She looked at him critically – the friendly smile, the kind eyes – and replied with the optimism he deserved instead of the cynicism she felt. “Yeah, you do.”
“Not much enthusiasm but I’ll take it.” He opened his briefcase and took out a manila envelope. “Here. You need to sign these.”
“What are they?” she asked, reaching for them automatically.
“Divorce papers.” Faith recoiled, snatching her hand back. “Did you not see this coming?” he asked.
“I did not see this coming.” She’d just begun thinking about Dustin and her together, now he wanted to cleave them apart again. Her mind was suffering from whiplash. “This is too much. This is just too damn much.”
They stretched into silence. “Do you want to stay married to him?” Jackson asked in a gentle voice, his hand reaching for her shoulder.
“No!” She opened her mouth in shock, aghast even at the thought. “I just… I just…” His eyes were so kind, and she remembered that he was one of the only people she ever let see her brokenness, the one she hid behind songwriting labels. She closed her eyes and finished on a whisper. “I left him once and never went back because I wasn’t sure I could walk away again. I don’t know if I can make that decision.” Ten years later – did she feel differently or exactly the same?
“It’ll be okay,” he murmured. He reached his hand up to her cheek and pulled her in close, placing a kiss against her temple. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
She brushed her fingers against his elbow, comforted by the feel of his Italian suit. “Thank you.”
He leaned his cheek against the top of her head. “But we need to do something. I’ll get a process server out to his house tomorrow morning. Divorce lawyers and threat of lawsuit if he doesn’t sign or tries to contact you. You never have to see him again.”
“No,” Faith said on a sigh, the sound reluctantly pulled out of her. She pulled away from Jackson and cast a glance back to the small citrus grove on the edge of her property, her yard rimmed with lemons. “I have to go. I have to see it again. I don’t think I can move on unless I see it again.”
Jackson’s eyebrows knit together. “See what?” But then he followed her gaze and nodded. “You want to see the tree.”
“Drunken Faith really did tell you everything, didn’t she?”
“I think so. But I’m going to go rent the movie just to be sure.”
Chapter 6
Faith pulled her car off the highway onto a narrow dirt road you had to know was there to find. Dust flew up around her cute little Audi, and she cursed at her own foolishness – but still didn’t raise the top on her car. She’d wanted to feel the wind in her hair, remember what the freedom of the country was like. This was the only remembering she was going to allow herself, and she was going to soak up every minute of it
There was a moment of indecision as the car ricocheted over a hole in the road – would they even still be here? But that was her guilt talking. The Andrews family had owned the property for decades; there was no way they’d part with it. Dustin might be living in the city romancing blondes and singing in choirs, but Peter would still be there. He’d never had the wanderlust of his brother. He’d planted his roots and only an act of God would get him to leave. Which was exactly what she was counting on.
She glanced at the clock and cringed. It shouldn’t have taken her this long to get here. Then again, she’d taken the most circuitous route she could – all to avoid seeing the exit sign for the Sorrento Ranch. It had been ages; you’d think Bea would have updated the signage by now. But nope, Dustin’s young, handsome face, body astride a beautiful horse, still stared down at all the passersby. Probably how she got three-fourths of her female guests. She’d stopped admonishing Bea on her choice of advertising years ago; she wasn’t supposed to care anymore, right?
Faith glanced at the seat next to her, the manila envelope barely peeking out from under her purse so the wind didn’t steal it. Jackson had reminded her of all the things that could go wrong with a secret marriage; hadn’t her new houseguests tried to keep theirs under wraps in the beginning too? The minute it came to light all hell would break loose, and so many things could go wrong. No way she’d escape that without being forced to see Dustin again. And she couldn’t even handle a billboard.
A twinge of guilt hit her, of not having the guts to face him or tell Jackson she was visiting his brother instead. Across a restaurant dining room was as close as she wanted to get. His smile from thirty feet away had almost put her down for the count. She didn’t need Dustin even an inch closer if she was going to make it through this – especially this week. She’d stop by and surprise Peter, have an awkward hour of small talk and recriminations and teasing, hand him the envelope, and ride right back into the sunset.
Her car finally came up over the last bump, and she had a clear view of the house. It hadn’t changed much, though the backyard bore signs of children. Her gut clenched – almost ten years to the day since she’d run from that house at her lowest moment. Her eyes drifted to the right, and she saw it – the tree was still there.
The Audi pulled up in front of it, practically of its own volition. She wanted to get out and touch it, yearned to feel the bark beneath her fingertips, but she knew the memories would come flooding back at the contact. It was bigger now, had grown tall and strong when she hadn’t been looking.
She hadn’t been sure if Dustin would keep it or destroy it. She’d thought about it as some grand metaphor after she left, and the fact that it was still standing touched a place in her heart she was sure she’d drowned eons ago. Faith took a shaky breath and opened the door, ready to embrace whatever was going to come her way. But her mind went blank at the next thing she heard.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! This is private property, you’re trespassing, and I…”
Dustin had worked himself up into an angry, seething tirade at the cloud of dust he’d seen out his office window. He desperately needed something to yell, fight, and scream at. A smile had actually touched his lips as he’d seen the distraction crest over the hill.
The anger had turned to annoyance as they got closer. Who the hell drove a pocket-sized Audi down the country back roads? None of the normal troublemakers were that stupid. Had to be some lost tourist looking for the freeway or some awful fair in town. His smile of neighborly kindness was begrudgingly in place before he saw where they had stopped. He could overlook a lot of things, but this week he would not tolerate anyone going anywhere near his tree.
He flew from his desk and out the side door, yelling before he had even left the porch. He hopped over the railing, not bothering to use the stairs, and made his way over at a full run, as if the hounds of hell were after him instead of just a few bittersweet memories. But he was brought up short, almost falling over when he stopped in his tracks and saw who had planted themselves in his yard.
He would know that profile anywhere, had it branded into his skin, a tattoo he’d never gotten around to removing. When she turned, a hand brushing her wavy hair out of her face, her blue eyes bored a hole right through him, another laser against his skin, another branding.
“Fuck me…,” he breathed, unsure if he said the words aloud or just mouthed them. Faith West, asked and answered. Hadn’t that been the consensus? He’d seen her, he’d survived, now came the moving on. A day was all he was getting, all he was allowed before his resolve was tested?
There was no question – it failed. Everything failed – his ability to speak, to move, to form coherent thoughts. He was shattered, blown apart with just one look. Decimated and left to crumble into ruin. Caught ablaze and burnt to ash. And he hadn’t even heard her speak yet.
Waves of memories crashed over him, memories his shock kept at bay when last he saw her across a tapas restaurant. Him serving her drinks poolside. Her reluctant smile as he led her across the horse trails. That one lonely tear when she told him who she was. That radiant grin w
hen he told her it didn’t matter. The laborious travel. The coming home. Her dreamy wedding dress. Her dreary hospital gown. The sight of her car screaming out of the driveway – the last goodbye.
Dustin could almost see the same movie gleaming in her eyes, their whirlwind romance on fast forward. He could barely think straight – how would she react to seeing him standing there?
“Why are you laughing?” Dustin asked.
His confused expression just made the laughter bubble up more. Faith was gasping for breath to answer. “Because the universe hates me.” She pulled herself together with visible effort and turned towards him, hands settling on her hips. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I live here. Why wouldn’t I be here?” Skepticism was clear in his eyes before understanding chased it away. “You saw me at the restaurant.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“You just pretended you didn’t,” he said with challenge.
“As did you,” she countered.
“Well, obviously we’re both cowards then,” he said, the conviction in his voice fading.
She looked away from his gaze, focusing on the house behind him. “Doesn’t look like much has changed around here.”
“Looks can be deceiving, can’t they?”
“What’s all the racket about? What’s going on?” a voice shouted. Dustin turned, Faith leaning to the left to peer around his broad shoulders.
Peter stopped in his tracks, brought up short like he’d seen a ghost. His mouth gaped for a moment before a smile lit up his features, and he stepped to her side. “Well, I’ll be – if it isn’t East in the flesh.”
Faith couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that, though a smile wasn’t far behind. “Still confused about directions I see, Panda.” He pretended to scowl at the nickname before dropping an arm across her shoulders for a quick squeeze.
“Me? I’m not the one that took a decade to find my way back,” Peter whispered.
Faith just barely managed to keep her expression light. She gave him a slight glare out of the corner of her eye, keeping the horrible havoc those words did to her heart locked away. Later she’d write a haunting song – now she needed to stay in control. “Good to see you too, Peter.”
“Isn’t it though?” he chided. He let her shoulders go but grabbed her hands, holding them out to give her a once over. “You have not changed a bit.”
“God, I hope that’s not true.” At his crooked eyebrow she added, “Ten years is a long time to be standing still.” She cringed inwardly – that had been way too close to an Andy Peters lyric for her peace of mind.
“So, what are you doing here?” Peter asked as he steered her towards the house.
“Exactly what I was about to ask. What are you doing here?” Dustin’s tone couldn’t have been more different than his brother’s.
“Oh, uh, just passing through,” she murmured, casting a glance back at the lemon tree where her car sat.
“Just our luck then,” Peter said.
“Liar,” Dustin murmured at the exact same time.
“Coward and liar in the first five minutes. Maturity looks so good on you, Dustin.”
“Ignore him. I usually do. I have learned how to tune things out exceptionally well,” Peter said. “It’s the only way you can deal with all the teenagers.”
“Well, I know you’re not a pop singer, Mr. Tone Deaf, so what’s bringing all the teenagers to your yard?”
“My milkshakes, of course.” He winked at her, and she laughed again, this time not from nervousness. “Actually, I teach over at the high school. Use sarcasm to educate about bloody rebellions and dead white guys.”
“You became a teacher? Really?” Faith never would have guessed, but it made perfect sense. He’d always loved telling people what to do.
“Yes, really. I may even oversee the debate team.” He shook his head in amusement as he opened the kitchen door for her to enter. “I swear, only a world-famous singer would think history teacher is a suspect career choice.”
There was a retort on Faith’s lips, but it vanished the minute she entered the house. Memories assaulted her again, ghosts of her past refusing to stay laid to rest. The furniture and appliances were different, but that inscrutable sense of community and home still clung to them. And the old oak table, a wedding present from one lovesick teenager to another, dating all the way back to the turn of the century, still greeting everyone that entered. She used to worry that her lemon tree paled in comparison. “Just as I remembered.”
Dustin snorted behind her, and she jumped, forgetting anyone was there. When she allowed herself to remember, to feel, she was always alone. The possible intimacy of the day frightened her. How the hell was she going to survive this?
“Can I offer you something to drink?” Peter asked, ever the host.
She hugged her purse to her side – she didn’t want to be hosted. She felt Dustin’s gaze on her and fought back the memories of this as her home, a place where she could get her own damn drink. “Lemonade would be lovely, thank you.”
“That’s something we don’t have,” Dustin growled. He stalked past her and leaned against the wall.
“But we do have some nice raspberry iced tea. Would you like some of that?” Peter asked, his smile tight as he glared at his brother.
“Sure.”
“Sit, sit,” Peter commanded as he opened the fridge. Faith ran her hands over the back of the wood chair. Sitting felt dangerous; prey never turned their back to the predator, and leaving Dustin behind her seemed just as foolhardy.
Peter rolled his eyes at her still standing as he poured her drink. “If you sit, you can have one of the world-famous Andrews Apple Tarts. Which, I know, go absolutely perfectly with raspberry iced tea. Just a thought.”
Faith’s mouth started salivating at his words; she remembered exactly how good those tarts were. She took a seat. “So you use sarcasm and bribery to get people to listen to you then, Mr. Andrews?”
Peter smirked. “I have a few other secrets too.” He placed the dishes in front of her then took a seat across the table.
Faith took a bite and smiled. “Your mother has not lost her touch.”
“Mom isn’t around to make them anymore,” Peter said, his smile a bit wistful.
“I’m so sorry,” Faith said, meeting Peter’s eyes and then turning to catch Dustin’s.
Dustin held her gaze for the briefest moment before pushing off the wall and stalking across the floor. “I have to get back to work.” A door slammed as he disappeared from the room.
“It’s okay,” Peter said, reaching a hand out to Faith. “It’s been over three years, so we learned to make our own tarts.”
“This was a stupid idea,” she murmured, watching the crust crumble as she broke the tart into pieces. “Isn’t going well at all.”
“We’ll just have to change that then.”
Faith studied Peter’s face. “You were expecting me, weren’t you?”
“Why would you say that?”
“Come on, out with it, Panda. You were.”
A smirk appeared on Peter’s face. “Expecting may be too strong of a word. I am not a psychic.” He stood and peered down at her with intelligent eyes. “But only a fool would think a glance across a restaurant would be the end of this story.”
Faith blanched. She’d thought it was the end; she’d wanted it to be the end. Jackson had made it different. Or was that just something that she told herself, a lie to make her feel better? Would she have been able to put his face to rest, put him to rest, if Jackson hadn’t provided her with this excuse to see him? Her hands itched for a guitar to help her find the answer.
“The real mystery is what kind of ending we’re in store for.”
“I’m not sure,” Faith replied with absolute honesty. If possible, she was more mixed up now than before. Dustin’s face had clarified nothing. And she still had divorce papers in her purse.
Peter smiled. “Let’s take a walk and see if w
e can find out.”
Chapter 7
Dustin stared at his desk but wasn’t seeing anything on it, breathing labored like he’d run a marathon. His adrenaline was pumping, fight or flight activated. All he could do was stare straight ahead, trying to focus as memories assaulted him. Was this what a panic attack was like?
He closed his eyes, but they immediately popped back open. All he’d seen was her – even more gorgeous than he remembered, beautiful laugh that made his heart stand up and take notice. And then when she looked at him, sincere concern in her eyes, he could feel himself becoming undone. He didn’t need this right now – didn’t need her, didn’t need her concern, didn’t need her proximity.
For the first time in ten years, he wished he wasn’t such a loner. Maybe then his crew would be helping him remodel the extra bedroom instead of being at the other job site. Maybe then he could get lost in the sea of people, and Faith could get lost in all the commotion. Who was he kidding? Faith West, the cheery girl next door, she didn’t blend. She stuck out, bright like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds on a dreary day.
What the hell was she doing here? Just passing through – not this time of year, not this week. He had seen it in her eyes. She had been just as reluctant as him. She didn’t even think he lived here anymore. Which meant she’d come out all this way to see Peter. What the hell did she want with Peter?
Anger bubbled up inside him. She did this to him – got him all riled up with nothing to show for it, nothing to do about it. He picked up a glass on the end of his desk and threw it across the room – it hit near the window frame and shattered. Water dribbled down the wall, and he felt better. The mess would stay for a while; it made him feel better, more in control.
Dustin took a deep breath and sat back down behind his desk. He really did have work to do, though not too much. He always cleared his calendar this week so he could get the solitude and exhaustion he needed, but the more successful he got, the harder it was to disconnect from all of his responsibilities.
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