Unexpectedly Mine (Birch Crossing Book 1)

by Stephanie Rowe

  Anger fueled inside her. "You're a bastard!"

  "I know." He looked at her coolly. "And it's time we both realized it." He got back in his truck. "I'm going to Boston."

  "Just like that?"

  "Just like that." He hesitated, and for a second, she saw a flash of vulnerability in his face.

  That was all it took for her to realize that his anger and coldness was just a facade for the tremendous pain he was feeling. "Griffin," she said softly as she set her hand on his arm. "Don't run away from this. Please stay. Let's talk about this."

  "No." He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, holding it for so long she thought she was going to start to cry. "I can't pretend anymore, Clare. I can't pretend to fit where I don't." He met her gaze, so much torment in his dark eyes. Gone was the cold shield, and there was nothing hiding the raw anguish tearing him apart. "It's too damn hard."

  "I know it is," she said. "It hurts. But it's worth it."

  He laid his hand on her cheek. "I can't do it, Clare. I can't do it anymore." Then he leaned forward and kissed her, and it was a kiss of farewell.

  Of a final good-bye. "Griffin—"

  He shook his head. "No more, Clare. Let it be, so we can at least hold onto the beautiful memories." He gently pushed her back out of the way, shutting her out of his life.

  She couldn't believe it was happening.

  But it was.

  She wanted to scream and berate him for leaving her, like she'd done to Ed. But protests hadn't kept Ed home, and it wouldn't keep Griffin from leaving. His departure had always been part of the deal, but she'd had no idea how badly it would hurt.

  She wouldn't kill another man's spirit.

  She wouldn't lower herself to begging for whatever crumbs he would give her.

  Not this time. Not again. Even if she kept Griffin for another hour, or another day, the end would be the same. Another Ed. And she couldn't survive that again.

  So, even while her heart was breaking, Clare didn't fight for him. She simply wrapped her arms around herself as he shut the door. The bang of the door shutting made her jump, and he shifted into reverse without even looking at her again.

  His truck reached the end of the driveway. "Please come back," she whispered, knowing it had to be his choice, his decision, his own heart's calling. "Please don't give up."

  But the tires spun on the dirt, and then the truck peeled down the street, until the dark vehicle disappeared into the night, and all she could see were the taillights.

  And then even those disappeared.

  As Griffin drove away from Clare's house, all he wanted to do was turn the truck around, haul ass back up the gravel driveway, and claim his woman.

  But for what purpose? For nothing. He'd played all those cards, and it was a dead hand.

  So, instead, he forced his attention toward the life that he actually fit, and he dialed up his business partner. Phillip would give him the fire he was looking for.

  "I'm on my way," he said the moment Phillip picked up. "I'll be down by midnight. Let's meet at the Cafe Florence for a drink." Like a full bottle of Grey Goose, straight up. Because right now, all he wanted to do was erase the memories beating at him and find a way to look at his new company without wanting to blow the damn thing to hell and beyond.

  "You got it." Phillip sounded so psyched that Griffin felt like his partner was talking at him from another planet. "It'll be good to be back, won't it?

  Griffin fisted the steering wheel. "Yeah," he lied, unable to muster the matching excitement. Once he was back at work though, the rush would return. He was sure of it. It was what he lived for. After Hillary and Brooke had left him, his work had taken away the pain. Work had filled the void, and it would do so again. The office was his oasis, and he'd been a damned fool to try to play in someone else's fountain. "I'll see you soon."

  "Drive fast," Phillip ordered. "Let's get going."

  Drive fast. Griffin snorted as he disconnected. Clare would have commanded him to drive safely—

  Clare.

  Her name bit deep.

  Driving out of her place had been the hardest thing he'd ever done. So much more gut wrenching than he'd anticipated. After his hellish day in River Junction, all he'd wanted to do was pull Clare onto his lap and tell her about Brooke. He'd wanted to hold her in his arms and listen to her arguments about why he was a better dad than he thought. He wanted to feel her body against his as she talked him down from his bottomed-out state of mind.

  Except the moment for delusions was over.

  It was time to let go of certain dreams and focus on the ones that mattered. In Your Face. That was what he was good at. That was his calling. That was where he fit.

  Not in this town.

  Not as a lover and a partner.

  Not as a father.

  Son of a bitch. He felt like shit. He tightened his grip on the gear shift and hit the gas. He needed to get away from this town. Go back to where he was from. Reclaim the life where he excelled. Connect with the people who thought his business genius was a veritable blessing from the gods.

  He tried to picture how it had felt to walk into that conference room to seal the In Your Face deal. The excitement of working on a project until four in the morning, taking a nap on his couch and then being back at work an hour later.

  It would take only a day, maybe two of being back in the office, and he'd be in his groove again. He wouldn't remember this town. The thought of Clare's blue eyes wouldn't make his chest hurt. He wouldn't lie in bed at night and remember what it was like to make love to her. He would stop replaying that moment last night in the restaurant when she'd shouted her love for him loud enough for the whole damn place to hear.

  Shit. He shook his head, trying to get the thoughts out of his mind as he sped around the corner onto Main Street. Emergency vehicles were crowding the front of Wright's store. What the hell was going on?

  There was an ambulance, a fire truck and two police cars, probably the entire fleet of emergency vehicles in the service area. Adrenaline spiking, Griffin peered intently through the windshield, checking out the store, but he didn't see any smoke coming from it. The place wasn't burning down, so that was something, right? So, it was okay.

  People were crowding around the front of the store. People he recognized. Eppie and her friend Judith. Some of the guys from the softball team. Jackson and Trish. Ophelia. People he knew. He slowed the truck so he could get out and check on everyone, and then he realized what he was doing. This wasn't his deal. This wasn't his world. He was leaving, and sitting around here wasn't his deal.

  He didn't belong here.

  He never had.

  He never would.

  It was time to let it go and return to where he belonged. To the place that accepted him for who he was. The life that made him happy.

  He gunned the engine and drove on.

  He made it as far as the fork that would take him to the highway before he turned around, unable to leave until he knew that the people he'd come to care about were all right.

  A few minutes later, Griffin parked his truck in front of Clare's office and got out. He strode across the street to where Jackson was standing, his face reflecting the blue and red from the emergency vehicles flashing lights. Two minutes. That's all he would give it, and then he was gone for good. "Jackson," he barked. "What's going on?"

  Jackson looked at him, and Griffin tensed at the anguish on his teammate's face. "It's Norm."

  "Norm?" Griffin took a sharp look at the building as a stretcher was wheeled out the front door of the store. "Norm!" He raced toward the stretcher, and then stopped hard when he saw that the sheet was over the old man's face.

  He was dead?

  Holy shit.

  Norm was dead.

  Griffin stood numbly while he watched Ophelia run over and take Norm's hand. She was sobbing openly, her whole body shaking with grief. Eppie clasped her shoulders, and Trish supported her waist, keeping Ophelia from falling as she stum
bled down the front steps beside the stretcher that was taking away the man she'd loved for fifty-three years.

  Griffin realized everyone around him was crying. Some of the women were sobbing, and the men were silent, but there were tears on their cheeks. Men, women, even some kids.

  As the paramedics walked Norm's body down the stairs, Jackson took off his ball cap and laid it over his heart. Everyone else did the same. Those without hats used their palms, and the town went quiet.

  Then one old man, a guy that looked as wizened and wrinkled as Norm, began to sing. At first Griffin couldn't make out the tune, but then the man beside him joined in, and then others, and he realized they were singing the national anthem. Hailing Norm with the song of their whole damn country.

  The paramedics stopped wheeling Norm toward the ambulance, and they put their hands over their hearts and joined in. And standing there, beside the man she loved, was Ophelia, holding his hand while the town showed their respect and their love for the man who had held them together for so long.

  Griffin thought of the stars that Norm had taught him to see, and he slowly placed his own palm over his heart, and he began to sing, joining in with the town that had become his own. Emotions welled deep, and he felt tears burn in his own eyes as he paid tribute to Norm.

  When the song ended, the night was silent. Not a sound. Not a movement. Just townspeople honoring a legend, a man who had been the cornerstone of their community.

  Ophelia raised her chin, and, with tears still streaming down her cheeks, she spoke, her voice strong and determined. "Norman is smiling right now, because his greatest joy was to provide a place to bring the community together. To have everyone here, in this moment, is everything he would ever have wished for. He loved you all." Then her voice broke, and Eppie and Trish wrapped their arms around her and helped her into the ambulance.

  Trish told Jackson to have someone bring Ophelia's truck to the hospital for her, and one of the men from the Pirates loped into the store, apparently to retrieve the car keys.

  But for everyone else, silence reigned while the paramedics loaded the ambulance. And then lights flashing, it slowly drove away, followed by the police cars and the fire truck. The crowd dissipated quickly, and within moments, there was a procession of cars following the ambulance. The last car in line was an old, blue pickup truck that pulled around from the back of the store, with Wright & Son painted in faded letters across the side.

  In less than five minutes, the town was empty as its inhabitants escorted their leader on his journey.

  The store was locked up, and Griffin was alone on the porch of the building that had always been bustling with activity since the day he'd arrived. Now? Abandoned.

  The sign on the door said to ring the doorbell if it was after hours, and someone would be down to help. How many times had Norm come downstairs in the middle of the night to help someone who needed diapers, or baby formula, or even beer? Griffin suspected that Norm would have deemed all requests sufficient to rouse him from his sleep and his wife's arms.

  And now he was gone.

  Griffin sat down in the chair that Norm had used the night they'd had their talk. The one Norm would never use again. He leaned back and looked up at the sky. The stars were bright tonight, just like that evening he'd been out here with Norm.

  How could Norm be gone? He was the town. He was Wright's. Would the store stay open? And what would Ophelia do? Would she even be able to live there anymore? Or run the store? Or would she lose everything on top of her husband?

  Griffin's chest tightened and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to his hands as his body began to shake. Ophelia's courage and strength had been astonishing. Her life, her soul mate, her reason for being had been stripped away from her, and her heart had been breaking, and yet somehow, she'd had the capacity to share Norm's love with the town he'd loved so much.

  Norm had been Ophelia's life, and she'd loved him so much, yet she hadn't broken under the agony of losing him. Shouldn't her love for him have brought her to her knees? How had she used her love to survive that moment? But she hadn't simply survived. In that moment, he'd seen her glow with something powerful. With an inner spirit that had carried her through. Was that love? Was that—

  "Dad?"

  Griffin looked up to see his daughter getting out of the passenger door of Hillary's Mercedes. "Brooke?" His voice was raspy and thick, and he couldn't clear it.

  She walked to the bottom of the steps. She was wearing jeans and a tee shirt, a pair of old flip-flops, and her hair was shoved in a crooked ponytail. It was the most disheveled he'd ever seen her, and the most beautiful, because her spirit wasn't hidden behind makeup, fancy hair and designer labels. His daughter. So precious. So alive.

  Brooke peered at him. "Are you crying?"

  He was too drained to lie. "Yeah, I am."

  "Why?"

  "Because a good man died tonight."

  "Oh." Brooke hesitated.

  Griffin patted the seat beside him. "Come sit, Brookie."

  She hurried up the stairs and perched on the swing that Griffin had used the night he'd been talking to Norm.

  For a moment, neither of them spoke.

  Finally, Brooke said. "I've never seen you cry."

  "I don't much." It was difficult to talk, his throat was so heavy and thick.

  Again, conversation faded until the only sound was the squeak of the swing as Brooke pushed off, back and forth, back and forth. How many times had Ophelia sat in that seat while Norm had occupied Griffin's? Hundreds? Thousands?

  And now, it was over. How did love like that end? It was too soon for them. They had so much more they were supposed to live.

  Hillary got out of the car and leaned on the roof to watch them. But she said nothing. She was just waiting. For what? Why were they in Birch Crossing? Not that he could muster up the energy to figure it out. Not right now. After all the energy he'd spent trying to win his daughter over, he had nothing left.

  "Dad?"

  "Yeah." He rested his forearms on his thighs and clasped his hands, staring at the gray paint on the porch. How vividly he recalled Norm walking across those boards, accompanying his wife to the door. He could still see their wrinkled hands entwined, the way they'd parted, with a promise of love and intimacy and foreverness. It had been a moment of beauty. And it would never happen again. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes again and his shoulders began to shake. "That's not the way it should be."

  He felt a soft touch on his shoulder. "It'll be okay, Dad."

  He couldn't look up. He couldn't talk. He couldn't respond.

  His daughter's arms went around him, and she leaned her head on his shoulder.

  "Oh, God, Brookie." He grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap. He held her as he trembled, as his beautiful child hugged him for the first time in far too long. "I missed you."

  "I missed you too," she whispered. "I love you, Daddy."

  "I love you, too, Brookie." He hugged her, so tightly, so fiercely, and he knew he could never let go, not ever.

  It felt like an eternity before his body stopped shaking, before his throat loosened enough that he could speak, and Brooke held him the whole time, never letting him go.

  He swallowed finally and lifted his head. To his surprise, tears gleamed on his daughter's cheeks. "Brookie," he said softly, brushing his thumb over her face. "Why are you crying?"

  She sniffled. "I don't know."

  He managed a smile, and kissed her forehead. "You're so beautiful," he said. "You're growing into the most incredible young woman. I'm so proud of you. I'm sorry I'm such a bad dad. I'm sorry I can't get it right, but you need to know that I love you every minute of every day, and I will always do anything you need me to do." He held her face. "I love you, Brookie. I just wanted you to know that."

  She smiled through her tears. "I know you do."

  "You do?" At her nod, the most intense relief rushed through him. "Oh, God, you really do, don't you?" His daug
hter believed him. She knew his love. She did. He grabbed her and hugged her again, pressing his face in her hair like she used to beg him to do when she was little.

  Brooke laughed and pushed him away. "You're messing up my hair."

  He grinned and tousled her hair even more, feeling like a tremendous weight had fallen from him. "Sorry, pigeon. You know I'd never mess it up on purpose."

  "Stop!" She swatted his hand away, but her eyes were sparkling. "I'm not five! You can't call me pigeon anymore."

  "You'll always be my pigeon," he said. His little girl, no matter who she called Dad or whose last name she carried. He suddenly understood that truth. Just as Norm's spirit would always remain, kept alive by the people of Birch Crossing and by Ophelia even though he was gone, his daughter would always be a part of his heart, regardless of whether her last name was Friesé or Burwell. She would always, always be his daughter, and the love would always be there.

  And by God, that felt damn good.

  "Dad," his daughter groaned. "I'm not your pigeon."

  "Okay." He laughed softly. "You're right. I'll try to remember. But you might have to remind me."

  She studied him, her face suddenly solemn. "But will you listen to me?"

  He nodded, his amusement vanishing. "Yes, I will." He turned toward her, giving her his full attention. "I swear I'll listen to you from now on, Brooke. I promise it."

  She smiled and took a breath. "Then I'll come to Boston with you."

  Griffin felt like something had knocked the wind out of him, and he looked sharply at Hillary. And that's when he saw the tears on her cheeks. He returned his gaze to his daughter, barely able to fathom her words. "That's why you're here? You came after me?"

  Brooke nodded. "When Mom told me you said I could change my name, I freaked." She hit his shoulder. "I never thought you would say yes. You weren't supposed to actually let me go!"

  He was so shocked by her words that he couldn't speak. She didn't really want him to let her go. "Oh, God, Brooke." He hugged her again, so fiercely, fighting the surge of emotion that threatened to bring back his unmanly tears again. "You broke my heart today," he told her thickly. "I thought that's what you wanted."