The Curse of February Fourteenth

by Liz Isaacson

  Heidi had even agreed to freeze them so he could get them to his brother’s without any problems.

  “Afternoon, ma’am,” he said when it was his turn at the counter. He even swiped off his cowboy hat and ducked his head.

  “Cal.” She beamed up at him the way his mother would if she were there. An ache stabbed through his chest; it had been way too long since he’d visited his parents, and something sharp told him he’d need to let them know he wouldn’t do that again.

  “I’ve got your pies in the freezer there. Go on and get them.”

  “I need to pay.” He reached for his wallet in his back pocket.

  “Not this year.” She grinned. “Tell your mother hello for me.”

  Gratitude filled Cal. “You sure?”

  “Do you think I do anything I don’t want to do?” She scoffed and waved his wallet away. “Squire says Sabrina is getting big.”

  Cal nodded, a ball of emotion in his throat. “She is,” he managed to say.

  “Kelly says you’re dating a pretty girl.” Heidi leaned into the counter though he wasn’t the only one in line.

  “I am,” Cal said, wondering if he and Trina were dating. He hadn’t taken her out to dinner, or to the movies, or anything even remotely resembling dating. But he was kissing her….

  “I’ll just get these pies and go, ma’am.” He put his hat back on and stepped out of line so he wouldn’t take up too much time. With the three boxes sitting securely next to him on the bench seat, he headed down the main drag in town so he could get back to the turnoff for the ranch.

  He whistled along to the song on the radio, everything shiny and wonderful for the first time in a long time. The pies, his daughter, this trip to Kyle’s, Trina.

  Cal grinned and flipped on his blinker to turn right, north, and go out to the ranch.

  On the left, a flash of orange caught his eye.

  The thought, a butterfly wing, stole through his mind, a whisper as soft as smoke.

  He slammed his foot on the brake pedal, his thoughts screaming the pies! Don’t ruin the pies! He flung his arm out to catch them, saving them from sliding off the seat and splatting on the floor.

  He glanced to his left, and sure enough, a set of monarch butterfly wings was walking away from him.

  His heart pulsed, skipped, pumped, skidded inside his chest. He pulled off the street and left the truck running as he leapt from it. The woman was halfway down the block and walking in the opposite direction. Dozens of people lingered between them, drinking coffee or eating lunch under eaves.

  Cal called, “Hey!” hoping that didn’t make him into a creeper. Several people turned toward him, but not the butterfly. He increased his pace and ignored the stares as he broke into a jog to catch the woman.

  Confusion raced through him, around and around in his brain. So many things weren’t right, but he couldn’t process them. All he could see was those black and orange wings.

  The auburn hair registered only a moment before he said, “Hey, can I ask you a….” He trailed off as Libby turned around.

  She definitely hadn’t been the monarch butterfly at the ball. Number one, she was much too short. Number two, her hair was the wrong color.

  Cal sucked in a breath, and released it, repeating the action several times while his mind whirred. “Libby?”

  “Cal,” she said, omitting his last name—and sending up a red flag.

  He examined the wings. “What’s—who’s—these are the wings that woman wore at the masked ball.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I mean, no. I mean—”

  “Libby,” he said, a definite edge in his voice. “Who was that woman?”

  “I swore I wouldn’t tell you.” She wrung her hands and glanced over her shoulder to where a couple sat eating hamburgers and tots.

  The jacket Cal wore to keep the almost-December chill off his skin suddenly seemed way too warm. “So you know who she is.” His voice coming out of his throat felt like he’d swallowed a large ice cube.

  “I know who she is,” Libby whispered, her face turning pale and her eyes widening even further.

  Cal’s blood thrummed through his ears so loud he almost missed it when she said, “So do you.”

  He stumbled back a step. “What? Who?” He only knew a handful of women in town, and he’d been spending all his time with—

  “Trina?” he asked.

  Hope ballooned in his chest at the same time his heart backfired. It couldn’t be her. Surely she’d have said something, anything, when she’d seen her boot sitting on his mantel.

  Foolishness hit him like a fist in the face, amplified when Libby said, “It was Trina.” She looked like she might start crying. “She’d only been in town a few days, and she didn’t have anything to wear, so she borrowed—”

  Cal held up his hand and Libby muted like she was a puppet and he the master. Anger had never tasted so bitter and roared through him with the strength of an inferno, the way it was now. Not even when Petra had served him divorce papers on Valentine’s Day.

  He spun on his cowboy boot and marched back down the street, his fists clenched at his sides. People continued to stare, but he ignored them easily, his emotions surging and making everything but his goal invisible.

  Chapter Ten

  Trina felt a chill in the air and lifted her head from the trough where she’d been feeding a six-month-old horse. She didn’t see anyone, but there was definitely a change coming. She’d just straightened when she heard a male voice around the corner.

  She froze.

  Everything paused.

  Cal knows.

  She took a step toward the corner and fell back. She should hide. Run now, before she had to see him.

  She wanted to run.

  She wanted to stay.

  She wanted…Cal.

  She couldn’t decide.

  In the end, she didn’t get to decide. Cal rounded the corner, his handsome face a perfect storm of fury. He’d been walking fast, but he came to a complete standstill when he saw her.

  And just like when she’d met him at the Halloween ball, this strong tether of attraction made her legs take a step toward him even though she didn’t expressly tell them to. “I’m the monarch butterfly,” she said. “I danced with you at the ball, and it was the single best thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

  He swallowed, his eyes this electric blue that practically shot lightning bolts at her. “I have that stupid boot on my stupid mantel, and you said nothing. Why?”

  What a great question. Before, it was because she didn’t want anyone to know who she was. She hadn’t planned on staying in Three Rivers. Hadn’t planned on finding a way to be a different person here. Definitely hadn’t planned on falling in love.

  She spread her arms wide and let them fall back to her sides, her emotions knotted and tangling even more. “I was afraid.” Tears choked her words and narrowed her throat.

  His phone went off, and he ignored it, his gaze singular on her. The ring silenced, only to start up again a few seconds later. He pulled the device from his jacket pocket, swiped on the call, and said, “Hey, baby,” in the voice he saved just for his daughter.

  Trina couldn’t look away from him, but it didn’t matter. He turned his back on her. “Yes, I’m coming. We’re leaving right now.” He took two steps and paused, twisting back to her.

  What more could she say? She lifted her chin, silently begging him to come sweep her into his arms and whisper that everything would be all right. The panic she’d kept at bay for a month welled right behind her lungs, edging upward, drowning her.

  Did he not have anything to say? Redness colored his cheeks, and those brilliant eyes hooked hers and sang to her soul.

  He turned and walked away, the echoing ring of his bootsteps on the concrete the worst sound Trina had ever endured.

  “I just can’t go,” she told Libby later that night. “Please, Libs. Can we just drop this?” She rolled over in bed and faced the wall. Everything hu
rt. Her muscles, from the long day of work. Her brain, from the way her thoughts bombarded her over, and over, and over. Her heart, from the giant hole Cal had left in it with his silent abandonment.

  Was this how her mom felt, the day she’d come to Trina’s for lunch to find her daughter packed and gone?

  Tears trickled out of her eyes and ran down her face, toward her ear. She sniffled, and the bed moved as Libby sat on it. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

  “I’m fine,” Trina said. “I like being alone.” And that was the honest truth. She thrived when she was alone—at least until she’d met Cal. Tennis was a lonely game; she was the only one on the court, the only one deciding her fate.

  She’d survived the past nine months on her own—at least until she’d met Cal. And Libby. And Brynn. And everyone she worked with out on the ranch.

  Trina sat up. “I’m going to call my mom.” She reached for her phone as Libby stood.

  “I’ll give you some privacy.” She left, pulling the bedroom door closed behind her.

  The phone only rang once before her mom said, “Trina? Where are you?”

  “Mom.” Trina’s voice broke as she pictured the one person who’d loved her through everything. Even when she lost games. Even when she won. Even when she continued in a relationship she knew wasn’t right. Even when she disappeared. Even when her name and reputation was smeared all over the Internet for everyone to see.

  “Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

  Of course she would, and Trina’s tears fell. “I don’t want you to come get me, Mom,” she said, drawing in a deep, deep breath for strength. “I’m in Three Rivers, Texas, and I love it here. I want to make a life for myself here.”

  “Honey—Texas?”

  “I’m so sorry, Mom,” she said. “Will you tell Dad? I’m sorry I left and didn’t even say anything to you.”

  “It’s fine,” her mom said. “Over and done. We knew what you were going through.”

  Well, at least they thought they did. Trina hadn’t told them that she’d found out about Carlos’s philandering on Valentine’s Day last year. She hadn’t been brave enough to confront him then. The new tennis season had already started, and though she didn’t really care about it, wasn’t playing with her heart the way she needed to in order to win, she also wasn’t a quitter.

  But when he was videotaped with another woman on a questionable beach in France while she served her way to victory on the clay courts, everything had become public. She was asked about his love affair with the blonde athlete from Croatia she’d beaten in the first round during her after-match interviews, for crying out loud.

  She’d left France immediately following her win, and she hadn’t picked up a racquet since. And she didn’t regret it.

  Her parents had been there for the last five months, but Trina had suffered through the four previous months alone. She was so tired of being alone.

  “You should come home for Thanksgiving,” Mom said.

  “I can’t,” Trina said automatically. “I’m working until Wednesday, and I only have Thursday off, and I’m…just going to stay here and make my own turkey.”

  “Oh, you can’t be alone on Thanksgiving.”

  Sure she could. People did it all the time.

  “Mom…I want to be alone.”

  “Trina.”

  “I miss you,” Trina said. “But I’m…my boyfriend just broke up with me and I need to be alone. Sort things through.”

  A beat passed. “Boyfriend?” Her mom sounded half amused, half horrified. “You were dating someone in Texas?”

  “A cowboy even.” Trina giggled, the sound morphing quickly into a choked sob. “I have to go.”

  “Call me again,” her mom said quickly.

  “I will, Mom.” Trina hung up and collapsed back on her pillows, utterly spent. Too bad sleep wouldn’t claim her, wouldn’t alleviate this hollowness in her heart, this agony in her mind.

  “I just need to know when Cal is scheduled to work here.” Trina stood with her arms folded outside the U-shaped stable.

  Brynn frowned at her but continued putting on her gloves. “His schedule isn’t fixed like that.”

  Trina swallowed, the answer so unsatisfactory she couldn’t even vocalize it.

  “I know he won’t be back until next week,” she said.

  “I might have to get a new job,” Trina said. “I can’t—” She cut off at Brynn’s inquisitive look. “We broke up.”

  “Cal is a reasonable man—”

  “I was the monarch butterfly and didn’t tell him.”

  Brynn stalled in her twist back to stables, where she’d been going before Trina had caught her and asked to talk. “You were the butterfly? He must’ve talked to me about her a dozen times.” A look close to exasperation crossed Brynn’s face. “Maybe more.”

  Trina shuffled her feet. “Who else did he tell about the butterfly?”

  “Everyone,” Brynn said. “Squire and Kelly, Pete and Chelsea, even Bennett was speculating about who it could be.”

  “Hey, there, beautiful.” Brynn’s husband, Ethan, emerged from the stable and wrapped her in his arms. He placed a kiss on her temple, and every muscle in Trina’s body constricted.

  She pushed past them and went into the stable so they wouldn’t see her cry.

  “Is she okay?” she heard Ethan ask. Brynn responded, but Trina didn’t hear it.

  No, she thought. She is not okay.

  But she worked through the pain, like she’d always done. She went to church by herself that next Sunday, knowing she wouldn’t run into Cal. She managed to work another week out at the ranch without running into him. He had a bigger network of cowboys and spies, and she suspected he’d put them all on the case so their paths wouldn’t cross.

  She’d taken to eating her sandwiches in her car, windows rolled up, alone.

  By the time she went home for Christmas, she was utterly spent. But she’d gone to church for several weeks, basked in that calming comfort, and she now knew how to pray for what she needed.

  And for now, that would have to be enough.

  Chapter Eleven

  “How long do we have to keep doing this?” Bennett asked. “It’s exhausting trying to keep tabs on a woman all day.”

  Cal didn’t answer. Forever felt like too long, but also not long enough. He knew he was being petty. His brother had told him so. His mother too. In fact, everyone over the age of eighteen had told him to go talk to Trina and work things out.

  On paper, it sounded like a good plan. But when he thought about actually coming face-to-face with her, his humiliation and hurt boiled up, making him angry. And he couldn’t face her angry.

  He also couldn’t throw that blasted boot away. He’d tried, and it had lasted for half a day, whereupon he dug it out of the trashcan and put it back in its rightful spot.

  “You stayin’ here for the holidays?” Bennett asked, leaving the topic of Trina unanswered.

  Cal picked up the clipboard outside a horse’s stall. “Yep. You?”

  “Yeah. My parents are going on a cruise for Christmas.”

  “Sounds fun.” He checked the antibiotic dosage and went to get it ready. “I’ll see you later.”

  “You should talk to her!” Bennett called after him. Cal didn’t turn, or wave, or even slow his stride.

  He just needed more time.

  Petra had Sabrina for Christmas, and Cal would truly be alone. He hadn’t given much thought to spending the holidays alone—not nearly as much as he usually did. He’d planned on holding hands with Trina, and sipping hot chocolate with Trina, and opening presents with Trina. He’d planned on it and didn’t even know it. How was that even possible? How had he mapped out his whole future with her and not known?

  He sighed as he leaned against a stall, his emotions overwhelming him and making him weak. “I just need more time,” he muttered to himself. It had taken him four years to even start dating again. Truth was, Trina was the first woman who’
d even sparked his attention. But he didn’t know how to not be angry with her, and until he did, he didn’t want to see her.

  Christmas passed, and he enjoyed Heidi’s cooking at the homestead. They laughed and played games and sang carols while Cal existed in the same space as them. He thought he did a decent job of putting on his Happy Holidays! face, but he caught the way Heidi watched him, saw Kelly and Chelsea with their heads bent together, and he escaped before the pies were even served.

  Blitz and Bits didn’t seem to mind that Trina wasn’t around, and he let them up on the bed with him that night so he didn’t have to sleep alone.

  On New Year’s Eve, he went over to Bennett and Sawyer’s cabin for card games, chips and salsa, and a zero-tolerance policy for talk about women. Sawyer’s girlfriend had broken up with him on the night of the masked ball, and he was still pretty salty about it.

  Cal didn’t think he’d stay until midnight. Number one, he was old and liked to get to bed by nine, because number two, he woke up at five-thirty no matter what time he actually went to sleep.

  “Your turn,” he said to Bennett for the third time since they’d started playing cards. He hastily set his phone down and played a card.

  “Who are you texting?” Sawyer asked, making a swipe for Bennett’s phone.

  Bennett nearly hit it onto the floor in his attempt to get to it first. “No one.”

  “Better not be a woman.”

  Bennett shoved the phone in his back pocket and hunkered down behind his cards. Which meant it totally was a woman.

  Cal didn’t ask any questions; didn’t really care. He just wanted to be somewhere that felt like it had life, as his cabin had become immediately stale upon Trina’s departure from his life.