by Laura Scott
“You are?” She glanced at Dalton. “And you’re both okay?”
“We are now,” Jemma said. “But I couldn’t stay in Bloomington a day longer. Where are you? Am I interrupting something?”
“No, I was going to grocery shop, but I’ll turn around and come home instead. Give me ten minutes, okay?”
“Okay, thanks.”
Jazz disconnected from the call and threw Dalton an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to eat my leftovers or order something to go. My sister is waiting at the house.”
“Okay.” He picked up her burger and finished it off in several quick bites as she flagged down Ashley for the bill. “I hope she isn’t in trouble.”
“Me, too.”
Dalton had eaten the last of her French fries by the time Ashley brought their bill. She paid in cash, then hurried out to the truck, wondering what had happened to send her twin running to the B&B two weeks ahead of schedule.
Nothing good, that’s for sure.
Dalton glanced at Jazz as she drove home, her foot firmly planted on the accelerator. Did she know that he’d placed an offer on the Stevenson place? At the time, he’d been excited by the possibilities. And about sticking around McNally Bay.
But now, suddenly, he was assailed by a wave of doubt. Maybe he should have talked it over with Jazz first. What if the renovation that needed to be done on the place didn’t pay off in the end?
As Jazz pulled into the driveway, he saw a rusty green minivan sitting off to the side of the three-car garage. Obviously, it belonged to her sister.
Jazz threw the truck into park and slid out from behind the wheel at the same moment her twin came out to meet her. Dalton froze, seeing Jemma’s blond hair and her young son, skipping toward Jazz, made his heart stumble in his chest.
Instantly, he flashed back to a time when Debbie and Davy had greeted him when he’d come home from work. Davy hadn’t been walking, like Jazz’s nephew was, but the grin he’d flashed at him had been nearly identical.
His knees went weak, and the magnitude of what he’d done hit him like a boulder falling off a mountain and landing on top of his head.
Jazz’s twin sister and her young son were here to stay. A painful reminder of everything he’d lost.
“Auntie Jazz!” The boy clasped her around the waist, grinning up at her with his gap-toothed smile. “Mommy said you’d be here, but you weren’t.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m here now,” Jazz said reassuringly.
Dalton edged away from the sweet reunion, moving into the house unnoticed. He went directly out the back to his tent and began breaking it down with practices movements, despite the way his hands were trembling.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stay here after all. The reminder of how he’d lost his family was suddenly as acute as the night he’d been called by the police about the accident.
When he finished tucking the tent into his knapsack, he walked into the house, hoping to get his things from the master suite before Jazz noticed.
Too late.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. “There’s no need to leave, you can stay in one of the rooms upstairs for a while. Come on, I want to introduce you to my sister.”
Dalton’s expression was grim. “I’m sorry, Jazz, but I can’t do this. I have to go.”
The color drained from her face. “Go where?”
Anywhere, he thought. “Away.” He brushed past her and quickly picked up his clothes from the bedroom, feeling desperate now about leaving as quickly as possible.
“Dalton, wait.” Jazz reached out to snag his arm. The warmth of her fingers burned through his flannel shirt, searing his skin. He shook her off.
“What’s wrong?” Jazz’s voice was filled with tension. “Why are you suddenly so determined to leave town now? Is this related to something that happened at the bank? You mentioned you had news. I assumed it was good news, but if not, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”
He’d forgotten about the stupid offer he’d put in. Well, it didn’t matter, he could retract it with a simple phone call. He forced himself to meet her gaze. “This isn’t related to the bank. Seeing your sister and her son . . .” He struggled with how to best put what he was feeling into words. “Seeing them brought back painful memories. I thought I could stay, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Jazz said, her voice rising in anger. “Jemma and Trey are not your wife and son.”
He narrowed his gaze, feeling his own temper begin to simmer. “You don’t have a clue as to what I’ve gone through.”
“No, I don’t,” Jazz agreed. “Because you haven’t shared, other than you feel responsible for their deaths. But running away isn’t the answer, Dalton. The only way you’re going to survive is to figure out how to forgive yourself for your past mistakes.”
“Forgive myself?” He knew his tone betrayed the depth of his self-contempt. And suddenly he couldn’t stand it a second longer. “For putting my job before my family? For refusing to take off an extra day of work to accompany my wife and son on vacation? For forcing her to drive alone? She and Davy were killed that day when a semitruck jackknifed on the freeway and struck their car head-on. An accident that wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t made her wait until the end of the day before telling her to leave without me.”
She winced in sympathy. “Dalton, I’m sorry, but—”
“No,” he interrupted. The last thing he wanted was her pity. “There’s nothing you can say to fix the past. Just like there was no excuse for my behavior that day.” He swallowed hard and forced himself to continue. “I was the up-and-coming architect in the business getting all the big jobs and potential clients asking for me by name. I was making oodles of money but wanted more. My success went straight to my head. It cost me my family.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Jazz’s expression mirrored sympathy, something he didn’t deserve. “Other than you’ve changed, Dalton. Maybe you didn’t always make the best decisions back then, but you’re a different man now. And you couldn’t have known that a semitruck would cause a crash on the interstate.”
She was missing the point. “I should have made my wife and my son the priority in my life,” he repeated bluntly. Enough. He wasn’t going to stand here and discuss it any further. His feelings weren’t something he could turn off like a spigot. But when he turned toward the French doors, she jumped in front of him, as if she could physically prevent him from walking away.
“Please don’t leave,” she begged. “I care about you, Dalton. In fact, I’m falling in love with you. I was hoping you would agree to work on the apartment garage for us.” She sent an imploring look. “For Jemma and Trey.”
“I can’t.” If there was something he could do to change how he felt, he would. But there wasn’t. Nothing would be the same in his life, ever again. “I care about you, too, Jazz. More than I ever anticipated. But staying here wouldn’t be fair. You deserve someone who will love you with their whole heart and soul. And I can’t be that guy.”
Jazz looked devastated, and he almost crumbled beneath the pressure. With every ounce of willpower he possessed, he pushed past her and walked outside. He circled the gazebo, cut through to the Stevenson place, and headed out to the highway.
Never once looking back.
14
Jazz didn’t know how long she stood there, reeling from the ease in which Dalton had walked away from her.
It felt like hours but was likely only a few minutes.
“Hey, where’s tall, dark, and gorgeous?” Jemma asked in a slightly forced tone as she entered the kitchen. “I thought you were going to introduce me to the handyman/architect who did wonders with renovating the place?”
Tears burned her eyes, and she attempted to subtly swipe them away. She cleared her throat. “He’s gone. Apparently now that the work is done, he’s decided to move on.”
Her brave front must not have fooled her twi
n because Jemma rushed toward her, placing a consoling hand on her arm. “I’m sorry to hear that, Jazz. Are you okay?”
No, she wasn’t okay. She’d been a fool to risk her heart on a drifter. But her issues weren’t as important as what her twin was dealing with related to her ex-husband, so she squared her shoulders and forced a tight smile. “I will be,” she assured Jemma.
“I’m here for you, Jazz,” Jemma said.
“I know.” Jazz gave her another hug, clinging to her sister like a buoy in a storm. “But it’s my own fault, I should have known better than to fall for a drifter.”
Jemma nodded. “I often wonder why you and I have been so unlucky in love when we grew up with parents that adored each other.”
Jazz nodded. “Yeah, I know.” She cleared her throat and released her twin. “Now, have you and Trey eaten lunch? If not, I’ll run to the grocery store to pick up a few things.”
“We stopped at Mr. Burger along the way.” Jemma’s expression was pained. “The food is atrocious, but Trey was thrilled with the special treat. It’s the least I could do after what the poor kid has been through.”
“Okay, then why don’t you and Trey head upstairs to check out how everything turned out?” Jazz was desperate for a little time alone. “I need a few minutes to clean up the master suite for you and Trey.”
“Sounds good.” Jemma gently squeezed her arm before turning away. “I’ll also start planning meals for the next few days. I need to make a list before we go to the grocery store.”
Jazz nodded distractedly. She’d hoped the physical labor of cleaning the bathroom and laundering the bedsheets would help keep her emotions in check, but it didn’t.
Everything in the master suite smelled like Dalton. Even after she finished cleaning.
Or maybe the scent lingered only in her mind.
Embarrassing really, to have confessed how she’d fallen in love with him. Obviously, he didn’t feel the same way in return. Oh, sure, he admitted to caring about her, but that was a far cry from love.
How stupid was she? Why hadn’t she realized that Dalton still loved his dead wife, considering how he tortured himself over causing her death and that of his young son?
Hearing the truth about what had happened only reinforced her opinion that he was a changed man. She’d assumed he’d caused their death by drinking and driving, but instead he’d sent them on a vacation without him and a semitruck had sideswiped them, killing them both outright.
It was tragic, sure, but hardly his fault.
But the craziest issue of all was that one look at Jemma and Trey had sent him running. What in the world was up with that? He must have seen other women with small children who may have reminded him of what he’d lost. Did he run from all of them?
She grimaced. Probably.
The urge to jump into her truck and follow him was so strong she twice headed to the front door, before catching herself.
Hadn’t she told herself all along that Dalton needed to figure this out on his own? What was the point of chasing after him when he didn’t want to stay?
When he didn’t love her?
No, better to prioritize her time and energy toward the new business and to providing shelter and support to Jemma and Trey.
“Ready to head to the grocery store?” Jemma asked, waving a slip of paper in the air. “I have the list.”
“Sure. But there’s no reason for both of us to go, why don’t you stay here and get your things unpacked? Make yourself at home in the master suite.”
Jemma tipped her head, regarding her thoughtfully. “Okay,” she acquiesced. “I’ll give you more time alone, but don’t think you’re going to mope around here for much longer than a day. He’s not worth it. Any more than Tom was worth it.”
She instinctively opened her mouth to disagree, but then swallowed her protest. Truthfully, Dalton was twice the man Tom was. But it didn’t matter because he didn’t or couldn’t return her feelings.
Maybe there was something unlovable about her. Tom hadn’t loved her; Dalton didn’t love her.
Enough with the self-pity party already! With renewed resolve, she snagged the list from Jemma and strode outside.
She didn’t run across Mary Tate this time, and although a few people eyed her curiously, no one else tried to ram into her with a grocery cart. Jemma’s list made it easy to get through the aisles in record time, and she headed home less than an hour later.
When she pulled into the driveway, she noticed another car sitting beside Jemma’s minivan. When she saw the tall redhead, she realized it belonged to the real estate agent, what was her name? Oh yeah, Melanie Ryerson.
“Hello,” Melanie greeted her warmly. “Do you know where Dalton is? I have exciting news for him.”
News? Bank? The two clicked together. “He put in an offer on the Stevenson place?” It was a question, but she already knew the answer.
“Yes, and the brothers have accepted it.” Melanie beamed with the thought of making money on the sale. “Isn’t that exciting?”
She was still grappling with the idea that Dalton had actually decided to stay, up until they’d arrived home. Seeing her sister and her son had been the only reason he’d left? “Um, yeah, except for one small problem.”
“Problem?” Melanie’s smile slipped. “What do you mean?”
“He’s gone.”
“Gone?” Melanie stared at her blankly. “When will he be back?”
“He packed up his things and left.” Jazz shrugged. “I don’t think he’s planning on returning.”
Melanie’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Are you sure? Do you have a way to contact him?”
“Yes, I’m sure, and no, I don’t have a way to contact him. As far as I know, he doesn’t own a phone.” Jazz opened the back of her truck and lifted out two bags of groceries. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” Melanie looked as if she were about to cry. “If you do hear from Dalton, will you please let me know?”
“Sure,” Jazz agreed, although she knew it was useless. Dalton wasn’t coming back.
The rest of the day passed with painful slowness. Jazz did her best to push her heartache aside, but after Jemma and Trey disappeared into the master suite, Jazz found it impossible to stay inside.
She quietly eased out the French doors and stared blindly up at her beautiful gazebo for a long moment, barely noticing the cool breeze coming in from the lake.
Tears rolled silently down her cheeks, and she swiped them away impatiently.
She needed to get a grip. No one really died from a broken heart.
Well, except for her grandmother, who’d passed away within three months of Granddad. The difference being they’d been married for sixty-three years.
She’d only known Dalton for little more than a week.
Moving past the gazebo, she walked toward the lake, noticing how serene it looked with the reflection of the moon glinting off the water.
She followed the lakeshore down to the Stevensons’. The house was dark, except for the single bulb emitting a weak light over the kitchen sink. Looking at the house, it was all too easy to imagine working with Dalton on the renovations inside, tackling the upstairs bathroom first, then moving down to the main level.
The image was so real, her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. Between the two of them, they’d easily turn the place into a showcase.
Just as she was about to turn away, a shadow moved at the corner of the house. A figure walked toward her. Dalton? Her heart leaped with anticipation only to crash when a familiar and unfriendly male voice said, “Hello, Jazzlyn.”
“Tom?” She stared in confusion. “What are you doing here?” The moment the question left her mouth, she understood. “You?” Her voice rose with suppressed fear. “You’re the one who’s been causing the damage to my house? To the gazebo? To my website?”
He didn’t respond, but the way he came closer had her taking a step backward.
Only she couldn’t go very
far because the lake was behind her. She considered making a dash for it, but Tom ran half-marathons for fun.
“Taking a sledgehammer to the gazebo is a little beneath you, don’t you think?” She was desperate to stall for time. Maybe Jemma would realize she was gone and come looking for her. “And how did you figure out the password to my website?”
“You need to stop using the same one,” he said with a smirk. Then his gaze turned serious. “Although it was smart of you to change the password to your bank account. That made me angry.”
Good heavens, he’d attempted to clean out her bank account? She stared in horror. “Why?” she said in a choked voice. “Why did you do this?”
“You ruined my life, Jazz,” he said in an eerily calm voice. He took another step closer, and that’s when she saw the thin wire stretched between his fingers. “It’s only fair that I get to ruin yours.”
She’d ruined his life? He had it all backward. Then again, apparently Tom only cared about himself.
She went still, considering her options. If Dalton were here . . . but he wasn’t.
She was on her own, facing a murdering narcissist.
Dalton had only gotten as far as the Pine Cone Campsite when he realized he’d made a big mistake.
Jazz was right. There was no point in running from his problems. Not only that, but with every step he’d taken, her words had echoed in his mind.
I’m falling in love with you.
He didn’t deserve her love. Just as he hadn’t deserved Debbie’s.
How was it possible that two women had loved him in one lifetime?
No, the better question was, how was it possible for him to fall in love with two women in one lifetime?
He loved Jazz. Had started to fall for her the moment she’d appeared in the doorway, holding a hammer, as if she wouldn’t hesitate to use it, as she eyed him warily.
She was beautiful, warm, hardworking, down-to-earth, and fun. Everything he liked in a woman.
Even her stubborn streak and preference for old eighties music made him smile.