Love on Mimosa Lane (A Seasons of the Heart Novel)

by Anna DeStefano

  Chloe looked down at the display on her cell phone that no one had called or texted her on. Were Brooke and Summer together somewhere, laughing because she’d cried in carpool over nothing?

  Only it wasn’t nothing.

  What’s the use? Fin had said that day in the lunchroom, when he’d first tried to be nice to her. Now Chloe knew exactly how he’d felt. His parents were gone, and hers weren’t. But sometimes, a lot of the time, it seemed like her mom, her family, was never going to get better.

  So what was the use?

  Kristen pulled into the YMCA parking lot in her bright red convertible Mustang. She’d tossed her overflowing tote and the bag holding her half-eaten lunch into the passenger seat. She’d left school earlier than usual, because it was Wednesday. And Wednesday afternoon this time of year meant cutting short her review of her grade team leads’ reports so she could make a four o’clock play-off game for her twelve-and-under girls’ basketball team.

  No matter the demands Chandler made on her time, nothing would keep her from being there for her team. Long ago, sports had become her inspiration and her life and her desire to do and feel better, when the adults in her world had emotionally abandoned her as if she didn’t exist. Basketball had taught her the transcendent power of believing in and being responsible for someone besides herself. It was likely why she hadn’t followed in her parents’ narcissistic, self-absorbed footsteps.

  Which meant, no matter how many long nights it might cost her making up her work, she’d always be the first one to arrive at practices and games, and the last one to leave—so she could hopefully make the same difference in the lives of her players.

  Just before she’d left her office, Daphne had stopped by to say that Chloe continued to have up and down days in class, and that she seemed more down lately than up. It wasn’t an unexpected side effect of Law’s continued legal struggles with her mother. Libby had been pulling her act together after the holidays. But Kristen still worried about Chloe, and Law, no matter how long it had been since she’d heard from him.

  I don’t want to hurt you, he’d said.

  So don’t…

  With the kiss she’d initiated in her office, she’d let Law know she’d keep seeing him, despite his issues with his ex. Then she’d stayed out of his way, while she’d watched over his daughter at school, hoping he’d come find her when he was ready. But he hadn’t. He didn’t want to reconnect. He didn’t want her, or trust her, or whatever else had spooked him.

  And this—this waiting around and wondering what she meant to someone she cared about, and wanting him to care about her, too—this was why she didn’t do long-term relationships. Enough was enough. It was past time to move on. And yet, she couldn’t banish the warm baritone of his voice from her memories, or the feel of his rough fingers rubbing against her softer ones, or the flash of need that had sparked between them every time they were close.

  She hadn’t been imagining it. It just turned out that she’d believed in it—believed in them—more than he had. She cut her ignition and leaned back into the leather headrest.

  “Law Beaumont…” she whispered, sighing at the longing that still seized her, each time she thought of him, or thought of calling him with an update about Chloe’s day at school, or to ask if Fin seemed to be doing as well with his soccer as the boy was now at school.

  Law had fascinated her from afar for years, mesmerized her in person in a matter of minutes. He might be an obsession that would linger forever, reminding her of how foolishly she’d mistaken the fleeting moments she’d been with him for being as priceless to him as they had been to her. He’d slipped past the emotional barriers she’d clung to since childhood. His rougher edges and that gentle, decent, loyal soul of his had found the emptiness inside her and promised to fill it up. And she’d carelessly believed she’d touched him the same way.

  I don’t believe in lost causes…

  She dropped her head to the steering wheel. Lord, she still wanted him. She’d fallen for a man whose personal life was in shambles, and she couldn’t get up. She’d known it was a risk, but she’d cared about him and his child anyway—she still did. At least she’d put everything on the line that morning in her office. She’d never have to look back and regret not doing more.

  Since he’d walked away, she’d refocused on her friends and neighbors, the community that was strolling past her now on their way inside the Y. She’d consoled herself with the blessing that being part of Chandlerville and her job at the elementary school still was. Even her basketball teams had been a source of comfort, as she watched her girls shine and mature. She cared about them. A lot of people cared about her. She was a lucky, content woman, the same as she’d been before she’d met Law. Except it was no longer enough.

  Because she wanted to at least have the chance to share even more with Law. He’d made her want to prove to herself, and to him, that belonging to something—to someone—really belonging, unconditionally, without limits, without protecting herself from how things could fall apart at any moment, might really be possible for people like them.

  She should be pissed at him.

  Not a word. He hadn’t said a single word to her for almost three months. No phone call, no voice mail, no note or e-mail. He’d been honest. He’d said he had to focus on Libby, and helping Chloe. And he had, from what she’d heard. But it still stung.

  He was an amazing man. He’d kept showing up for Fin several nights a week. He was protecting his daughter as best he could. He’d reconciled with his brother, for Chloe’s sake, no matter how much scorched earth he and Dan had accumulated over the years. He deserved so much more from life than he was allowing himself to claim. And didn’t that just make her afternoon—how much happiness and peace she still wanted for him, when by now he likely no longer thought of her at all?

  She reached for the handle and pushed her door open. She was making herself late for the game. She froze halfway out of the car.

  A smile, and then just as quickly a frown, tugged at her lips. Coach Beaumont—as she’d heard Fin call him at school—had parked his battered red truck on the other side of the lot.

  And he was headed Kristen’s way.

  Law didn’t have a lot of time.

  He didn’t want to be late picking up Chloe. He didn’t want her worrying about whether he’d make their last night of playing for fun in the park before the season started. And in his latest brotherly bonding gesture, Dan had said he’d be stopping by the park, too, after Sally’s basketball game. He wanted to help out with the coaching.

  Law had all of that ahead of him tonight, and possibly another round of pleading phone calls from Libby begging him to give up his plans to petition for full custody. She’d woken him up in the middle of the night twice already this week, including last night. And he was dead tired from covering the first shift at McC’s. But there he was at the Y, walking toward trouble, prepared to tackle Kristen in front of God and everybody, if she ran from him the way she looked like she might. Not that he had the first clue what he was going to say once he got to her.

  He’d been stewing over Walter’s parting shot since the man had left the bar, still thinking about the peace that had settled over him during his and Kristen’s one phone call, and their conversation outside Pockets—when she’d shared some of her difficult memories of her parents, and it had helped him face more of his past. They’d spoken about personal things only twice, but he’d never before talked that candidly with anyone in his life, not even his daughter these last few months.

  And then it had hit him like a ton of bricks. The growing distance he’d been feeling between himself and Chloe was beginning to resemble the empty relationship he and Dan still shared, even though he and his brother were living under the same roof again. It was as if he were becoming a stranger to his own daughter, the way he was to everyone else in town.

  That wasn’t what was h
appening, he’d assured himself. Except Chloe’s enthusiasm for life seemed to be fading more each day, no matter how many people were trying to help her through this. Almost as if normal, enduring, healing things like friends and family and…love were never going to be hers—pretty much the way he’d felt for too long that they weren’t going to be his.

  That awful moment of reckoning had propelled him to call Charlotte. He’d sprinted to his car and driven to the YMCA, where he knew Kristen would be this afternoon. He clenched his hand around the Al-Anon card in his jeans pocket, and kept walking across the parking lot toward her. She’d seen him as soon as he’d driven up, and she’d frozen as if she was terrified. And then angry. And then sad. It was the sadness consuming her expression now that was the hardest for him to face.

  She wasn’t hiding her bombshell sexuality this afternoon beneath one of her prim suits. She’d changed into jeans and a jersey like the one Sally wore on game nights—his niece was on the team Kristen had a play-off game with. She still looked supremely cool and put together. Effortlessly in control, no matter the situation. But when he looked into her eyes, instead of the generosity he’d always seen before, or her willingness to help and give him a chance, all he saw was…pain.

  So you just let Libby’s mistakes overwhelm every part of your and Chloe’s lives…? Walter had said.

  And Law’s ex-wife had, from practically the day he’d met her. Until everything exciting and hopeful about who they might have been, and now who Chloe was becoming, was collateral damage.

  He stared at the selfless, mesmerizing woman in front of him. Everything he’d thought about saying since he’d asked his sister-in-law to pick up Chloe evaporated from his short-term memory. He glanced behind Kristen at the flashy sports car he hadn’t known she drove.

  “A Mustang? On a school administrator’s salary?” As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he wanted them back. He was poking at her like a nervous schoolboy Fin’s age, trying to show a girl he liked her by pulling her hair.

  “It’s paid for.” Kristen’s even tone beat him up, more than if she’d raged at him the way he deserved. “Just like my condo and everything else I own. I don’t do debt. I don’t owe anyone anything. That way, when it’s time to move on, I get to walk away clean.”

  Because of her parents. He knew enough about her past, and he’d felt enough emotional neglect himself, to understand the need not to depend on anyone but yourself. And he’d become one more person who’d let her down.

  “I wanted to ask…” he said, and then he couldn’t. If she said no, then they really would be through.

  “Hey, Law,” Webber Jackson called as he walked by. “It’s good to see you.”

  The man waved and kept walking, glancing back before he headed inside with his wife and daughter. Webber’s son was going to be the Strikers’ first-string goalie. Which meant that at tomorrow night’s first practice, if not before, gossip would be flying about Law and Kristen talking again. And Libby would hear. And…

  And what?

  You’re already in hell, Law.

  “You wanted to ask me something?” Kristen challenged him, pushing without demanding, strong and capable and confident.

  She’d never once done anything but support him and want him to be a better man. How could he have convinced himself to give that up?

  “Would you meet me for coffee sometime?” he asked. At her shocked silence, he blew out a breath. “I don’t even know if you drink coffee.”

  She crossed her arms. “No, you don’t.”

  “Well, obviously cocktails are a no-go for me.” He laughed softly—at himself. He felt like a fool. Then he smiled. Because she was laughing a little, too, maybe forgiving him a little. Or at least not looking quite so much like she wanted to be anywhere but with him.

  “I don’t drink, either,” she said, “because of my—”

  “Mother. Yeah.” Of course she wouldn’t. “Ice cream, then? I know where to get the best milk shakes in every zip code between here and the Atlanta Zoo. But that sounds childish, right?” He was tripping all over himself, like an idiot. “Don’t get me wrong. This is important to me—more important than you can know. But I’ve been an ass. I know that. I’ve messed up my chances with you. I’ve been trying to figure out what to say all the way over here from the bar. This is too important to screw up, and I’m screwing it up. But how do I ask you out on a first date, when I know I’ve probably already scared you away for good?”

  “Date?” Kristen looked around. They were attracting more attention.

  “Yes, there’s frost on the ground in hell. I’m asking you out on a date.”

  “Important?”

  “Yes, you’re important to me.”

  “Important enough to kick to the curb as soon as things got rougher with your ex?”

  He scratched behind his ear. “Yeah. I blew that. I should have at least called. But…” He exhaled. She didn’t deserve excuses.

  “I heard how bad things were with Libby over the holidays,” she said, saving him. She shrugged, as if the concern on her face, despite everything, was nothing. “I tried not to listen, but I…”

  “You couldn’t help it?” Like she hadn’t been able to stop looking at him in the park all these years, and he’d been unable to stop noticing her, and neither of them had managed to back off once they’d met face-to-face, until he’d asked her to. “Yeah, it’s been ugly. But I made it rougher than it had to be by—”

  “Refusing to let me help you through it? Because why would that be a good thing for either of us—growing closer while you pieced your life back together?”

  He nodded. “It never occurred to me that that might work. I thought I was beating you to the punch, saving you from having to deal with changing your mind later. I still find it hard to understand how you wouldn’t have.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll never know, will we? You must not have a very high opinion of me. Not if you think I hadn’t considered what I was getting myself into before I kissed you that morning in my office. I don’t put myself out there like that, Law. I don’t…”

  “Trust that someone will be there for you, if you let them see how much you want them to be? I get that, Kristen. I’m sorry I hurt you that way.”

  She finally looked angry. “You could have at least called to say it was too much for you to even think about me anymore.”

  “I’ve thought about you every day.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better? It’s been months. Now you show up here, rocking everyone’s world while they walk by and see us together, making some kind of grand gesture in the YMCA parking lot, like you did at the Pockets opening. I wonder how many people have texted about it already. I wonder how long it’s going to take for this to get back to your ex.”

  For the first time in his memory, Law didn’t give a rat’s ass what Libby heard or did.

  “I like rock,” he said, refusing to talk about his ex. Kristen had to understand how much she meant to him, even if this was the last time they spoke. Especially if it was the last time.

  “What?”

  “You’ve been rocking my world all this time, even when I wouldn’t let myself call you. I hear rock songs in my head when I think of you. And jazz and blues and sappy ballads. And I think about you every day, Kristen. I mean that. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get my head out of my ass, and to get my life into enough perspective to see how much I threw away with you. I have no idea what Libby’s going to do when she hears about this, or how it’s going to affect Chloe, or how it might back up on us. But I can promise you, if you give me another chance, I’ll never up and disappear on you again. You’re right. You don’t deserve that.”

  She blinked several times, taking in everything he’d said. He tried to process it himself. He fought the impulse to sprint back to his truck.

  “I’m usually the
one doing the dumping,” Kristen said. “When things feel too real, I break up with the guy in my life, before things get messy.”

  Law nodded. “It hurts less that way.”

  Her narrowed eyes stared through him, and into him, and, he suspected, back over the time they hadn’t spent together since before Thanksgiving. He stayed put while she thought things through.

  “Jazz…” she finally said.

  “What?”

  “And the blues. I hear more jazz and blues than rock, when I’m trying to sleep at night, and I can’t because I’m thinking about you. I wonder what you’d sound like playing soul-bending songs that would break my heart.”

  “Or make it stronger.” He’d kill to have that chance. “So, you know I’m a singer.”

  “I know a lot about you, at least I thought I did. You know a lot about me, too. And I think that’s what really spooked you, more than the stuff with Libby.”

  The delicate necklace she wore—a tiny eternity symbol strung from a whisper-thin silver chain—captured his attention. He reached out to touch the pendant, nestled in the hollow of her throat just above her collarbone. Her heartbeat fluttered beneath his fingertip. Her eyes widened.

  “What do I know about you?” he asked.

  “You know what it’s like to be completely alone inside, and to think that just might be the best you’re ever going to feel—because together has never worked out. Not the kind of together that good families find. Good families aren’t for me, Law, any more than they are for you. I told you that day in my office, I understand why you had to step away. I know how hard it is to go through what you are with Libby. I don’t blame you.”