Mrs. Harrison was waiting for me at the door, a large aluminum pan in her arms.
“There you are,” she said with a sigh as if she had been waiting on me for hours.
“Let me take that,” I said, ignoring her comment and grabbing the large pan from her outstretched hands.
“You know the way out to Muriel’s house, right?” she asked me with a look of distrust on her face.
I held back the laugh that was bubbling in my chest at the serious tone of her voice. She was acting like I had to deliver nuclear codes to the Pentagon.
“I’ve been there a time or two,” I said to reassure her.
“Good. Good. Tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t deliver it myself.”
I nodded and she hurried back inside out of the cold. I retreated into the warmth of my truck. At least I’d stay out of the cold for a bit longer, considering that the Townsends’ farmhouse was on the outskirts of town. Truthfully, though Mrs. Harrison didn’t need to know, I hadn’t been out to the Townsends’ farm in about ten years.
Not since the day Bianca Townsend left without a word after we both lost our virginity to each other the night before.
I shook the memory off. It was in the past. Bianca was in the past. I had moved on from there, been with other women since then, forgotten about her.
Mostly.
On some level, Bianca Townsend would always be the one that got away. But, according to my mother, Bianca wouldn’t set foot into Gandy’s Ridge again. Not after some huge falling out she had with her parents.
Yet, somehow, my stomach still flipped at the prospect of going to her parents’ farm, even though I knew she wouldn’t be there.
“It’s just memories,” I said out loud to myself, feeling like a fool.
I turned off the main road onto a rutted, gravel driveway and headed slowly towards the white farmhouse set back from the road. It looked just as I remembered, though the white paint seemed fresher and brighter in the waning sunlight and the porch was less saggy than it used to be. The Townsends must have worked on the house in recent years. Three cars were parked in the circular drive that curved around in front of the house. The first two I recognized as Mr. Townsend’s and Shay’s, the other, a white Toyota Prius, wasn’t familiar. They already had company.
I shut the truck off reluctantly, bracing myself for the cold rush of air as I pushed the door open, the pan of lasagna in my right hand. Though I was ready for it, the air took my breath away. If at all possible, it felt even colder out here away from downtown. Just as I approached the porch steps, the front door swung open and a dark-haired woman flew out. She raced down the stairs, keeping her head down, and barreled right into my chest.
“Oh no!” she yelled as I wrapped my arm around her waist to steady her and keep myself from dropping the lasagna.
She looked up at me and we both froze.
Bianca.
3
Bianca
“Guess who’s here?” Shay said as she opened the front door to our parents’ house and let me into the foyer.
I looked around, emotions flooding my chest. Everything looked the same. Everything smelled the same. It was like walking right back into my childhood.
“Who is it, Shay? Did you bring a friend home again?” my father’s voice rang out from down the hall in front of us, in the direction of the kitchen.
“No. Come here for a minute, Dad,” Shay yelled.
My stomach somersaulted at the prospect of seeing my father for the first time in ten years. What would he say? How would he react? Would he tell me to leave?
“Shay, I’m trying to get your mother some—” Dad’s voice cut off as he came into view in the hallway and our eyes met.
His eyes widened—the same hazel green color of my own—and locked on me. His mouth hung open like a fish. He was unable to speak or move for what seemed like an hour.
“Hey Dad,” I managed to croak out, my throat suddenly dry.
“Bianca?” He shook his head as if I were a mirage.
“I came to see Mom. Shay called me last week and—”
“Why are you here?” He suddenly found his voice, anger creeping in as he came to.
“I just told you. I heard about Mom’s cancer and I came to see her. I want to put aside all the drama because Mom is sick.”
“Drama? You call what happened, what you did to this family, drama?” He shook his head again, but it meant something entirely different this time.
“Dad, listen, I’m sorry about what happened and how I did what I did, but I’m not sorry I told Shay. She needed to know.” My voice hitched, turning my explanation into a plea. I didn’t want him to kick me out.
“Fine. I’ll accept that for now, so you can see your mother. But don’t upset her.” Face red with rage, his hands balled into fists before he turned and stomped away from me.
He was done with me.
Shay and I followed him through the house to the family room off the back of the kitchen. I silently wrung my hands in front of me, trying to keep the tears that were gathering at my father’s rejection at bay. In front of the fireplace, my mom was seated in a recliner that was older than I was, a throw blanket over her lap and a scarf wrapped around her head. Her eyes drooped, her head lulling to the side. Another lump formed in my throat, for a totally different reason this time. I hated seeing her like this, despite everything that happened. I wasn’t focused on the memory of the scorn in hers and my father’s eyes when they cast me from their house on that hot June morning ten years ago. All I could see was the frail woman that was my mother. My heart was breaking for her.
“Mom,” I whispered the words, not wanting to disturb her.
Her eyes popped open and her head pivoted to the side as fast as her weak body would allow. The same look that had graced my father’s face when he first saw me was present on hers.
“Bianca? Oh my god, how are you here?” Tears swam in her bloodshot, tired eyes and she lifted her arms to me.
I rushed over to her, and she wrapped me in a feeble hug. She felt frail, fragile, and I was afraid to break her.
“Did your father call you? I’ve been telling him to call you for months.” Her eyes flashed to my dad, who was looking at the floor.
I shook my head. “Shay called me. She said you two didn’t want me to know about the cancer.”
My mother closed her eyes for a beat. “No, your father didn’t want you to know.”
Confused, I frowned and whirled to my father, willing him to see the questions in my eyes. “Is that true?”
Shay was looking at him with the same confusion and frustration that I was sure shone from my face.
“You told me that you and Mom made the decision together,” Shay muttered in a shaky voice.
“Your mother was in no position to make that decision after her surgery. I didn’t want to upset her, so I made the decision myself,” Dad barked out at the both of us, glaring daggers at me.
“That’s enough, Charles. I just got my daughter back,” my mom snapped back at him, her previously weak voice taking on a tone of conviction as she took my hand in hers.
“No, I will not let her do this to us, to you, again, Muriel. Your daughter must know all the turmoil she put us through. But she didn’t stick around, did she? She took off and left us with the aftermath of her revelation.” He pointed a finger in the air at me as he spat the words out.
The crack in my heart, the one that had existed from the day they kicked me out of the house ten years before, opened wider at his words.
“Took off? You kicked me out. You told me I had to leave and I wasn’t welcome here any longer. Am I making that up? Is that not the truth?” I looked around the room at my family, between my sister and mother who were nodding in agreement before looking back at my father. He refused to meet my eyes.
“You don’t get to drop a bomb on a family member like that without consequences,” was his only response.
My father was still holding a grudge after all
this time. He still blamed me for everything that had happened. My mother was ill, seriously ill and possible dying, but he still couldn’t get past what had happened.
I had to get out of this house.
“When is your next chemo treatment?” I asked my mom, trying to keep my voice steady. It came out just above a whisper.
Her eyes searched mine for a moment before she sighed and answered me. “Monday.”
I nodded. “I’ll be there.”
I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, hugged my sister, and ran from the room.
“Bianca!” Shay called after me, but I didn’t stop.
I would be there for my mother. Even though she hadn’t formally apologized to me, I could tell by her tone of voice and the way she accepted me into her arms that she was sorry. But I refused to give my father another moment of my time or energy if the only thing he was going to do was berate and shame me. Without looking back, I tore through the house, pushing through the screen door and onto the porch. Tears clouded my vision as I ran down the stairs. My progress was halted, the wind knocked out of me for a moment, as I ran into something solid.
“Woah!” a masculine voice yelled. The man grabbed me around the waist with one arm, pulling me against him to stop us both from falling over.
My head snapped up, and I was met with a set of deep brown eyes, a handsome face covered with a short beard, and a scowl.
“Garrett?” I recognized him right away without having to search my brain the way I had to when I first saw Mrs. Harrison.
Garrett and I had history.
He didn’t answer, only dropped his hand from my waist like I’d burned him, and stepped around me. Why was Garrett Alexander at my parents’ house?
“What are you doing here?” We both said at the same time.
The scowl was a permanent fixture on his face, two lines etched into the space between his eyes. I wiped furiously at the tears on my cheeks, knowing that my face was probably swollen, red, and blotchy.
What a homecoming.
We stood there in silence for another moment, just staring at each other. After a while, I realized he held a large aluminum tray.
“I just got back to town,” I said lamely, motioning towards my parents’ house with one hand.
“Oh, right. I didn’t expect to see you.” The scowl hadn’t left his face but his words were friendly.
“Is that for them?” I pointed at the large tray in his hand.
He looked down, surprise lighting his face for a second as if he forgot he was holding something. “Yeah. It’s a lasagna from Mrs. Harrison.”
“I just saw her at the diner earlier.” I wanted to slap myself on the forehead. Of course, I saw her at the diner because that was where she worked. Why was I being so weird?
“Right,” he said again, “I’m just going to bring this inside for your parents.”
I nodded. A moment ago, I couldn’t wait to leave, but now I was rooted to the spot. Seeing Garrett after all this time was like a shock of ice water to my system. He started to walk away, heading up the steps as I stood in the driveway, looking after him. I had every intention of walking away, at least that was what I told myself. But Garrett spun just before he opened the screen door, the scowl gone from his face, replaced by curiosity.
“Why were you running from the house?” He started back down the steps, stopping just in front of me.
I shrugged, not wanting to rehash what had happened with someone who, for all intents and purposes, was now a stranger. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
Garrett studied my face before cocking an eyebrow at me. “Really?” He said the word with more than a hint of sarcasm.
“What does it matter to you anyway?”
Garrett held up his one free hand in surrender. “I guess it doesn’t. You looked upset and I thought maybe I could help.” It was his turn to shrug. Without saying another word, he turned to walk away from me again.
Dammit.
“Garrett, wait,” I called after him.
It made no sense why I didn’t want him to walk away from me—I hadn’t seen the man in ten years—but I couldn’t let him go.
“My dad isn’t so happy to see me,” I offered the information like an olive branch.
Garrett moved closer to me again, the two lines appearing between his eyes again, but this time it was more like he was deep in thought as opposed to scowling.
“Because of how you left?” The question caught me off guard until I remembered that no one else in the town knew why I left. A shadow of hurt passed across Garrett’s eyes as he said it. Perhaps he wasn’t so happy with me because of how suddenly I left.
“No. He told me to leave—they both did—but he can’t forgive me for what I did, even though my mom has.”
Garrett didn’t answer me right away, but I could see the wheels turning in his head as he gazed at me.
He held up a finger. “I’m going to bring this inside. Don’t go anywhere.”
He disappeared through the screen door while I waited, wrapping my arms around my middle as the cold finally registered. Never before had I been this thankful for a winter coat. Florida really made a person take winter clothing for granted.
Garrett burst back through the door almost five minutes later just as I was contemplating waiting in the car.
“You’re still here,” he said as if he was expecting me to be gone.
“You told me to wait.”
“You have a history of being a runner,” he said it with a little smirk but there was a hint of rejection in his voice.
Memories of the night before I left came rushing back. Heat flooded my cheeks as I remembered how Garrett and I had spent that night—wrapped in each other’s arms under a blanket in the bed of his pickup at the edge of our farm’s property. I left the very next day.
“Ah, well, in my defense, it had nothing to do with you.”
“That’s not what it felt like at the time,” he admitted.
I wasn’t sure what to do with his honesty so I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I stood there, trying to push the memories of my complicated relationship with Garrett out of my head while they replayed like a home video on loop.
“I’m sorry, Garrett. It really wasn’t because of you, of us,” I tried to reassure him.
He shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
Then why did it all still feel so fresh in my mind?
“I should have at least let you know I was leaving.”
“We weren’t really a couple, Bianca. You didn’t owe me anything.” He shrugged again.
Our eyes locked for a moment, the brown depths of his gaze taking my breath away for a moment. Giddiness burst in my stomach, making me feel like it was full of fluttering butterflies. I hadn’t felt this way since that night, not about anyone else.
It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.
“Are you ready to go?” he finally asked me, breaking my train of thought and the trance we were both in.
“I am, but it would be nice to know where,” I said with a chuckle.
Garrett smirked. “Just follow me. I could use your help with something.”
“Okay . . .” my voice trailed off as he jogged back to his pickup parked behind my car.
“Just trust me.”
Before I could answer, he had already hopped into his truck. Hopefully, whatever we were about to do would be better than being kicked out of my childhood home for the second time in my life.
4
Garrett
The night had taken quite a turn. Just as I’d convinced myself that I wouldn’t run into Bianca Townsend despite my anxiety about going to her parents’ house, I quite literally ran into her.
Or rather, she ran into me.
Now I was on my way back to the church to help set up for the party as Bianca followed me. What would my mom and Bryce say when they saw her? Suddenly, I began to second-guess my invitation. Bryce would probably rag me about it nonstop since he reme
mbered all too well how torn up I was when she left Gandy’s Ridge. My mom would probably hound me relentlessly about why I brought her with me.
What the hell am I doing?
Shaking my head to loosen the doubt, I turned into the church hall’s parking lot. I didn’t regret bringing Bianca, even though I was sure to get some grief for it. She’d had the saddest expression on her face when she looked up at me after we collided. I had to do something to change that. When she mentioned her parents had made her leave home, I felt even worse, especially since for a year after her leaving, I was bitter that she’d left without so much as a phone call. But it wasn’t her fault.
I hopped out of the truck, slamming the door as Bianca walked towards me. My breath caught in my chest as she smiled, the corners of her hazel eyes crinkling up. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, making her face look radiant. It had begun to flurry on the way back into town and tiny snowflakes lit up in her dark hair like twinkling lights.
She was beautiful.
She propped a hand on her hip, a smirk on her face. “Garrett Alexander, did you just trick me into helping you set up for the church’s Christmas party?”
A loud laugh burst from my chest at the look she gave me. “You caught me. My mom is making me decorate this year and I have no idea where to start. Usually, I’m just the muscle.”
Bianca sighed dramatically and shook her head. “Well, you’re in luck, I’m an expert at Christmas décor.”
“Really?” I asked her. I had no idea what she did for a living.
Bianca had always been artistic and creative. For all I knew, she could be an interior designer.
This time she was the one to laugh. “No. I haven’t decorated for Christmas in years, beyond a tiny little Christmas tree I put up in my apartment.”
“You got me,” I said, motioning towards the door to the hall.
She fell in step next to me, so close my arm brushed against hers. The scent of vanilla and citrus wrapped around me. My heart sped up, and my dick twitched at the contact, reacting to her in a way I hadn’t expected. It was as if no time had passed and I was a horny teenager again. What was happening?
Rekindled: A Holiday Romance Page 2