Still the One

by Susan May Warren

  Oh, Cole. She nodded, unable to speak. And she was going to full-on ugly cry if she didn’t get out of there fast.

  He reached the panel, flipped the breakers. “I can’t stay here, Megan.”

  She stilled.

  “But while I’m here, you can count on me. I promise, you can count on me.”

  She pressed her lips together. Swallowed. Knowing he was leaving already rubbed a raw spot in her heart. “I understand. We’ll do this wedding so you can move on. Win-win, right?” She hoped her voice didn’t betray the loss she was already starting to feel. The void his departure would leave. At least now she understood what he was running from. Why Deep Haven could never be his home. Even if it did tear out a piece of her soul.

  “Right. Win-win.”

  But his voice didn’t sound like a win. And in her heart, she couldn’t help but fear that she and Josh were about to lose more than they could bear.

  Chapter 7

  Seven days of industrial fans humming in the pumped-out basement should feel like progress, but after eight trips to the hardware store, five hours with the plumber, and two hours with an electrician, Cole’s repair list had only grown longer.

  On top of that, he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d committed himself to with this wedding, but it apparently required less Ranger and more grunt because the to-do list Megan texted him included everything from the florist to the photographer. And where in the world was he supposed to locate an ice cream truck in February? In northern Minnesota?

  Celebrities.

  He lugged a bucket of drywall joint compound, a scraper, and tape toward the house, Megan’s words from days before kicking around in the back of his mind. Maybe even his heart. Her confession in the car had soaked into him. Raw and honest. And she’d managed to pull from him his own confession. I didn’t have my grandpa the year my parents died, but I had you.

  Of course, that had always been part of her magic. She could make him see—and admit—the truth.

  Or most of it. I can’t stay here, Megan.

  Yes, those words had been bugging him too. But the house had to be sold. He had a job practically lined up. He had plans. Still, he hadn’t been able to scrape away the sad shadows he’d seen in her eyes.

  “Good afternoon.” Seb Brewster came up the walk, his black hair curling out under his knit hat and a smile on his face. “Looks like you’ve got some work ahead of you. Need a hand?”

  Cole nodded. “Sure. You can grab that other bucket of joint compound sitting in the Jeep.”

  Seb hefted the bucket from the back seat and followed Cole inside.

  “You can set that over there.” Cole gestured toward the growing collection of construction materials in the living room. “How can I help you today, Mayor?”

  “I heard you have some ideas regarding emergency management. Organizing things so we don’t get gridlocked when the heavy storms hit—or even activating assistance when someone needs it in the greater Cook County area.”

  “I don’t think my ideas are anything unique or earth-shattering. Can I get you a cup of coffee?” He headed into the kitchen.

  “Sure. Black is fine. I don’t mean to keep you from your work, though.”

  “It’s okay. The discussion won’t take long.” Cole poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Seb before pouring his own. “In a nutshell, your crisis management and response is terrible. But you know that, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  “As far as I can tell, you don’t have any kind of plan—just wishful thinking that volunteers will show up with the necessary skills. You’ve been lucky to have people like Casper Christiansen jump in, but one person getting things done isn’t an actual plan. Neither’s a well-intended bucket-brigade when you could have an actual fire hose.”

  Seb laughed. “Your analogy is spot-on. We’ve limped by on that for all of history.” He took a sip. “Seriously, our problem is we have people willing to help, but it’s hard to get them where they need to be when they need to be there. We don’t have the organizational structure to best utilize our resources, and truly, we are a little short on resources and skill sets.”

  “Someone better fix that before people die.”

  “I hear you, I do. Our teams are volunteer and many of them live remotely across the county.” Seb took another sip of coffee. “We need something better.”

  “Right. It’s called a Crisis Response Team, and you’re in dire need of one.”

  Seb stared into his mug. “We had a deck collapse this past fall during a birthday party event. More than thirty people went into the lake, and even on a good day, it's cold.” His voice thickened. “There were children and adults in the water fighting the cold and the waves. It was chaos.”

  Cole closed his eyes against the thought of Megan or Josh being caught in the frigid water.

  Seb swallowed. “We didn't have a cohesive team to organize the rescue, and in the panic, people were unaccounted for. And since more than half the volunteer rescuers were involved in the initial incident, we had to rescue the rescuers.”

  “Your volunteers went into the water?”

  “Yeah. Many were part of the party. If we’d had a team like you mentioned, we would have been able to manage the crisis without the panic that ensued.” Seb shook his head. “It was terrible—and that’s just one example. If someone gets lost in a remote area or we have a community emergency, we don’t have the means to mobilize fast enough.”

  “You’re right. And that is what a team would do for you.”

  Seb nodded. “I also heard you were a Ranger.”

  “Is there anything in this town that remains private?”

  Seb smiled. “Not much.”

  “Yes, I was a Ranger.” Cole took a drink.

  “And in a leadership position?”

  “Where’s this going?” Cole knew exactly what Seb was fishing for and he wasn’t biting.

  Seb seemed to know it, because he paused, took a breath, and then met Cole’s eyes, pulling no punches. “Deep Haven could use someone with your skills.”

  “I haven’t seen any insurgents walking around town.”

  Seb set down his mug of coffee. “We know you did a lot more than that. In fact, I did a little research. I think you have exactly the skills we need.”

  “You did what?” Cole set down his coffee too. “No. Don’t look at me. I’m not sticking around.”

  “Of course I’m looking at you. Why not? We have a deputy sheriff position open. You could step in and coordinate our resources—create this team.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Cole, we need a proven leader under pressure. You’re fast-thinking, organized, decisive. You know how to run training, know how to deal with equipment needs.” Seb rinsed out his cup from the now-working faucet.

  “I’m not staying here.”

  Seb turned from the sink. “Maybe God’s brought you back here for a reason.”

  “God wouldn’t do that.” Cole was usually better at keeping those things private. Protecting himself.

  “I used to think that too. In fact, I never wanted to come back here.” He set the mug upside down on a towel near the sink amidst other drying cups. “Too many bad memories.”

  Oh. Cole sized up Seb. “Why’d you come back?”

  “God redeemed my mistakes—but only because I realized I had to allow Him to do it. Stop blaming everyone else for my mistakes.” Seb wiped his hands on a nearby towel. “You just don’t know what God’s up to sometimes.”

  God and I aren’t that close anymore. Cole couldn’t say the words out loud. Instead, he stared out the window at the snowy landscape and gave a noncommittal shrug.

  Seb took his silence as an invitation to continue. “My mom left town when I was in high school and my dad’s preferred coping mechanism was drinking himself into oblivion and passing out with his face over the toilet bowl. If he even made it home. It took me some time to realize there’s a lot more here than the darkness of those years.” He
leaned against the doorframe, his arms folded. “Let me tell you, I may be mayor now, but I made a lot of mistakes in my youth. All kinds of stupid things that hurt others and myself.”

  “And you still came back?”

  “I did, but man, I was bitter. Used what had happened as excuses for selfish decisions. I blamed God—railed against him. It was a miserable way to live.”

  Seb’s words, like live rounds churning the dirt around his feet, sent Cole for cover. “I appreciate you stopping by, but I should get back to work.”

  Seb straightened, nodding. “Here’s the deal. The deputy position closes in a couple weeks. It’d be great if whoever filled it could do collateral duty as the Crisis Response Team coordinator. Create a plan for this city, this county.” He stood in the doorway and met Cole’s gaze. “I think that’s you. I think that’s why God brought you home.”

  Seb was wrong. God didn’t have any kind of happy ending for someone like Cole. If he cared, He would have shown it a long time ago. Besides, Deep Haven wasn’t his home.

  “I’ve got an interview coming soon with the U.S. Marshals Service. I have plans with one of my Ranger buddies.” Plans reinforced by David’s call early in the morning to discuss his current timeline. Although, the thought of a bachelor pad and microwave meals had grown less appealing, even with David’s company.

  “Yeah. Josh mentioned that.”

  This guy knew how to press all the right buttons. And with them came the memory of Josh, snuggled up with Puck, asking five hundred questions about life as a Ranger while Cole tried to plan a wedding with Megan at their tiny dining room table. Talking about his plans to go fishing and camping, hoping he could tag along with the Christiansens.

  Except, Cole could take him, couldn’t he? And that was exactly the kind of thinking that would decimate his future.

  “He thinks a lot of you.” Seb smiled, warm and genuine.

  “He’s a good kid.” Cole washed out his cup and set it on the towel.

  “He has a giving heart like his mom.” Seb grabbed his jacket. “I should get going, but seriously, give our little town and county some thought. Sometimes we can serve best in the last place we think we’d choose.”

  When Cole closed the door behind Seb, the emptiness of the house thundered around him.

  Thanks a whole lot, Seb.

  Because he liked how Josh and Megan’s voices filled the void. He looked forward to spending time with them. Enjoyed the company. Found comfort in days that didn’t revolve around orders and operations but in hockey and house work.

  Sheesh, he was turning into a homebody.

  Truth was, being with Megan did dangerous things to his heart and mind. Made him offer to do crazy things, like help her make dinner after he’d walked her through his wedding plan. Or ask about sledding down Honeymoon Bluff. Or think about how much fun it would be to watch the Fourth of July fireworks over the water with her and Josh.

  But that would be summer and by then, he’d be gone. Wearing a new uniform. Eating restaurant takeout with David.

  Alone.

  Because staying seemed not only improbable, but impossible. It would mean facing the darkness Deep Haven held in his heart. Living—where? In this house? And what about Grandpa’s care?

  No.

  This wasn’t home. He didn’t belong here. Not with all the dark memories to haunt him.

  The light knock on the door was almost so faint he didn’t hear it. He opened it to Megan, who held out a plate to him. In her other hand, she carried an oversized basket. All kinds of temptation, right there in his doorway. He pressed away Seb’s words.

  “Hi.” She wore jeans and a T-shirt under her green flannel, her hair tucked up in her pom-pom hat.

  “Are those brownies?” He stepped aside and motioned for her to come in.

  “They are, and they’re still hot.” She toed off her boots and followed him into the kitchen. “And your basket. You won one of the raffle baskets.”

  “The what?”

  “You bought raffle tickets for the peewee fundraiser. You won the ‘home spa’ basket.” She held up a green bottle of lotion with cucumbers on it and a fuzzy, pink eye mask, waving them in front of him.

  “I guess this means I didn’t win the autographed jersey.”

  “Nope. Sorry. Edith Draper won that.”

  “That seems like a waste. I mean, it’s probably been forty years since she’s attended a live game.”

  “You’re wrong there. She still attends several Blue Ox games each season. You know those crazy fans yelling for a fight?”

  “No, she isn’t.”

  “I’ve heard rumors…” Megan smiled, and he couldn’t tell if she was serious or not.

  He stared at the brownies. He’d probably gained five pounds simply inhaling their rich decadence. “You don’t have to keep paying me with food. Especially the super-sweet variety. I have a PT test to pass, you know.”

  “I had to bake a batch for the team and had leftovers. I didn’t think I needed to eat five myself.” She set the plate down on the counter and grabbed one of the brownies. She let out a little moan as she took a bite. “They’re good. It’s a new recipe.” She gave him a smile. “I promise, I’m not trying to sabotage your fitness test.”

  Oh, her smile. Every time she smiled at him, it lured him into her warmth. Made him want to drink it in, take his fill. Her eyes were bright, and the rays of sunlight that came through the kitchen window highlighted the flecks of gold and the deep amber.

  “Did I see Seb here earlier?”

  He surrendered and took a bite of brownie. “Yes.”

  “What did he want? You didn’t dent someone’s car with a snowplow, did you?”

  “Funny.” He noticed she still licked her fingers like when she was nine. “He was just checking on things.” No need to tell her that Seb had dangled a job opportunity in front of him. Or that he’d, even briefly, considered it.

  She tugged off her knit cap and let her long waves tumble around her shoulders. He should make her go. Send her away with her plate of double-chocolate brownies and the enticing companionship that came with them.

  Because he had a future and a plan and…other important reasons not to hang around. He just couldn’t quite remember them right now.

  Megan had exactly ten minutes to make Pine Acres Resort look presentable before her call with Cameron Crawford’s high-society fiancée, Mariah Lee. It might be a picturesque winter wonderland if it wasn’t in the middle of a remodel—a small fact that no one had bothered to share with her. No wonder it was available.

  She’d already spent a good chunk of her Thursday between calling vendors, internet searches for supplies, and a stop by the church to talk to Pastor Dan.

  Claire entered the house behind her. “I feel wholly underdressed now.”

  “Don’t. You look fantastic and far more comfortable than me. I just—I don’t know, I wanted to impress Mariah. Look like I’m already a wedding coordinator to the stars.” Megan knew the high-heeled boots were as impractical as her long skirt and silk blouse, facts verified by the gust of wind that met her when she’d exited her Subaru outside the resort. The wind had raked in over the whitened expanse of Evergreen Lake and shivered a spray of snow off the pine trees around the cabin. Still, the wedding pictures would be glorious.

  If they avoided the stacks of paint, flooring and supplies piled in the hallway. Or the current absence of a working kitchen. “I didn’t realize it was currently under remodel.”

  “Oh, no!” Claire laughed. “This must be a shock.”

  “Yes. It is.” Megan looked around at the scaffolding, plastic sheeting over the floors and finished white-quartz center island, obviously protecting it from the light gray paint on the walls. “It looks like there’s a lot left to do.”

  “The contractor has assured us it’ll be done within the next two weeks. It looks much worse than it is. Go ahead and look around.” Claire headed back for the front door. “I forgot to grab my notes fro
m the car.”

  Megan unwound her scarf and set it by the door before sliding out of her long coat.

  Wow.

  As much as Ivy had raved about it, her description hadn’t quite done the place justice. With the soaring windows that overlooked the lake, and the massive great room big enough for a half dozen tables plus a dance floor, it was more magnificent than Megan would have dreamed. Exquisite. Yet the handcrafted trim and scrollwork up the stairs gave it rustic charm. If one ignored the paint and plaster buckets. Those made it a little too rustic.

  She began moving the smaller supplies to the hallway. And if she shot with her back to the windows, maybe Mariah wouldn’t notice.

  Megan toed off her boots and paused to stare out across the frozen lake. Serene. But as the quiet soaked into her, her thoughts ran a replay on her last visit with Cole.

  It had probably been a mistake to take those brownies to him the day before, but his confession in the car had been niggling around in her mind. I had you. And especially, But while I’m here, you can count on me.

  She was still trying to reconcile the man he’d become with the boy she’d known. At least more of it made sense now.

  Ivy was right, though. Taller, darker, and, yeah…incredibly handsome. He’d been working on the house while she ate her brownie and how could she not notice the way his T-shirt snugged tight around his biceps? The way his jeans hung on his hips, the promise of a taut six-pack underneath?

  She’d give the Army one thing. They knew how to keep a man in shape. Now, she pressed her fingers to her lips, as if she could hide from herself the smile the memory brought.

  That was it—no more brownies. No more cookies. Definitely no more time alone together because her stupid, romantic heart would get ideas, and those ideas could only result in absolute and total devastation. Not to mention doing something ridiculous like letting him see that she cared.

  Cold air blew through the doorway with Claire as she returned, toting a notebook and floral catalog. She glanced up at Megan standing at the window. “What do you think? Will it work—minus the building supplies, of course?”