Perfect Kind of Trouble

by Chelsea Fine

  Daren exits the bathroom, now finished with his shower, and his eyes lock on mine. A handful of heartbeats pass as we gaze across the room in a silent exchange of hope and loss, and I suddenly know the answer.

  This is why we give into the storm of love. This something that is neither word nor feeling, found in quiet gazes and cookies in the dark. Hidden in cotton candy secrets and gentle shower soapsuds. It creeps up on you and slips inside, and before you know it, love owns you completely. But when it leaves, it rakes your insides, ripping at your soul until you’re shredded and undone. Then, and only then, do you realize you were in love.

  Daren’s brown eyes snap away from mine and all the pieces of my heart that have been drifting into Daren’s hands these last few days start to break into even smaller pieces, crumbling in his grasp, and I’ll never get them back. Because this is love, and all those pieces of my heart I handed over as my down payment on us are no longer my own, but Daren’s forever. And right now they’re bleeding like crazy.

  I roll onto my side so my back is to him as a tear rolls from the corner of my eye. It’s the first time I’ve been in a nice bed in months and I already know I won’t be able to sleep.

  32

  Daren

  I listen to Kayla cry softly into her pillow, and my throat begins to tighten. Every fiber of my being wants to roll over and pull her into my arms, begging her to forgive me. I want to take her face in my hands and kiss away her tears. I want to undo all the damage I’ve caused.

  I can’t stand this—not having her smiling eyes on mine, not having her wrist banging into mine every few minutes. It’s like I’ve lost a piece of myself.

  And it hurts. God, it hurts.

  I fucked up so bad.

  I stare at the ceiling and clutch at my aching chest as I listen to Kayla sniffle. I broke her. I broke Turner’s daughter.

  Just like his priceless pocket watch, Turner entrusted me with Kayla and I damaged her. Crushed her to pieces.

  Sleep won’t come for me. But I don’t deserve it anyway.

  * * *

  The next morning, I wait until Kayla has already left the room before padding into the bathroom and washing my face. Even though I work here, I’ve never been in this room before. Generally, when I stock the supplies I don’t go into the guest rooms.

  I finish washing my face and dry it with a towel then look in the mirror. I have two days of scruff that looks very out of place on my usually clean-shaven face. There are dark circles under my eyes and a faint bruise on my left wrist and my hair is a matted mess. And even though I smell clean from my shower last night, I feel rotten.

  Mostly because of the Kayla thing, and partly because I have no plan. I know I’m getting to a point where I’m just going to run out of money. My jobs aren’t enough to continue paying Connor’s medical bills, and now that Kayla and I have decided to forfeit the inheritance, I don’t even have a backup plan.

  A knock sounds on my door. I open it to see Ellen waiting in the hallway.

  She smiles. “Breakfast is ready.”

  I frown. “What are you talking about?”

  “Breakfast is included with every night’s stay,” she says. “You know that.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “But I’m not a guest. I’m a freeloader who crashed your inn and stayed in one of your rooms last night.”

  “No,” she says, drawing out the word, “you’re an employee of Willow Inn. And all employees get five guest nights for free each year.” She grins. “I’m glad to see you’re taking advantage of your employee benefits. Now hurry and come downstairs before Mable throws away your hot food and complains about it all day.”

  “But I—”

  “Do not make me tell Mable you don’t want her breakfast, you hear me?” She sharpens her eyes.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say.

  Her smile is back. “Good. See you in ten.” Then she disappears from my doorway.

  Shaking my head, I finish getting dressed before making my way downstairs. In the dining room, all the tables are set for breakfast and most of them are full.

  “Morning, Daren,” says Earl Whethers, one of the inn’s regulars, seated at the nearest table.

  “Morning, Earl,” I say. “Where’s Vivian?”

  He chuckles. “At the bar.” He points to where his wife is seated at the bar top, trying to sweet-talk a shot of whiskey out of Angelo.

  “Vivian, like I said yesterday and the day before,” Angelo says. “The only drinks we serve at breakfast are mimosas.”

  She curls up her lip. “You’re no fun, Angelo.”

  “Sit down, sit down,” Earl says to me, and pulls out a nearby chair. “Ellen says you’re off today, so I’ve decided you should join me for breakfast.” I take a seat. “So what brings you to town?” Earl says with a wink.

  “The car I was riding in broke down nearby, actually,” I say. “So I stayed the night.”

  “With…?”

  I lift a brow.

  Earl says, “Oh come on, now. Everyone is talking about how you came to the inn with a young lady. Who is she?”

  “Oh, Kayla? She’s…” I blink. Who is she? “She’s my friend,” I say. “Kinda.”

  He laughs. “Sure she is.” Then his whole face changes and goes pale. For a moment, I think he’s having a heart attack because his eyes bulge and his limbs go rigid. But then he whispers, “Well, I’ll be…”

  I follow his gaze and relax a tinge when I realize why his mouth is hanging open the way it is. Kayla has just entered the dining room. And now that she’s all cleaned up, she’s stunning.

  She always looks incredible, but in the morning light coming through the dining room from the dramatic floor-to-ceiling windows she is completely breathtaking. Her hair is tied back in a mess, she’s not wearing makeup, and she’s dressed in a ratty tank top, torn up jeans, and dirty sneakers. But she’s absolutely beautiful.

  Which just reminds me of what an asshole I am.

  Earl clucks his tongue. “That might be the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

  I pull my eyes away from her. “Tell me about it.”

  “Is that your lady?” he asks with a dirty wink.

  I smile tightly. “I wish.”

  “What happened? Did you screw it up?”

  “Yep.” I nod. “I sure did.”

  He sighs. “Stupid boy. I tell ya. Youth is wasted on the young. If I were your age, I’d find a way to keep that girl happy and by my side forever.”

  “Why?” I say defensively. “Because she’s pretty? Because she’s more than just her good looks, you know.”

  “Well, sure—”

  “She’s smart. And she sews. And she wants to be a nurse. And even though life has been shitty to her she has a kind spirit. And she cares about people even when they don’t deserve it—”

  I stop talking because now Earl’s staring at me like I’m crazy, and maybe I am. In fact, I know I am.

  I’m crazy for thinking I was ever good enough to touch or kiss Kayla. And I’m crazy for saying mean things to her and making her cry. And most of all, I’m crazy because I just now realized that I love Kayla Turner.

  It just hit me. A lightning bolt in the middle of this dining room. A warm sensation rolls over me, overwhelming me with deep affection as I stare at Kayla across the room. Oh my God. I actually love Kayla. I love who she is and what she wants and how she feels.

  And it scares the shit out of me.

  Guys like me don’t get to have girls like Kayla Turner. Guys like me end up as alcoholics in jail. Guys like me can only dream of girls like Kayla Turner.

  So go ahead, Earl Whethers. Look at me like I’m crazy.

  Because I AM completely, utterly, irrevocably crazy.

  “What?” I snap, staring down at my coffee mug.

  Fortunately, Mable comes up to our table just then, saving Earl from my intense eyes, and sets breakfast down in front of us.

  On the other side of the room, I watch as Kayla sits down at a table b
y herself. Mable moves to Kayla’s table, and Kayla smiles as Mable introduces herself and starts chatting her ear off.

  “This bacon is amazing, isn’t it?” Earl says.

  I stare at Kayla and distractedly say, “It’s really good.”

  “You know,” says Earl as he butters a piece of toast, “I remember when I first fell in love with Vivian.” He laughs. “It scared the hell out of me. I never felt worthy of her.” He says. “I still don’t.” He looks at me and smiles. “But you know what? I never regretted going after her.” He takes a bite of toast. “And you won’t either.”

  I look at Earl and frown. “You want me to go after Vivian?”

  “No, dumbass. You know exactly what I mean.”

  My eyes catch on Kayla’s eyes across the room and my whole body goes rigid as we lock gazes. I know exactly what Earl means.

  33

  Kayla

  Daren’s eyes.

  They’re killers. And if I keep staring into them I’ll be a goner for sure.

  I drag my eyes from his and focus on the tablecloth, suddenly on the verge of tears again. Never in my life have I been so emotionally desperate for someone else.

  I was supposed to come down here, sign my dad’s estate papers, then start a new life. It was going to be a crappy, poor life, but it was going to be mine—all mine—without anyone else being a wild card that could bail on me or die at any given moment.

  But now… now my plan is blown to hell and all I can think about is how I don’t want to leave the crappy little town of Copper Springs because I don’t want to leave Daren Ackwood.

  I AM A SAPPY, SAPPY GIRL.

  My eyes snag on him again. It’s simply not fair how gorgeous he is. It’s cruel to everyone in the room. He outshines them all. And then add to it that he’s actually a good guy and not some arrogant spoiled frat boy and, well, everyone else may as well just give up on life completely.

  I inwardly sigh. Why didn’t I realize what a gem he was when we were younger and I still had a shot? And why was I so unspeakably cruel to him yesterday? My God. I pushed every vulnerable button he had and watched him just fall to pieces. But the worst part? I love him. I watch as he cuts into his pancakes and my stomach does a summersault.

  I love Daren. I love his soul. I love that he wants to do the right thing. I even love all his brokenness and misplaced self-worth. He’s crazy and insecure and terrified of getting attached to people and I absolutely love him. If only I’d know this about myself yesterday before I destroyed him with my words.

  It’s hard to see love when you have it, but when it’s gone you’re blind to anything else.

  He looks up and our eyes meet again. Mine sting with the threat of more tears but I can’t seem to look away from him. He tilts his head ever so slightly, like his big heart doesn’t want to see me sad, and the stinging grows hotter.

  Why? Why in the HELL do I suddenly want to cry all the time?

  “Good morning,” says a smooth voice. I look up to see Ellen smiling down at me.

  “Good morning.” I smile back.

  “Do you mind if I sit with you?” she says.

  “Of course not.” I gesture to the seat, and she takes it.

  “So. What are you doing today?” she asks.

  “Nothing. I have no plan for today or any day after today,” I say wistfully.

  She nods. “Okay. Well, do you feel like making a little bit of money?”

  I raise a brow. “I’m listening…”

  She smiles. “I’m short on staff. My prep cook just moved to Phoenix and I desperately need to hire a waitress, so I was hoping maybe you could jump in today and serve tables for a few hours. I’ll totally pay you.”

  My eyes widen a smidge. I could really use the money but I don’t know…

  “It would really mean a lot to me,” Ellen adds.

  I bite my lip. “Okay.”

  “Yeah?”

  I smile. “Yeah.”

  “Excellent!” she says. Then looks across the room. “Oh, some guests are here to check in. I’ll be right back.”

  As she heads to the front desk, I grab my purse and search for my lip gloss. The folder of trust fund papers catches my eye and I pull it out. I go through the statements, eyeing all the withdrawals made in Chicago. I tally up all the withdrawals and feel a little sick to my stomach. Not just because of the insane amount she essentially stole from me, but because all that money went to drugs. Her selfishness had no bounds at the end.

  I start stacking the papers back into the folder when a page that looks different than the rest catches my eye. I pull it from the group. It’s a printed-out chain of e-mails between my mom and dad when I was nineteen.

  Gia,

  I just checked Kayla’s trust fund account and it’s nearly empty. What happened? I thought we agreed not to let Kayla use it until she was twenty-five.

  James

  James,

  Some unplanned expenses came up so I dipped into her savings. Don’t worry. It’s nothing to be concerned with.

  Gia

  Gia,

  If unplanned expenses come up, you’re supposed to call me, not use Kayla’s money. That was supposed to be for her future. Are you using again? I know Kayla is an adult now, but she still needs you.

  James

  James,

  How dare you accuse me of using. I’m clean. I told you that before. If you’re so concerned about the trust account, why don’t you just replenish it?

  Gia

  Gia,

  You told me you were clean and then you banished me from seeing Kayla. I will replenish the trust fund if you let me speak with Kayla. You can’t continue to keep her from me just because you’re scared I’ll tell her about the trust fund money. It’s been three years, Gia. This has gone on for long enough.

  James

  James,

  It’s not me. It’s Kayla. She doesn’t want to see you and she doesn’t want you to come out here or be in her life at all. And I do NOT have a drug problem. If you won’t put money back in the trust that’s fine. We don’t need your money anyway.

  Gia

  Gia,

  I can’t help you if you don’t want help, but please think about what you’re doing. Kayla needs you sober. You don’t have to love me or the life we used to have, but I need you to love Kayla. More than yourself. More than drugs. I will help you in any way. Just say the word. And please tell Kayla I love her and miss her deeply.

  James

  The chain of e-mails ends there and I slouch in my chair, stunned. My mother kept me from my father. All these years I thought he just wrote me off, but really my mom hid me away and told me lies. She told my dad lies too. Kayla doesn’t want to see you and she doesn’t want you to come out here or be in her life at all. Did he believe her? Did my father die thinking I didn’t love him?

  My hands start to shake and my heart begins to pound.

  My addict mom used every penny of my trust account to support her habit, and then blamed our poverty and my needing to drop out of college on my father. Such wickedness. Such dark, black evil.

  And all because of her addiction.

  She took everything from me, including my father. She made me resent him for no reason. She let me cry myself to sleep at night. She watched my little heart break and she didn’t even bat an eye.

  My pounding heart slams against my chest and I can hardly breathe.

  “Sorry about that,” Ellen says, plopping down in the seat across from me with a big smile, but her face instantly falls when she sees me. “Kayla, what’s wrong?”

  I try to fill her in on what I just read, but my words don’t come out right so I just hand her the printed e-mails. She reads in silence for a moment, covering her mouth as she reaches the end of the chain, then looks up at me with profound sympathy in her eyes.

  “Oh, Kayla.” She reaches out and places her hand over mine on the table. “I’m so sorry. This is… this is awful.”

  I stare at the tablecl
oth, feeling tears burn behind my eyes but not yet crying. “Do you think my dad died believing I didn’t want him in my life?”

  “Oh, no. Not at all.” She shakes her head. “I knew your father well and he loved you, and felt your love for him, very much.”

  I blink. “You knew my dad?”

  She nods. “He used to stay here at the inn sometimes, when he wanted to get his thoughts clear. He was here a lot this past year.”

  “Because of the cancer,” I say, nodding. “I didn’t know he had cancer. No one told me he was sick.”

  She frowns. “Are you sure? Because I know your father wrote you letters… and called… several times, actually. I was here when he did it. Your mother didn’t want him to speak with you. But he asked her to pass messages on to you about how sick he was.”

  My jaw drops. “My mom knew he was dying and didn’t tell me? Why would she do that? Why would she keep so many things from me?”

  Lying about my trust fund was one thing, but keeping my dad’s terminal illness from me? That’s so extreme. And refusing to let a dying man get in touch with his daughter is even worse. My God. The drugs must have really made her a monster.

  Sympathy fills Ellen’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Kayla. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  I shake my head. “No. It’s not you. Clearly, it’s my mom.” I gesture to the e-mail page. “We had all sorts of money from my dad, but my mom squandered every penny and forced us to live in poverty. And forced me to drop out of college.” My voice cracks. “And she kept my father from seeing me. I just—I just can’t believe she would be so vindictive.” I swallow. “And she made me vindictive, too. She filled me with so much bitterness and hurt that I refused to answer when my dad would call me.” I look at Ellen hopelessly. “I didn’t say good-bye before he died. And I didn’t let him say good-bye.”

  Oh my God. I didn’t let my daddy say good-bye to me.

  Ellen squeezes my hand and leans close. “Your father loved you very much, Kayla. And when your mother wouldn’t let him see you anymore, he was devastated. He wanted to make things right with you before he died, but he was too sick to fly.”