Forsaken Trail

by Devney Perry

  Tossing the phone to the table, I shot out of my chair and stalked through the greenhouse. He’d hung up on me. He’d actually hung up on me. My fingers itched to strangle something—or someone, but that someone lived in Arizona.

  “How dare he hang up on me? How fucking dare he?” My voice bounced around the empty room. “Grrr. I hate him.”

  I walked the length of the greenhouse twice, my anger growing with each step. Sitting at my desk would only make me crazy, so I grabbed a pair of leather gloves and got to work. I pulled a stool up to a table and began planting some seeds for the spring greenery. Million bells. Cosmos. Zinnias. It wasn’t on the schedule to start them until January, but a few extra days wouldn’t hurt.

  I’d never been fancy with the varieties we planted. My predecessor and mentor hadn’t been either. He’d taught me that sometimes the most amazing displays were nothing more than abundant color. I preferred hardy plants that would survive the regular touches from guests and the sniffs from pets and kids.

  My anger at Brody kept me company while I lost myself in the dirt and seeds and quiet whirl of the greenhouse. Clara tried to call a few times but I pushed her to voicemail and sent her a text that I’d call later. I couldn’t talk to her, not when she was so close to Brody. Bastard.

  Hours later, well past the noon hour and close to dinner, my stomach growled so loudly the sound echoed in the greenhouse.

  An enormous appetite came crashing down, and for the first time today, I was ravenous. The same had happened yesterday and the day before. My body didn’t want a thing before four, then afterward, I’d eat and eat and eat until bedtime.

  Quickly tidying up my workspace, I returned to my desk for my coat and keys. I jotted down a message on a sticky note for the staff to water the seed trays I’d planted while I was in Arizona for the holiday, though the note was unnecessary.

  The winter grounds crew was the full-time crew. They were all at the hotel, completing the short to-do list I’d assigned this morning. If there was a snow flurry, they’d take care of the shoveling and plowing. They’d ice the sidewalks. And they’d water, inside the hotel and here too.

  Today wasn’t the first time I’d been in a mood that had resulted in new plants to tend.

  With the greenhouse locked, I rushed along the sidewalk to The Gallaway, hoping the chef had something warm. The clam chowder would do. Or pasta. Or chowder and pasta. Maybe some bread too.

  Could I eat clam chowder? I typed in a quick search on my phone. Soon, I’d have to find a doctor and learn the specifics. Clara had cut out certain things when she’d been pregnant with August, but since we hadn’t lived together, I couldn’t remember the exact items.

  Today, all I cared about was that clam chowder was safe and so were carbs.

  In the kitchen, the chef greeted me with a wide smile, as though he’d expected to see me. After only days, my odd eating schedule was becoming predictable. He whipped up a bowl of chowder and one of his fancy grilled cheese sandwiches. I devoured it all in the employee break room along with a cookie and a Coke from the vending machine.

  With a full belly and a subdued temper, I pulled out my phone and called my sister.

  “Hey,” Clara answered. “You okay?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted.

  “Brody is—”

  “Don’t. Please,” I begged. “I don’t want to talk about Brody. Not right now.”

  “Okay. Do you still want to come here tomorrow?”

  “Yes.” I wasn’t letting Brody steal my Christmas. “I’ll be there.”

  Maybe if I was lucky, he’d find somewhere else to spend the holidays. Yes, we had a lot to discuss and figure out, but it could wait. We had months, if Brody even wanted to be involved.

  Would he want to be in our child’s life? Or would he be like Devan and disappear? My heart sank. How was I going to explain to a kid that his father didn’t want him? That her dad had abandoned her in favor of private jets and cold mansions?

  Maybe Brody would surprise me. Maybe he’d stick. How were we going to raise a child from different states? How would we handle holidays? Would I only get to have my baby every other special occasion?

  “There’s so much to figure out,” I whispered.

  “You will.”

  “Yeah,” I murmured. “We’ll have lots to talk about tomorrow.”

  “Talking would be good.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Brody.”

  “I understand.” And the truth in her voice eased some of the guilt. We’d figure this out, like we had every hurdle life had put in our path. Together.

  “I’ll text you when I’m at the airport tomorrow.”

  “Love you,” she said.

  I smiled. “I love you too.”

  The next shift was due to start soon and one of the night-shift clerks came in to leave his dinner in the employee fridge. I waved, talked to him for a moment, then headed out to the lobby.

  “Aria.” Andy was at the receptionist counter and his entire face brightened when I walked through the door.

  I forced a smile. “Hey.”

  “Feeling better?”

  “I am, thanks.” Surprisingly, much better. Now that I’d told Clara, I wasn’t alone in this. Secrets had never been my thing and sharing the news that I was going to have a baby had lightened the load.

  That was how it worked with Clara. We shared burdens.

  Pregnancies. Brody.

  If he abandoned our baby, at least I wouldn’t have to convince Clara to quit and move to Oregon. There was no way she’d stay with him if he turned out to be a deadbeat dad.

  “It’s cold out.” Andy nodded toward the french doors that opened to the deck on the ocean side of the hotel. In the summer, those doors were rarely closed. “I was just taking off for the day. Would you like a ride home?”

  He was just so . . . clueless. And nice. Refusing him was not easy. When was he going to realize this was never going to happen?

  I opened my mouth, my brain scrambling for a gentle rejection, when a flash of dark caught my eye over Andy’s shoulder.

  A man in a crisp black suit strode into the hotel, his green gaze locked on my face.

  Brody.

  Chapter Seven

  Brody

  “What are you doing here?” Aria asked through a clenched jaw.

  The guy beside her stepped closer, hovering beside her elbow. He lifted his hand, ready to touch her, but at my glare, he must have thought better of it and let his arm drop to his side.

  I dismissed him and focused on the woman.

  Aria’s face was pale. The circles under her eyes looked more like bruises. And she’d lost weight—weight she hadn’t had to lose.

  “You look awful.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “You came all the way to Oregon to tell me I look awful.”

  The man stepped closer to Aria, positioning himself between us.

  The look I sent him was the one I’d used countless times in the conference room. One I’d learned from Grandmother. People withered under the look. This guy did.

  The only person who seemed immune was Aria.

  Her scowl deepened, then vanished when she turned to him. “Andy, would you excuse me?”

  “Is everything okay?” He touched her elbow.

  I tensed.

  Aria tensed. It was slight but visible. She gave Andy a tight smile. “All good. Thank you.”

  He reluctantly nodded and dropped his hand once more, but did he leave? Andy just stood there, staring at her like she was the sun and the moon and the stars.

  Christ. I didn’t have time to deal with a boyfriend. Was he her boyfriend? Because I wasn’t okay with that. I wasn’t okay with another man touching her. Kissing her. Definitely not sleeping with her.

  My head, which had been spinning since her phone call earlier, was close to exploding. It was only by sheer force of will that I hadn’t had a complete and total mental breakdown—not that I’d ever ha
d a breakdown.

  But if there was a time, this was it.

  The idea of this guy being in her life. Taking my place. No. Fuck no.

  I was the father. This was my kid. Maybe. I hoped. Probably.

  “Aria,” I gritted out. Did she not see me coming out of my skin here?

  Another glare for me. Another pained smile for Andy. “Have a merry Christmas.”

  “You too.” Andy backed away and, finally, turned and disappeared down a hallway.

  Leaving me and Aria in the middle of a hotel lobby to stare at one another.

  She did look awful. Worse than awful.

  And beautiful.

  I’d had a hard time getting her off my mind since the wedding. For two months, I’d done my best to return to normal life. Work had been busy and I’d used it as an escape. But in the dark hours, when I was at home alone, I’d find myself in the kitchen, wishing those flowers she’d stolen hadn’t died.

  She’d been right. They had added some life to the house.

  Her scent, floral and sweet, had disappeared from my bedroom the morning after she’d left. Ron was too good at his job at times and had washed my sheets while I’d been in the shower. But I could still picture Aria in my bed, sleeping soundly with the slightest smile on her face.

  When I closed my eyes, her silky hair greeted me first. Then her eyes. Those molten, chocolate eyes with the fiery flecks. Next came her coy smile. The one she’d flashed me countless times at the wedding.

  Aria Saint-James was impossible to escape.

  And now she was pregnant. With my baby.

  Pregnant.

  I’d been playing that word in my head, over and over. Rolling it around. Testing its severity. For three hours during the flight, I’d mentally repeated it on loop. It was so . . . enormous. Eight letters that had changed my life.

  The concept was too much. Too big. So I’d deal with a smaller one first.

  “Who is that?” I nodded in the direction where Andy had disappeared.

  “Andy is my boss.”

  “He’s in love with you.”

  “No, he isn’t.” She rolled her eyes. “He has a little crush on me. Nothing more. It’s awkward but temporary.”

  Temporary. Clearly, she didn’t realize the depth of Andy’s feelings. Or that nothing about her rendered temporary. Aria had a lasting effect. She walked into your life and you struggled to remember what it had been like before you’d seen that first smile.

  “Why did you come here, Brody?”

  “You’re . . .” I gulped.

  “Pregnant.”

  That word was like a bullet racing out the barrel of a gun. By some miracle, my knees didn’t buckle. Hearing it from her lips, watching them form the word, there was no denying it. That didn’t stop me from asking a dumb question.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Another eye roll. “Why would I lie?”

  Because it wouldn’t be the first time a woman had tried. But Aria had moral fiber. She wouldn’t understand that a child with me meant the payday of a lifetime. “And it’s—”

  “If you ask me if it’s yours, I will cut your balls off and string them on the Christmas tree.”

  I held up a hand. “That’s not what I was going to say.”

  “Oh.”

  “It’s okay? Healthy? You’re okay?”

  She dropped her gaze to the shiny marble floor. “I’m tired. I feel like shit. Probably why I look awful, as you so graciously pointed out.”

  “Sorry.” I dragged a hand over my bearded jaw.

  “What are you doing here, Brody?” she asked again.

  “I’m in a little bit of shock. I had to make sure.”

  “A phone call would have sufficed. Or you could have not hung up on me in the first place.”

  Not an option. The moment her announcement had set in, I’d had to see her. In person. I’d had to watch with my own eyes as my ears heard the word come from her lips.

  Aria was pregnant. The truth settled into my bones. The world that had been spinning in one direction suddenly shifted, spinning on an entirely different axis. One that was centered around the life growing inside her.

  There was a lot of shit to figure out.

  “Join me for dinner.”

  “I just ate.”

  I checked my watch. “At four o’clock?”

  She shrugged. “I eat when I’m hungry. That doesn’t happen all the time, so I take advantage.”

  “Coffee? Decaf. Please.”

  “What do you want, Brody?” Her frame slumped. Her voice held so much exhaustion, all I wanted was to scoop her up and tuck her into my bed for the rest of the week.

  “To talk. I want to talk.”

  “Okay.” She nodded. “I was just on my way home.”

  “Lead the way.”

  She gave me the side-eye, then shrugged on her coat. I followed close behind as she walked past me and out the front doors.

  I fell into step beside her on the sidewalk, keeping up with her brisk pace. The cold air bit into my ears and nose. Where was her car?

  Aria kept walking, following the curve of the street. I expected her to stop at one of the parking lots, but she kept on going.

  Then we changed directions after a few blocks, starting up a side street. Step by silent step, we made our way farther and farther from the hotel and the sound of the ocean.

  She shouldn’t be walking, not when she was this tired. Not at this hour. The sun was beginning to set. In an hour, it would be almost dark. Even now, the light was dim enough to mute the colors of the homes we passed.

  The leaves had fallen from the trees, their limbs bare. The grassy lawns looked to have been frozen a time or twelve. It was just . . . cold. The damp chill from the humid air seeped through my suit coat and made me shiver. I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering.

  It was too cold for her to be walking every night. Alone.

  “Why don’t you have a car?”

  “I haven’t bought one since leaving the Cadillac with Clara. Besides, I like to walk.”

  I opened my mouth, ready to debate the safety merits of her preferred method of transportation, but I stopped myself first.

  Aria would argue. I would argue. It was what we did. And tonight, with so many other important topics looming, this wasn’t the argument we needed to have. So I closed my mouth and kept pace with her as she navigated us toward a two-story row of condos.

  There was no need to ask which condo in the row was hers. Even in winter, she had plants on her porch while the other three condos had nothing surrounding their front doors.

  Aria had two potted trees, their evergreen boughs trimmed precisely to a point. A row of red lights had been wrapped around them in a perfect spiral. Yellow lights, draped from the porch’s beam, decorated the space. In the corner, a huge pot held a bush. Its red holly berries decorated the thick green leaves.

  Aria slid her key in the door’s lock and pushed inside. One step past the threshold and her scent enveloped me. Sweet flowers. A hint of vanilla. Aria. I dragged in a long breath and let the warmth of her home chase away the chill.

  She shrugged off her coat, taking it into the living room and tossing it on the back of a cream couch. Inside was like stepping into another world. Sheer white curtains covered the dark windows. There were plants everywhere, most varying shades of green but some with flowers. Red and pink poinsettias decorated the dining table. A bouquet of yellow roses flourished on the kitchen counter. With the light walls and neutral furniture shades, it was like a bungalow tucked away on a quiet island.

  Serene. There was no other way to describe it. She’d made herself a haven.

  And I was going to beg her to give it all up.

  “Would you like some water?” she asked.

  “Please.”

  “Make yourself comfortable.” She waved to the living room, then disappeared into the kitchen and turned on the faucet.

  I paced in front of the couch, unab
le to sit. The flight to Oregon had been brutal enough, trapped in a seat, itching to get out. Not even a fifteen-hour flight to Australia had felt so long.

  Clara had been texting me all afternoon. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it. I hadn’t told her where I was going when I’d rushed out of the office. We’d been in the middle of a weekly planning meeting when Aria had called. Clara didn’t take many personal calls during our workday unless they came from August’s school or her sister.

  When Clara had handed me the phone, I’d thought Aria had finally decided to tell me what a prick I was for leaving after our night together. I’d been expecting it for months. I’d deserved it for months.

  But pregnant? No. We’d used condoms. Multiple condoms.

  I’d replayed our night together for two months. Never had it occurred to me that one of them had failed. Never. Or maybe I’d been too wrapped up in the woman to notice.

  “Here.” Aria came toward me, thrusting a glass of water in my hand.

  I took it and gulped it to the bottom. “Thanks.”

  She sat down on the couch, her shoulders curling inward. “We used condoms.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing.” I sighed, taking the chair across from her. “I didn’t know that one had broken.”

  “This is a lot.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Not what you expected from a one-night stand, huh?”

  I’d had one-night stands. My night with Aria didn’t even come close to hitting that bucket. “Sorry. For leaving after the wedding.”

  “Why are you sorry? It was just a hookup.”

  Was it? Because it sure as hell didn’t feel like a hookup. Definitely not with a baby on the way.

  I’d been a coward for leaving without a word. She’d be right to call me on it. But I’d been scared. No woman in my life, not even Heather, had affected me like Aria. One night with her and I’d wanted more.

  But this was not the time for a romantic entanglement. Certainly not a long-distance relationship. The company needed my focus if I was going to keep Grandmother from sinking the ship.

  So I’d hopped on a plane the morning after Aria had snuck out of my bed—I’d woken up pissed that she’d already left—and flown back to Vegas, where I’d spent two weeks living in a hotel and working from dawn to dusk.