Recompense For Love: Book Three of the Against All Odds Series

by Gemini Jensen

  Now he’s done it. I’m seething.

  “You don’t know shit. I already told you, get out of my head, Nash.” I shove at his chest.

  He doesn’t budge, but if the pinched expression, flattened lips and locked jaw are tell-tell signs, he’s fuming.

  Leaning down, he gets in my face so closely, my eyes are forced to cross. “No.” He says simply.

  “No?” I screech. “Who said you have a say?”

  He squints back at me, those emerald eyes deepening in color. He cocks his head to the side, and I hate the way my body still heats under his gaze. “Maybe I don’t, but it seems you don’t either.”

  “Fuck you,” I hiss.

  “Fuck you back,” he growls. “Why don’t you get out of my head, Lyra? ‘Cuz fuck knows you pierced right through my skull as a kid, implanted yourself there and set up shop. You’re all I think about. Can’t forget about you, not even when I try. And trust me, I’ve fucking tried it all.”

  “Well maybe you should try harder,” I sneer, whirling on my heel and turning my back on him…just like he did to me all those years ago.

  “Hell no,” he roars. Something hits the wall, but I don’t acknowledge the angry action. A shaky, steadying breath reaches my ears, and my heart squeezes with the tone he resorts to. “Lyra,” he pleads, and I nearly stop dead in my tracks. He sounds so lost, helpless like a boy might sound, but I can’t be weak with him anymore. “Lyra,” he tries again, louder, surer this time.

  I shake my head, pushing open my own front door to escape all this, and stepping outside.

  Just before I release the door so that it can shut behind me—so I can close the door on my past—he makes one parting statement.

  “Reason # Sixty-Seven…”

  My strides skitter to a halt, my feet refusing to carry me any further when he continues with the words I’ve memorized by heart.

  “You made me feel when I felt nothing. You took away the numbness, the nothingness that was my life, and injected it with reasons.”

  My lip begins to tremble, my heart thudding. Those are the only two parts on my body possessing the capability to move at the moment—the rest of me is locked in place.

  “You’re my reason, Stars. You.” His voice is shaking with emotion and anger. “Not Amy Swanson and certainly not Jenna. Not even my Aunt and Uncle, as much as I love them. There are only two people whose opinions matter, and that’s you, and now Ari.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper as the tears begin to fall. “I just…can’t.” I turn back one last time to face him, feeling like I at least owe it to him to look him in the eye.

  “You can’t…or you won’t?”

  “Both. It’s not just what happened today, Nash. Not by a long shot. There’s too many bad things between us, too much history for us to ever work.”

  He just stares at me, his face stoic and jaded as I turn away and take off running.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Nash: What can I do to make you change your mind? How can I make this right?

  Lyra: You can’t.

  Nash: There has to be a way…

  Lyra: I guess you’ll have to figure out how to change the past. No, better yet, you’ll need to rewrite the stars.

  Nash: Then that’s what I’ll do.

  ~XoXo~

  I’m opening my mail a few days later, when I come to a folded blue sheet of paper. Most colored papers like this are flyers of some sort, inviting me to community events and informing me of the affairs of this local chapter or that local chapter. I nearly toss it in the trash without opening it, but something stops me.

  Reason # Sixty-Nine… You’re the best person I know

  It isn’t addressed to me, and it doesn’t tell who it’s from, but it doesn’t matter, because I already know.

  And the next day, another one arrives.

  Reason # Seventy… You’re an amazing artist. You’re talented as fuck, and I don’t even think you realize it. You could make a living off your art.

  And another the following day…

  Reason # Seventy-One… You drive me insane—in a good kind of way

  And another…

  Reason # Seventy-Two… You’re the only one for me.

  And another…

  Reason # Seventy-Three… You’re the most beautiful girl ever born. Inside as well as out.

  Followed by another…

  Reason # Seventy-Four… Your eyes are like the ocean. But not the dull and gloomy gray-blue waters. They’re tropical and inviting…the mysterious, shallow waters just off the coast of Caribbean islands, holding all the secrets of shipwrecks and sunken treasure. Of waves crashing on sand and churning up the shore to reveal things long lost.

  Followed by another…

  Reason # Seventy-Five… I can’t stop thinking about you.

  And another…

  Reason # Seventy-Six… I can’t live without you. I know I’ll survive. I’ve done it before. But surviving isn’t the same as living…

  And again…

  Reason # Seventy-Seven… Even when I wanted to hate you with every fiber of my being, even in the moments that I did—I was still enamored with you in a way that goes beyond madness. We could be in a room full of people—in Central Valley High’s auditorium during a pep rally—and somehow, I’ve always gravitated toward you without even realizing where I was headed until you were there.

  And another the day after…

  Reason # Seventy-Eight… You’re my guiding light. My north star. You could be the smallest, dullest star, outshone by a sky full of billions burning brighter and surer. You aren’t, but if you were, that wouldn’t matter…I’d still find you. I’d still need you. I’d still choose you. Always.

  Each day I add the newest addition to the growing pile, and I read them from oldest to most recent. I read them, over and over, and I cry. I cry until my tears dry up and refuse to fall, and phantom tears fall in their wake. Burning. Hurting. Remembering.

  And after number seventy-eight arrives, I make a pact with myself. No more. If I’m going to move on, I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep reopening the wound day in and day out. I have to ignore them—ignore him—and remain strong.

  Eventually he’ll move on. He’ll find another Jenna, and he’ll forget about me. I’ll be a piece of his past.

  Just like I once was…

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lyra, One…Or is it Two? Months later

  “Midnight’s getting more and more rambunctious. She’s too much for me or Gray to handle. We’ve talked about getting rid of her, of him taking her to the horse auction the next time he heads that way…” My Dad delivers the news as if he’s telling me what he had to eat the night before, and I nearly choke on the grapefruit juice I’ve just taken a sip of.

  His brows dip when he leans forward, placing his hand just on my shoulder as if preparing to beat me on the back should my nervous choking continue for longer than a second or two.

  “You okay, Sunshine?” His nonchalant tone quickly switches over to that of worried father.

  I clear the shock out of my throat.

  “Yep.”

  “We’d give you whatever money she brought, of course. You’re the one who raised her from birth,” he gently reminds me. Is he trying to make me sad? Because it’s definitely working.

  “She just needs more attention. Someone to work with her, and Gray stays so busy—and you know he’ll be even busier now that he’s expecting another one—that she doesn’t get enough time to ride. Valley took her out every few days, but she isn’t able to anymore...all things considering. Midnight’s all wound up with no energy. Sometimes I think she’s missing you, but that could just be me…” He trails off, fiddling with the coffee mug sitting in front of him.

  I breathe a sigh of relief when he finally closes the one-sided conversation, and moves on. He’s right. I did raise Midnight from the time she was just a colt, breaking her in and working with her until she made a fine horse. A sense of be
trayal creeps into my conscience as I think of the way I began avoiding her after the night I lost the baby.

  In all honesty, it wasn’t her fault. It was mine. I took off riding on her in the middle of the night, drunk off my ass and upset. I got woozy and slid sideways having not saddled her up properly. It was pure unfortune when the damn thing decided to fall to the side right after we hit a full gallop, and right about the time I got to a tree. I hit the tree so hard, I did a 360 by the time I made it to the ground.

  Midnight was distraught for days I was told. She knew something was wrong. And I never came to help her through it. Maybe she even felt guilty too, though I’m not going to pretend to know how horses think.

  Breakfast comes and goes, and I don’t hear shit else of what Daddy says, but by the time I hug him goodbye, I know there’s something I have to do. It’s a step toward overcoming my depression, of moving on from the past and growing stronger, and I’m not just talking about stronger as in the girl who has hardened herself off and walks around with a chip on her shoulder. Stronger as in moving on from painful memories, and not allowing them to change me as person.

  Nervous energy flips inside my stomach over and over, my chest constricting, my hands growing clammy. Sweat drips down the side of my face even though there’s a chill in the air warning of impending winter and bad weather. Soon, Valley and Gray will be by to pick me up, so I don’t have much time, yet I can’t find it within myself to move my feet any faster. I’m trudging as slowly as I can when I make my way down the front porch, over the stone pathway leading up to the porch, and across the graveled parking area in front of the house.

  Finally, I’m standing at the mouth of the oversized, rustic barn my brother restored about ten years ago. It was once one of my favorite places to spend downtime, especially in the summer, but this the first time I’ll have stepped foot inside in forever.

  At first, its like I’m getting ready to walk inside a haunted house alone in the middle of the night. My scalp pricks with dread, my senses suddenly on high alert like this could be the end. But after a few minutes of focusing on my breathing, my heart slows back to a normal rhythm, my chest relaxing just enough to allow me to breathe again.

  I steel myself, ready to just get this over with.

  Pushing onward—and by that, I mean pushing past my reservations—I finally force my feet to move, taking the first step over the threshold of the doorway. The scent of hay hits me instantly, mixed with the scent of leather and musky air.

  I wait for the twinge of sorrow to hit—the main reason I’ve avoided coming here for so long, that fear of breaking my own heart all over again.

  It never comes.

  Instead…longing.

  Youthful nostalgia.

  Happy memories from childhood, many of which include Nash.

  As so many happy thoughts consume me, I can’t help but sigh. And that sigh is met with an impatient snort a couple of stalls down.

  I’m standing in front of Midnight seconds later.

  “Hey Girl,” I coo at her, hoping she still remembers me, and hoping if she does, she doesn’t hate me. Slowly, I bring my hand up, placing it on the top of her nose and playfully scratching the velvety surface. She allows it, even leaning closer. I take that as a good sign, and since I’m suddenly itching to take her out again, decide to test my luck.

  Minutes later, she’s saddled up and we burst from the barn like she’s been sitting on a spring that’s been coiled back for far too long. My braid whips behind me, her enthusiasm causing me to laugh. I thought I’d be scared to ride her, thought I’d be wallowing in self-pity, but the only thing I’m feeling is the first glimmer of happiness in weeks.

  ~XoXo~

  “Everything okay?” Valley rubs my shoulders like I’m some sad little girl who’s just been told she’s switching schools and leaving her best friend behind or something. I was actually pretty fucking happy until her and Gray showed up to pick me up, and then I had to return Midnight back to the stables and come here…somewhere where I might see him.

  Not in the mood for pity, I take a step out of her reach only to bump into the person beside me. The street is packed for Central Valley’s first annual Christmas Fair, similar to our Fall Festival but with lights and handmade ornaments and shit. Guess I’m Scrooge this year, because normally it’s my favorite time of the year. For some reason—who am I kidding, I know the reason—I’m just not in the Christmas Spirit.

  Today is also Nash’s Grand Opening for his P.I. office on main street, and I’d almost bet my entire savings that it was his Aunt or Uncle’s idea that he wait until today, when the entire town will be present—even though he’s been open for at least a month or two. To be honest, I’ve lost track of time. I also don’t intend to be here for that particular festivity.

  “I’m fine,” I lie. I’m not fine. I’m antsy as fuck, rocking back on my heels as I wave to Lo, who’s currently singing a few Christmas carols with her class up on stage. Ari’s up there too, which might be the reason I’m even more stressed. Thankfully, I’ve kept my eyes straight forward and haven’t seen his dad anywhere in my vicinity. I’d hate to make a fool of myself by breaking down and losing it. I fucking miss him something fierce, and I’m forced to keep telling myself it was my decision to stay away. It’s for the best.

  “We can go anytime. Well, as soon as Willow’s performance is over. You just say the word,” she attempts to reassure me.

  I shake my head, not wanting to be a party pooper seeing as I rode here with my brother and his family and am relying on them to take me home. When this particular carol ends, a loud woooo sounds from someone right near me, paired with a fist pump which I catch out of the corner of my eye. Gray follows it up with a loud crescendo of claps that has me giggling, and Valley’s face going tomato red. Her hand quickly lands on his arm, her eyes wide as she attempts settle him down.

  “What?” He asks like he didn’t just release a concert-worthy cheer rivaling that of a crazed Elvis fan. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of those kids peed their pants from being startled so suddenly.

  “That was excessive,” Valley hisses at him, clearly still embarrassed at his shenanigans.

  “Yeah, but that’s the one Lo was worried about, remember Buttercup? She kept stumbling over the words in that one sequence, but she got it this time. I knew she’d do fine.” His excitement is infectious as he grins, throwing a thumbs up at his little girl, who in turn, blows him a kiss. His brown eyes sparkle with happiness as he brings Valley in for a celebratory kiss, and I find myself looking away, ashamed of the jealousy that stirs inside me. What they have is—golden. Proof that sometimes, dreams do come true.

  I force myself to smile at Willow and wave again. Ari’s standing right next to her and I think he waves at me, unless of course Nash is standing somewhere nearby. Not wanting to be rude, I wave back, just in case.

  “I picked Ari up from school with Willow the other day,” Valley’s voice pulls my attention from the kids, and back to her and Gray. They’re both watching me intently, as if to see what my reaction will be to this news. I don’t give them one.

  “Oh?” I attempt to act surprised, but Lo told me the day after it happened.

  “Nash contacted me insisting the two of you had promised the kids a playdate and never held up your end of the bargain…”

  “And we had a few beers together when he came by to pick him up,” Gray cuts in.

  My eyes snap to his in surprise. Now that is news.

  “I thought you hated him…”

  “Nah. I never much cared for him, but hate is strong word. After talking with him and getting to know him, well, he’s a pretty cool guy.” He shrugs. “I see why you were friends with him as kids. Maybe you should give him another shot,” he muses aloud, then his attention slides back over to the stage where the kids are all bowing and curtseying before filing over to the steps to exit.

  Where the hell is all this coming from? I’ve literally just been blindsided by my o
wn brother, the one person I thought I could count on to keep Nash well away from me. Gray strides through the crowd, and even though I’m completely dumbfounded, I can’t help but smile as I watch Lo run out of line, jumping straight from the edge of the stage and right into her Daddy’s arms.

  “I don’t know what they talked about, Lyra, but he went from chewing my ass out from allowing Nash to step foot on our property…to coming back in from the porch outside all contemplative, saying he was wrong about Nash and claiming they might kick back and drink a few beers again in the future,” V reaches over to tuck my tag back in my shirt all casually as she tells me, meanwhile, my head is a big ball of jumbled thoughts and emotions.

  Gray motions us over to him, calling out, “Come on, girls. It’s time for the next event.”

  I’m lost in thought, not even bothering to take a look at the printout itinerary at this point as I shuffle along with Valley at my side. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I pull it out, a cluster of bees begin to swarm inside my stomach—starting off like butterflies but quickly delivering a tinge of pain as their stingers dig into me.

  Nash: Are you ready for the final draft?

  I reread the message several times, but I have no idea what he means. Finally, my curiosity becomes too much to handle.