by Liz Isaacson
“But Riley said—”
“Maybe Riley needs to spin her crystals again,” Georgia snapped, immediately regretting it. “I’m sorry, Cami. I’m just…stressed.”
“I would be too if my boyfriend was cheating on me. Again.” She turned the phone toward Georgia. “I just got another one. This time from Ivy. Don’t they look like they’re about to kiss?”
Georgia stared at the picture, too horrified to take the phone and examine the image more closely. She lifted her eyes to Cami’s, which looked positively sorrowful.
“I’m so sorry, Georgia. Logan seemed like such a nice guy.”
Georgia shook her head, unable to keep the tears in this time. No amount of hitting things would help either, she knew. “What do I do?” she asked. She hadn’t told anyone about the real reason she and Logan had met, and she was suddenly so glad about that. But it was hard to feel happy with a heart cracking in two.
“You’ve talked to him?”
“Literally fifteen minutes ago.” She sniffed and wiped her face, where every hole there was leaking.
“I don’t know,” Cami said, the nicest of the sisters. Betsy would’ve thrown something in Georgia’s behalf, grabbed her phone, and sent Logan a nasty message. Jessie would’ve sat down and made a list of possible solutions and helped Georgia carry out the best one. Georgia herself felt too close to the situation to do anything but stare at the countertop.
“I know what I have to do,” she said. “I have to break-up with him.”
“Maybe he has a good explanation,” Cami said, wringing her fingers together.
“Simon always did too,” Georgia whispered, shaking her head. “No. No, I can’t do it again. Logan and I are done.”
That evening, when she was supposed to be going to dinner with Logan, she made sure she was not at the homestead. Even going to Granny’s and Gramps’s wasn’t enough. He’d stop there if he chose to come out to the ranch.
In the end, she’d texted him the pictures Cami had received and said, We’re done. Please don’t come get me for dinner.
He hadn’t responded yet, and Georgia had taken that as an admission of his guilt.
It didn’t matter. She’d gone to Granny’s and found her about to leave for town, as one of her dearest friends, Maude, had broken her hip a couple of weeks ago. Granny had cookies and buttermilk already in the car, and Georgia rode with them on her lap as her grandmother navigated them toward Quinn Valley.
Honestly driving with a llama behind the wheel probably would’ve been safer, and Georgia made a mental note to offer to drive on the way back up. After all, it would be fully dark by then, and Granny didn’t seem to be able to see very well now, while it was still somewhat light.
If Georgia focused on her phone, she didn’t notice how quickly Granny took the curves, nor that she didn’t come to a complete stop, well, ever. So maybe she did notice, but at least she could pretend like it didn’t bother her.
She pulled up to Maude’s house, and Georgia helped carry the cookies and milk up to the front door. Granny went right in, and they found Maude in a recliner, several dishes on the table beside her.
“Look who’s here,” Granny said as if she were Santa Claus himself. She beamed at Georgia, and that was when Georgia realized she was the real guest here.
“Hey, Maude,” she said.
Maude smiled, and Georgia handed the cookies to Granny so she could start to clean up a little bit. She might as well make herself useful, or else she’d find herself on the receiving end of a not-so-fun game of Twenty Questions, and she really didn’t need that right now.
She took a handful of dishes into the kitchen and washed them, placing them in the drainer beside the sink, where the others were. Maude probably had her nephew or friends coming by, because it looked like she hadn’t moved much since coming home from the hospital.
After opening a few cupboards, Georgia found a trash bag and returned to the living room. She picked up the wrappers and paper towels, grabbed a couple of cups, and left Granny and Maude alone again. Their voices filtered back to her in the kitchen, but Georgia acted like she had so much work to get done.
Really, she’d just gotten a text from Logan that read, Done? What does that mean?
Georgia decided to really tell him why those images hurt so much. My last boyfriend cheated on me for four years. Sorry, I can’t do it again.
She shoved her phone in her pocket when she heard Granny say her name. Maybe she was ready to go already, though Georgia had her doubts. After all, she saw her friends every week, and they never seemed to run out of things to say.
Edging to the corner of the wall that separated the living room from the kitchen, she heard Granny say, “…nice man like Georgia has.”
She pulled in a breath. Granny would be so disappointed that Georgia wasn’t with Logan anymore. Deciding to be brave, she entered the living room and sat on the couch beside her grandmother.
Maude smiled at her. “How did you meet that Logan Locke anyway?”
“Oh, I hired him to work on the barn.” Georgia nodded, feeling dangerous and out of control. “Yep. And to be my boyfriend for the holidays, but that didn’t really work out.” She flipped a glance in Granny’s direction.
Granny barely blinked. “Because you two got along so great, the relationship just took off.”
Georgia couldn’t really argue with that, but she didn’t want anyone to think she and Logan were still together. And what better way to start the news through the small town of Quinn Valley than to tell Granny and Maude?
“That’s true,” Georgia said slowly. “But it didn’t work out. We broke up today.”
That got Granny to blink, and her mouth even dropped open. “But…why? He was perfect for you.”
Georgia scoffed, but the sound didn’t have much power. “He was not perfect….” For her, or even perfect at all. But she couldn’t expect perfection. After all, she knew she wasn’t perfect—that no one was. “He was cheating on me.”
“Oh, no,” Maude said, shaking her head.
“You’ve talked to him about that?” Granny asked. “I mean, how do you know?”
“Cami has pictures.” Georgia thought of her phone, tucked safely away in her back pocket. What had Logan said about the pictures she’d sent? Would he try to deny them? She suddenly felt like crying, like everything she’d tried to piece back together over the course of the last year was about to shatter again.
She took a deep breath, but it shuddered inside her chest. Jumping to her feet, she said, “Excuse me,” and headed for the door.
The air outside felt like icy needles in her lungs, but she sucked at it again and then again. She couldn’t breathe, and she was certainly falling. Down, down, down somewhere no one would be able to find her.
“Come on, dear.” Granny’s palm on her back felt like a brand, but it pulled Georgia back from the edge of the cliff. “Come back inside. It’s too cold out here.”
Chapter 12
Logan shook his phone, like that would make Georgia talk to him. The pictures she’d sent were unbelievable. He’d been at the hot springs, and he didn’t experience the same thing those pictures showed.
He just needed to talk to Georgia. Explain everything.
My last boyfriend cheated on me.
He wasn’t sure she’d even believe him, and that had nothing to do with him. Still, he had to try. He’d texted her half a dozen times since she’d sent the pictures, and she’d gone silent.
So while it was dark, and freezing, he got up and headed for his truck, taking the keys from the hook in the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” Knox asked from the couch in the living room. He had his feet kicked up on the coffee table, but he didn’t miss much.
“I have to go talk to Georgia.”
“Whoa.” Knox jumped off the couch and hurried into the kitchen. He grabbed Logan’s arm as he reached for the doorknob. “I wouldn’t do that.”
Logan looked at his brother
’s hand and then into his eyes. “Why not?”
“I just wouldn’t.”
Logan narrowed his eyes. “What do you know?” The need to get to Georgia was almost more than he could stomach.
“She’s not at the ranch anyway.”
How Knox knew that, Logan wasn’t sure. “Then where is she?” He at least knew something, and that was more than Logan did.
“Betsy doesn’t know.” His eyes widened, and he took a step back.
“Betsy?” Logan asked. “Are you two…dating?”
“What?” Knox scoffed. “No, of course not.” But the tips of his ears went red, and he backed up a few steps.
“But you’re talking to her,” Logan said, advancing. “You have her phone number.”
“Yeah, but that’s because of work,” Knox said, his voice bordering on casual. Almost believable.
Logan didn’t have the mental energy to deal with his brother’s relationship at the moment. “So, do you know where she is or not?”
“She didn’t say.”
Logan turned in a circle in the kitchen, trying to find a solution. A road to take. Something that would lead him to Georgia so he could explain. He reached for the doorknob again.
“Are you just going to drive around?” Knox called, but Logan didn’t answer. He didn’t know what he was going to do.
“Load up,” he told Roo and Mortie, and they followed him over to the truck. He opened the door and let them in the cab when they usually rode in the back. He got in beside them, got the truck started, and got the heater blowing.
Then, yes, he just drove around, trying to get his thoughts to align. If Georgia wasn’t at the ranch now, she’d have to come back eventually. Right?
If he drove up to the ranch, would that elevate him to stalker status? Did he want to go there?
Maybe he could just go to the cabin with the gingerbread houses, which he knew was open. The fact that Georgia frequently visited the cabin had nothing to do with it.
Before Logan knew it, he’d pulled under the ranch sign and into the driveway of the cabin that held the gingerbread houses. Lights shone out of the windows of the first two cabins, where he knew her grandparents and her brother lived. Did he dare go knock on their doors and ask after Georgia?
He felt stuck between two rocks, down in a slot canyon, unable to go up or down.
So he didn’t get out of the truck and go in to look at the gingerbread houses. He’d seen them all anyway, and he’d have no explanation as to why he was there, other than the truth.
Before he could get out of the truck, a pair of headlights cut a swath through the darkness around him. A car had just turned into the driveway of the first cabin, and his pulse started pinging around inside his chest.
He watched as Georgia got out of the car and rounded the front to help her grandmother out. She walked her all the way to the front door, and then came down the steps to her own car. She got in, the headlights came on, and she backed out, driving right past him while he still sat there.
Logan sat like a sack of potatoes in his truck, utterly confused and in complete despair. He hadn’t gotten out. Hadn’t said anything.
He’d just sat there and let her pass him. Just like he’d been doing for his whole life. Disgusted with himself that he couldn’t seem to live his life, only let it happen to him, he pulled out of the driveway and went back home.
A week later, he should’ve been at the Quinn family party at their family-owned restaurant and pub. He was supposed to be there with Georgia. He’d texted her a few times throughout the past few days, asking if he should still come. She hadn’t answered any of his messages, and he wondered if she’d blocked his number the way Carol Anne had.
He’d finished his latest job, and he didn’t have anything lined up for a couple of weeks, until the New Year. So he spent some time on the Internet, looking at ranches in a hundred-mile radius, and then headed out.
They did take-out at the restaurant, and he could say he was there for one of their amazing bacon cheeseburgers. Sitting around the house, staring at his phone, wasn’t healthy, and Logan had never experienced a darkness like this.
Even when Carol Anne had left town in the middle of the night, he hadn’t felt this low. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he knew he couldn’t continue like this. Something had to change.
He drove by Quinn’s but didn’t pull in, hadn’t called in an order. He just couldn’t bring himself to crash her family party. What would that accomplish anyway?
In the end, he set his truck south and went down the road that had taken him and Georgia to the cookie factory weeks ago. He pulled off on a side road and drove for ten more minutes before coming to his parents’ farmhouse.
His mom came out onto the porch, a smile on her face. It was such a comforting sight, and Logan got out and went up the steps to hug her. “Hey, Ma.”
“Hi, honey.” She patted his back and added, “Where’s Knox?”
“Oh, he’s out working somewhere.”
“What brings you by?” She stepped back and started toward the front door. Logan followed her, glad at the scent of freshly baked bread. “I made biscuits this morning if you want some.”
“Yes, please,” Logan said, entering his childhood home. He hadn’t had a bad childhood, and the familiar curtains actually brought him a sense of peace that had been missing since Georgia’s departure from his life.
“What’s wrong?” his mother asked, and he should’ve known better than to think he could show up here and stay silent.
“Georgia broke up with me,” he said, sitting at the kitchen table, where butter and honey already waited.
She put a plate of biscuits next to them and sat down beside him. “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.”
“She thinks I cheated on her.” He gave his mother a look. “With Carol Anne.”
His mom’s eyes widened. “Are you serious? Is she back in town?’
Logan nodded. “For a few weeks now. I saw her at the Customer Appreciation Day at the hot springs.”
“And why does Georgia think you’re cheating on her?”
“Carol Anne and I were assigned to the towels, and after we finally talked the first time, it wasn’t so bad. I mean, I don’t like her, and we’re not getting back together.” Logan actually thought he and Georgia could see things all the way to the end. Like, wedding bells end. He hadn’t brought it up with her, but the holidays were almost over, and he’d been planning to say something then.
At least that was what he’d told himself, but Logan was starting to doubt he’d have said anything to Georgia, about anything.
“Anyway, I talked to Carol Anne a few times after that, and it was just friendly. I swear, Mom. Nothing is going on between us. But.” He pulled out his phone and slid it in front of her. “Her family got these pictures, and they look bad.”
His mother picked up the phone and looked at it. “Oh.” She put the device down. “I can see why she’s upset.”
“What should I do?” He picked up a biscuit and split it before slathering butter on it. He left the honey where it was, not being the biggest fan, though this had come from Quinn Organics, which was some of the best in the valley.
“How old is Georgia?” his mother asked.
“Thirty-one,” Logan said.
“So she’s an adult. You’re an adult. Go have an adult conversation with her.”
Logan almost shook his head, mostly because he didn’t know how to do that. He’d seen her a week ago, the opportunity there to talk to her, and he hadn’t taken it. He didn’t know how. Didn’t know what to say.
“Good idea,” he said. “Do you think I just drive up to the ranch and try to talk to her?”
“Yes, Logan,” his mother said. “You drive up to the ranch and talk to her.” She leaned forward, her own green eyes blazing with energy. “If I hadn’t insisted on talking to your father when he was upset with me, you wouldn’t be here.”
Logan searched her face. “You made Dad ma
d?”
“Oh, every couple has their trials,” she said, waving her hand like the divorce rate wasn’t so high in the United States. “But yes, when we were dating, we’d had a couple of disagreements about him being a potato farmer. And I finally drove right out here to this farm and talked to him.”
Logan had never heard this story, and it intrigued him. “Like, you didn’t want him to be a potato farmer?”
“No, like he didn’t think he was good enough for me.”
Logan understood the feeling, but he didn’t say so. He ate his biscuit, trying to find the courage he needed to drive up to the ranch and face Georgia.
An idea started to form in his mind, and Logan gave his mom a hug before he left.
It took a couple of days for the idea to become a plan, and by the time Logan put his toolbox in the back of his truck, loaded up his dogs, and started for the ranch, he hoped he wasn’t too late.
Chapter 13
Georgia cleaned out the gingerbread house cabin alone, having volunteered just so she’d have something to do to get her out of the homestead. Robyn had won, of course, almost by a landslide.
The family party at the restaurant had been almost insufferable, but Georgia had survived by sticking close to the table with all the drinks and hanging out with Cami and Ivy. Only a couple of people had asked her where Logan was, and her sister and her cousin had dispatched them on some random task to get them off the subject.
The whole family knew about the break-up now, but it didn’t matter anymore. The holiday parties were all over, except for one last ranch dinner tonight. It was only her branch of the Quinn family, and none of them had a significant other, so Logan would’ve stuck out anyway.
Everyone who’d wanted to keep their gingerbread house had come to get their craft already, and Georgia had said she’d take care of the rest. So the big black garbage bin was full of broken houses, and she’d just finished taking down all the tables. She’d need to borrow a ranch truck to get them back to the party rental store, but she was going to do that after Christmas.
