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

by Gemini Jensen

  Me: The final draft of what?

  His response is instantaneous.

  Nash: Our story. I’ve made some changes, and I think you’ll like this version better.

  “Hey guys, what’s up?” Sara sidles up to my left side out of thin air. “Mind if I walk around with you for a bit? I’m supposed to meet up with my family, but Aunt Grace is busy at the Diner’s food truck, and Mom and Dad are running late as usual.” She rolls her eyes in exasperation.

  “Sara!” Valley greets excitedly. “Yes. Of course.”

  “Wow. Sloa—Valley,” she corrects. “You make pregnancy look effortless.”

  V blushes at the comment, still not used to being complimented by people she doesn’t know—particularly when she spent most of her life trying to blend in to the crowd and remain unseen.

  “Hey.” It’s the best I’ve got to give right now. I know its rude, but I hardly greet Sara due to studying the random conversation Nash just started up out of the blue. What does he even mean, anyway? I’m not about to stick around and find out…after whatever this next thing is, I’m going to ask Sara to run me home so I don’t run the risk of running into him—of facing him.

  But then his voice fills the street and surrounds me and my footsteps slow, my heart beginning to thud violently. Since I’m sandwiched between Sara and Valley, and Gray has somehow managed to sneak behind me, I’m completely caged in with nowhere to go. There’s no escape.

  “Thank you all for coming out today to our town’s first annual Christmas Fair. It’s great to see so many familiar faces here, and its even greater that you guys have taken the time to stop by and show your support of my boring old Grand Opening…particularly when there are much more grand things going on. Take for instance the homemade Christmas candy over at Mrs. Davis’s booth; I could barely peel myself away to show up to my own opening. If you haven’t tried it, I definitely suggest the peanut butter balls.”

  I can’t help but stare as he rubs his stomach—which is utterly nonexistent seeing as he has the sexiest set of abs I’ve ever laid eyes on—and flashes the crowd his most debonair smile. Pretty sure every woman standing here sways on her feet, swooning at his enigmatic charm.

  “If you don’ know me, although I’m pretty certain you do, I’m Nash Hudson…Mayor Hudson’s nephew.”

  I glare at the back of some chick’s head when I hear her exclaim “Hi, Nash” in a girlish, I’m-Trying-Way-Too-Hard voice. He ignores her.

  “I never thought I’d end up being a Private Investigator as a kid, or even throughout high-school. It wasn’t until halfway through college I learned I had a knack for it. I ended up offering my services to my classmates for a fee, but for me, it was all about learning the truth. Eventually, the responsibility that comes hand in hand with investigating—being able to give someone answers when they entrusted me with the task…it became as fulfilling as the quick cash I was making.

  I’m lucky in that. Not many people can say they enjoy what they do, but I can. Earlier this year, I had a surprise…” He pauses momentarily, struggling to find the right words. “Gift bestowed on me, and this gift changed my entire life. I made the decision to move back home to raise my son around family. In my opinion, there’s not a better place to raise a child. We have a close, tight-knit community and everyone wants to help their neighbor when times get tough. From my experience as a kid growing up, it was the perfect place.”

  Many people are nodding their head in agreement to this sentiment, I even hear a few “Amens” coming from the crowd.

  “But it’s not that way for everyone. I know a family who probably won’t agree with that opinion, and you know, I can’t blame them…”

  His eyes glide somewhere above my head—at my brother maybe?—before sliding down to meet my gaze as he continues his address. I don’t want to look at him, don’t want to acknowledge him in any capacity, yet I can’t tear my gaze away.

  “It wasn’t long after I moved back to Central Valley, that I decided to look into something—an event—that hits close to home for myself. I’m sure you all remember the accident that took the lives of my parents and older brother, Hayes…”

  More murmurings erupt in the crowd, people nodding their heads in pity.

  “I woke up in the hospital without much memory as to what had happened to me. At first, the furthest back I could remember was leaving the high-school for an event my brother was attending that night, and then waking up in the hospital. My doctor told me it was my body’s way of protecting itself, by blocking out the memory of the traumatic experience, and for years that’s just the way it was.

  “That is, until someone I hold in high regard accused me of being a coward, and called me out for not fact-checking the one event that concerns me most. I have to say, I was as insulted as a man can get, and thinking back on it, it’s because I realized what she said was true. I never questioned what was told to me—never even attempted to remember the missing pieces of that terrible night.

  “But then, I finally started doing a little digging. I got my hands on the file containing the wreck report and I even got ahold of the hospital records—my family’s as well as Mr. Knightley’s. After forcing myself to push past my fears and open the damn thing up, certain bits and pieces begin to come back to me. From the way the accident report is filled out, it’s impossible to tell who was at fault. There’s no solid proof in either direction, so I’m guessing, everyone decided to go with the circumstantial evidence they had at hand.

  “Mr. Knightley had recently lost his wife. He wasn’t handling it well. He drank sometimes, therefore, he must have been the one at fault. Out of the five people involved in the wreck, only two lived—only two who could give their recounting of the events. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember shit, and no one wanted to listen to what Mr. Knightley had to say. It has taken years for me to grow a spine, man up, and draw my own conclusion. To force myself to remember the facts, and finally, I did.”

  He pauses, catching my eye and seemingly forcing his way into my heart as if he wasn’t already there to begin with. Maybe it’s to draw strength from me, or maybe it’s because he’s about to tear my world apart all over again with more bad news. I’m frozen to the spot in which I stand, and it has nothing to do with the cold temperature.

  Finally, he releases a shaky breath.

  “Mr. Knightley wasn’t the one to blame at all. My parents were arguing with my older brother about college. They wanted him to go to Duke on a basketball scholarship, and he didn’t want to play sports in college at all. Naturally, this caused a heated debate in our household since Hayes was our town’s basketball star. One moment of distraction and my Dad took his eye off the road. I vaguely remember looking up from my phone, where I had my nose buried to avoid the awkward argument going on around me, just in time to see we’d drifted into oncoming traffic. Our sedan collided with Charles’s, and the next memory I have, is waking up in the hospital.”

  The whole world grows starkly silent. Gray’s hand lands on my shoulder, and I realize I’ve swayed backwards, suddenly light-headed. And still Nash continues…

  “I didn’t just lose my family on that fateful night, but I lost so much more. Life as I knew it was completely rewritten. I lost my childhood best friend because of my inaction, because I didn’t question things I didn’t understand, just accepted them as they were told to me instead of forming my own opinion. I lost the girl I loved, ruining my shot with her because of pride and stupidity. My inaction caused her, and her family, even more pain than they’d already endured, and for that, I’m truly sorry.

  “My only wish is to make this right, which probably isn’t even possible considering the damage has already been done, but I’ll be damned if I don’t give it my best shot anyway. All I can hope is that, maybe, one day, she’ll find it in her heart to forgive me of my foolishness. It’s impossible to rewrite the past to our story, but we can change the variables to influence the ending.

  “Anyway, thank you all for co
ming out and showing your support today. I didn’t feel like I could operate as a PI in my own hometown without setting this right first, or else I’d have felt like a fraud. I hope you all enjoy the festivities.”

  He nods to the crowd, laying down the mic, and strutting off the stage with purpose—every ounce of his swagger and confidence still very much intact. His charisma is engrained in his DNA, as evident as the color of his hair or the tone of his skin—always on full-blown display.

  He drops off the stage and I know exactly where he’s headed.

  Question is, am I ready for him? Can I face him after the series of bombs he just dropped on me, one right after the other? I already feel like I’ve nearly surpassed my obstacle-overcoming threshold for the day. I stepped inside the barn. I took it a step further by actually getting Midnight saddled-up, and then riding her. Personally, I don’t think anyone should be requiring anything else out of me for at least the next 24-hour period.

  Our eyes meet across the crowd of people separating us—a crowd that immediately begins to part for him like the Red Sea. Which is when I turn to Sara.

  “Please take me home. I’ll give you gas money.”

  My eyes plead with her to cooperate, my mindset currently not above begging seeing as my anxiety is doubling, no—quadrupling with every step he takes in my direction. For a moment, I’m afraid she’ll refuse, but I must look pretty damn desperate because she finally gives a curt nod.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice weak and nearly imperceptible. Glancing back at Nash one last time, I try to convey my apology wordlessly. He must get the message because his jaw ticks, and he shakes his head at me pleadingly.

  Wrapping Valley up in a quick hug, I tell her I’m leaving, turning away from her before she can tell me what a coward I’m being. I don’t need to hear it from someone else. Trust me, I already know.

  ~XoXo~

  I don’t go home. I somehow come to the decision to go straight back to Midnight, because even if I’ve avoided her for years, she’s the one place I feel free. Riding her has always been a welcome distraction from whatever troubles ail me, whatever real-life problems I’m wanting to avoid. It’s also the perfect time to reflect on whatever decision I’m having trouble coming to.

  Like Nash.

  We gallop across the pasture, from one end of the property to the other, before finally settling into a nice trot alongside the river. Usually winter time is depressing and bleak. All the leaves have fallen, all the greenery died away leaving nothing but barren trees looking like claws tearing their way out of brown grass and patches of dirt. We don’t get near as many snows as we did when I was a little girl, but today, it’s not so bad. It’s not so cold that I want to go inside, yet still cold enough to have created icicles on the branches that hang low into the water.

  Eventually, the sky signals nightfall is drawing closer, alerting me to the fact I’ve been roaming about for a few hours probably. I make my way back toward the barn before I’m stuck wandering around in the dark; I’ve tackled the art of riding Midnight again but doing so at night is something I’m just not ready for.

  It’s dusky by the time I reach Dad’s house, and when I circle around toward the barn’s entrance, I nearly jump out of my skin in surprise. My heart instantly takes off in a full gallop—one that would rival Midnight’s—when I spot a shadowy figure leisurely leaning against the side of the structure.

  I yank back on the reigns, the two of us skidding to a stop in an instant. Stupid. Any other person would have been smart enough to increase speed and move in the opposite direction. Label this one Lyra Makes Bad Decisions: Exhibit Z.

  A-Y have already been taken.

  My unease only lowers by half a notch when they take a step forward, eyes still aimed at the ground. Nash stands in front of me, defeat in his posture, hair disheveled and the trendy two-piece suit from earlier a little rumpled and less-than presentable—for once in his pristine life. Then he lifts his chin slowly, finally meeting my eyes.

  I fight back a gasp when I find his brilliant green eyes are tight around the edges, lines of worry engraved in his beautiful face. Anxiety is written all over him—clear as day. So many things working to bring down his appeal, but I still can’t find a single flaw.

  After a collective series of wordless moments that seem to stretch on eternally, he clears his throat.

  “Glad to see you’re riding her again.” What he really means is…glad to see you’re taking a step in the right direction, attempting to combat your issues.

  Scared my voice will fail me, I simply nod.

  “Daddy,” I hear Ari yell from somewhere behind me, and turn to find he’s tearing out of my childhood home with a popsicle in hand. My dad waves from the doorway.

  I glance back to Nash curiously.

  “How long have you two been here?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. A few hours. We left the festival right after you did, and your dad said you’d taken the horse out but that we could wait on you if we wanted. Didn’t realize you’d be gone so long but I didn’t want to miss you.”

  Ari slams into his father’s side, grinning up at me. “Hey, Lyra.”

  I give him a tightlipped smile. “Hi, Ari.”

  “Hey, Buddy, why don’t you go sit on the porch over there with Charles for a minute. Let me and Lyra talk real quick.”

  Ari huffs. “O-kay…” his tone is one of impatience when he heads back over to my Dad, who’s watching the two of us questioningly. I suddenly wonder how much information he’s privy to, and when exactly did Nash become on a first-name basis with my Dad and apparent buddies with my brother.

  Once Ari is out of earshot, Nash pulls his attention back over to me.

  “Would you get down and talk to me?”

  His words give me an idea—if I’m up here, I have the upper hand. There’s plenty of room between us.

  “No.”

  “Fine. Have it your way.” He shakes his head. “I’m going to talk to you either way.”

  “I’m not ready to discuss this yet,” I argue, crossing my arms over my chest adamantly.

  “And I’m not willing to wait another minute…”

  “You can’t just lay all this information at my feet, all at one damn time, and expect my mind to be clear enough to form a rational conclusion, Nash,” I snipe angrily, pulling the hair-tie from my braid and unwinding the strands nervously. My hands need something to do, and I don’t know what’s customary etiquette for the whole ex-best friend who wants to be your lover but was also once a family enemy conversation.

  “Then maybe you should stop using your head to think, and start following your heart.” He raises a brow at me.

  I scoff. “Yeah, follow my heart…” I laugh bitterly. “Easier said than done.”

  “Maybe you could start by learning to trust…”

  “How the Hell am I supposed to trust you? Even after what you did today? There’s just too much stuff from my past alone, not even where mine and yours overlap, to keep me from trusting. There are so many factors, Nash. My life is a mess. Yours is neat and tidy for the most part. I’m a tattooed, purple haired chick who works as a waitress. You’re a perfectly composed, suit-wearing businessman. We don’t mesh. We’d never…”

  “Shut up, Lyra.” My mouth snaps shut, and I’m just about to kick him in the face considering if I were to remove my foot from the stirrup, it’d line up with his head just perfectly. But the next thing he says knocks the air right out of my chest. “I love you. And if you love me too, then that alone should be enough. So do you?”

  God bless. I heard him say it earlier today, but I thought he was talking from a friend’s perspective. He could still be talking from a friend’s perspective for all I know.

  “Nash, of course I do. Just like you, I’m always going to have feelings for you because of our childhood friendship…”

  “That’s not what I mean,” he snaps. “I. Love. You. I’m full-blown in love with you. Did you not get my notes?�
� he demands, leveling me with a look so fierce, my resolve falters. I can’t handle his intensity. It’s way too much. And I hate the fact hope has begun to bloom inside me, thawing the icy barrier that’s formed around my heart.

  “I got most of them. I stopped reading them after a while, so I just threw them in my reasons box.” I don’t know why I tell him the truth. I could have said I burned them before reading them, or I threw them all into the creek, one by one, and watched them float away…Something, anything other than I read a few, couldn’t bear it anymore, and stopped opening them. That’s more telling than destroying them.

  His lip twitches at the info, like I’ve unknowingly given him some type of leverage over me.

  “Love isn’t the only thing that matters,” I try to keep up my side of the argument, feeling as though its beginning to grow weak. “What about the fact you have a son, and I wouldn’t make a very good step—” I stop myself from saying mom, because whoa nelly, that’s a little too much, too soon. “Anything. I’m not good with kids. So, whatever this is, wouldn’t ever go anywhere…”

  “That’s the stance you want to take? I’ve seen you with your niece. You’re fantastic with kids, Lyra. I know you’re scared, but…”

  “How could you, as a father, even trust someone as irresponsible as me with your kid?” I challenge. “I’d be worse than your ex.” We might be arguing, but there’s no way I’m bringing up her name. I might be adamant that this can’t go anywhere, but I’m still insanely jealous by nature. Where Nash Hudson is involved, anyway.

  “Don’t question my parenting,” he grates out. “And I know you. I trust you explicitly. You’re as important to me as Ari is. That’s how I see your role in my life. One day, I’d dare even say, I want you to be a part of mine and Ari’s family.”

  “How does that work?” I huff irritably, flipping my hair over my shoulder.