A Sweet Life-kindle

by Andre, Bella

  Suddenly unable to breath, she pulled the plug on the tub she hadn’t even set foot in, turned off the water, pushed out of the bathroom and to the same window where she’d seen Gabe last night.

  This time, there was no one standing there.

  As she’d been for so long, she was alone. And Ellie knew that she’d made a horrible error in coming back to Florence. Everything that made her who she was now… it didn’t exist within this town’s limits. Or at the very least, was buried beneath memory and expectation.

  She needed to sell this shop, this apartment, and get the hell back to Colorado. Back to her life.

  And she was never, ever coming back.

  Chapter Five

  Being sheriff meant that work had to go on, even though Gabe was much more inclined to go buy a bottle of whiskey and retreat into the silence of his apartment.

  But it was a good distraction. Kept his mind occupied, even though his body was almost buzzing, a constant reminder that all was not right with his world. He’d never been one to procrastinate, preferring to take care of problems as they came. But this...

  It wasn’t exactly a problem, at least not anymore. But Ellie’s revelation had left him feeling utterly helpless.

  A cop down to the bone, he wanted action. Wanted some way to right the wrongs that had been done, not just to Ellie, but to them both. When he thought of what she’d gone through, by herself...

  He’d been denied the chance to be a part of that. And a large part of him wanted to blame her, from force of habit—after all, it had been a lot of years since this had all happened. Surely sometime in the last decade, once she’d had more resources, she could have found some way to tell him.

  But unless no trace of the girl he’d known remained inside of her, telling him after the fact wouldn’t have been an option. Gabe had never seen Ellie as the trash that his father had called her, but he was all too familiar with her pride.

  After making his rounds, and issuing far more tickets for minor violations than was his habit, he slammed open the door to the station with more force than was necessary. Suz jumped, her chair tilting back at a dangerous angle. Once she’d righted herself, she settled herself back in, the stiffness of her spine and glare on her face enough to tell Gabe that he’d stepped in it.

  Suz was a redhead too, though her hair was the shade of garden carrots rather than the strawberry kissed blonde of Ellie’s. But between the red locks and the look on her face, his dispatcher only served to drive Gabe’s thoughts right back to Ellie.

  He glowered himself and pulled the crumpled pile of ticket carbons from his pocket, placing them on Suz’s desk.

  “Sorry.” He muttered. There was no need to take his foul mood out on her. Problem was, he had nowhere to channel all of the feelings. Though it was hard to change the beliefs of a decade, this was in no way Ellie’s fault. Estelle was dead. That left Ed.

  He wasn’t ready to speak to his father yet. Once, he’d been envious of the way that Ellie had been able to come and go, Estelle not being invested enough in her granddaughter to worry about things like curfews, though he’d understood even then that it was better to have parents who cared.

  Somewhere deep down—way deep down at the moment—Gabe knew that his dad had done what he’d done because, to him, it had been the only way to protect his son’s future. And there was no doubt in his mind that to this day, his father stood by his decision—after all, hadn’t he sat in this chair this very morning an told Gabe that he owed him?

  But Ellie hadn’t run away. She’d never left him. And she’d given birth to their child.

  Rather than protecting him, his father had betrayed him in the worst possible way.

  Shaking his head to clear it of his thoughts, Gabe looked at Suz, who was flipping through the stack of carbons with what appeared to be sheer disbelief. She waved one at him, then crumpled it up in her fist.

  “Not picking up dog poop? Are you serious?” Shaking her head, Suz threw the balled up ticket into the wastebasket. “For a repeat doody offender, sure. But Mr. Cann? He’s about a hundred years old. He probably couldn’t even see it with those cataracts of his. You’re not giving him a ticket for forty dollars. He’s on a fixed income.”

  Irritation was a thousand tiny needles sliding beneath his skin at once. “I’m sorry, but who’s wearing the pointy star on their shirt?” His voice was mild. He hated pulling rank, believing that everyone who worked in the station had a vital purpose, right down to Hallie Sinclair, who came in and mopped things out twice a week.

  Suz had known him too long to take offense. “Heard you had some coffee at Nina’s last night. With Ellie Kendrick.”

  Gabe stiffened, though why he was surprised, he didn’t know. That was how word travelled out here… mouth to mouth, and fast as a desert storm.

  But he wouldn’t let their secret become town gossip. Not ever. Nothing would hurt Ellie more. And though it was a strange sensation after so many years of bitterness directed her way, he couldn’t help the stab of protectiveness.

  “She’s back to sort out Estelle’s affairs, I believe.” This was the truth. But the sudden notion of watching her walk back out of town… now that he knew what he did…

  It didn’t sit well with him.

  Settling back in her chair, Suz tapped a pen on her desk, over and over and over until Gabe ground his teeth together at the sound, which made the woman grin wryly.

  “Heard she had a meeting with Billy Huggins today.” She watched her boss intently, searching, Gabe knew, for some clue about how he was feeling.

  “And how did you hear that?” Not wanting to show Suz—or anyone—how interested he was in all things Ellie, he made a show of casually making his way to the coffee pot and, finding it empty, getting out a filter and a the tin of grounds for a fresh batch.

  “Billy told Alice at the diner when he stopped in for lunch. Said he told her she needs to renovate at least the apartment to sell the place, but that he’s not so sure even that will help in this market.”

  Gabe knew that Suz’s eyes were on him, studying him, as he measured coffee grounds into the basket.

  “So she’s going to renovate? Is she hiring someone, or will she be staying?” Only an idiot wouldn’t hear the hopeful note in Gabe’s voice. But he couldn’t deny that hope was exactly what he was feeling.

  There had been other women in his life. He’d dated them, bedded them, even come close to love with one of them. But every single one had been pale in comparison to the vibrant color of Ellie Kendrick.

  Gabe turned to find Suz looking at him with a smug expression. He frowned and turned back to the coffee, which oh-so-fascinatingly brewing a pot.

  “Apparently she indicated that she couldn’t afford it. She left without listing the place, which means she hasn’t decided yet.” Suz nodded, turning her attention back to the stack of carbons. “Stuck between a rock and a hard place, poor thing. Wouldn’t be surprised if she just bailed, let someone else deal with it. Always was the irresponsible type.”

  “She was wild as a kid, but never irresponsible.” Gabe felt his temper snap like a cornered wolf, pulled it back on a choke chain. And when the red haze cleared, he saw Suz grinning at him like the fool he was.

  “You know, boss, Pete and Hal are both on tomorrow. You could try this new-fangled thing that working people do. It’s called taking a day off.” Suz rolled her eyes at Gabe’s glower. “You know, rest. Take care of… things.”

  “Don’t you have violations to file?” Casting a smirk at the woman whose older sister he’d once dated, Gabe saluted her with his fresh mug of coffee, carried it to his desk.

  There was a small mountain of paperwork that needed to be attended to, tacked haphazardly on the corner of the desk that had once been his father’s, and was now his own. His hands reached for it, but his mind was a million miles away.

  His whole life, he’d risen to the expectations of others. He’d played football from childhood, because he’d been told to. He’
d been a steady if maybe not brilliant student, because it was expected. He’d behaved the way his parents expected him to, always getting reined back in when he stepped out of line.

  He’d gone into law enforcement, because it simply hadn’t occurred to him to do anything else.

  Loving Ellie Kendrick had been his one rebellion. When he’d resigned himself to the fact that she’d left him, he’d returned to the steady calm of those expectations, the pain in his heart convincing him that life was better that way.

  But now, knowing just how much he’d missed by not trying harder to find her, for not believing in what they’d had between them…

  It made him feel like doing something crazy again. Some grand gesture, partly for Ellie.

  Partly for him.

  Before the urge left him, he picked up the phone. He’d have to hash this out with Ed at some point, he knew, but today was not that day. He was still feeling too raw.

  He placed the call, asked some questions. And when he hung up, he smiled.

  He might not be able to do a damn thing about the injustice that was served to him and Ellie. But he could do what he could to make things right.

  ***

  Ellie ran out of paint with just a strip of the living room wall left to go.

  For a moment, she just stared, pale blue paint dripping off her brush and onto the garbage bags that she’d laid out to protect the floor.

  And then she screamed. One shrill lamentation of her frustration, reverberating off of the walls.

  “Damn it. Damn it!” Ellie was mortified to feel hot tears sheen over her eyes. But she was so… defeated.

  She really didn’t have a lot of cash, and with the time she’d taken off to come to Florence, she wasn’t making any money, either. Not to mention the flight, the rental car.

  After racking her brain and crunching numbers for the last two days, she’d decided that she would spend money that she really couldn’t afford and paint the apartment to freshen it up a bit. She would clean it to remove the stench of cigarette smoke, the yellow spots of tobacco that had accumulated on every surface. She would remove all of the things that made it look like an old lady had lived there for years.

  Then she would list it and hope that someone would see the potential. And every penny of money from the sale, if it ever happened, would go the facility that Estelle had dropped her in front of ten years earlier.

  And if it didn’t sell… well. At least she’d tried. Hadn’t left her mess for someone else to clean up.

  She just needed to get the place painted, then she’d hightail it back to Colorado and let Billy keep her apprised of any details.

  She couldn’t stay here. Not now that Gabe knew. She didn’t expect anything from him. But here, in Florence, where she could run into him anywhere, anytime… she just couldn’t do it.

  Before he’d known, she’d been able to tuck the pain away. But now… now their baby would be on his mind, every time he looked at her. And knowing that, she in turn wouldn’t be able to see him without remembering the way their son had had soft, silky tufts of black hair, just like Gabe’s. Or that when she’d pulled those little eyelids apart, his eyes had been not the blue that most newborns had, but the same bright, startling green as Gabe.

  She couldn’t live like that.

  And now… now she’d have to start the whole bloody wall over. The clerks at the store had warned her that if she wanted it to look professional, she needed to mix the two buckets of paint she’d purchased into a bigger bucket, to eliminate any minute difference between the batches. They’d said there would likely be a subtle but still noticeable difference if she just went from can to can.

  So unless she wanted the place to look like she’d cheapened out, which she had, she had to start over.

  Paint had been the cheapest way to freshen up the apartment, but it still wasn’t what she’d call cheap.

  Dropping the paintbrush with frustration, she gasped when it bounced… right off the plastic and onto the carpet. Bending, she snatched it up, but the damage had been done—a huge pool of sky blue was making itself at home in the shag rug.

  “Fuck.” Though she’d had quite the salty tongue as a kid, Ellie had cleaned that up—you couldn’t hold an adult job with that kind of mouth. But there was just no other way to describe how she felt in that moment, paint on the floor, in her hair, painted messily on the walls. Even, she noted with a wince, in splotches on the old fashioned popcorn ceiling.

  Rather than making it better, she’d made it worse.

  “Why do you even care?” Ellie muttered as fisted her hands in her hair and pulled. “It’s not like you give a damn about this place.”

  Her fingers came away smudged with paint. When she found a streak of it in her hair, she just closed her eyes in defeat.

  Damn this town. Damn Ed Gabriel for taking away her choices, and damn Estelle for never giving her the love that a teenaged girl needed.

  Damn Dominic Gabriel for not being there when she’d needed him the most.

  Damn herself for having all these feelings even after she’d spent so many years cauterizing the old wounds.

  Those temper tears gathered once more, threatening to overflow. She refused to cry. To her, it was weakness, and there had been precious little room for that in her life.

  So instead she checked that the windows were closed. Then she screamed, a full, glass shattering sound that let her express her feelings in the only way she knew how. It had been suggested to her back in high school, by Anna, as a way of getting her feelings out without cutting, and sometimes, it was the only thing that she could do.

  She screamed until her throat was raw, then slumped down on the floor, spent.

  Did she feel better? Absolutely.

  Were any of her problems fixed? Hell no.

  “Ellie!” The masculine shout, the pounding of feet on the stairs leading up from the shop below had her whirling, scrabbling on the floor, her heart in her throat. Grabbing for the metal cage that still held a dripping blue foam roller, she was braced on her feet when the door to the apartment swung open.

  It was Gabe. Of course it was Gabe. A town with nine prisons meant that ninety percent of the population was more than capable of disarming anyone looking to cause trouble, which meant very little crime. In fact, she’d probably been Florence’s most wanted for the time she’d lived here.

  Still, her heart was pounding, her blood pumping, and it took a full moment for her to melt the tension in her muscles.

  I’m just on edge, she told herself. But watching Gabe stalk across the floor toward her, his face set in tense lines, didn’t help her relax.

  “What happened? I heard you scream.” Bending toward her, he gently pried the roller cage out of her fingers, then held it up with a smirk on his face. “Fight or flight never was an option for you, was it? You’ve never been afraid to face your fears.”

  Until now. Until you.

  Ellie swallowed down the words. Admitting that she was afraid of what this man was capable of making her feel was just the first step to actually feeling it.

  That ship had sailed. She had no intention of hopping on board ever again.

  “What are you doing here?” Turning on her heel, she busied herself closing up the now empty can of paint, which sent yet another wave of frustration crashing over her.

  Was it too much to ask for just one thing to go right?

  “I don’t know,” he said finally. Weariness played over those string features of his, and Ellie felt her heart twist. “Right now, I’m not sure that I know much of anything.”

  “I won’t talk about it.” Her voice was soft, but underlain with steel. “I can’t. I shouldn’t have even told you as much as I did. There’s no point.”

  He growled with frustration, running his fingers through that thick mass of hair. The simple movement sent Ellie spinning back in time. She well remembered that gesture, one he’d made whenever he was upset.

  She used to catch that hand, kiss t
he tips of those fingers until the tension melted away. She had the sudden insane urge to do that now.

  Not an option.

  She studied him as he stood there. Even upset—with her, with his father, with Estelle—he cut a strong figure. She’d noted that he never wore a uniform, preferring jeans and some kind of button-down shirt, but the badge on his chest and the belt around his lean hips told anyone who wanted to know exactly who he was.

  He wore them with the confidence of a man who knew that he wouldn’t fail. A confidence that Ellie had never had in herself.

  Ellie’s gaze followed his as he looked around the apartment, seeing things as he must have. Defensiveness grew when he took in her horrific paint job, but never found an outlet, because he his eyes landed on the couch that she’d shoved to the centre of the room to get it out of the way.

  Her cheeks burned. His lips twitched. A nervous laugh coughed from her throat, making him smile wryly.

  “Having that thing around isn’t going to add to the looks of the place if you’re trying to sell.” Straight from the seventies, the couch was covered in nubby brown fabric, lumpy from years of behinds settling into it.

  It was also saturated with memories. The very first time that they had made love, it had been on that couch, both of them breathless and awkward and so entirely wrapped up in one another that it had seemed like their love could never end.

  When Ellie tore her stare away from the couch, she found Gabe’s stare fixed on her. She found that she couldn’t help but stare back, and as she did she remembered, only too well, how much she’d once felt for him.

  Back then, she’d needed him. He’d been the only one to care enough to look inside of her, past the eyeliner and the bad attitude.

  Now? She’d made it through hell and back by herself. She didn’t need anyone.

  But need and want weren’t the same things at all. Ellie felt a great lump rise up in her throat, choking her, and she broke the stare, moving to the small kitchen in an attempt to get some space.