Healing You

by Katana Collins

  “No, I, uh—well, it’s actually going to be a much larger turnout than we expected. And um, I’m trying to move the party location across the street from Steve Tripp’s veterinary clinic—you remember Steve, right?” Her voice broke and she found herself suddenly wishing she had left his name out of it. Too late now, though.

  “How could I forget the boy who nearly killed my daughter?”

  She cleared her throat, ignoring the jab. “It’s late and the permits are hard to acquire. I emailed Mayor O’Donnell, but who knows if she’ll even get it. It probably goes to an assistant—”

  “I’ll put a call in,” he said. “With all the money we’ve donated to her campaigns? She sure as hell better get you that permit.”

  Yvonne breathed a sigh of relief, her eyes fluttering closed. “I’m really glad you and Mom are coming. I didn’t think you’d want to—”

  “Of course we do,” he said, cutting her off. And even though the sentiment was kind, his voice was still curt. Annoyed. Annoyed that she had so little faith in them, maybe? She thought back to her various fundraisers… there wasn’t a single one they had missed. Granted, most of the previous ones had been finer dining events that were more up their alley. But even still. “Your mother and I… you know how much we love you, right? Everything we’ve done, it’s been—”

  “To protect me, I know.”

  He cleared his throat. “Yes. Well, I’m sorry if we ever went overboard in doing so.”

  Yvonne opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her father just apologized? For being overbearing? She looked out the window to the sky to see if pigs were flying overhead, too.

  “Thank you, Daddy. I actually have one more favor to ask…”

  “You’re cashing in all at once today, aren’t you?” She heard a quiet clink in the background and she had no doubt he was pouring himself two fingers worth of whiskey.

  “Steve will be there on Saturday. Can you and Mom make an effort to be nice?”

  There was a soft sigh on the other end of the phone. “I’ll talk to your mother.”

  The doors at the front of Elsa’s diner jingled as Sophy walked in. Yvonne gave her a nod of acknowledgment, waving her over. “Thanks, Dad. My twelve o’clock is here.” They each said goodbye as Sophy sat down, ordering a cup of coffee and a club sandwich.

  “So,” Sophy said, finally settling in at the table. Yvonne shut her laptop, moving it to the side. “I guess you’re wondering why I, of all people, called you here.”

  Yvonne lifted an eyebrow. “I presume it has something to do with the development deal you’ve convinced my ex-fiancé and parents to participate in.”

  She gave Yvonne a shrewd smile, but not an altogether unpleasant one. “I really love this little town. And I believe that an expansion would do great things here. But I also don’t want to see the landscape change. And I don’t want to alienate the locals with big business.”

  “Okay.” Yvonne narrowed her eyes, not really sure where this was going.

  “And after a quick chat with Steve, I think I found a great solution. I want to offer local businesses first right of refusal for the storefronts in the shopping center we’re building on the outskirts of town. Any shops or restaurants who are maybe thinking of expanding would get first dibs. For example, if Elsa here decided to franchise and open a second location in the outlets, she would have diner exclusivity. We wouldn’t bring in any Denny’s or IHOPs or anything like that. If Lex opened a second location, we wouldn’t bring in a Starbucks.”

  “An outlet mall…” Yvonne said carefully. So far, it wasn’t a bad plan, giving the locals first crack at the location.

  Sophy nodded, taking a big bite of her sandwich. She chewed her turkey club, while Yvonne chewed over the thought over in her mind. “I’ve been here doing a lot of research. And while Maple Grove is filled with great restaurants and coffee shops and yoga centers and antique stores… it’s severely lacking big brand clothing stores. There’s nothing competitive in town. And the closest shopping mall is a forty minute drive. There is a whole brand of tourism solely for outlet shopping. We’ll get a few sporty shops in here since it’s a hiking and ski town. A couple of nicer stores—an Ann Taylor and Banana Republic. Maybe a Coach.”

  Yvonne felt her smile spread. “I think that’s a great idea, Sophy. I just don’t know how that involves me.”

  “Well…” She reached into a binder pulling out a stack of papers. “I thought that you may want to consider a storefront for your rescue. I know you have that little rented office on the East End of town, but that’s basically two desks and a shared computer, right?” Sophy paused for all of a second, not even allowing enough time for Yvonne to answer. She was right. Yvonne had a small office she rented for the sole purpose of having a place for meetings with potential donors. But it was essentially just a glorified cubicle for herself and Carrie. “We’re building the outlets to have a gorgeous park in the center… not like your typical outlet malls. And pending approval from the city council, we could put a fenced-in dog park there as well. It would be the perfect place for you to host events like the one you’re throwing this weekend. And that way, you could own a piece of the investment while also expanding your business.”

  Yvonne flipped through the sketches. “Wow, this is…” she ran her finger over blueprints, and even though she knew it was just business, she was touched. Sophy didn’t have to go to all this trouble to preserve their town. Yet, she did. “You’ve been busy,” Yvonne said.

  “You have no idea,” she laughed, breathlessly.

  “This is really great. I’ll have to go over the numbers with my accountant, but I’m already leaning toward yes.”

  Sophy’s smile widened and she leaned over, pointing to the second page in the packet of information she’d given. “This explains all the numbers. What it would cost to rent a storefront versus owning a piece of the development. Your mom already negotiated a potential storefront for you into their deal, but before we crossed the t’s on that, I thought I should check with you first.”

  Warmth blossomed deep in her chest. “My mom negotiated that? Are you sure it wasn’t my dad?”

  Sophy shook her head. “No. I mean, your dad was there, too, but it was your mom who was adamant about you expanding. Building the dog park was even her idea. She put me in contact with Mayor O’Donnell and your city planner.” Sophy gestured to her notebook and the paperwork now scattered about the table. With a tilt of her head, she gave a warm smile. “They seem like they’re really proud of you. For what that’s worth.”

  Coming from her mother? That was an apology. It was more than an apology. It was an active acceptance of her life’s work. “That’s really amazing of them to link my rescue into their deal, but I have my trust money. And I think this would be a really wise way to spend it. I’ll have my lawyer look over the paperwork, but so long as there aren’t any discrepancies…” Yvonne smiled and put out her hand. “I think I can safely say that I’m in.”

  Sophy firmly took her palm in hers, giving it an energetic shake. “I look forward to doing business with you.”

  ‡

  Chapter Thirty

  Steve opened his door Friday afternoon, ready to collapse. He tossed his keys onto the hook near the door and kicked off his shoes while loosening his tie. He shuffled out of his jacket, sweat dripping down the back of his neck, but then went perfectly still. Someone was in his house. On his couch, to be specific. He couldn’t see entirely from the hallway, but he saw a shadow of movement stand up.

  “Steven David Tripp, why in the damn hell have you been avoiding me all week?”

  “Ma?”

  “Yes. Your mother,” she said, walking over and giving him a light slap on the shoulder.

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Yeah, busy dodging my calls.” That’s when the smell of creamy potatoes hit him. And pot roast in the oven. Both he and his stomach growled at the same time.

  “You cooked me dinner?” Guilt fl
ooded him all at once.

  “I sure did,” she said, moving to the kitchen to stir something on the stovetop.

  “Did you do that just to make me feel even worse about avoiding you?”

  She looked up with a wink so fast that he may have missed it if he’d blinked. “Guilty,” she said. Molly was at Ma’s feet, nudging her nose against her thigh begging for a slip of the hand and a wad of creamy potatoes to hit the floor. “Go set the table and have a nice dinner with your mother.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, gathering two plates from the cabinets and setting them on his little table alongside of utensils.

  She spooned the potatoes and green beans onto each plate, while Steve carved the roast, serving her first. “Cabernet Sauvignon or Merlot?” he asked, going to his wine rack and pulling out two different bottles.

  She lifted a brow. “I thought Merlot was considered swill these days?”

  “Nah. There’s some great Merlots out there. It just got a bad rap for a while. And this one should actually go beautifully with the roast.”

  “You and Noah are so much more alike than either of you want to admit.”

  “Who says we don’t want to admit that? In a different life, I could have been him… I know that. I also know that it probably would have destroyed me.”

  He poured two glasses of Merlot and sat down across from her. Her blond bob had just one streak of gray in the front that framed her bright blue eyes. There were more lines around those eyes lately, but she was elegant and beautiful as ever. He held up his glass, hovering near hers. “What should we toast to?”

  “How about to my son’s happiness?” Her eyes sparkled as she stared at him dead on.

  He swallowed, doing his best not to give too much away. He loved his mother, but she was the last person he wanted to talk to about his life right now. He lifted a glass, forcing a smile in her direction. It was tight, like a pair of pants you hadn’t put on for years that you suddenly tried to squeeze into. “To happiness,” he said and reached out to clink her glass.

  She pulled it away quickly, shaking her head. “No. To your happiness.” Then, lifting it again, she held the glass out as a challenge to him.

  He swallowed against the tightness restricting his throat, giving a reluctant nod. “To my happiness. And yours,” he added pointedly. “Because if we’re drinking to mine, then we sure as hell better drink to yours, too, Ma.”

  “I can live with that,” she said, bringing the glass to her lips and taking a sip. “Kyra called Ronnie the other day.”

  Steve kept his eyes down as he took his first bite of pot roast, revealing nothing. “Oh?”

  “Are your panic attacks back?”

  “I’ve got it under control,” he answered coolly, his body feeling anything but. Heat swelled in his chest. Luckily, he was a damn pro at masking things. Well, everything other than his panic attacks.

  “Like you had it under control last time?” Challenge glinted in her eyes and her mouth turned down in concern.

  “No, not like last time. I’m not gonna get hooked on pills again, Ma.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.”

  He dropped his fork to his plate with a clatter. “I was eighteen when that happened. And even when it did, I recognized it was happening and I got help. Quickly.”

  “I know. And now you’re older and even more stubborn if that’s possible. It’s okay to ask for help.”

  “I know that. That’s why I called Kyra.”

  “Is it? Or did you call Kyra to avoid calling any of your family?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose hard. “It was Cam and Lydia’s engagement party. I didn’t want to take any family away from the party.”

  They were quiet for a few minutes while they finished eating. “Cam told me about Yvonne’s letter years ago.”

  Damn. Did no one in his family know how to keep a secret?

  “And after the party, Noah told him about your drive and Cam came to me.”

  Dammit, Noah. So much for keeping that between them.

  “It sounded like she said some horrible things in that letter,” Marty said.

  “Yep.”

  “Panic-inducing things?”

  “What do you want to hear, Ma?” Steve didn’t want to yell at his mother. He didn’t want to take his frustrations and anger and sadness out on the woman who raised him. She didn’t deserve that and Lord knew he’d given her enough grief through the years. “I really am fine. Yes, the panic attacks have started again, through infrequently. I called Dr. Warner and I’m beginning weekly sessions again. Molly here is still doing her job. Running still works as a stress reliever.”

  “What I want is to hear you voice the reasons why you think they’re back.”

  “They’re back because Yvonne is back. Was back,” he corrected himself. “There. Happy?”

  “Not even a little. And neither are you.”

  “Well, apparently, I can either be healthy or happy. Not both.” As soon as he said it, he realized how true and raw it was. And it hurt so damn much, he had to look down to make sure there wasn’t a bloody, gaping hole in his chest.

  He felt Ma’s arms around his shoulder, rubbing his back. “It’s a copout to blame Yvonne for the panic attacks.”

  “Fine. It’s my fear of losing her. That’s why they’re back.”

  “You see the irony of that right? Your fear of losing her has caused you to lose her.”

  “She deserves better than what I can give her. I’m not going to be the one to hold her back.”

  “You know, most women don’t want a knight in shining armor. That’s a young girl’s dream—this idea of a hero to swoop in and do the noble thing. But as you get older? You just want someone who’s going to be there. Stick by your side. Why do you think Molly’s been so good for you?” Ma shook her head before grabbing the plates and bringing them to the sink.

  Sometimes what we want isn’t what we need. But he didn’t bother saying it out loud. The pain and pressure of possibly losing Yvonne was too much. He couldn’t do it again. “A dog’s unconditional love is very different than a partner’s.” He stood, bringing the wine glasses to the sink, but Ma scooped hers out of his hand.

  “Nuh-uh. We’re not done yet,” she said, pouring herself another glass.

  “Easy there, you have to drive home still.”

  She moved to the couch and patted the seat beside her.

  “Oh, boy,” he rolled his eyes, pouring himself a second glass as well. “Something tells me I need more wine for this.”

  Her smile widened. “Shut up and get your ass over here.” He settled opposite of her, kicking a leg up on the coffee table. The same coffee table that Yvonne had eaten at just the other night. Molly went to her spot, circling three times before plopping down, also ready for story time.

  “I don’t know what it’s like to feel responsible for an accident like the one you and Yvonne had. But I think you know more than anyone that you weren’t at fault for that.”

  “Ma—”

  “It’s easier for you to believe that you are. To take the blame. But it’s not true. You weren’t drinking. You weren’t speeding. It wasn’t your fault. It was determined an accident for a reason.”

  “Ma, I know you want to believe that—”

  “Don’t interrupt your mother. As I was saying … I don’t know what it’s like to feel responsible. But I do know what it feels like to lose the man I love. I know how it felt to constantly have him reassuring me that everything would be fine, but for my stomach to twist in knots each time he would get on his motorcycle and go for a ride. And I know the sort of unrelenting anger I felt when he died and proved me right for having all those anxious feelings that I did.”

  Steve’s face heated, and the presence of his dad’s bike sitting unused in his garage was like an elephant in the room with them.

  “Why are you telling me this, Ma?”

  “Because maybe this anxiety you feel isn�
�t about Yvonne specifically. Maybe it has nothing to do with this idea that she deserves better than you—a ridiculous notion, in my opinion. You said it yourself: the real fear is that you’re terrified of losing her. And if that’s the case, you’re going to feel that fear with anyone you grow close to, Steve.”

  He ran a hand over the smooth edge of his wine glass.

  “Once you love someone, there’s always the risk of losing them. And that risk is especially compounded when the person you love is a natural risk taker. You’ve always said you think you’re more like your father, but the truth is when it comes to you and Yvonne, she’s the one who’s most like your dad. She’s the risk taker. And you’re like me.”

  Steve’s voice broke as he tried to talk. “What the hell am I supposed to do? If the fear will always be there and she’s always going to be at risk of something happening …” His voice faded.

  “If you want to be happy, you have to reconcile those fears. Look at your brother. He played it safe his whole life. He and Hannah had a secure life, easy, no risks at all, and she died so young. No amount of fear will stop the inevitable. You might as well love hard and live well. And for the love of God, you have to stop holding on so hard to the past.”

  Steve went still, his muscles clenching beneath his clothes. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  Ma shrugged, grabbing her purse. “It starts with a conversation. Bring the letter. Let her explain it and allow her to apologize for it. Really apologize, without you brushing it away and taking the blame for her.”

  Could there be an explanation for Eve’s letter? It seemed pretty damn near cut and dry to him. But maybe there was a piece missing to the puzzle. Some little bit of untold story that he’d never bothered to ask about.

  Ma stood, bending to drop a kiss on his forehead. “It’s a beautiful night. Maybe a good night for a run.”

  ‡

  Chapter Thirty-One

  It was almost ten p.m., and there was a noise rustling outside Yvonne’s front door. She wouldn’t have even heard it, except for Gatsby standing in the dark hallway, teeth bared and a low growl rumbling at the back of his throat. Yvonne yanked the pepper spray she kept out of her nightstand drawer and made her way down the hall, listening as the shuffling noise on the other side of her door got louder.