal-style building with imposing white columns.
“I know you’re right.” She took strength from him. “It’s just that he’s been this demon in my head for so long.”
Clayton leaned closer, lifting his chin to kiss her forehead. This time his lips lingered on her skin. She closed her eyes to savor the moment. The kiss.
“You can do this,” he told her as he leaned back. “Are we ready?” He lifted one hand to caress her cheek, his callused thumb landing on her chin.
A loaded question. Was she ready to face her attacker? Not really. But with Clayton’s hand clasping hers, reminding her that she could still find joy and comfort in a man’s touch, Gabriella was willing to try. She’d come to Heartache to heal. To put the ghosts of her past to rest for good.
Only then could she move forward. And she couldn’t imagine anything inspiring her to look ahead more than the lure of Clayton Travers. She took a deep breath.
“Let’s go.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
SKIPPING SCHOOL THE day after you kneed a classmate in the balls was the only possible option, Mia told herself as she drove her father’s old junker of a car right past the entrance of Crestwood High.
It was either sit in class while rumors flew, her classmates snickered and boys used the attention as an excuse to harass her, or take the teen version of a personal day. As Mia stared at the yellow buses in her rearview mirror, pouring out kids who made up stories about her supposedly adventurous sex life to entertain themselves, she didn’t feel the least bit guilty about her ditching school.
Well, maybe a little guilty.
She hadn’t asked Pete’s permission to use the car. He’d been sleeping peacefully—definitely still breathing—when she’d left the house and she hadn’t wanted to disturb him. He’d let her take the old-as-dirt sedan a few times before to do errands for him after school, and she told herself he sure wouldn’t need it now. His new monitors and gizmos around the bed weren’t life support or anything—just equipment that made it easier for the home health aides to track his vitals or hook him up to extra oxygen. But he didn’t get out of the house too often anymore.
Still... Pete had been reasonably good to her. It bugged her to think she might be taking advantage of him.
Turning toward the heart of town, Mia tried to think where she could spend the day until it was time to meet Ellie for dinner. Mia could always call her friend to let her know she had driven to school and could meet her at the Peachtree. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in a real restaurant. Davis had taken her to a movie the night before and even sprang for the popcorn despite her polite refusals since she could contribute exactly nada to the date expenses.
Davis.
Uneasily she wondered how he felt today. If he’d thought of her at all this morning or would notice she wasn’t in school. No doubt he’d be relieved.
Would her absence only fuel the rumors about them? As he had pointed out, nothing remained secret at school. They had seen a handful of people from Crestwood at the movies, so the news of their date would already be public knowledge.
Arriving on Main Street, Mia slowed down to look for a place to hide out for the day. The pizza parlor wasn’t open, or she’d buy a Coke and try to make it last all morning. The lights were on at the secondhand store, though. Last Chance Vintage.
That sounded about right for her. She was a “last chance” kind of girl anyway. Her date with a band geek had been her last effort to find a guy worth her time and she’d ruined that in a hurry. Finding her birth father was her last chance at a real home and he was going to die any day.
Her stomach knotted, but she ignored the sickening churn. It was just a case of missing breakfast since she wouldn’t get the school a.m. meal.
After parking the car, she slammed the creaky door with enough force to get it to latch, using all her strength. The Last Chance Vintage sign was painted a pretty shade of purple, the front window full of orchid and plum shades of everything. There were lavender sweaters stacked in straw baskets and amethyst-colored baubles spread out on antique lace. A set of violet drinking glasses poured out rhinestone earrings and necklaces, while a mannequin wore indigo silk pj’s and played a purple guitar.
As small-town shops went, Mia had to admit it was kinda cool. And since it was secondhand stuff, she wouldn’t feel bad about window shopping, right?
Rock music drifted on the cold morning breeze and Mia could see an auburn-haired woman inside, folding T-shirts into a neat stack. But when Mia tugged on the door, it didn’t budge. A buzz sounded, however. An electronic chime that made the T-shirt folder look up at her through the pane of glass in the front door.
“Sorry!” Mia called, only just seeing a smaller sign on the door with store hours that said the place wouldn’t open for another thirty minutes.
Before she could back away, though, the woman smiled and gestured for her to wait.
Argh. Now she would feel even worse if she didn’t buy something. Regretting her decision to come here, Mia hugged her fleece-lined hoodie tighter.
“I didn’t mean to bother you,” Mia blurted as soon as the door opened with another series of chimes. “I saw the light on and thought you were open. I’ll come back another time.”
The woman—dressed in black skinny jeans and killer studded boots—held the door wide. “I never turn away a customer if I’m here. Come on in and have a look around.” She waved Mia inside, not seeming to notice the cold breeze blowing in through the open door and fluttering the tails of her oversize flannel shirt. “As a bonus, you get a coffee while you browse since I just put the pot on.”
“Really?” The question leaped out of Mia’s lips before she realized she sounded like an overeager ten-year-old. Her gaze roamed the walls and shelves stuffed full of interesting things. A set of old shutters had been remade into a privacy screen draped with lingerie that might have been naughty a few decades ago, but she knew girls who wore stuff like that to school over a T-shirt.
Definitely not a look for her or the breasts that already called too much attention to themselves.
“As long as you don’t mind carrying a mug around.” The auburn-haired rocker chick retreated to a small counter at the back of the store, but she arched backward on her high-heeled boots to look at Mia around a rack of doilies in every shade of cream or white imaginable. “I don’t do to-go cups since I’ve turned into a recycling fiend.” She was already pouring two mismatched mugs full on the scarred, dark wooden surface of the coffee bar. “Would you like me to leave you to look around on your own, or did you need help finding anything?”
The scent of roses permeated the store, a row of pink candles burning on a raised glass counter near the register.
“Um.” A little overwhelmed by the easy generosity and the totally unfamiliar sense of being treated like an adult, Mia directed her gaze to a rack full of secondhand tees at prices that she might be a
ble to afford. “I could use a new body that would actually fit into these clothes.”
The woman set down the coffeepot and turned toward her, frowning. “Are you kidding? You look like a size six, maybe? I’ve got tons of things—”
Mia let go of her grip on the heavy, lined hoodie in an embarrassing effort to show her the huge rack issue.
“Tricky,” the saleslady agreed calmly as her blue eyes glanced over the situation. She set a spoon on the dark wooden counter beside a mug with a picture of a cartoon cat in a polka dot dress. “But not impossible. Want to add your own cream and sugar?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Mia stepped closer to the coffee counter, which might have been a fancy dressing table at one time with lots of small drawers. Pouring a healthy dose of milk to the coffee and bypassing the sugar, she wondered how she’d ever get out of the store without buying something after this person had been so nice to her. “My budget is, like, super tiny, though. So maybe it’s just as well I’m hard to shop for, right?”
Better to be honest up front. She gulped her coffee and hoped she could slink away without having to make more small talk.
“If you’re interested, I have a whole back room of clothes I took on consignment that didn’t sell, and the owners haven’t returned to pick up.” Taking her time to make her own cup of coffee, tasting it at intervals and adding more cream or a sprinkle of nutmeg, the saleslady didn’t seem totally put off by the fact that Mia couldn’t afford much. “And I like a wardrobe challenge. Do you mind if I ask what you’d like to accomplish with your clothes? Something more career-ready? Casual stuff? A girls’-night-out outfit?”
Mia nearly choked on her coffee. “I’m not quite career age,” she admitted, her cheeks heating even as she wanted to laugh. “I could use some clothes that call zero attention to my body without draping myself in a blanket.”
“Still in college?” Apparently satisfied with her coffee after a few tries, the sales clerk leaned a hip against the counter. “I’m Erin Finley, by the way.”
