It was like being a porcelain doll on a shelf or an actress playing a role in a movie I could never change the channel on. It wasn’t me. None of it was me.
“I wish I could say there’d been a plan,” I said. “One minute I was looking in the mirror at someone I didn’t know or like very much and the next thing I knew I was running down the street. I didn’t know this guy’s name till we got here. He said he was coming to Charmed for work so when he pulled up to the diner I thought he worked there.”
“Yeah, that was quite the show,” Gabi said. “I never knew Nick McKane had a brother—not that I would. He comes across as pretty private, but nothing really surprises me in this town.”
“Why?” I asked. “Because it’s small?”
She tucked a strand of light-brown hair behind her ear. “Because it’s weird.”
I chuckled, sinking onto her bed, pulling one ankle underneath me and reaching for my own little bowl of pie she’d dished up for me. “Okay.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I grew up here and I love Charmed. But there’s some bizarre shit that goes on here.”
“Like?” I asked.
“Bee stealing,” she said. “Carnival people who appear from nowhere. Lanie’s aunt was rumored to be psychic—I don’t know if that was true but I did see her whispering to a pie once at the Blue Banana. The Lucky Charm only operates in cash, no matter how big the event is, and there’s a really freaky old man who owns most of the town and lives in the woods like a hermit.”
I laughed around a mouthful of pie that was so damned good, so full of all the feels that come only from food cooked with love and immense talent.
“Wow. All of that?”
“And that’s just the highlights,” she said. “Stick around, you’ll see what I mean. Speaking of that,” she continued, tilting her head, “you climbed on with a hunky McKane instead of walking down the aisle—what did the groom say?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t talked to Jeremy.”
Gabi’s feet uncurled, hitting the floor. “Shut up.”
I looked away, focusing on the perfect apples, glistening with glaze and cinnamon in the world’s most perfect crust. I was almost unworthy of eating such a thing. I knew that what I was doing—how I was doing it—made me a horrible person. A heartless bitch. Evil troll. Unfeeling shrew. Or just a major cowardly puppet afraid of facing the puppeteer.
“Yep,” I said softly, looping the plastic grocery bag of clothing on my wrist.
“I thought that’s who you called,” she said.
“I called my brother,” I said. “We’re pretty close, and I knew he’d be freaking out.”
“Your brother? Holy shit, girl,” Gabi said. “How long were you and Jeremy together?”
That wasn’t going to make it better.
“Long enough to lose myself,” I said. “To know I can’t just call him and say I’m sorry. I need to do that in person.” I remembered Thatcher’s words. “The day I mortify him in front of a billion people isn’t the day to do it.”
Gabi’s mouth opened to speak, then clamped closed as if she remembered we were still basically strangers and she couldn’t tell me I was an idiot. Still, her eyes were kind.
“Did you love him?” she asked finally, in spite of the clamping, a hand coming up to cover her mouth that time. “I’m sorry.”
I looked away, hearing his words again. Did I love Jeremy? Did he really believe what he said? I thought I did. I had to at some point. You left him at the altar, then called Thatcher instead of him.
“Your turn,” I said, the smile I pasted on feeling like a picture I was holding up in front of my face.
Her gaze dropped to some spot on the floor.
“Have you ever been so blindly content that you just assumed everyone else felt that way?” she said finally, talking to the spot.
It struck me that most people would say yes. Most people would experience that at one time or another. I was with Jeremy for eight years; shouldn’t I have felt that?
“No,” I said.
Gabi’s gaze lifted to mine. “That’s good,” she said. “Because it makes you complacent.” She looked away, pulling her legs up in the chair with her again, linking her hands around her knees like a hug. “You might not notice while you bury yourself in fertility research and ways to get pregnant that your husband of ten years is way too fond of his new journalism intern at the paper. The one you recommended for the job.” When Gabi looked at me again, there was a deep and festering wound in there. “Because you used to babysit her when she was a toddler.”
I felt my jaw drop.
“Oh, fuck that,” I breathed.
“Yeah.”
“Gabi, I’m sorry,” I said.
She shook her head. “No need to be,” she said. “It is what it is. I learned a powerful lesson.” A smile curved her mouth but didn’t reach her eyes. “I always thought marriage was just automatically what my parents have. They are still stupid in love. Obnoxious, even. I was naïve to think that.” She put her feet back down, rising. “That’s a fluke that I’ll never trust in again. In fact, I’ll never even believe that they’re really that happy. I think she just tells him they are, and then they smoke happy cigarettes and pretend.”
I snorted. “Gabi.”
“Seriously!” she said. “It’s all bullshit. I don’t buy it. The only thing I’m buying into for the foreseeable future is sex,” she said holding up a hand. “Honestly, I can take care of that better myself, so to hell with men.”
I laughed harder and it felt awesome. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a good laugh. The kind where the tickle grows bigger and bigger, making your stomach hurt and your eyes water.
“I’m totally serious,” she continued, looking befuddled by my giggling but chuckling anyway because it’s contagious.
I held up a hand, as even that sent me off again.
“I know,” I managed finally through deep inhales of air. “I’m sorry. I’m—probably delusional right now. But I get it, believe me.”
She gave me a raised eyebrow. “I doubt it.”
I set my empty bowl aside, stopping just short of licking it clean.
“Why?”
“You were engaged, still in that sexy stage where you have orgasms every day,” she said.
“I wish,” I said. “I mean, he could have done the wild thing every day, but the he in that sentence is key.”
She frowned. “A self-server.”
I smiled sarcastically. “Unless you call two seconds of foreplay serving,” I said. “But that’s my own fault for making that easy for him.”
“Your fault?” she asked, getting to her feet, shaking her head. “Girl. You did the right thing today.”
Goose bumps covered my body. Those were the first vilifying words said to me since I’d run out of the church. Every question, every doubt, every stab of guilt or selfishness hitting me all day had done a job on my head. Thatcher’s words still rang in my head. Everyone’s looks today. Even Leo’s You sure? question made me wonder.
You did the right thing.
It didn’t matter that she didn’t really know me or Jeremy or anything about our situation other than the tidbits I was dropping. She hadn’t heard the good stuff. And there was good stuff. Just the farther I was away from him, the harder it was to see.
“You think?” I asked, hearing the catch in my throat.
“I’ve got issues, Micah,” she said. “I admit that. But I’ve never met a woman as twisted up in someone else’s agenda as you.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. To feel insulted or relieved to finally have a diagnosis.
“You need untwisting,” she said. “You need to unbraid all that crap you don’t even know you’re tied up with, pull it up by the roots, and burn it.”
CHAPTER FIVE
I knew what I was afraid of.
We stopped at a little convenience store where she bought me deodorant and mascara, and I’d never felt more helpless and ridiculous in all my life. I was a grown woman. How had my life come to this?
It was like taking off the forty pounds of bling and lace opened my eyes. It put me in a different place—besides actually being in a different place. I was able to focus on what the hell my next step was. Or steps. Because this thing had a whole giant ladder to it.
Temporary clothing gave me the means to hit up those next rungs, like money, a cell phone, or possibly the ovaries to just go home and get the one I already own, along with my wallet and car. I didn’t have to wait till tomorrow night to meet up with Thatcher. I could be a big unbraided girl, go get my wallet from my brother, and go straight to Jeremy to hash it out. Get it over with. I’d have my car and a plan and I could figure out where I was going.
But I wasn’t going to, and I knew why. Because I knew what I was afraid of. Losing this clarity. Walking into familiarity. Hearing Jeremy’s voice and falling into the fog—where what he told me was best for me, for us, for everything—made sense. Staying twisted, because twisted was normal. It was easier.
She was right. I was jacked up.
With Lanie’s help, I was able to access my bank account and get a cash advance on a bank-to-bank transfer. So, with money in my pocket—or technically Gabi’s pocket—I started down the sidewalk toward Graham’s Florist.
It was heady, strolling past the shops of Charmed like a secret spy or a freed prisoner, the big Ferris wheel and roller-coaster of the Lucky Charm looming closer as I walked. No one knowing who I was, where I was, accountable to no one. I had no timetable to be anywhere, no one judging my purchases. No one to tell me I should get the frozen yogurt instead of the double dutch chocolate ice cream at the Charmed Creamery. In fact, marshmallow cream and chopped walnuts joined the party, with a drizzle of steaming caramel and honey.
Apple pie and an over-the-top sundae on what would have been my wedding day? It seemed appropriate.
I reached the flower shop, inhaling the scents already escaping through the mail slot. Gardenia was prevalent, filling my nose, making my fingers itch with the need for cool, fragrant dirt. There were customers inside, talking with a tall dark-haired woman, so I sat on a nearby wooden bench to finish my treat and listen to the sounds of the town. Cars driving slow. Two boys laughing on a nearby sidewalk. The thrum of a motorcycle nearby.
Small-town ambience wasn’t new to me. Cherrydale had this same feel, this same look, the same smiling, friendly people strolling by, but this was different. It felt all kinds of different. Rebellious. Free.
I closed my eyes as I spooned the cold sweetness into my mouth. Gabi was right. I needed to unwind. I needed to feel this freedom and the sun on my face. To remember how to be me without anyone or anything else at the wheel. Where I could shovel pounds of caramel and honey-slathered ice cream if I felt like it, savoring all the flavor exploding on my tongue—
“Roman-off?”
The voice, the sound, the proximity, and the giant shadow suddenly blocking the sun made me suck in a breath as my eyes popped open and my heart rate doubled. Irritation flooded me as well when I realized I already recognized his voice. I knew it was Leo before I ever looked, and it had nothing to do with the cute name he used for me.
Jumping to my feet was a mistake, too, as he was too close and bumping chests was unavoidable before he stepped back.
“Sorry—” I blurted out, half choking on a mouthful of chocolate.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m—I’m good,” I said, wiping at my mouth. “I was just—somewhere else. You startled me.”
“You look different,” he said, his eyes sliding over me. “Wasn’t sure it was you.”
I had to consciously tell my lungs to take the next breath, as the way he drank me in made me lose all normal function. Shit, Micah, find your brain.
I smiled sarcastically. “It’s me.”
“Did you mug someone for their clothes?” he asked, glancing down at my ice cream. “And steal their dessert?” At my look, he continued. “Since an hour ago you had no wallet or money.”
I chuckled wryly. “Yep. You have me figured out. She’s tied up behind that bush over there. I stole the rope, too.”
Leo shrugged. “Logically.”
He shoved the tips of his fingers into his front pockets, a move that made his arms do some delicious things.
“So, what are you really doing here in town, Mr. McKane?” I asked, pushing any thoughts about his delicious anythings from my head. He’d been the obnoxious asshole just an hour ago, so arms weren’t on the menu. Nothing was on the menu. “If that’s your real name.”
I knew it was. At this point, I’d gleaned a few tidbits about the mysterious troublemaking-then-disappearing Leo McKane. “You walked away from being my brother.” All of which told me he was not to be trusted, but none of which told me why. Because nothing about his persona said he was undependable. He came across as quite the opposite, in fact, like he could take on the whole world. Even the few seconds where he stood off with his brother, I got the distinct impression that he was the Thatcher of his family.
Eyebrows went up. “My real name? You’re one to talk.”
“Nice dodge.”
“Ditto.”
I smiled at the face-off, realizing I might have met my match when it came to deception, feeling a small thrill at the game I’d let get dusty for years.
“I’m Micah,” I said finally.
“Roman-off.”
“Roman,” I said, waiting for the recognition. When it didn’t come, I continued. “My family has a business in—well, where you picked me up.”
Leo nodded. “Did you talk to whoever you needed to talk to?”
“I did,” I said.
“Headed back there soon?” he asked.
“Not—today,” I said, my throat feeling weird as I said it. Like everything I said out loud from this point would seal my decisions in concrete. “I may stick around for a few days.”
And there it was. A few days.
He appeared to study me for a beat or two. “I am here for a job,” he said finally. “But there may be an ulterior motive or two.”
I nodded, attempting casual as I spooned a too-big clump of ice cream into my mouth, a third of it slopping down my chin.
“Oops,” I said around it, running the back of my hand over my chin. Boy, I had the sexy moves going, that was for sure.
His thumb sliding under my bottom lip stopped my goofiness cold. Every nerve ending in my body sat straight up and paid attention, sending all the blood in my head south. Just from that one touch. Jesus Christ.
“You missed some,” he said, his eyes dropping to what he was doing, then raising back to meet mine.
It was everything I could do not to suck his thumb into my mouth when it hovered a second too long, then—What the fuck, Micah? There was no denying it. Leo was the devil, and I was losing my mind.
“Is there a full moon today?” I asked, my voice all weird and husky. I cleared my throat. “Or last night?”
He dropped his hand, looking confused. As you do when people babble nonsensical bullshit.
“No idea.” There was noise behind us—thank God—as the customers I saw came out. “Hey, I was kind of a jerk earlier,” he said.
“Kind of?”
It was the best I could do with no blood in my head.
“I should say I’m sorry for that,” he continued, ignoring me. Or possibly not ignoring me, considering the passive apology.
“Well, when you decide, let me know,” I said on a smirk, attempting casual and unaffected.
Thankfully, the door opened again, and the tall, slender woman from behind the counter strolled out with Gabi.
> “Hey, you made it!” Gabi said to me, while the other woman smiled and shook hands with Leo.
“I made it,” I echoed on a nervous laugh.
“Did Lanie hook you up?” Gabi asked.
“She did,” I said. “She’s awesome.”
Gabi grinned. “Lanie definitely has the Barrett helping-people gene, just like her aunt did.”
“Barrett?” Leo asked.
I looked up at him, my eyes seeing the narrowed gaze as he asked Gabi the question, but my brain still saw the heat and felt the tingle under my lip.
“Lanie Barrett,” Gabi said, nodding, then rolling her eyes. “McKane, now. I still haven’t sealed that in my brain. Wow, now that I look at you, the resemblance to your brother is amazing.”
“Brother?” the other woman chimed in. “Wait—McKane—Nick has a brother?”
Leo didn’t look super thrilled at the big reveal, or actually he just looked annoyed that it was getting off track, but he visibly dialed it back and gave a terse smile.
“Guilty,” he said.
“Holy shit,” the woman said. “If you’re single, you’d better hide. The females of Charmed will sniff you out like bloodhounds.”
Of Charmed, of Cherrydale, of planet Earth.
“So,” I said, decidedly wanting to move past this party. I looked at Gabi. “You said there’s a room?”
Gabi’s eyebrows lifted. “You decided to stay after all?”
“For a few days,” I said, feeling my scalp begin to sweat as I said those words again. “Nothing permanent. Just till I can get things figured out. Is that still okay?”
“Please,” said the other woman. “They are so excited to rent these rooms out right now, they’d hand them to serial killers.” She glanced between Leo and me. “You aren’t serial killers, are you?”
“Killers?” I said. “Plural?” I looked questioningly at Leo, who was peering at me the same way. “You’re staying here, too?”
“That’s the part that bothered you in that sentence?” the woman asked.
Charmed at First Sight Page 5