“Me neither,” Amelia said, scrunching her nose.
Not unexpectedly, Maisie said, “I’d like to.”
Hayes nodded to her and then said to Amelia and Clara, “Feel free to start putting this stuff in your car. Whatever doesn’t fit, I can take home in my truck. We won’t be long.”
“Sounds good,” Clara said. “And thanks, Hayes, for everything.”
She still held a question in her gaze. One he didn’t blame her for one bit. She was protecting her baby sister. Hayes simply inclined his head in acknowledgment, and Clara began to gather the boxes.
“Just this way,” Hayes said, settling his hand low on Maisie’s back and guiding her toward the door.
Down another hallway and through a door on the right, she stopped in front of a one-way mirror. “That’s him?” Maisie said, examining the lanky teenager through the window.
Hayes shut the door tight, then sidled next to her. “Yup.”
“He looks so young,” she said, staring at the kid sitting at the metal table, shaking in his boots. “How old is he?”
“He’s seventeen.”
Maisie’s concerned eyes came to Hayes. “Jeez, he’s just a kid. How did you find him?”
“We caught him on the security footage.”
“We or you?” Maisie asked.
Hayes leaned a shoulder against the glass and arched an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”
“Of course, it matters,” she said, stepping closer, bringing all that sunniness into his space. “I need to know who I should thank.”
“These things are always a team effort,” he told her. Needing her, against his better judgment he moved in closer, hugged her tight and pressed his lips on the top of head. “Can I come see you tomorrow? We need to talk.”
She leaned away and gave him a sweet smile. “We don’t need to talk. I’m okay.”
Which was the fucking point. Clara wasn’t wrong. Maisie deserved better, but she was so damn loving she’d wait for the conversation she deserved until he was ready. That didn’t sit well. Not anymore. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he repeated.
She visibly swallowed. “Okay.” Then she loosed a breath and stepped back, looking back at the kid. “Tell them not to be too hard on him.”
“He stole your trailer and burned it,” he gently reminded her.
Tenderness crossed her face. “Yeah, he did, but I actually think his actions forced me to think differently. His actions are the very thing that might lead to my happiness.” She moved closer again, stood on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. “I’ll see you later.”
Then she was gone.
But what she said wasn’t gone. The words echoed in his head, weaving their way down into his tight chest while he drove back to River Rock. Might lead to my happiness… If anyone should have happiness hand delivered to them, it was Maisie Carter.
After he entered the station, he caught his father in his office. Hayes knocked on the door. His father’s head snapped up. “All done?” Dad asked.
“Yeah, the kid’s been processed.” Hayes tapped the file folder in his hands. “Got some paperwork but shouldn’t take long.”
“Good.”
Hayes moved to the seat across from his dad and sat, looking down at his clenched fists. For the past week, his thoughts were a loud roar in his ears, every question more confusing than the last. Until it finally occurred to him today that he could never go back. He couldn’t change a damn thing about his past. And maybe it was time to stop fighting that.
Dad’s voice softened. “Are you waiting for me to say something, son?”
“I can’t give you six months,” Hayes said, forcing the words out of his dry throat. He looked up at his father, whose head was cocked. “With all that’s happened, all that has gone wrong, I need roots that extend past six months.” Because he couldn’t live like he had been. Day to day, hoping and praying he’d survive the next one.
He had survived. And so had Maisie.
Sitting behind his desk, Dad steepled his fingers, his eyes searching Hayes’s. “Then tell me what you want.”
The answer, for how much of a struggle it had been to find it, suddenly became clear. He gestured at the file folders for new applicants on his father’s desk. “Is one of those available positions you’ve got for a detective?”
Dad gave a slow nod. “One of them, yes.”
“Before—” Hayes cleared the emotion clogging his throat, forcing himself to go on. “In the months before we lost Laurel, I had been told that I could take my detective test in Denver. Obviously, that plan was thwarted. But I’ve got the bachelor’s degree in criminal justice and the work history behind me.”
“You do,” Dad agreed. “Is that what you’re thinking? You want to be a detective?”
Hayes let all the guards down, showing his father all his weak spots. “I’ve been on the side of a victim. I need to be back on the other side.”
“I think that makes sense,” Dad said gently.
Hayes loosed a breath, tension melting away. “I can’t go back to being a beat cop, getting behind a cruiser, living the same life I did with Laurel.”
“You need something new? Something different?” A wide smile spread across Dad’s face. “Something you’re very good at.”
Hayes nodded. “No taking it easy on me. I earn my way, like everyone else.”
Dad snorted, leaning against his chair to fold him arms. “I don’t know why you always thought I was throwing a job at you. Because you’re my son, you’ll need to work ten times harder.”
Hayes didn’t reply, simply glad for it. It occurred to him then that he didn’t have to transfer to Denver all those years ago, in fear that his father would make it easy on him. He was glad the bar was set high. It would make him work to reach it. He rose and moved to the door. There, he squeezed the doorjamb and glanced over his shoulder. “Did you always know I’d come back to the force?”
“I hoped.” Dad’s expression went utterly soft, as did his voice, a rare thing for his father. “You’re a cop, Hayes, through and through, and I’m glad you remembered that.” His gaze shifted back to his papers then, dismissing Hayes. “Now go home and study your ass off. If you fail your test, you’ll have to answer to me.”
Hayes chuckled and left his office, finally feeling like he’d taken the right step forward.
15
Later that night, Maisie sat on her bed, sketching her memory of that day at the stream with Hayes. Soft, instrumental music played from her cell on the bedside table. Her small bedside lamp was turned on, a soft yellowish light warming the space. She’d taken some strong painkillers an hour ago, and with her finger finally pain-free, she had grabbed her sketch pad. Drawing awkwardly, but making it work, she let her pencil flow easily over the page, not exactly sure if she was getting the drawing right, but the stream, the mossy rocks, even Hayes sitting there, it all flowed from her pencil to the page. And creating something was keeping her mind off the fact that Hayes wanted to talk. She couldn’t explain why, but things felt…different. He felt different. And she wasn’t quite sure about any of it.
“Look at this.”
Maisie glanced away from her page, finding Clara barging into her room. “What is it?”
“Just look.” Clara offered the phone.
Maisie read the Google search, scanned the news articles, not believing what she saw before her. Great beer. Fun times. Three Chicks Brewery Outshines the Competition. “Holy shit,” she breathed.
“Yeah, holy shit is right,” Clara said, accepting her phone back. “You did that, Maisie. You know that, right? You pulled off something that even I hadn’t thought possible. You not only fixed the problem with missing that last festival, you blew our competition away. We went from a thousand followers on social media to over twenty thousand. Us. A small little brewery in River Rock.” Clara tucked her phone away in the pocket of her jeans and then took Maisie by the shoulders, squeezing gently. “You did that, just being you, crea
ting in the way you do. I’m really, really proud of you, Maisie. Pops would have been too.”
“Thanks.” Maisie smiled, and yet somehow that happiness couldn’t quite reach her heart.
“And the best news yet,” Clara added, releasing Maisie’s shoulders to take a seat on the bed. “Today a distributor contacted me.”
“Shut up!” Maisie gasped.
“It’s true,” Clara said with a laugh. “I’m going into Denver for a meeting in a week.” Clara shook her head, obviously not believing all this either. “I didn’t even have to call them, Maisie. They called me. I hope you feel really good about this.”
“I do,” Maisie said. “Hell, I actually feel like I’ve gotten something right for once.”
Clara gave an understanding nod and then took Maisie’s good hand, squeezing tight. “Listen, you’ve done your part here, and I know that’s been important to you. Doing this for us. For Pops. But it’s okay, you know, if you want to branch out now, and see what else is out there for you. We all know that the brewery isn’t really your thing, and definitely not satisfying you, so here’s your chance, Maisie. Go do what makes your heart happy.”
Maisie lowered her gaze to their held hands. “You won’t be disappointed?”
“How could I be?” Clara countered. “You did your part. You’ve got no reason to feel like you’re leaving us hanging. Of course, it would be ideal if you wait to pull out your one-third in the company until we’ve gotten more successful, but if you absolutely need it, we’ll find a way to make it work with a loan or something.” She tucked a finger under Maisie’s chin, until Maisie lifted her eyes. “You got me an in with a distributor. Now it’s my turn to take the brewery to the next level. You’re an artist, a dreamer. Go create, sprinkle your sunshine where it’s most needed. Whenever we have big parties at the brewery, you can take control of those. You’ll always be a part of the brewery, if you want to be.”
Maisie nearly parted her lips and said thank you, yes, I totally want this, but one thing stopped her. “There’s a lot going on right now in my life, and not only professionally. I don’t think it’s a good time to make any huge decisions.”
Clara smiled and patted the top of Maisie’s hand. “That’s probably the most mature thing I’ve ever heard you say.” She rose and placed a kiss on Maisie’s forehead. “You don’t need to rush anything, just take a little time, all right, figure out what makes you happy. You deserve that.”
When Clara reached the door, Maisie called, “I’m not the only one who deserves to be happy, you know.”
Clara’s smile softened, but before she could respond, a ball of energy suddenly burst into the room. Mason jumped, literally like a monkey, on her bed. Maisie snatched him up and smothered him with kisses.
“Ew,” Mason snapped, fighting to get away. “Stop kissing me, Auntie Maisie.”
“Never,” she said, pulling him in and kissing him again. “You’re just so loveable.”
Mason wiggled out of her reach, bounced on the bed again and then took off out of the room.
Clara shook her head at her son. “Well, that’s one way to get him out of here quick.” She laughed and shut the door behind her.
The clock on the bedside table read 8:30, Mason’s normal bedtime, and Maisie heard the old pipes complain when Clara turned on the faucet for his bath. Desperate to get lost in her sketch, instead of her tangled thoughts, she turned back to her drawing, unaware of how much time passed when there was a knock on her bedroom door. “Come in,” she called.
The door opened, revealing Penelope and Amelia on the other side, both wearing Yoga pants and T-shirts, typical girls’ night in clothing. Penelope was holding a pie and a bottle of wine. Amelia had three forks and wine glasses. All indicating that Clara must have called in reinforcements when Maisie’s sunshine wasn’t shining as bright tonight.
“We come bearing butter pecan deliciousness,” Penelope said, holding up the pie like a prized possession.
“Then you may enter,” Maisie said, and patted her bed.
She set her drawing aside on the bedside table, but Amelia caught sight of it as she slid onto the bed across from her. “Wow. That’s really gorgeous,” Amelia said. “Is that Hayes?”
Maisie nodded, dropping her pencil next to the drawing. “Yup. It’s a little rough because of the finger, but I’ll polish it up once the splint comes off.”
“Doesn’t look rough at all to me, but then again, I can’t even draw a stick person well,” Penelope said, sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed and accepting the fork from Amelia before pointing it at Maisie. “All right, girl, we’ve got pie and wine, and you totally killed it last night. You should be really happy right now, but you look really, really sad. What’s up?”
Maisie accepted the fork from Amelia and took a big bite of the pie. Her taste buds exploded with delight at the sugary sweetness before she answered Penelope. “My head is just…messy.”
“It can’t be that messy,” Penelope said. “Try and explain.”
Maisie inhaled deeply and blew it out just as slow. “I don’t know, I mean… When things began happening with Hayes, I asked him if we’d complicated things by sleeping together, and he said no.”
Amelia asked, “But it’s suddenly gotten complicated?”
“Complicated, yeah,” Maisie said with a shrug. “It’s just tense now, when it wasn’t tense before. I’m not exactly sure what’s going on with him, but something’s going on.”
Penelope swallowed a of sip wine and then asked, “Have you tried talking to him about it?”
“Of course, but he just shuts me out saying nothing is wrong.” Maisie dug her fork back into the pie, gobbling up the sugary goodness. “When I went to see Luna, she said he’s keeping a secret.”
Penelope cocked her head. “What secret would he be keeping?”
“I don’t know,” Maisie said, voicing the same thought she’d had over and over again. “But the more I think about it, and the way he’s been distant, maybe it’s that he can’t feel for me what I feel for him. And maybe he feels guilty about that, because after all we’ve been through, he should want to make me happy, but he can’t because his heart belongs to Laurel. I mean, maybe that’s it?”
“But Hayes cares about you so much,” Amelia countered. “Everyone can see that.”
Maisie acknowledged that with a nod. “Yes, but maybe it’s a platonic, just friends, type of thing, but he didn’t realize that until it was too late. Now he doesn’t want to say anything, too afraid he’ll hurt my feelings.”
Penelope snorted. “You’ve had sex with him. It can’t be platonic, babe.”
“Okay, true,” Maisie hedged, “but maybe he was just using me to blow off steam though, you know? Like he needed that release or something.”
“Which he could have had with anyone.” Amelia stuck her fork in the pie, cutting off a small piece. “I doubt he’d cross the friendship line with you if there weren’t something there. Did it feel disconnected, like just sex?”
Maisie slowly shook her head. “No, it felt like more.”
Amelia paused, chewing on her pie and then offered, “Well, I say there’s no sense beating around the bush anymore. Ask him straight out what he’s keeping from you.”
“Did that,” Maisie replied. “And he said he’s not keeping any secrets.”
Penelope asked, “Did you believe him?”
“No.”
Heavy silence filled the room. The type of silence that came from simply having no answers to a thousand questions.
Penelope finally broke the heavy silence, “What exactly does that mean for you two, then?”
“I don’t know.” Maisie shrugged. “He said he wants to talk tomorrow. One way or the other, I’ll hopefully get some clarity.”
Amelia studied Maisie. “As hard as it is, maybe it’s time to let go of Hayes. You’ve had your heart set on him for a long time. Take Seth last night. He’s hot and available, and was totally eating you up.”
Penelope asked, “Which is?”
“My heart doesn’t want Seth.” Maisie stuck the fork back in the pie. “It only wants Hayes.”
Hayes wasn’t sure what had woken him during the night or how he ended up at his back door, but he stepped out into the fog in his backyard. The willow tree hemmed a meandering creek at the edge of his property. He recalled going for a run after talking with his father to burn off the shit going on his head before talking to Maisie tomorrow. But he couldn’t remember how he got here. The wet earth infused the air as he stepped onto the dewy grass, the soft squish of mud moving beneath his bare feet. Hayes strode absentmindedly toward the creek, pulled there by a force he couldn’t see but could feel. When he reached the creek, he noticed the rippling water slipping over wet stones, partially submerged twigs in the water, drifting leaves and air bubbles floating lazily downstream. But his attention shifted when he realized he wasn’t alone. The blond-haired beauty next to him, with the soft green eyes, and fair features, was no stranger. “Laurel?”
She smiled, wearing the same white nightgown she’d been wearing when he’d found her in their bedroom. Her blond hair was pulled back in a braid, strands free around her face.
“Surprised to see me?”
He blinked, but she remained. “How is this possible?”
She offered her hand. “You know, you don’t always have to have the answers for everything.”
But he needed answers. He needed logic, and nothing about this was logical. Everything slowed around him when he took her delicate fingers in his. She felt solid, so familiar. “You feel warm.”
“You’d expect different?” she asked with a laugh, leading him closer to the tree where he’d spread her ashes.
The world spun away from him as he glanced down to their intertwined hands. He sat next to her under the tree and she felt real. Like she’d never left him. “This can’t be real.”
She tightened her fingers. “This doesn’t feel real to you?”
Sassy Blonde: USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR Page 17