by Susan Hatler
Completely exhausted, I rested my face against her neck, which smelled like the lily-scented cream she used at night—a scent I’d known since I was little. “I’m twenty-six years old, Mom. I love my salon and what I do. I don’t want to work at the bank. I wouldn’t enjoy it. Why can’t you believe that?”
There were no answers from her and I’d known that there wouldn’t be. Tears ran down my cheeks and I cried, wanting nothing more than to hug her and to have her hug me back and for everything to be okay between us. It couldn’t be, though. Not while my heart was away from the bank and in my salon and with Dallas.
“Can’t you try working at the bank, sweetheart?” Mom sniffed beside me, tears streaming down her face. “It would mean so much to me to have you close. Away from whatever Dallas Parker would suggest next that would get you hurt.”
I sighed. The feel of her arms around me made me feel safe and I was scared in so many ways. I couldn’t argue Dallas had a history of being around accidents. He wouldn’t hurt me though. Well, not unless he had rushed into things too soon with me. Or decided I wasn’t enough for him, like he had with his last girlfriend. That would hurt big time.
I sighed, so terribly exhausted. “Mom . . .”
She moved back, holding my face in her hands. “It would be better for you to be with Dad and Connor, sweetheart. You can sell off your half of the shop to Dallas or something. The rest of your trust will be enough for you to move on from this little dream of yours.”
Little dream. It wasn’t a little dream. It was the whole enchilada.
And I’d made my dream come true.
My heart let out a low and painful throb that sent pain echoing through my skull. The headache clouded everything and so did fear. Would Dallas hurt me? Would I tell him I loved him only to have him break my heart?
“Will you at least think about it, sweetheart?” she asked.
“Okay, Mom.” I sank against her, my eyes drifting closed as my body shut down for the night. “I’ll think about it.”
Chapter Eighteen
Once the hospital released me later that night, my mom dropped me off at Ruby’s where I found a note that my friend had been called to work because her manager had another “doggie emergency.” I had a lot to think about and felt cooped up inside.
Even though it was late, I drove downtown and parked near the Falls. I hiked up the steps and then sat on Kissing Bench across from The Sharing Tree. My gaze fastened on the tree, trying to appreciate its beauty, but my heart felt heavy like a cement brick in my chest.
The wind had picked up and gotten harsh. It was late and dark and lonely out there but I stayed right where I was, unable to move a single inch. Everything I’d ever dreamed of had been mine for a little while. It hurt to lose it all but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t keep having the same argument with my mom and I couldn’t let her down.
It turned out that coming home had been the worst decision ever. I’d made a massive mess of my life. I should’ve stayed in Miami, opened the salon there. Or come home and worked at the bank and kept my feelings closed to Dallas. My heart cracked a little at the mere thought.
I’d plowed headlong into the life I wanted and where had that gotten me? I’d been reckless this evening up on Flat Rock. I’d hurt my family and the guilt was eating at me.
A black truck pulled up to a parking space below. My mouth went dry and my heart sped up. I looked down at my feet, not knowing if I should run to him or run from him.
Dallas hurried up the steps. “I hoped to find you here.”
“Hey,” I said, feeling miserable as he approached. I didn’t want to hurt him. But whatever decision I made was going to hurt someone.
He took a seat beside me. “I called you a dozen times but didn’t hear back. I went to Ruby’s and she said you left a note that you’d gone for a walk.”
I swallowed and lifted my eyes to the sky, which was dark and studded with glittering stars that shined like the dreams I once had. “Yeah, I needed to get out.”
“I heard you’re closing your side of the shop.”
“Not necessarily.” My lips were numb from cold and misery. But it didn’t surprise me how fast Ivy Reed could spread news, even though I’d yet to make a decision.
“Why would you even think of doing that?” He reached for my hand but I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my coat.
“I told my mom I’d think about working at the bank. That’s all,” I said.
“But you would hate that.” His voice was gentle, his fingers tugging gently at my chin so I’d face him. My head turned but I kept my eyes down. “What’s this about, Morgan?”
I bit my lip. “It’s about me needing my mom in my life and not having her upset with me all the time. She’s afraid you’ll do something to hurt me and . . . you might. You like taking risks and you talk everyone into doing those things with you,” I said, reiterating my mom’s words that were circling in my head.
He frowned, a line forming between his eyebrows. “I’m not that guy anymore.”
“At least you admit you used to cause trouble,” I said, my gaze flicking to Kissing Bench and triggering the memory of that time Tom and I had been here making out by the Falls. “Why did you hit Tom?”
“Just let that go, Morgan.”
“No,” I said, wanting to know what prompted him to do that. “Tom dumped me after you punched him. I want to know why you did that. Did seeing us together make you jealous?”
“Yes, but that’s not why I hit him.” He raked a hand through his short, dark hair and blew out a breath. Then he turned to me. “I’d caught him kissing another girl earlier that day. When I saw him there with you . . . I lost it.”
I blinked. “He cheated on me?”
“Yes.” He seemed to take no pleasure in letting me know.
“What a tool.” I shook my head, glad that he’d dumped me and I hadn’t wasted more time on him. “You can’t just go around hitting people, though. And that’s not the only stunt you pulled.”
He leaned with this elbows on his knees before giving me a side-glance. “Want to know why I used to do all those things?”
Tears misted my vision. “Yes.”
“I was a scared kid who nobody seemed to care about one way or the other. I wanted attention. Given my situation at home, I craved it. So I got it in any way I could. It was stupid and immature and dangerous. I know that. But I’m not that guy anymore.”
“What changed?” I asked.
He paused, blowing out a breath. “After graduation, we went back to the classrooms to get our diplomas. After I got mine, your choir teacher, Ms. King pulled me aside.”
A chill vibrated through me. “She did?”
He nodded. “I remember her words like it was yesterday. She said, ‘I see a fire burning in your eyes, Dallas. Like life gave you a bad hand and you’re angry about that, so you’re going to prove to everyone that you’re as bad as they say.”
More chills vibrated up and down my spine as he paused. “Go on . . .”
He sucked in a breath. “She went on saying, ‘A lot of people don’t expect much from a kid that comes from a difficult home. But you can’t let people’s low expectations keep you from achieving your dreams. What’s important to you, dear boy? What do you love? Figure it out and go after it. Because nobody can stop you if you believe in yourself. Remember that.”
A hot tear rolled down my cheek as I stared at him, the moonlight outlining the angles of his handsome face. His brown eyes were in shadows, but I could still see the strength in them. I swiped at the tears spilling down under my chin. “I’m glad you found your strength.”
He nodded. “What about yours?”
I waved my hands. “Just let me be. Please.”
He shook his head. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” I stood, and started backing away. “Why can’t you let me go?”
He stood, moving in front of me. “Because I love you.”
I lifted
my lashes and met those warm brown eyes, open and vulnerable in front of me. My heart squeezed, but I was overwhelmed. I wanted to curl up against him, breathe in that smell of lumber that was all him, and feel the strength of his arms around me. I wanted to believe that we could last, that together we were stronger than anything and everything and that he would never hurt me. But my emotions swirled and I didn’t know what to believe.
He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “I can’t let you walk away from me and what we have together. I know you feel like you have to choose between your family and me. I’d never ask you to do that.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” I said, a low sob breaking from my throat. I wanted to tell Dallas that I loved him, too. That I loved him with my very soul, which felt broken and raw. I couldn’t tell him right now, though. If I did, I might cave and that would hurt my mom and I was so confused. Part of me knew that my mom was forcing me to choose between him and my family. But my emotions warred through me and I couldn’t make a choice.
My mom was scared of Dallas and his uncanny ability to spread tragedy whether he meant to or not. I knew why she was scared and I knew I wasn’t Grace. The horrible accident hadn’t been Dallas’s fault, but mine. The accident at the river was also my fault. Maybe I was the one who spread tragedy in their wake. Or maybe we were both somehow cursed.
“Whatever you decide about us, please don’t sell your salon,” he said, his voice firm. “Don’t give up on your dreams, Morgan.”
“I need my mom in my life,” I protested, wishing he’d understand the torment I felt inside. “She’s made it clear she’ll never accept my salon. Or my relationship with you.”
He shook his head. “Promise me you won’t go all Stepford daughter on me again. That you won’t let her destroy your life.”
“It’s my choice,” I snapped, feeling pressured under the weight of his words. My face went hot. I took a step back, intending to flee but he reached for my hands, holding me in place.
“No, it’s her choice,” he said, his brown eyes piercing mine. “I know you, Morgan. You don’t want the bank and that life. I know you love your business with a passion that most people never get to expend in a career. Don’t give that up.”
I didn’t want to give that up, but I had no choice. It was that or my mom. She hadn’t said it in those exact words, but she kept pushing and she always would. Because she just wanted me where she knew I was safe in her care. Feeling guiltier and more confused than ever, I stepped back and Dallas didn’t try to hold onto me. He let me go.
I breathed in and out, sending white frosty plumes of my breath across the short distance between us. “Maybe I belong at the bank. I don’t know.”
Dallas blew out a breath. “You belong in that bank as much as I do. Don’t lie to yourself, and please don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying,” I said, grinding my teeth together. My insides turned hot and electric. “I’m reconsidering, that’s all. I have the right to change my mind.”
He reached for me. “You’re not thinking straight.”
“Stop pushing me!” I yelled, because his words were pushing me to make a decision—the same decision my heart wanted me to make, but my mind was in chaos right now. I took another step back from him. “I need a break from you. From us.”
He flinched. “You can’t mean that.”
“I do,” I said, nodding. My head spun and my chest felt hollow. I was drowning in a sea of stress and emotion. I had to get out of there, so I turned to walk away.
“You’re leaving me?” His voice came after me on a small gust of wind, raw and filled with heartbreaking emotion.
My head dropped low. I didn’t want us to be over, but I needed space. It killed me to think I might be causing him pain, that he might feel abandoned the way his mom had left him, but I was in survival mode. I needed space to decide what was right for me. Even if that meant that letting my salon go and working at the bank was the best thing.
“We need time apart.” My voice was ragged as a gust of wind blew, swaying me on my feet.
He came toward me, slipping his arms around my waist. “You can’t give up on us.”
His words pelted me. My vision blurred and I pressed my hands to my temples, stepping out of his arms. “You’re still pushing me. My mom says I won’t be safe with you.”
“I would never hurt you,” he said, firmly.
“You already have,” I said. Then I turned and started walking away, wanting my space, wanting time to think.
I loved Dallas. But love doesn’t mean being safe. It meant being willing to risk getting hurt and I couldn’t risk that right now on top of everything else. I had to think about my family and how much what I do impacts them.
As much as I needed space, part of me hoped he would come after me and tell me again that he loved me. Another part of me hoped that he wouldn’t come after me, because if he said he loved me one more time, I might break down and tell him how much I loved him, too. Either way, he didn’t come after me, which I told myself was a good thing. I needed to make a decision on my own, even though I felt like I’d just lost everything.
Chapter Nineteen
The next day passed in a blur with Dallas and I keeping busy without speaking to each other. I’d given him back the leather jacket he’d loaned me in a very awkward exchange.
I wasn’t any closer to a decision on working at the bank, either.
On Wednesday morning, I started crying after seeing the empty box of Jingle Bells Bakery’s cinnamon rolls in the dumpster and knew it was time to get some advice. So, I called the one woman who had always been there for me.
Ms. King opened her bright blue front door with a smile, but she wore a tired expression and new lines were etched around her nose and lips. My heart sank with worry as I handed her the gift of beauty supplies I’d wrapped for her.
She held the door open wider. “So good to see you, Morgan. Come in.”
“I brought you something to go under the tree,” I said.
She reached out, her swollen fingers brushing mine and worry ate at my heart. She was one of the reasons I’d come home, one of the reasons I wanted to be home, and she’d soon be leaving us. I would appreciate every minute with her before that time came.
She took the gift, pleasure lighting her eyes. “That’s thoughtful of you.”
I stepped into her house and followed her into the living room. She set the present below the twinkling Christmas tree. “Would you like some hot tea? I just set the kettle.”
I surveyed her weary face. “I can get it. The kettle’s on you said?”
She nodded and bustled past me. “I’m not so ill that I can’t serve a guest in my house. Sit and I’ll bring a cup to you.”
I took a seat as instructed and stared at the Christmas tree. Even though it had been less than two weeks, it felt like a lifetime had passed between the day I’d brought that tree here and now. Ms. King came back in, carrying an exquisitely arranged tray that she set down on the coffee table.
She took a seat, patting her silver hair back into place and smoothing invisible wrinkles from her silk blouse and long skirt before she said, “I heard about your accident. Are you okay?”
I sighed. “Yes, I’m fine. Let me pour please.”
I took the cozy-wrapped teapot and filled a cup two-thirds of the way full before passing it to her. I poured myself a cup as well, doctoring it with cream and sugar.
Ms. King was far from ordinary or predictable. That was one of the things that drew others to her. She did things her own way and always had. Even tea. I’ll admit, though, that the first time she’d set to making hot tea I’d been pretty sure she was ruining perfectly good tea and I’d been reluctant to drink it. Later, I’d been pleasantly surprised to find that I liked tea various ways. She’d always been a teacher and mentor for me. I needed her advice now more than ever.
I lifted the cup to my lips and let a swallow of the steaming, sweet and milky liquid flow into my mouth and t
hroat. “My mom has been more controlling than ever since the accident. I’m to blame for falling into the river Monday night. I should’ve been paying more attention that close to the edge.” I sighed. “My mom blames Dallas, though. As always.”
Ms. King picked up a plate that held sugar wafers and held it out until I took one. Then she set the plate down. “I’m sure your mom is just upset that she couldn’t protect you.”
“You really think so?” Tears blurred my vision. “I feel like I can’t live up to her expectations. She doesn’t see me as anyone, but the daughter who isn’t Grace.”
Ms. King shook her head. “You’re interpreting her actions wrong.”
My mouth fell open. “I’m not wrong, Ms. King. I fell into the river and all she could talk about was Grace and how she wanted to work at their bank, so I should want to work at the bank. She wants me to be the daughter she loved most.”
Ms. King sipped her tea. Her eyes studied me over the rim of her cup and when she put it down she leaned forward. “Is that what you really think, Morgan? Your dear mother lost a child from a terrible accident. For the rest of your life, she’ll be afraid to lose you, too. That’s the control you’re feeling, her attempts to protect you.”
I lowered my gaze. “You don’t understand, Ms. King . . .”
“Hear me out.” Ms. King’s gentle hand rested on my arm. “What’s happening right now? You opened your own beauty salon. You’re also dating Dallas—and yes I heard about that. Both of these things are proof that you’re slipping away from her.”
I stared at her, numbly. “Go on.”
“You’re not a mother yet, so you don’t know what it feels like to lose a child, and you don’t have to have a child die to lose one. They leave and grow up, because that’s what they’re supposed to do. They make their own decisions and live their own lives, leaving their parents’ control. She doesn’t want to lose you.”
I watched her sit back and bite into her cookie. Her gaze didn’t waver. I mulled over what she had said. Could that be the whole crux of it? Was my mom trying to control me because she’s afraid of losing me?