“Were you planning on telling me?” I ask, suddenly angry at being left in the dark. Ethan nods.
“Of course. With you and Mara, and your contract with the McCoys…” His voice trails off, and I frown.
“I don’t get it. Why would I care about this? It’s ten years ago.”
“Just read it,” Aiden grunts. I look back at the crumpled paper and frown as I try to make out the faded writing.
My darling Calvin,
I’ve spent the last two days in agony, blaming myself for what happened at the river. I shouldn’t have suggested going down to the river, but I couldn’t bear to be apart from you for another day. Being near you is like a soothing balm on my soul. Stealing glances your way as our children played together is the sweetest joy.
Your last letter has shattered my heart. Knowing you want nothing to do with me is tearing me apart. You saved my daughter’s life, and I can never thank you enough. And now, I just want to be by your side for the rest of time.
Calvin, please, my Calvin. Don’t walk away from me.
Eternally yours,
Margaret
I read the letter three times and finally look up at my brothers. I shake my head.
“I don’t get it.”
“He broke up with her after the accident, I guess,” Ethan says. “That’s what I figure, anyway.”
“And then he got sick,” I say, looking back at the crumpled piece of paper.
“And Margaret McCoy bought out Dad’s company from underneath us,” Aiden replies. I glance up at his face, and I see a torrent of emotions passing over it. I pull up a chair and sit down, putting my head in my hand, staring at the letter.
“So, this whole thing…?” I breathe. “This whole feud, or whatever it is… it’s revenge? For Dad breaking up with her? She cheated on Tim that whole time?”
I glance up at my brothers and they shrug in unison.
“That’s what I can figure out,” Ethan says.
“That’s why Margaret can’t stand us,” I breathe. The realization hits me like a tidal wave. My eyes widen and I look at the dozens and dozens of letters on the table.
“She’s going to fuck you over,” Aiden says. He sighs, rubbing his forehead with his hand. “Even if Mara cares about you. Even if you care about her,” he says. “Margaret McCoy will fuck you over.”
I try to make sense of everything. I try to understand what this changes – if it changes anything. Margaret was cheating on her husband with our dad. He broke it off with her, and then he died – and she bought his business out from under us. She hasn’t been able to stand us since.
“Mara told me that her parents used her to do the deal with the luxury hotel. They married her off to the highest bidder, basically,” I say.
“Sounds about right,” Aiden replies bitterly. He sighs. “Look, Dominic. I don’t care about you and Mara. I thought I did, but I don’t. I dated her when I was seventeen.” He sighs, tilting his head back and looking at the ceiling. He shakes his head and my heart races as he opens his mouth to speak.
“All this,” he says, nodding to the table. “It runs a lot deeper than we ever knew.”
“I don’t know if you should get involved with them,” Ethan finishes. I stare at my brothers and then at the letters. My shoulders slump. Mara’s face appears in my mind. I see her on my pillow, with her hair around her head like a halo, and the sweetest smile on her lips. I see the sunlight streaming through the window onto her perfect body, and I feel the happiness flood my veins when I think of waking up next to her. I glance at the crumpled letter in my hand, and I take a deep breath.
“I don’t know what to think,” I finally reply.
28
Mara
“What are you doing here? What is he doing here?” I look from Vincent to my mother and frown. This feels wrong. It feels all wrong. Alarm bells are going off in my mind and I try to make sense of what I’m seeing.
This is the man that didn’t even say goodbye to me. This is the man who sent his personal assistant to help his ex-fiancée move out of his mansion.
Vincent gets up and takes a step toward me. I take a step back and put up my hand.
“Mara,” he croons. “Come on, babe.”
“Don’t call me babe. I’m not your babe.”
His face softens as a hint of hesitation pierces my heart. Memories pass through my mind like a flash – all the times we had candlelit dinners and romantic walks. All the vacations and presents he got me.
I look at him again and frown.
It was all fake. I’ve felt more affection in a few weeks with Dominic than I did in three years with him. He was just buying me, like he buys everyone and everything around him.
“What are you doing here?”
“Mara, darling,” my mother interjects. “Vincent reached out to me. He realizes what a mistake he’s made and wanted to come back. He wanted to make it up to you in person.”
I swing my eyes over to my mother and frown. “Excuse me?”
“I miss you,” Vincent says. I look back at him and take a step back as he takes another step toward me. My heart is beating furiously and my head is screaming run. My feet stay rooted in place and all I can do is look at the man who played me for a fool.
“Why are you here?” I croak.
“I needed to see you,” he says gently. My breath is shallow and my heart is thumping. This feels wrong. It all feels wrong.
Dominic is gone. My mother is furious. Vincent is here.
This is all wrong.
This isn’t how this was supposed to happen. I don’t understand what’s happening. Does he care about me? Was I wrong about being used?
My father clears his throat behind me and I jump. I turn to him, eyes wide as I stare at the three of them.
“Mara,” he says, putting his hand on my arm. I jump. “Mara, Vincent reached out to your mother and we invited him to come here.”
I shake my head back and forth as the words catch in my throat. I don’t know what to say. The betrayal I felt when I came back here is bubbling up inside me. I don’t know where to turn. I don’t know where to go.
Dominic doesn’t want to see me, and my parents only think of themselves. The man who used me to advance his business is standing right in front of me, turning on his charm like a faucet.
I’m alone.
Vincent takes a step toward me and this time I don’t back up. He motions to the door and the side of his mouth curls into a gentle smile.
“Walk and talk with me?”
I’m almost suffocating in this room, and I can’t think. I just nod and let him guide me back in the direction I came in from, and then out the hotel’s front door. The sunlight outside is almost blinding. I’m walking in a daze, vaguely uncomfortable with Vincent’s presence beside me. My heart is racing, my vision is blurry, and all I can do is put one foot in front of the other.
We turn down Main Street and take a few steps in silence. Finally, I stop and turn toward him.
“What are you doing here, Vincent? Why are you here?”
He frowns and tries to reach toward me. I shrug him off and shake my head.
“Answer my question.”
He takes a deep breath. “I wanted to see you, babe.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“You’re mad, I get it,” he says slowly. I can feel the anger bubbling up inside me as he tiptoes around my questions. All I want to know is the truth. I just want him to be straight with me, for once. I just want someone to tell me exactly what is going on.
“Vincent. You broke our engagement off after the hotel deal went south. Now, we’re applying to be an official accommodation for the Park, and suddenly you’re back?”
His eyebrows shoot up and his hand flies to his chest. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
“Mara! Is that what you think of me?”
“It’s what it feels like,” I spit. “What am I supposed to think? Why are you here?”
“I’m h
ere because I want you!” he exclaims. He puts a hand on my waist and my whole body tenses. “I made a mistake, letting you go. I got caught up with work and I didn’t appreciate what was right in front of me. I should never have let you leave.”
“Let me leave?” I repeat, raising my eyebrow. “You pretty much kicked me out, Vince.”
“I did not,” he says. “You know how it was between us. We were falling apart.” I make a noise to protest, shrugging his arm away, and he reaches over to take my hand in his. “That was mostly my fault, I’ll admit that. I know it was. But I’m here now,” he says.
I hate the way he’s looking at me. I hate the way he can change his face from cold and heartless to charming in an instant. I hate the way that I’m not in control of my own emotions whenever he’s around.
There’s something different inside me now, though. I’ve found a new strength within me in the past few weeks. It feels like a shroud has been lifted from my eyes, and I can see everything just a little bit more clearly. I can see him for who he is, and his smooth words and charm-on-tap isn’t having the same effect it had three years ago.
He takes a step toward me, still holding my hand. His face starts dipping toward mine and my heart starts hammering against my chest. Is he doing what I think he’s doing…?
As he moves his head closer to mine, I put my hand on his chest and push him off.
“Vince! Get away from me!”
He takes a step back and a cloud passes over his face. The mask of charm falls away for an instant and I see the anger in his eyes. It’s replaced in an instant with a placid look as he takes a step toward me.
“Don’t be like this, babe. I need you!”
“Stop. Just stop,” I say, shaking my head and backing away from him. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you!”
He catches my wrist in his and grabs me, pinching my skin. I yelp as he grips me tightly. I try to pull away but he keeps his hand on me, and that same flash of anger passes over his face. It disappears, and he lets go of my hand. I stumble backward and practically run back toward my parents’ hotel.
By the time I make it to my room, I can’t see straight. My heart is beating in my chest and I lock the doors before collapsing into bed. I rub my wrist where he’s left red marks and feel the hot tears streaming down my face.
My chest feels hollow and pain pierces through my heart.
I’ve lost Dominic, and I can’t trust my own family. I’ve never felt so alone.
29
Dominic
I turn away from the couple as they walk down Main Street. I’ve seen enough. I’d recognize Mara’s fiancé anywhere, with his crisp clothing and his slicked-back hair. Seeing Mara with him is like a knife straight to the heart.
“Just take me home,” I say to Ethan. He turns the car around and we drive in silence toward my house. When he stops the car, he looks at me without saying a word. I snort and chuckle bitterly.
“Like mother like daughter, hey?” I say, glancing at my brother. He looks away from me and grips the steering wheel a little bit harder.
“Maybe it wasn’t what it looked like,” he says.
I shake my head. “I don’t know.” It looked like she was having a romantic stroll with her ex-fiancé. Ethan nods to me and purses his lips. I nod back and open the door. I don’t look back as I walk toward my little house. I hear him drive off, but all I do is walk into my tiny house and slam the door behind me.
Everything is a mess. I can’t think. I walk straight to the refrigerator and crack open a beer. It’s empty in a few seconds, and I crush the can in my hand and toss it in the trash. It falls into the bag with a soft thud, and I grab another one before slumping down onto the couch.
I turn the television on just to get some noise to drown out my thoughts.
Why was she with him?
What happened between her mother and my father?
What is happening between us?
Should I be doing this?
Every thought I have turns back toward the image of Mara and her ex on Main Street. They were a couple blocks away, but I couldn’t mistake who he was. Not with that hair and those clothes. She didn’t seem upset to be with him, not from where I was sitting.
The hot betrayal pierces through me and I guzzle some more beer. How could she? The very same day that her mother finds out I’m the one supplying the furniture, she runs back to her ex? Do I really mean so little to her?
I pace up and down my small house. The anger is bubbling up inside me and I try to hold it down. I try to control myself – to not get carried away. The anger just builds and builds and builds until I can’t take it anymore.
I push my door open and stalk toward the workshop. There are half a dozen unfinished pieces for the hotel in there, and I look at them with disgust.
I’m a sellout.
I took her money and slept with her. For what?
I should have had more integrity. I’m no better than she is. I’m no better than her mother. What did my dad ever see in her anyway? For my entire life, I thought he was devoted to my mother – even after her death. But now it turns out he was sleeping with Margaret McCoy of all people?
I grab one of the nightstands that I finished this morning and carry it outside. I hurl it across the yard and it lands with a crunch. I walk to it and rip one of the legs off, throwing it off toward the trees. I stomp on the rest of the side table as it collapses under my weight. My lips curl into a snarl and I grunt as I smash the nightstand to kindling. I’m not thinking anymore, I’m just throwing and kicking and stomping until the sweat is dripping down my forehead.
I take a step back and look at the broken piece of furniture. It took me four days to make and ten minutes to destroy. My chest heaves up and down. My fists are clenching and unclenching as I stand there, looking at the destruction in my front yard.
There are bits of timber all over the grass. One of the legs of the table is near the edge of the trees, and the rest is unrecognizable. I sit on the grass and put my head in my hands, my chest still heaving up and down as I pant.
Before I know what’s happening, tears are streaming down my face. I haven’t cried in ten years – not since I was a teenager watching my father die before my eyes. I haven’t cried since that day, but somehow today feels worse.
I thought I had something with Mara. I thought I meant something to her, in the way that she means to me. I thought I’d filled the hole in my heart and that I’d be able to find something more in these mountains.
I thought I could be happy.
I was an idiot. As my breathing turns to sobbing and the tears flow from my eyes, all I feel is betrayal. The tears burn my cheeks as they pour down my face, and I curl my hands into my hair, pulling it out as I rock back and forth.
Finally, I uncurl myself and stand up. My body feels stiff and sore as I make my way back toward my house. Before stepping through the doorway, I cast one last glance across my front yard. The stinging in my heart dulls as I look at the destruction I’ve wreaked on my own work.
I take a deep breath and turn my back on the broken furniture. I can’t clean it up right now. I can’t even look at it.
Everything reminds me of her. Everything reminds me of my dad, and the accident, and all the things that I never knew for all these years.
I don’t know who my dad was, or who Margaret McCoy is, or why she still hates us. I don’t know who Mara is, or if anything between us was even real.
All I know is that there’s a hole in my heart and I can’t think of anything except dulling the pain in my chest. I slam the door closed as I walk through it and forget about the carnage in the front yard. I go straight to the fridge and crack open another beer, ready to drown myself into oblivion.
I want to forget about it all. I want to turn back time and tell Mara to stay away from me. I want to forget what it feels like to have her body next to mine. Forget what she smells like. Forget her touch and her taste and her voice and her laugh.
I want to forget everything.
I slump on the couch and drink until forgetting seems possible, and then I drink some more.
30
Mara
There’s a knock on the door and I jump. My father’s voice comes through the door.
“Mara? Mara, are you okay?”
There’s that question again – Are you okay? Why do people always seem to ask me that when I am most definitely not okay? I take a deep breath and sit up in bed.
“I’m fine, Dad. Just want to be on my own.”
“Okay,” he says through the door. It takes a few seconds before I hear his quiet footsteps pad back down the hallway. My throat closes and I blink back the tears that are gathering in my eyes.
I grab my phone and dial Dominic’s number. The phone rings and rings until it goes to voicemail, and I hang up. I put my phone down for a few moments before trying him again.
Voicemail again.
I sigh, staring at the blank screen before sitting up. I turn to the back door of my room and take a deep breath before standing up.
I slip on my jacket and go outside. The sun is starting to go down and there’s a cool breeze in the air. I let my feet take me toward Dominic’s house. As I get closer, my heart starts beating harder and I wonder what I’m going to say to him. Last time I saw him, I saw pain and betrayal in his eyes before he got into Ethan’s truck. Since then, I’ve been on a wild roller coaster ride. All I want is to have his arms around me and feel the comfort that I’ve had for the past few weeks.
I walk quickly through the forest as the last light of the afternoon filters through the trees. The path is carpeted in old pine needles, and I step over tree roots and rocks on my way to his house. The air smells fresh, and I take deep, cleansing breaths as I make my way toward his house.
With each step, I feel more comfortable. Everything will work out.
The Clarke Brothers (Complete Series) Page 27