Praise for Still the One
Fans of Susan May Warren's Christiansen family novels will fall head over heels for Rachel D. Russell's charming debut. With its likable romantic duo and cast of familiar supporting characters, Still the One is a worthy addition to Warren's beloved Deep Haven collection.
Carla Laureano, RITA® Award-winning author of Five Days in Skye and The Saturday Night Supper Club
A new story set in Deep Haven? Yes, please! Still the One captured my attention from its opening pages. I adored wounded Cole right off the bat (heart eyes for days!) and found myself relating to heroine Megan. Weaving together heart-tugging romance and small-town charm, debut author Rachel D. Russell is sure to win readers with this hope-filled story.
Melissa Tagg, Christy award-winning author of the Maple Valley and Walker Family series
A debut author to watch, Rachel D. Russell has crafted a story packed with genuine emotion, irresistible characters, sizzling chemistry, and well-deserved second chances. The path to love is not easy for long-separated childhood friends Cole and Megan, but the hope and healing they each offer and find along the way will fill the reader’s heart to overflowing. Fans of Susan May Warren’s Deep Haven and Christiansen Family series will welcome the opportunity to spend time with old friends, but even readers new to Deep Haven will feel like they’re coming home.
Bethany Turner, Award-winning author of Hadley Beckett's Next Dish
With a sincere and engaging voice, Russell’s debut novel explores issues of abandonment, rejection, and the struggle to forgive in this perfectly paced romance readers everywhere will adore. Still the One skillfully weaves a fresh take on second-chance love in a setting as familiar as your own hometown.
Nicole Deese, Award-winning author of A New Shade of Summer and Before I Called You Mine
With cameo appearances from popular Deep Haven characters and the introduction of fabulous new characters, Rachel D. Russell’s Still the One is the perfect addition to the Deep Haven Collection.
Nicole Cook, Inkwell Inspirations
Still The One
A Deep Haven Novel
Susan May Warren
Rachel D. Russell
A Note from Susie May
Dear friends,
I have this problem. When I finish a great book by a favorite author, I immediately search for the next one by that author. And if there isn’t a “next” one, I read through that author’s backlist.
And when I’m done with that, I go in search of an author that is similar to them. Or one who writes about similar places or characters.
And therein lies the problem. I struggle to find authors that are like the ones I love. I’m not alone. Over the years, I’ve received countless letters from readers who want more of the best-selling, award-winning Deep Haven stories. Like me, they love to escape into this tiny community on the North Shore of Minnesota.
So I thought…what if I found authors who wrote like me, who also loved Deep Haven, and might want to write a story in that world? And what if they were new-to-market authors who simply needed a little mentoring, and then an introduction to readers?
I was so thrilled when this story by Rachel D. Russell came across my desk. Not only does she have a vibrant, compelling voice, but her story about a broken former Army Ranger who comes “home” to Deep Haven to find his first love (sorta) waiting for him captured my heart.
You’ll find this story about a wedding planner who recruits this former soldier into her world to be a charming, funny, cozy, and delightful read. (And be ready to cry. It’s just that good.) Yes, like any good editor, I worked with Rachel to help her bring Cole and Megan’s story to life, but the story and voice are hers, and I know you’ll love it as much as I do.
* * *
Welcome back to Deep Haven! Enjoy!
* * *
XO,
* * *
Susie May
For my husband, Brian, always my hero
* * *
&
* * *
For my mom, always my encourager
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Connect With Sunrise
Other Deep Haven Novels
Can’t Buy Me Love
Sneak Peek
Acknowledgments
About the Authors
Chapter 1
Anything had to be better than returning to Deep Haven. Enemy fire. Jumping into hostile territory. Twelve months of MREs. Even cleaning the pit toilets in a remote desert outpost.
Anything but having to face the one person who’d destroyed his life.
Cole Barrett turned up the defrost fan, his grip tight on the steering wheel.
The clouds hung low over Lake Superior, passing cars whipping up a cocktail of snow and ice against his windshield as he traveled north on Highway 61. And now, because the rental company had loaned out the Ford Explorer he’d reserved, he was stuck in a ridiculous Dodge Grand Caravan and thirty minutes behind schedule for his meeting with Deep Haven real estate agent Nathan Decker.
In forty-eight hours, the deal would be done. He’d have his grandfather’s house cleared out and listed for sale, and hopefully, he’d also hear from the U.S. Marshals Service for an interview. And, really, it couldn’t happen fast enough.
He eased his foot off the gas when hazard lights materialized through the snowy January haze. As he drew closer, he spotted a woman standing on the berm of plowed snow that bordered the highway, her Subaru pitched into the ditch.
She wore her blue knit cap pulled down low, and wisps of blonde hair snapped around her forehead as they escaped the scarf wound halfway up her face.
From the angle of her car, the quick math told him she’d hit a patch of ice and spun off the road, burying her front end in the snow.
Cole glanced at the clock and groaned. Yet another delay. Yeah, well, he couldn’t just leave her there. There was no way she’d get out without assistance, and considering how hard it was to get a text through to Nathan up the road in Deep Haven, he didn’t figure she had any help on the way. He slowed, pulling onto the shoulder ahead of her.
Slush splattered on his boots and he tugged his black leather jacket closed against the icy Minnesota gale that sliced through the fabric of his shirt. From the looks of the slope of the ditch, if she’d slid a foot farther, her front bumper would have embedded into the berm and he’d need more than his bare hands to dig her out.
As it were, the right leverage and his brute strength might get them both on their way in a jiffy.
“Hey!” She’d scrambled down the snowbank as he approached. “Thanks!”
She opened a passenger side door and dug through a box, chucking a bundle of blue flowers out of it.
“Are you okay?”
She looked over her shoulder at him. He couldn’t help but think that she resembled a miniature Stay Puft Marshmallow Man in her thick, gray down coat and wrappings, only her hazel eyes visible. She pulled her scarf away from her mouth to speak.
“I’m fine, if you include the fact I’m super late and—oh, never mind.” She turned around, holding the empty box. “You know, my day started out pretty spectacular. Blue skies, happy bride. I’m not sure how it took this plunge into the abyss of terrible.”
“You too, huh?”
“You can’t even imagine.”
She pulled apart the box. Clearly, this wasn’t her first off-road excursion.
“Let’s see what we can do.” He circled the car, dropping to his knees to scrape the ice and snow out from under the tire. The cold seeped through his denim and bit at his hands. “I don’t think it will take too much to get you back on the road. You’re not jammed in deep.” He looked at the swirl of tracks leading to her tires. “I don’t see any icy patches. Did you swerve to avoid a deer?”
She shook her head. “I wish. It was a lunch accident.”
He frowned but didn’t know how to follow up. He took the cardboard and wedged it under her tire. “Okay, put it in reverse and I’ll rock it, and let’s see if we can get some traction. Once you get up on the road, get it in drive and keep going. Okay?”
She nodded beneath her layers. “Got it. Thank you for stopping.” She looked up at him, let out a long breath. “It’s a little embarrassing when a minivan outmaneuvers the four-wheel drive.”
“You’re welcome. And, it’s not mine.” Heat rose in his face and he suddenly felt the need to defend himself. “The rental company messed up.”
“Oh?” For the first time he got a smile. She leaned to look past him at the van. “I don’t know, though. I think it makes a real statement.”
The kind of statement he might have liked, if his life hadn’t derailed. Yet another thing he could thank his ex-wife for.
She climbed back inside her car and started it up, waited for a break in traffic. He put his shoulder against the front bumper and pushed. It didn’t take much to regain traction. He nearly fell as her car rolled back onto the pavement. She put her window down. “Thanks!”
“No problem!” He found his feet, waved, and jogged back to the van, his jeans wet and chunks of ice clinging to his boots. Perfect. Now he’d be late, hungry, and cold.
Her lights had nearly disappeared before he got back on the road, heading toward the inevitable.
The radio offered little comfort when the only clear station came through with Tim McGraw’s “Live Like You Were Dying.” All that did was take him back in time, to summers on the North Shore.
He wished he could still love Deep Haven. Walking along the pebbled shore. Racing to World’s Best Donuts after school. Fireworks over the harbor.
I love summer. He could hear his best friend, Megan Carter, see her long hair pulled back into some sort of fancy braid. Her toes barely holding on to her bright pink flip-flops. The contagious enthusiasm almost made him believe the impossible. She’d flopped down on the dock next to him, smelling like sunshine and summer, giving him a red licorice rope and a smile. Do you have to go home?
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Yeah, even his good memories of Deep Haven could choke him with sadness, which was exactly why he liked to keep moving forward. Make a plan. Get things done. Find a new challenge.
Because, for the first time in his adult life, he had an open plate with nothing on it. No responsibilities. Nowhere to be.
No one to belong to.
Freedom. At least that’s how he planned on looking at it. He felt sure Rebecca saw it that way.
Today was the beginning of a fresh start, one that didn’t include the Army telling him where to be and what to do. Or him disappointing a wife he barely knew.
Time to take control of his life. Starting with the sale of Grandpa’s house. The man had never lived with much. Well, except whiskey. Most items could be hauled out for donation. Cole doubted he’d find anything of value in the old Victorian on Third Avenue West.
He pulled into the parking lot of the Java Cup and got out. Across the street, the harbor glistened, calm and frozen, the sky overcast and hinting at another storm. A gust caught his collar and he pulled it up as he hustled into the coffee shop. The bold aroma of fresh brew, the sound of coffee grinders, and the low conversation of a few locals brought him back to the small-town aura. During the summertime, the place tripled in size. At the height of winter, only a few hardy locals braved the weather to venture out for coffee.
All his hopes for a meal faded when he was met with a tray of stale donuts. Tomorrow he’d swing by earlier.
“Cole Barrett?” A man waved from a nearby table, standing to extend a hand. Silver peppered his brown hair, and he wore a gray fleece jacket, the name Decker Real Estate embroidered on the breast.
“Yes, sir.” Cole shook his hand.
“Nathan Decker. You’re the only guy who’s walked through the door in the past hour that I didn’t recognize. I was starting to wonder if you’d make it.”
Oh, yes. Small-town life.
“Sorry. I hope you got my message. There was a problem in Duluth with my rental car and, anyway, my apologies. It isn’t like me to miss an appointment.”
“I’m in a bit of a rush now to meet my wife, but I did put together all the paperwork. Have a seat.” He held out a folder and slid back into the chair across from Cole. “Go over it and sign where I marked. My business card is inside.”
Cole opened the folder. “Thanks. How long do you think it’ll take to sell?”
Nathan paused, as if measuring his words, and Cole’s chest tightened. He looked up. What had his grandfather done now?
“There’s a tenant in the garage apartment and she’s claiming she signed a six-month lease. She’s refusing to leave.”
“What?” Nathan would have had less impact with a right hook.
“I didn’t realize it until yesterday.”
Cole closed the folder, spread his hand on top. Took a breath. “I’m not planning on sticking around, Nathan. I need to sell the house to cover my grandfather’s care.”
Nathan raised a brow, waited while the woman behind the counter carried over two tall coffees and slid one in front of each of them, along with a donut for Cole. “Thank you, Marie.” Nathan lifted his cup, swirling it in a circular motion, as if to stir the contents. He turned back to Cole. “I figured you’d be ready for something hot to drink after your long drive.”
“Ma’am.” Cole gave her a polite nod and took a sip, letting the hot liquid warm him. “What is this?”
“It’s called a Megan. Very popular around here. Chocolate and caramel latte.”
The name stirred inside him, but he dismissed it. “It’s good. Thanks. I had forgotten how cold it gets here.”
Nathan set his drink down and leaned back in the chair. “So, you haven’t seen your grandfather yet?” His voice didn’t hold judgment, just a gentle prodding curiosity.
“No.” And he had zero intention of adding him to his itinerary.
“My understanding is his Alzheimer’s is fairly advanced.”
Cole shrugged and rubbed his hand across the smooth-planed wood table. “My memory’s still good.” Like the memory of cowering in the corner. A child at the mercy of a monster. Maybe justice was finally being served.
Nathan’s eyes stayed on him.
Fine. “Let’s just say that after my parents died, living with my grandfather wasn’t an ideal situation. It was a dark year.”
“That’s right. You lived here for a year after your folks died,” Nathan said, giving a nod to two women who passed the table on their way out.
“Yeah. I was twelve. Just starting seventh grade.”
“You must have made a few friends.”
“A few. I’m not sure anyone will remember me.” And frankly, he didn’t even know if Megan was still around. “My family used to come here every summer when I was growing up.”
For the second time, Megan walked into his brain and sat down. I was hoping I’d see you back here. The summer isn’t the same without you.
And his life hadn’t been the same without her. But that was long ago, and he’d been a child. She’d probably left town after high school, following her big dreams.
Nathan tugged a business card from his wallet and handed it to Cole. “This is the number of the care center. I used to volunteer there. They’re good people. Trustworthy.”
Cole appreciated Nathan�
�s kindness, but the last person he was worried about was his grandfather. He shoved the card into his pocket. He still wasn’t sure why his grandfather had named him as Power of Attorney.
“So, what am I going to do about this tenant?”
“I don’t know what you can do, but it’s Friday. Maybe let it settle over the weekend.”
“Maybe I can talk to her. Tell her my situation…”
“Good luck. She’s pretty stubborn.” His phone buzzed. “I need to go before my wife comes looking for me. Tonight’s our anniversary.”
A wife. Waiting for him. Cole had to stop what-iffing about what a family might be like. Rebecca had destroyed all those hopes.
Laughter erupted from a group of teens huddled over their phones in the corner nook.
Nathan scribbled a few notes. “I’ll get started on the listing. I’m sorry this is going to take longer than you intended. These go to your grandfather’s house.” He slid a set of keys across the table. “I’m not sure what condition the house is in. I haven’t been inside. Will you be staying there?”
“I guess.” Cole had planned this as a pass-through stop. An unwelcome requirement in his life, like a root canal.
“Or I could call the Christiansens at Evergreen Resort and see if they have a room available.” Nathan stood, waited for an answer.
Cole remembered the Christiansen family. Big. Rowdy. And tight. If he’d ever had another real family, he’d have wanted it to be like them. He’d witnessed more than one skirmish between the young brothers, but he’d also shared a few dinners around their table. No matter what, they stuck together.
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