“Don’t you think you owe him something?”
“You don’t get it.”
“Of course I don’t. It’s obvious to me that you’re using your art as a wedge—again.”
“I have to go.”
“Fine.”
Jennie hung up, unwilling to have her “older” brother lecture her. Calling him had been a bad idea, but as Jennie contemplated who else she could get to clean out her studio, the only answer was Bennett.
Everything always came back to Bennett.
Even Pepper wouldn’t be able to tell what belonged to Jennie and what had come as part of the partially furnished rental, especially as Jennie had spent less time with her friends the more serious she got with Bennett.
She sat in the lobby for a while, unwilling to go upstairs and feeling utterly uninspired to go to the studio. Could she give up her art? Was she using it as a way to end things with Bennett? Was she really that big of a coward?
How did she even feel about him?
So many questions, and very few answers. But just as she’d done when Kyle hadn’t shown up at her wedding, Jennie was determined to figure things out.
* * *
Thanksgiving came, and along with it, Jason and his family. The atmosphere between Jennie and her twin was a bit awkward, especially in the small space with four more people. Her mother felt well enough to make a turkey, and Jennie could peel potatoes without starting a fire.
A fire.
She thought of Bennett at every turn, it seemed.
Her father had bought several pies to go with their dinner, and Kaitlyn had brought rolls and volunteered to make the gravy and stuffing. So Jennie retreated a few feet away and sat with her nieces, asking them about school, their friends, and what they wanted for Christmas.
All the smells of roasted meat and buttery bread came from the kitchen, and it seemed like no time had passed before Jennie’s mom said, “It’s ready. Come eat, girls.”
Jennie got up with her nieces and joined everyone at the tiny dining room table. Three more chairs had been crammed around it, and two plates sat at the bar for the kids. Everyone looked at Jennie’s dad, and he gazed back at them.
“What a year,” he said. “Jennie came home, and we had to leave for a short time.” He smiled, but his eyes shone with tears. “I am grateful for each of you.” He put his arm around his wife and looked at her with such love, Jennie’s heart gave a painful leap.
She wanted that kind of love in her life. Wanted to have someone at her side, helping her make hard decisions, comforting her when things seemed to be going downhill, loving her through the easy times and the difficult ones.
The distinct thought that she could have all of that and more with Bennett came into her mind. And suddenly nothing else mattered. Everything that she’d thought she needed fell away.
“Are you going to sit down?” her mom asked, and Jennie practically collapsed into her seat.
“What’s wrong?” Her mom didn’t reach for the bowl of creamed corn in front of her, nor did she take the mashed potatoes as Jason tried to pass it to her.
“I’ve made a big mistake.”
Jason scoffed, and then said, “Oh, you’re serious.” His wife elbowed him, and he glanced at her. “What? Jennie never admits when she’s wrong.”
Jennie stared at her brother, the sting of his words settling in deep. “Yes, I do,” she said.
“Rarely.” Jason finally got rid of the potatoes when her mom took them. But even as she scooped some of the buttery, cheesy food onto her plate, she watched Jennie.
“What kind of mistake?”
“Do you think he’ll forgive me?”
“Of course,” Jason said. “I told you to just go talk to him.”
“Are we talking about Bennett?” her mother asked.
Jennie didn’t know how she could even make it through one more meal without talking to him first. But she slid a couple slices of turkey on her plate, added mashed potatoes, and kept the food moving around the table and over to the bar while she thought.
Kaitlyn had moved the conversation to something else, and her dad was currently talking about the possibility of getting a small dog while they were in Seattle.
“So what?” she asked when the conversation finally hit a lull. “I just show up…and what?”
Jason rolled his eyes and looked at his wife. Kaitlyn wore a look of supreme sympathy and put another forkful of potatoes and gravy in her mouth. After she swallowed, she glanced around the table. “Jason acts like everything between us was smooth sailing.”
“It was,” he said.
“But,” Kaitlyn said loudly, covering whatever else Jason might want to say. “We were younger, much more foolish, and he has a bad memory.”
“What?” he demanded. “What have I forgotten?”
“That you had no education, for one,” she said, finally locking her eyes onto his. Fire practically shot from her expression. “Remember how we sat on your front steps while you went through a list of possible careers?”
“But that didn’t mean our relationship was in danger.”
“Yes, it did.” She looked at Jennie and gave her half an eyeroll. Jennie leaned forward, not wanting to miss a word of this conversation. It felt like Jason and Kaitlyn had always been a perfect match, and to hear they’d had problems too gave Jennie some hope.
“You actually broke up with me, if you’ll remember right,” Kaitlyn said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Something about wanting to provide a good life, have a steady job, that kind of thing.”
“Oh, for like a day,” Jason said, scoffing again.
“It was actually about six weeks before he figured out what he wanted to do.” Kaitlyn put another bite of food in her mouth. “And it was agony for me, and everyone kept telling me to wait, that he’d come around. He finally did.”
Jennie looked at her brother, who now carried a healthy dose of redness in his cheeks. “Was it really six weeks?”
“Mm hm.” Kaitlyn looked at him fondly. “You showed up on my doorstep with your letter of acceptance into the police academy. I can’t believe you don’t remember this.”
“He’s getting old,” Jennie said, her spirits starting to lift. No, she wouldn’t show up on Bennett’s doorstep with a letter of acceptance to the police academy. She didn’t have a job at all.
“Very funny.” Jason took a drink of his sparkling cider. “So what are you going to do about Bennett?”
“I don’t know.” Jennie poked at her food. “Can I really just show up and ask him to take me back?” She looked hopefully at the other adults seated at the tiny table with her. “I don’t have anything to give him.”
“Oh, honey.” Her mom patted her hand. “You have you.”
Well, she hadn’t been good enough in the past.
Different man, she told herself. Everything about her life now was different, right down to the length of her hair.
The only thing that wasn’t was her desire to be an artist.
And maybe that was the problem. Her art had separated her and Bennett once before. Was she really going to choose art over him for a second time?
Her heart still hadn’t healed completely from Kyle’s disappearance from her life. But she knew she’d never be whole if she stayed in Seattle. Which meant she had to figure out what to do and how to get Bennett back—and soon.
After all, they’d broken up two weeks ago, and she wasn’t going to let Jason figure things out faster than her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Bennett picked up the ball and threw it again. The golden retriever raced after it, but Gemma stayed on the grass, her tongue lagging out of her mouth. He probably needed to stop before Patches ran himself right into a heart attack. The dog simply wouldn’t quit.
So the next time he brought the ball back and dropped it at Bennett’s feet, Bennett gave him a treat and said, “All right, bud. All done.”
Patches collapsed next to Gemma, his whole body heaving
as he panted. Bennett looked across the park, wishing the sky didn’t hold such a dark gray color today. It matched his mood perfectly, and he wished he had a project to work on in his wood shed as the rain fell.
You do, he thought. But he didn’t want to work on the headboard he’d designed for Jennie. He’d done it weeks ago, right after finishing the buffet, and he’d planned to give it to her for her birthday.
But it now looked like he wouldn’t even get to talk to her on her birthday, let alone see her, hold her, kiss her, and present her with the headboard.
He sighed, picked up the ball, and said, “Let’s get a drink, guys. Then we better get home before the sky opens.” The last thing he needed was a soaking wet golden retriever to care for. Though he could barely look at Patches sometimes because of the way he reminded Bennett of the woman who’d brought him over, Bennett sure didn’t know what he’d do when he had to give the dog back.
The dogs lapped at the water he poured into a big bowl for them, and they jumped into the bed of his truck when he said, “Load up.”
He’d just pulled into the carport when the first drops of rain hit the tin roof, and he hurried the dogs inside so everyone would stay dry. He puttered around the kitchen, making coffee and setting bread in the toaster.
He didn’t want to be in the house, though. So he filled a thermos with hot coffee and dashed through the rain to his wood shop. Inside, it smelled like wood and wet cement, and Bennett breathed it in, wishing he had Jennie at his side on this melancholy day.
But if he had Jennie at his side, the day wouldn’t be melancholy.
He was really tired of thinking about her, but he didn’t know how to stop. Her departure from his life had happened so suddenly, just like last time. Unlike last time, the ache in his heart hadn’t lessened with time. True, only three weeks had gone by, but he felt sure she’d call or text on Thanksgiving.
She hadn’t.
Now he was holding on for her birthday in just a few short days. He wasn’t scheduled to go into work for three more days, and he thought if he started the headboard now, he could get it done in time.
So he turned on the lights, the saws, and the space heater and got to work. The wood felt like butter beneath his hands, and the planes came together quickly. The slats were beautiful and smooth, and he got the whole thing assembled before he took a break.
His back ached, and he’d finished his coffee long ago. A dog barked, and even through the soothing sound of the rain on the roof of the shop, Bennett knew it was Gemma and that someone was at the house.
Done for the day anyway, Bennett left the wood shop after turning everything off, and approached the house. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been outside, or what time it was, but it was definitely dark enough to walk slow so he didn’t trip over something accidentally.
Not that there’s anything to trip over.
He heard the quip about his neatness in his mind, in Jennie’s voice. His heart twisted in his chest, as it had been doing with every reminder of Jennie in his life.
And the biggest one of all stood under his carport, out of the rain. Her brother, Jason.
“I thought you might be out in the shed,” he said, his hands buried deep in his pockets. “What are you working on?”
He wasn’t about to tell Jason about Jennie’s gift. “Just puttering around,” he said, indicating with his thermos that they should go inside. Jason led the way, and Bennett took a moment to kick off his wet boots.
“Coffee?” It smelled old, so Bennett dumped it down the drain and started a new pot.
“Sure.” Jason sat on the couch with Patches’ head in his lap. “I miss this dog. He was mine, you know.”
“He was not. Your parents got him long after you and Kaitlyn got married.”
“No, really.” Jason looked up, his eyes so much like Jennie’s Bennett couldn’t look at him for longer than a few seconds. “I got him and brought him home. It’s how we learned that Kaitlyn is allergic. We had him for about a week before I took him to my parents and asked them to keep him for me.” He stroked Patches like he’d raised him from a pup, and Patches laid there with a blissful look on his face.
“He’s a great dog.” Bennett turned and got two mugs down from the cupboard. “So what brings you by? On patrol?”
Jason wore his uniform tonight, and he didn’t just stop by for social calls. “Yeah. Nothing much going on. Was driving by.”
“How was Seattle?” Bennett could make small talk if he had to. He didn’t much care how Thanksgiving in Seattle was, but at the same time, he was dying to know how it’d gone.
“Good,” Jason said, looking at Bennett. “Good.”
“Good.” Bennett noticed the repetition, the falsely positive look in Jason’s eyes. “Cream or sugar?”
“Sugar.” Jason groaned as he stood and came into the kitchen. “I can do it.” He worked in the kitchen, putting his coffee together. “She’s going to come back,” he said.
Bennett’s gaze flew to him. “She is? When?”
Jason shrugged. “I don’t know, Bennett. But she will.” The lieutenant met Bennett’s eyes and added, “Hang in there,” and went back to the couch.
Bennett felt like someone had struck him with lightning. His heart beat irregularly, and as he joined Jason in the living room and switched on a basketball game, he really wanted to take a picture so Jennie would know her brother didn’t outwork Bennett just because he was a cop.
* * *
Bennett finished the headboard the night before Jennie’s birthday. He’d carved birds into it, trees, waves, anything he thought of that reminded him of her. He’d stained the oak a very dark brown, and glossed it until it shone like dark gold.
After swiping on the last brushful of gloss, he stepped back and admired the craftsmanship. He wondered if she’d ever see it. Maybe he’d give it to his mother for Christmas. He’d gone to Bell Hill to visit them for Thanksgiving, and it had gone reasonably well. They were outside the Hawthorne Harbor gossip circles, so they didn’t know about the dancing, hand holding, and kissing at the unveiling.
His mother had a way of reading his mood before he’d even said a word, and she’d known something was off, but Bennett had managed to blame his job for the source of his foul energy.
But the job was fine. The dogs were fine. The house was fine. But everything that Bennett had thought was fine in his life before showing up at Jennie’s was not actually fine. He did not like coming home to only canines. He didn’t like eating cold cereal for dinner. He didn’t like that, on his days off from the fire house, he could go a full twenty-four hours without talking to another human.
He didn’t like that he couldn’t have a long text conversation with a woman who made him smile. He didn’t like that he’d gone back to living like a monk. He didn’t like that his only source of escape was a woodworking project or throwing a ball to a golden retriever that wasn’t even his.
Anger filled him, and he wanted to take out his phone and call Jennie right now. Tell her that she’d broken his heart, and couldn’t she at least call the way she’d promised?
Sadness immediately descended upon him, and then helplessness. He knew that in a few minutes he’d be back to the acceptance phase of this vicious cycle.
She’ll come back.
Right. Bennett scoffed at Jason’s words from the other night. Jennie had gone to Seattle a month ago. If she was going to come back, she would’ve by now.
Bennett left the headboard to cure and went inside, where once again, he’d been pushed off his own couch by two huge dogs. Didn’t matter. He poured himself a bowl of cereal and sat in the recliner, another basketball game blaring from the TV.
He couldn’t believe he’d thought this life was enough. Or even close to what he wanted. But cold cereal and big dogs were all he had at the moment.
The following morning, Bennett got up and ran with the dogs. He didn’t have to be to work until mid-afternoon, so he had plenty of time to shower and stew ov
er calling Jennie. “Just to say happy birthday,” he said into the hot spray. Everyone deserved a happy birthday, didn’t they?
Bennett hated the weakness in himself, but if there was one thing he wanted to be weak about, it was Jennie Zimmerman. So after he showered and shaved and was sitting at the kitchen counter with a couple of fried eggs, he tapped out a simple Happy birthday, Jennie text and sent it.
Minutes ticked by. The eggs got eaten. The dogs got fed. The coffee in his mug turned cold. Jennie didn’t answer.
Bennett felt like marching out to the wood shop and chopping the headboard into fifty million pieces. His head buzzed and his heart pounded. Was it so hard to simply say thank you?
Jennie had never been particularly good at expressing her gratitude.
A knock sounded on his door, and both dogs jumped down from the couch as if whoever stood on the porch had come to see them. Now, if it was Nelly, she probably had. Bennett took a deep breath to drive out his fury and frustration. After all, he couldn’t snap at a little girl for coming over to see the dogs.
“Back up,” he said to Gemma, who stood an inch from the door. “Go on. Move.” He opened the door to find Jennie standing there.
He froze, his heart tangoing in his chest again. He couldn’t speak as he stared at her. She wore that pair of blue jeans with a navy hoodie, her hands tucked in the pockets.
“Hey, Bennett,” she said, worry coloring her voice and dancing through her eyes. “Can I come in? It’s pretty cold out here.”
“Sure, yeah.” Bennett backed up a step and almost fell as he tripped over Gemma. “Back up,” he growled at the dog, but she didn’t listen. She rushed Jennie, and so did Patches.
Jennie laughed, that magical sound that Bennett decided right then and there that he couldn’t live without.
“I sent you a happy birthday text,” he said as she crouched down and gave Patches a scrub along his neck and back.
“I got it. I was just driving.” She straightened and looked right at him. “I was on my way to see you, so I figured I’d wait to respond until I saw you.”
Hawthorne Harbor Box Set Page 59
