Reckless Memories

by Catherine Cowles

  Actions that had left me alone and grieving while my family fell apart around me. Alone to deal with surgeries and the hours upon hours of painful physical therapy. Alone to face the blame and pressure of my parents. Alone when they tried to twist me into some sort of Violet 2.0.

  Sweat trickled down my back, and I ripped open the snaps on my flannel shirt, tearing it off. I balled it up, fingers digging into the fabric. I kept pressing on, feet moving even faster until I was almost running, memories assaulting me in a way they hadn’t in years. Crying in my hospital bed, my body shuddering with sobs and pain. My sister. Ford. I’d lost them both. Violet had no choice, her life had been ripped away from her in a single second. But Ford…he had chosen to leave. And that might’ve left the deepest wound of all.

  My steps slowed and I pressed the balled-up flannel to my mouth, letting out a guttural scream. Pouring out every ounce of pain and grief, every last bit of dashed hopes and dreams left in ruins, every memory tainted by betrayal. I expelled it all and then collapsed to the ground.

  Rocks bit into my backside, but it barely registered as sobs wracked my body. I’d made peace with Violet’s death, with the turn my life had taken, even with losing Ford. I’d worked so damn hard to find peace, and all it had taken was Ford striding through the door to smash it all to smithereens.

  I hugged my knees tighter to my chest, rocking myself back and forth, not stopping until my tears had slowed and my sobs had quieted. I let my head fall to my knees, pressing my eyes against them, trying to relieve some of the pressure gathering there. I pressed harder. I wasn’t going to give in. Wasn’t going to let this man’s presence take me out. I’d overcome so much worse than him. I’d get through this, too.

  I lifted my head, resting my chin on my knees as I stared out at the ocean. I wasn’t alone anymore. I’d built a family of my own choosing. They weren’t my blood, but they were mine. I had people at my back, who would see me through this season of storms.

  A fissure of pain lanced my chest. Did Kara and Frank know that their son was back in town? Hunter had kept it from me, but I was shocked that Kara had done the same. She and Frank had become second parents to me in the years following the accident. People who understood me far better than my own family ever did. It was Frank who taught me how to refurbish furniture pieces, and Kara who helped me learn how to pick and choose which ones were worth salvaging. They never pushed, but always supported.

  But Ford was a topic never raised when I was present in the Hardy household. I picked up snatches of updates here and there. I’d even given in to Googling him in college, coming across an article in the LA Times titled “The Nightlife King Spreads His Kingdom Across LA”. There’d been a photo of him with one of those ultimate fighters and a famous musician, with a bevy of beautiful women behind them. He didn’t seem to be suffering one bit. Meanwhile, I was reminded of that night every time my scar tissue pulled, or I was forced into an awkward encounter with my parents.

  I pressed my hand against my ribs. I could feel the raised flesh through my tank top. The pain was gone now. My body had healed, as had my soul. So, why did it feel as if both were being ripped wide-open?

  The wind whipped up, swirling my hair around me, the cold ocean breeze a balm to my overheated skin. The sound disguised the approaching footsteps. I didn’t hear a thing until two forms began to lower themselves, one on either side of me. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the surf, its pounding rhythm the only thing I was certain could keep me calm.

  Caelyn wrapped an arm around me, while Kenna pressed her shoulder into us. A huddle against the storm. My safe harbor.

  They said nothing for a long time as I stared out at the ocean, knowing their presence was what I needed most. As much as they wanted to fix everything for me, they didn’t have the magical powers to bring my sister back or prevent Ford from turning into a giant asshole. I glanced up at Kenna. “Caelyn call you?”

  “Of course, she did.”

  Caelyn squeezed my shoulder. “Hunter said to tell you he’s covering the bar for the rest of the day.”

  I scoffed. “Like that makes up for this.” He should be thanking his lucky stars I loved his parents so much. If I didn’t, I would’ve quit on the spot.

  “He didn’t give you any warning?” Kenna asked.

  “Not a damn word other than to tell me he was working on finding us some help.”

  Kenna let out a low whistle. “Some help.”

  “I have no idea how I’m going to work with him.”

  Caelyn released my shoulder and began running a hand up and down my back. “I overheard them talking. Ford’s only staying through the summer. Maybe it’ll be good. You’ve been saying Frank and Kara could use more help, and I know you and the bar need it.”

  I winced. I’d bitched on more than one occasion about how Ford had left his family high and dry. I knew he’d sent them money; I’d overheard Frank and Hunter talking about it. But money wasn’t the same as support. I knew that better than anyone. I’d take love and support any day. “God, I’m such a hypocrite.”

  Kenna straightened, turning to face me. “You’re a hypocrite because you don’t want to work with a man who smashed your heart to pieces? Who abandoned you in the worst moments of your life? When he had to know that you needed him? We were crazy close growing up, Bell, but Caelyn and I both knew it was Ford who was your best friend. You guys just had this weird bond, and he shat all over that.”

  Caelyn’s mouth pulled into a hard line. “That’s not helping, Kenna.”

  “What? It’s the truth. It’s not going to help Bell to pretend this is going to be all sunshine and roses. It’s going to suck big time.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a startled laugh. The laughter grew until tears were streaming down my face, and my friends were looking at me as if they were slightly concerned for my mental state. “This is going to be a disaster.” More bubbled laughter escaped. “But I have to do it because Frank and Kara need both their sons around. And Ford can’t run the bar alone. He hasn’t been here in years.” My gaze jumped from Kenna to Caelyn and back again. “Did Caelyn tell you I dumped a beer on Ford’s head? There’s a chance I could cause him real bodily harm before this is all over.”

  Caelyn stifled a laugh, but Kenna raised her hand for a high five. “That’s my girl.” I didn’t take the offered hand. She shrugged and lowered it.

  I let out a long breath. “It’s going to kill every time I have to see him. It just—it brings everything back. I thought I’d done such a great job of dealing with it all. Of making peace. I’ve been happy. But when I looked up and saw his face…every shored-up wall I’d built seemed to crumble around me.”

  “Oh, Bell.” Caelyn wrapped me in a hard hug. “You have done a great job of dealing with everything, and you are happy. Ford being around isn’t going to steal all that away. It was just a shock, that’s all.”

  Simply the mention of his name made me wince, and Kenna caught the action. “Maybe you can schedule him to work opposite your hours so you don’t have to see him.”

  I nibbled on my bottom lip. “I don’t even know if I’ll still be in charge of the schedule. He runs all those fancy bars back in LA. I’ll bet Hunter wants him to run the show here, too. It is his family’s place, after all.” My heart clenched. Over the years, I’d started to think of The Catch as my place, the Hardys as my family. Somehow, I’d slipped into the vacancy Ford had left. But now he was back, and that spot didn’t feel like mine anymore.

  Kenna grumbled a colorful insult under her breath. “If Hunter hands everything over to Ford, he’s more of an idiot than I thought. That man may be God’s gift in Hollywood, but these are the islands. It’s different up here, and he’s been gone a long time. You know this community better than anyone, and you’ve seen that damn bar through more ups and downs than I can count. You’re the one who’s kept it afloat.”

  I flipped a stone over and over between my fingers. “But we’ve been struggling.”

 
“Everyone has,” Caelyn interjected.

  “She’s right, Bell. Small businesses everywhere are hurting, and Anchor is no different. Once tourist season picks up, The Catch will be just fine. You’ll see.”

  I glanced between my two friends. “We should do some sort of rain dance, but for tourists. That way, if the season’s good enough, Ford will escape back to LA, and life can go back to normal.”

  Caelyn straightened. “I bet we can find something on the internet.”

  Kenna groaned. “I am not dancing naked around some firepit.” She turned in my direction. “I’m sorry, Bell. I love you, but not that much.”

  I laughed, but Caelyn’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not talking about naked dancing, though it might do you some good to loosen up like that. It might open up that sexual block you’ve got going on.”

  “Sexual block?”

  Caelyn threw up her hands. “You need to get laid, girl. Your crankiness is bringing us all down.”

  Kenna’s cheeks reddened. “I’m doing just fine in that department.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Caelyn muttered.

  I held up my hands, forming a T with them. “All right, all right. Time out. No naked dancing unless with a partner of your choosing. That’s the rule.”

  Neither Caelyn nor Kenna could hold in her laughter. Caelyn reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing it. “You going to be okay?”

  I licked my suddenly dry lips, the thought of facing Ford every day for the next few months making my stomach cramp. “I have no other choice.” I closed my eyes briefly before opening them again. “It’s just a few months. I can handle anything for a few months.”

  At least, I hoped I could.

  6

  Ford

  I pulled my SUV into an empty space in The Catch’s small parking lot. Switching off the engine, I simply sat there, staring out at the beach. I’d slept like crap last night, tossing and turning. The second I’d descended into sleep, dreams had haunted me, my subconscious taking me through my own little horror show. But it was the happy memories my mind played while I slept that were the worst. The ones where Violet’s blue eyes sparkled when she smiled, or the times when the two of us chased Isabelle around their back yard, Trouble’s laughter floating on the air. They were the worst because for the first few seconds after I woke, I’d forget everything I’d lost. Then reality would come crashing down around me once again.

  It was Isabelle who haunted me most now, though. And the reminders were everywhere. Not just in my dreams, but around every corner at the bar. Hell…this beach held an endless supply. I’d spent countless afternoons exploring this stretch of coastline with her while Vi was at cheer practice or one of her other myriad activities. Afternoons that had knitted our friendship into the very core of who I was.

  “What’s got you so moody, Cupcake?”

  I threw a mock scowl in Isabelle’s direction. “I’m not moody.”

  She picked up a piece of driftwood, studying it for a moment. I could never tell what it was she looked for in these pieces, something invisible to most that told her it could be transformed into some work of art. “You’re worse than a PMSing girl watching The Notebook.”

  I let out a bark of laughter. “Way to hit me where it hurts.”

  Isabelle peered up from the wood. “Something’s wrong. You’ve been quieter than usual. And you didn’t even laugh when Hunter tripped over his shoelaces for the eightieth time yesterday.”

  I studied her for a moment, the girl who was so wise beyond her years and seemed to see things no one else could. I eased down on a log, staring out at the water. “I got into a fight with my dad.”

  “About?” Isabelle took the open spot next to me.

  “I don’t want to come back and take over the business right away. I mean, I love Anchor, The Catch, that’s my future. But I want to do and see other things first.”

  Isabelle turned the piece of driftwood over and over in her hands. “You’re allowed to want more from your life than what others think you should have.” I glanced over to see her studying the nicks and grooves in the stick. “You don’t have to fit into their mold.”

  “Neither do you.”

  I gave my head a swift shake, trying to clear the memory that still had a hold of me. The images that reminded me just how much I had lost when I crashed that SUV. My hands fisted around the steering wheel, the leather creaking. I released my hold, letting my arms fall to my sides.

  Sitting here was only making things worse. Before long, my mind would come up with every worst-case scenario possible. Every brutal accusation Isabelle could possibly sling at me. I moved before I could think of all the reasons not to, pushing open my door and sliding out. I beeped the locks as I strode towards the worn back entrance.

  Fishing the keys my brother had given me out of my pocket, I unlocked the door and stepped through. The bar was silent, but the lights were on. Knowing the Isabelle from a decade ago, I’d been expecting loud, thumping music as she danced around the space, getting it ready for the day’s customers, not the pristine quiet that greeted me.

  “Isabelle?” I couldn’t bring myself to call her “Bell,” it felt weird, like a foreign name on my tongue, for someone I’d once known almost better than myself. But I sure as hell wasn’t going to call her “Trouble” and see that stark pain in her eyes again.

  There was no answer. I moved through the space, fully taking it in for the first time now that it was empty of customers, and I wasn’t covered in beer. It looked surprisingly good. Whoever had remodeled the interior had done an incredible job. The floors were cement with an artfully distressed finish. The bar itself a perfect juxtaposition of gleaming redwood on the top and what looked to be roughed-up reclaimed barnwood on the front. Above it hung Edison lights that brought out the warmth of the wood and the red in the brick walls.

  Maybe my brother had sunk the bar’s whole budget into redoing the interior, thinking it would fix all our problems. I needed to go over the books. A stylish setting was important, but a successful bar and restaurant was so much more than that.

  I rounded the bar and headed down a hallway covered in photos from generations of Hardys and our employees, both celebrations and everyday snapshots. Memories of running down this hall to visit my dad danced in my head. Hunter and I would race each other, yelling our heads off as we went, my father consumed by laughter by the time we reached his office.

  My hand hovered over the familiar red door. I gave two quick knocks.

  “Come in.”

  I pushed open the door. Isabelle sat behind the same desk my father had for my entire childhood, her hair piled on top of her head, held up by what looked like two pens. She was surrounded by papers and a computer that looked to be a decade past its prime. I couldn’t help but drink her in. She was unrecognizable yet undeniably familiar. The multiple piercings lining her ears were new, and a glimpse of a tattoo peeked out from the scooped neck of her tee. Those curves that filled out the shirt definitely hadn’t been there eleven years ago. Shit. I could not be seeing Trouble in this way.

  And I shouldn’t be calling her that, even in my head. Not anymore.

  As if she could read my mind, Isabelle’s green eyes flashed, a hint of anger and defiance dancing in their depths. She quickly covered it. I hated the action. The girl who used to tell me everything was now a woman hiding it all away and out of my reach. I got that, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

  “Hey, Isabelle.” My voice came out rusty, as though it hadn’t been used in weeks.

  She flinched. “Call me Bell, everyone else does.”

  “Okay…Bell.” I forced the name to curve around my tongue. It didn’t feel quite as weird to say it as I’d thought it would. But I found myself wondering if the name fit the woman before me and if I’d ever have the opportunity to find out.

  She cleared her throat. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be in today.”

  I slid into one of the chairs opposite the ancient desk. “I’m here.” Our gaze
s locked. A silent standoff. “Look, I’m sorry this got dropped on you—”

  Bell held up a hand to cut me off, her eyes boring into mine. “Your parents, Hunter, they’re everything to me. If they want you home, great. They want you to run the bar for a few months? Fine. You and I? We can pretend we’ve never met before today. Fresh start for both of us.”

  I stared at her, not blinking, eyes going dry. It was what I’d always wanted, wasn’t it? To pretend like the past hadn’t happened. To bury it so deep that it couldn’t rear up unexpectedly and sucker punch me. So why did it twist something deep in my gut to have Bell want to erase every memory we’d shared?

  I’d gotten so damn good at wiping the slate clean, at building an imaginary past so intricate that I almost believed it was real. My life in LA had been full, happy. I had a job I loved. A great house in the Hollywood Hills. Amazing friends who had become family. But that family had no idea what had brought me there. They had no idea what I’d lost, and everything I’d thrown away. To them, I was the life of the party, the one always ready with a joke or a helping hand, but I never opened up my past for discussion.

  I cleared my throat. “Whatever you want.”

  She gave me a quick nod. “I’ve been managing the place, so I just need to know what you want to tackle, and what you want me to keep running.”

  My eyes widened. I’d thought she’d simply been bartending here, maybe placing orders. I had no idea she was running the whole show. “Why don’t you walk me through what you think is working and what isn’t? We can figure out the best ways to divide and conquer after that.”

  Surprise and a healthy dose of skepticism flashed in those moss-green eyes. “You don’t just want to implement whatever it is you do at your fancy Hollywood clubs?”