Fault Lines

by Shea, Rebecca

  My office door closes with a bang behind us and I spin around to find Eduardo with a smirk on his face. "Details. Now." He saunters over as I throw myself down into my office chair .

  I let my purse and briefcase fall to my feet as I sink into the oversized leather chair. "I don't even know what you're talking about," I lie to him and roll my eyes. Except my entire body shivers when I think of Cole's hands all over me just a few hours ago .

  I cross my legs to drown out the throbbing between my legs and fall lazily into a daydream…Waking up next to Cole this morning…His touch, his body, everything was exactly as I remembered. He still knows my body like no other, every tender spot, every curve. He still owns me .

  "Hello, earth to Frances." Eduardo snaps his fingers, pulling me out of my daze. "Oooh, he's got you good." He purses his lips and rubs his hands together, leaning against the edge of my desk. "Tell me. Who is he ?"

  I sigh and look at Eduardo hesitantly. "An old friend ."

  He briskly shakes his head from side to side, not buying a word of what I'm telling him. "Not buying that bullshit, sweetheart. Try again." His lips pull into a wide smile exposing his perfectly straight, white teeth .

  "My ex," I finally blurt out in defeat and sink further into my desk chair .

  "Good God, woman…this is going to be a good story. Spill it ."

  I shake my head, fighting back the tears that sting behind my eyes. I’m not ready to share this yet. The way Cole can open me up scares the living hell out of me. He made promises and begged for new beginnings, and I'm honestly scared out of my mind. There is no one who can destroy me like he can—and I'm not sure I'd survive another break-up with him .

  Eduardo reaches for my chin and tilts my head to the side. "Is that a love bite?" he gasps, brushing my hair over my shoulder .

  I snap my head away from him and pull my hair back over the front of my shoulders, concealing my neck .

  "Stop it!" I push Eduardo away, smacking his chest .

  "I'm kidding!" He busts out laughing, and I swat at him childishly with both of my hands. He leans away as I smack his arm. "Please tell me you did not sleep with him…or did you?" Eduardo grasps my forearm, his tone turning more serious .

  I look at him guiltily and pull my lips into my mouth. Clearly, I suck at lying .

  "Oh, girl, you did. What the hell were you thinking ?"

  "Shush." I pull him closer. "This is not the place to talk about this." I look over his shoulder to see if anyone is watching us. I narrow my eyes at him and pick up my purse, shoving it into my desk drawer. A sign that I need him to leave so I can get my day started, but he shakes his head .

  "Nope. Nuh-uh. You're not going to dive into work before giving me every gory little detail. I saw that hunk of a man walk in here yesterday — "

  I throw my hand up to stop him, and he grabs my wrist, forcing me to smile at him. I'm a mess of emotions. Happy…sad…scared .

  "He is gorgeous, isn't he?" I smirk. "Dark hair, rippling muscles, those blue eyes...his big …"

  "Stop it. You're making me feel things about a straight man," he jokes with me. "But seriously. Can we go get coffee and talk ?"

  I power up my laptop and turn back around in my desk chair to face him .

  "Fine. But you need to go with me to Ted's house at lunch and box up a few things ."

  He winks. "Deal ."

  * * *

  "J esus Christ, Frances," Eduardo hisses as he takes a sip of coffee. "Your life just came full circle ."

  I nod and let out a soft sigh, running my finger around the rim of my cardboard coffee cup .

  "So what are you going to do ?"

  I look at my friend sitting across the table from me and all that fear comes racing back. I barely manage a whisper, "I don't know ."

  He reaches out and pulls my hand into his. "Don't make any decisions right now. Take your time to think about it ."

  I swallow hard, choking down the lump in my throat. "There's just so much to think about," I start. "I love working as an attorney and there isn't really an opportunity for that in Crescent Ridge…but I don't know that I want to lose him again — "

  Eduardo shakes his head animatedly. "Do not make this about him, Frances. This is about you. You get to do what you want to do. Go where you want to go. If he cares about you, that’s what he’ll want as well ."

  "He does,” I admit, remembering Cole telling me that very thing last night, that I was his dream. “He told me we'd make it work regardless of where I am ."

  "Good." He squeezes my hand and offers me a tight smile. "But just so you know, there are a million things you can still do in the legal field from Crescent Ridge. You can teach classes online, you can volunteer with numerous non-profits, and don't fool yourself, Frances, people need legal assistance even in Crescent Ridge. You could start your own law office ."

  My heart leaps in my chest as Eduardo encourages me with all the opportunities I have .

  He adds, "You may not make ass loads of money…but, Frances, you're not making ass loads now. That's not why you practice law. I see your passion—that's what it's about ."

  "It was never about money for me." I stare at the steam coming off my cup of coffee and hope suddenly fills me. "That's not why I do this ."

  Eduardo nods approvingly. "I also saw what the Morrison-Longmire case did to you. Yeah, you brought justice to those families, but I also saw how it ate you up.” He pats my hand. “That's not healthy. Maybe a slower pace will be better for you ."

  I look at Eduardo and smile…a true smile. One that pulls at my lips and no matter how hard I fight it I can't make it go away. "Thank you, Eduardo. I don't know what I'd do without a friend like you ."

  He smirks. "I don't either…because no one else is going to help you pack up your shit at Ted's house." He shudders at the sound of Ted's name, but I can’t help but laugh. For the first time in a long time, I feel the beginning of happiness .

  * * *

  "Y our life literally fits into six boxes," Eduardo remarks, hanging the last of my clothes in the hanging garment box .

  I close a box of important documents and jewelry that I'm taking with me. "When I moved in with Ted, I sold everything I had. I didn't need to bring anything here. And for anything we've acquired together…he can have it, I don't want it." It's remarkable to me how quickly my feelings for Ted have changed. I don't even care about him anymore—it almost feels as if a weight I didn't know I was carrying was lifted off my shoulders. Thank God, I didn't marry him .

  "Have you spoken to him?" Eduardo winces .

  "No. He keeps texting me and I keep ignoring. I did tell him I'd be by this evening to box up my belongings, but I didn't want to chance seeing him, that's why I decided to come this afternoon." I grin slyly at Eduardo who just shakes his head at me .

  "When are the delivery guys coming ?"

  I look at my phone and smile. "In about fifteen minutes ."

  "Girl, you are sneaky." He whistles as he tapes up the box. "Good riddance, though. I was not sad to see this relationship end." Tossing the roll of packing tape on the floor, he walks over to me and pulls me into a gentle hug. "I don't mean to be so smug. I know this isn't easy…but everything happens for a reason, Frances. Seize this opportunity." He looks at me poignantly .

  I wrap my arms around Eduardo in return and sink into his embrace as his truths hit me like a brick wall. It does feel good to be rid of Ted, and he's right—everything happens for a reason. "I plan to," I mumble against his chest .

  Seventeen

 
I t's been three weeks since I left California and three weeks since I last spoke to Frankie. I texted her once to let her know I was thinking of her and loved her, but she never responded. I cannot even tell you the number of hours I've stared at the damn screen on my phone, waiting for anything from her…a call, a text, an email, anything .

  My stomach twists and turns when every morning I still haven't heard from her. I'm trying to give her time to figure out her life—with or without me. But the morning I left Los Angeles, I felt we were headed in the right direction—back to each other .

  "This car is unbelievable," Carter hollers at me from under the hood of the Corvette LS6. We got the Vanderbilt car delivered a week and a half ago and Carter is still giggling like a schoolgirl over it. We have a thirty-page list of every part we need to order, manufacture, or refurbish to get this car back to like-new condition in the next fourteen to sixteen months .

  I swivel in my chair to find him walking toward me with a huge grin on his face. "I still cannot believe you scored this car." He slaps my shoulder and throws himself down into the chair next to me. "In my entire life, I never expected to work on a Corvette LS6 ."

  "She's a beauty," I remark .

  "Speaking of beauties, heard from Frankie ?"

  I shake my head and exhale loudly, releasing my frustration. "Nope ."

  "Well, you've got a lot going on the next few weeks. The fewer distractions, the better." He cringes as soon as he says that. I know he's just trying to make me feel better .

  "Frankie would never be a distraction ."

  He sighs loudly. "I didn't mean it like that ."

  “Fuck, Carter, you were the one who kept telling me I needed to talk to her. I did, I poured my damn heart out to her, and now this.” I push myself up from my chair and pace the garage, raking my hands through my hair .

  "Calm down," Carter says. "When has Frankie ever not thought something through? She's taking her time and organizing her thoughts. That's what she does." As if Carter knows a damn thing about her…except he's right .

  "But what if she goes back to Ted?" My stomach turns at the thought of this .

  He laughs a deep belly laugh. "She's not going back to Ted ."

  "But what if — "

  He stands up and cuts me off. "She's not going back to him. Stop stressing ."

  "But she's not coming back to me." My voice wavers .

  "Yet. Give her time, man." He pats me on the shoulder before heading back to the car to get to work .

  I nod my head in agreement. Even though my gut tells me she's not coming back .

  * * *

  "H ang one picture on the wall over each booth," I instruct the handyman who's putting the finishing touches on The Fault Line Bar and Grill. We're scheduled to open on Sunday with an exclusive friends and family night the night before. I want to give everyone a dry run on what to expect when we open .

  I stand back and look around, completely in awe of how this place has come together. The menu is the perfect mix of bar and pub food with touches of Mexican and Asian fusion to give it a nice flair. I've sampled everything on the menu and there isn't a damn thing I don't like .

  We've got four homemade specialty craft beers and another twenty on draft, along with a full bar. Our focus will be on the happy hour and evening crowd, allowing Gus's diner to cater to the breakfast and lunch crowd. My intention was never to take out another small business, but to grow Crescent Ridge through more business and jobs. There's room for everyone in this town, and I love watching everyone be successful .

  "Boss," Heather, our hostess, calls to me from the hostess stand near the front door. "Quick question on the app for seating." She points to the iPad that's propped on the hostess desk that shows the entire layout of the restaurant .

  "Be right there." I grab the stack of freshly printed menus from the box that was just delivered and carry them with me to the hostess station. I help Heather figure out how to adjust servers' sections on the app and how to sign employees in and out for their shifts .

  While Heather situates the stand, placing the menus in their holder and sorting other deliveries that have come in today, I step aside and admire how this once abandoned building has come together. This is the first time I've seen it in the evening. I appreciate how the wall sconces and small lanterns light up each individual booth, and the large metal and wood light fixture hangs perfectly over the bar, casting just the right amount of ambient light for that area. The metal, wood, leather, and brick all play off each other to give this place exactly what I was looking for. Modern, rustic, and old, all in one .

  "Sorry, Ma'am, we're not open yet." I hear Heather say as the front door chimes .

  When I turn, I see her bright blue eyes looking back at me. She's wearing a pair of worn jeans with a hole in the knee, a long sleeve black t-shirt, and a pair of black Converse sneakers. She's a vision from the past, only she's here now .

  "Cole," she says my name hesitantly, but her feet betray her excitement and carry her toward me .

  "You're here." I look at her in disbelief. "How'd you find me here ?"

  She stops in front of me with a sheepish grin. "Just got back to town a couple of minutes ago. Word on the street is you're revitalizing Crescent Ridge building by building on every block." Her eyes widen with awe as she looks around the place. "The Fault Line Bar and Grill," she says quietly, taking in the significance of the name .

  The fault line means something to Frankie and me—it's where we went as kids and grew up together. Our first kiss was there and our first fight. Damn near every memory of our childhood happened at the fault line .

  "Seemed fitting." I swallow hard as my heart pounds deep in my chest. I want to reach out and touch her, but I refrain. "Everything good to me revolved around that damn fault line." One side of my mouth quirks up .

  Her blue eyes dance around the room, taking in all of the details, the pictures of the old Crescent Ridge and the change I want to bring to the new Crescent Ridge. When her eyes finally land on me, she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. "Me, too ."

  She shifts from foot to foot nervously, and I finally invite her to take a seat with me in a corner booth, away from the hustle and bustle and chaos of the crew still working. I want to kiss her, devour her, and hold her—but I pull myself together as we get situated in the booth .

  "I wasn't sure I was going to hear from you," I tell her honestly, rubbing my hands together nervously .

  She offers me half a smile. "I'm sorry about that. I just needed some time to really think about what I want to do with my life." She picks at her thumbnail as she speaks. "I wanted to take the time to make sure I was making decisions not out of emotion, but from the heart. Decisions that’ll change the course of my future." Her voice shakes slightly .

  My throat tightens and my heart sinks as I see the look on her face—a face I've always been able to read. Her features tell me her future isn't here in Crescent Ridge. I feel every ounce of hope drain from my body. I swallow down the growing lump as I tell myself that I can't be angry at her. I feign a happy smile for her. "I'm sure whatever you decide, or wherever you go, it’ll be because you've been thoughtful about your choices. You never make irrational decisions, Frankie. That is one of the things I've always loved about you. You're a smart woman—" I stop because I feel my throat tightening up again. This is it. She's here to tell me no, and I have to accept that. And I will. It’ll destroy me, but I’ll let her go for good this time…the way I should have before .

  She stares at me, fighting whatever it is she's here to tell me. I see the fear in her eyes and the contemplation written across her face. She's not here to choose me. For a long moment, we both sit i
n silence, not knowing what to say or where to begin .

  "So where are you headed and what are you going to do?" I almost choke on the words as they come out, they're so painful .

  Frankie inhales deeply, her eyes misting over. "The last case I tried really took a toll on me. I don't know if you heard anything about it, but I got a successful conviction on a man who raped and murdered two little girls ."

  I nod. “I did hear.” Everyone in this damn town talked about that case because Frankie was trying it. She may have abandoned this town, but she's still the best thing Crescent Ridge has ever produced. And everyone here is so fucking proud of her, no one more so than me .

  "That’s why I went into law. I loved prosecuting. I got a high off putting the bad guys away and bringing justice to people." Her forefinger traces a nervous circle on the table. "But something about this case just…" She pauses, searching for the right word, "hurt." She licks her lips before continuing. "I was happy to get justice for the girls and their families, but something inside me broke. I lost the passion. The pain and hurt was too much and what used to fuel me finally broke me ."

  A stray tear slides from the corner of her eyes and rolls down her cheek. It takes every ounce of self-control to keep from reaching across the table and swiping it off her cheek .

  "You're a damn good lawyer, Frankie. I hope you know that ."

  She nods her head. "But being a good lawyer and having the passion to continue doing what I was doing was going to kill me." She takes a deep breath. "And then when everything happened with Ted, it gave me perspective. After I took some time to think about what I wanted with my life, it was almost a relief, a chance for a fresh start ."