Waterfall Effect

by K. K. Allen

  Thinking of Jaxon, I grab my phone that sits on the back ledge of the hot tub. I could call him. See what he’s up to. Tell him I miss him. I smile at how ridiculous my thoughts sound. No, I’m not going to call him. He said he’ll call, and he will.

  I sigh and I scroll through my messages, my eyes catching on the ones from Aunt Cyndi. I cringe as I press the call button, knowing I’ve put this phone call off for far too long. I won’t be coming back to Durham, at least not for a while.

  “Baby girl,” Aunt Cyndi scolds as soon as she answers. “What on God’s earth has gotten into you? Scott is a mess over your leaving.”

  I let out a breath. “Scott will be fine. He knows it’s over, Aunt Cyndi.” I don’t mention that he’s still been calling.

  “I’m so confused by this whole situation. I hope you know what you’re doing, Aurora. Scott loves you very much.”

  “I’ve thought long and hard about this decision, and leaving was the best thing for the both of us. He just doesn’t realize it yet.”

  “That boy was good for you.”

  I know my aunt comes from a good place. She’s been there through my worst, and Scott was right there with her. She’s always been a fan of his, telling me he and I should be together long before anything happened between us. But she has a narrow view of our relationship and of my heart.

  “I know, I know. I just—I can’t say I’m good for him. I don’t love him. Not in the way he deserves.”

  She sighs, and I can practically hear her heart breaking on the other end of the line. “I trust you think you’re making the best decision. It just came as a shock; that’s all. After your father passed away, I figured things would get better. I—”

  “They have gotten better.” I bite my lip, worried I’m saying too much, but I need to talk to someone. If I can tell anyone where I am, it’s her. “My father left me something when he passed, Aunt Cyndi.”

  Silence fills the air for a few beats before she finally speaks up. “What did he give you, Aurora?” Her voice is stern, worried. She was never a fan of her sister’s husband. Especially not after their separation, and definitely not when I was sent to live with him after my mother’s death.

  I pinch my eyes closed. “The cottage.” She gasps, but I push on before she can interrupt. “He gifted me the deed to the cottage. In Balsam Grove. I’m here.”

  “Aurora, no,” she scolds in a loud whisper. “Why would you go back there?”

  I shake my head, wanting nothing more than to end the call and go back to my meditation. “Everything is fine. I’m okay. Being back here has been the best thing for me. I’m reconnecting with all the things I used to love but forgot. My painting, nature…” Love. But I won’t dare bring up Jaxon.

  “Oh, Aurora. You know all I want is for you to be happy, but there has got to be another way. The thought of you living in those woods where you…” I cringe at the words on the tip of her tongue. “God, Aurora. I can’t imagine how that place is good for you. And what do you mean he gifted you the deed to the cottage? That’s impossible.”

  I shake my head, confusion ringing between my ears. “What? It’s not impossible. The deed was delivered after he passed. It came from his attorney, I assume as part of his will. It’s in my name now.”

  “Aurora,” she says firmly. “Your father lost everything when he went to that institution. He owned the place outright, but he couldn’t keep up with taxes and property maintenance. The bank auctioned off the cottage last year. Your father’s attorney gave me a heads up in case I wanted in on it, but I never said anything to you because honestly, Aurora, I didn’t think you needed the reminder. Something’s not right.”

  Another twig snaps in the woods and I jerk my head up, catching a rustle of bushes at the edge of the woods. Shit. My phone slips through my fingers, hitting the water with a splash before it starts to sink. Fuck. Fuck! No. I scramble to grasp it on its descent. It slips from my hand a few more times before I get a good grip on it and finally pull it from the water.

  Just then, a whistle in the wind freezes me. Two long notes, just like what Jaxon and I heard yesterday at Hollow Falls. Chills rake over my body. Someone is out there.

  I move quickly, climbing over the ledge of the hot tub and running inside, slamming the door behind me. Panicked, I focus on locking the door and shoving the wooden cylinder in the slider. Making quick work of checking all the doors to ensure they’re locked, I race up the ladder to throw some clothes on.

  Back downstairs, I search the cupboards for rice in a desperate attempt to salvage my phone, but there is none, so I dry it off with a towel from the bathroom. It’s no use. The damn thing won’t turn back on, and I’m sure Aunt Cyndi is completely panicked.

  “Damn it!” I scream into the air.

  With tears in my eyes, I head back upstairs and turn on my laptop, sending her a quick email to assure her that I’m okay. Then I shower, using the steam to steady my heart rate and push away the lingering feeling that someone was watching me out there.

  Should I call Tanner and Brooks? What would they say if I told them someone has been whistling in the woods? They’d laugh, or maybe they’d assume what I’m starting to fear. That someone is trying to spook me—away from Jaxon and away from Balsam Grove.

  It seems to work, but I’m left with one cruel thought I can’t ignore: the deed to the cottage, the thing that brought me here. I thought it was a gift from my father, but if someone bought it at auction, that’s impossible.

  I wrap myself in a towel and open my laptop again to search for more information. Aunt Cyndi has to be mistaken. If my father lost the cottage, then why are his things still here? Why would my father’s attorney show up on my doorstep following his death with the deed in hand?

  I locate the property online, and it only takes a second to find where the ownership history is listed. My father’s name is there, above the original owner’s and below another name. A name I never in a million years would have expected to see as the owner of the property I’m living in.

  Jaxon Mills.

  I gasp and cover my mouth as something hot pricks the backs of my eyes. According to this, Jaxon purchased the cottage last year from the bank and then recently gifted it to me.

  How can that be? He would have told me. Right?

  I think back to our conversation yesterday when I spoke about the deed. I swallow, shaking my head. No. There has got to be a mistake. Why would Jaxon buy my father’s cottage and then give it to me without saying a word?

  But the more I think about it, the more it all makes sense.

  The cottage was far too clean and tidy for being abandoned for years. I remember feeling like someone had been here. And the fact that Lacey still came around seemed strange, but I know now it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the fact that Jaxon probably brought her here all the time.

  And finding Jaxon on my back porch in the middle of the storm on my first night here. He must have known I would come. Or maybe he came by my place every night.

  But why? Why lure me here after my father’s death? For a second chance? If so, that’s a fucked up way of going about it.

  I slam my computer closed and dress for bed, too furious to think about anything but the way Jaxon deceived me yet again.

  The question is, what am I going to do about it?

  “You have some fucking nerve showing up here tonight.” Val’s harsh voice at my back brings on an instant headache.

  It’s the first night of the art festival in Asheville, and a group of us walked to the corner bar and grill before retiring for the night. I’ve already said goodbye to the others, and I’m cashing out at the bar when Valerie approaches.

  Her gravelly voice cuts like a knife, bleeding incredulousness at the fact that I turned her down. I can’t imagine it happens to her often. She’s an attractive woman with the confidence men love, and she offers no-strings-attached relationships. I’d be a liar if I denied the fac
t that she was a perfect fit for my needs at the time we were together. But that’s over now. My needs have changed. And there’s only one woman on my mind, now and forever.

  I don’t turn to look at Val when she leans against the bar and her arm brushes mine. “I’m here for work, Val. As are you. Let’s keep it professional.” There’s an edge to my tone I couldn’t extract if I tried. Just her presence puts me on edge.

  She faces me, and in my periphery, I can see her eyes shooting daggers. “Professional?” she snaps. “A little late for that, don’t you think?” She steps forward, too far into my bubble. I tense, turn my head to face her, and stand up taller. But she’s not done, and she’s not backing down. “You seem to have forgotten whose door you walked through to be here right now, Jaxon. Clearly, you have no respect.”

  I drop my head back and laugh, knowing every second of my amusement only antagonizes her to the core. Good. When I face her, she’s all flustered. Her cheeks are pink, her eyes are wide with bewilderment, and she somehow looks smaller, deflated.

  Now it’s my turn to lean in. I drop my voice low, knowing it’s the only way she will truly hear me. “Just because I won’t fuck you doesn’t mean I won’t respect you. You’re a great businesswoman, Val. I’m just in love with someone else.”

  Her eyes flare. Her body shakes like she’s about to explode. Val has never been the tender-hearted type of lover, so I don’t expect understanding from her now. She’s a tiger, both in business and in the bedroom.

  “She’s the one, isn’t she?” she sneers, unable to hold back. If she can’t have me, she’s going to try to hurt me. “The one who broke you.”

  A fire roars in my chest, hating how her words affect me. “The one and only,” I say through gritted teeth.

  Her lips curl up when she gets the reaction she wants. My frustration. My doubt. And I hate her for it. “She didn’t want you then, Jaxon. Who’s to say she wants you now?” Valerie’s eyes flicker over my frame, pouting when she’s done, her eyes landing back on my lips. “You know where to find me when she’s through with you.”

  And with that, she turns back to the bar, still fuming, but I know there’s a part of her that thinks she won. I step away from the bar just as the man behind it slides a pearl-colored martini to Val.

  “Mm, that’s just perfection. Thank you, Bernard,” she purrs, leaning in to tip him with a view of her cleavage.

  I roll my eyes and turn toward the exit.

  Back in my hotel room, I slip off my shoes and shirt, then slide onto the bed with my phone. After messaging Danny to make sure he checked in on Lacey today, I dial Aurora, knowing she should be home from work by now. It’s nice to have someone to call at night when I’m out of town. Loneliness hasn’t been a feeling I’ve accepted with grace all these years. I’ve filled it with dishonorable choices, justified by the hole Aurora left in my heart. But everything feels different now.

  I felt the shake of her body as I held her. Kissed her. Touched her. I heard the tiny noises that slipped from her throat, telling me I still remembered all the sweet places she loves to be touched. I relished in the way her fingers glided through my hair and the feel of her heat grinding on my cock. It was all too much, and it was all so perfect. I didn’t want it to end, yet I was terrified to continue.

  What would it be like to make love to Aurora again? I’m a hungrier man than I used to be. Demanding. Experienced. I know all the places I want to taste her, touch her, the things I want to do to her with my hands, my mouth. She has no idea the ways I’ve imagined taking her since she’s been home. Hell, even when she was away, I’d think of every intimate moment we once shared. Each one special. Each one unique.

  Her phone goes straight to voicemail, so I leave a message.

  As I lie in bed, waiting for her to return my call, I fight the exhaustion settling over me and think of all the ways I want to make love to Aurora June.

  I’m driving home from the café in the late afternoon, exhausted from a lack of sleep, and still fuming about Jaxon gifting me the deed to the cottage without my knowledge. It’s like he was trying to lure me here under false pretenses. With a dead cell phone, I can’t easily reach him, and I’m not sure if I want to right now, anyway.

  No. This conversation needs to happen in person.

  It’s not until I round the bend in the gravel driveway that I see a familiar white SUV parked under the carport. My heart lunges into my throat when I spot Scott standing at the front door of the cottage.

  No, no, no.

  I slam my foot on the brakes, spinning up gravel beneath my tires. But just as I’m considering putting my car in reverse and backing up out of sight, his head whips around and his dark eyes lock on mine through the windshield. I’ve been spotted.

  Releasing my foot from the brake, I roll under the carport, park, and force myself to take a few deep, steady breaths before exiting the car and closing the distance between us.

  Scott stands there, tall and handsome in his green button-down dress shirt and tan slacks that tell me he came straight from a business meeting. His sandy blond hair is combed over in a single wave. I think he’s been styling it like that since first grade.

  “Scott…” His name catches in my throat, and I smile through my unease. “I can’t believe you’re here.” His arms are open so I step in for a hug, noting instantly the difference between Jaxon’s strong hold and Scott’s stiff one. We don’t mold to each other. My blood doesn’t warm beneath my skin. Our embrace is friendship and comfort, nothing more.

  His smile is wide, as if the conversations we’ve had since I left Durham never happened. I let out a slow breath.

  “I wanted to see you,” he says. “You haven’t returned any of my calls, and…” He looks back at the cottage, then turns to me. “So this is it, huh? Nothing like what I imagined when you described it when we were young. I was expecting something bigger. More…magical.”

  I laugh. “I guess this place felt much bigger when we were kids.” I swallow, trying to figure out what to say next. God, this is awkward. “H-how did you find me?”

  Aunt Cyndi. I know the answer already, but he dips his hands in his pockets and shrugs with a twist of his lips. “I think you know. She was worried, Aurora. And, I have to say I was shocked to find out you came here of all places. It’s the last place I would have expected.” His gaze moves over my face. “It’s starting to make more sense now, though.”

  My heart drops into my stomach. “It is?”

  He shrugs, seeming unfazed by his discovery. “Sure. You needed closure after your father passed away. What happened was traumatic, and you’re trying to heal. I’m proud of you.”

  “You are?”

  He nods emphatically. “You’re facing your demons.” His expression morphs into a mashup of confusion and disappointment. “You thought I wouldn’t understand.” His eyes lock on mine again like he’s just made sense of the universe. “I was always so dead-set on you not coming back here. You didn’t think I would approve. Is that it?” A glimmer of hope enters his gaze. “Aurora, if you’re here, I’m here. You don’t need to feel guilty for chasing your past. If you need that to move forward and find yourself, I’ll help you.”

  “Oh, Scott.” I sigh, the discomfort and guilt churning in my chest. When will he understand it’s over? “Thank you. Really. You’ve always been there for me. And I know you would be if I asked. But I need to do this on my own. My entire life I’ve allowed others to take care of me. To know what’s best for me. I’m doing it on my own now, and I feel stronger because of it.”

  And in a split second his expression changes from hope, to confusion, to sadness as he realizes what he came for is not just out of reach; it’s never coming back. “Oh.”

  “I’m so sorry. I thought I made it clear when we spoke—”

  Scott holds up a hand, his cheeks turning a shade of blush I’ve never seen on him before. “You did,” he says with annoyance. “I guess I just thought you
were reacting to your father’s death. I thought you’d change your mind.” His eyes flicker to mine. “You’re not going to change your mind.”

  My insides crumble with guilt. “No. I’m not.”

  He steps back like he’s lost his equilibrium and looks around us, taking in the woods, the cottage, the drive, like he’s doing it for the first time. “But why did you have to come back here? Isn’t it”—he looks around and shivers visibly— “creepy?”

  I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from frowning. I was right. Scott wouldn’t last a day in Balsam Grove. I shrug. “This is my home.”

  He breathes through the silence, and I know what he’s thinking. He’s never been the reactive type, and I’ve always appreciated that. Whenever anyone asked me to describe Scott, it was his thoughtfulness that came to mind first. He cared, and he showed that he cared. Even if he didn’t care the way I needed him to.

  “I’m happy here,” I add, hoping it finally sinks in for him. “I have a job and old friends …”

  He sighs heavily. “I just—I don’t understand.”

  I hang my head, unable to continue staring back into his sad, brown eyes. “This isn’t for you to understand. I know that’s not easy to hear, but you need to try to let this go. Let me go.”

  “I will never let you go, Aurora. Jesus, I’ve worried about you since I was six. Every cut on your knee. Every mean girl. Every broken heart. I’ve been there for you for everything. Driving you to and from doctor appointments. During your breakdowns after your father was convicted. You were doing so well with me. We were happy.”

  I shake my head and meet his gaze. “That’s where you’re wrong. I was numb, Scott. My medication—enabled me in forgetting what troubled me most. But in doing that, I lost so much of myself. I had no chance of being happy in Durham. Not when there were still pieces of me missing. I’d forgotten so much about myself.”