“Thank you.” She’d looked up at him. Stilled.
The warrior-hero, back in action. Right here on her sidewalk. Huh. She’d smiled. “Hey. Are you here for the wedding?”
He’d given her a soft look. Something slow and sweet, and her stomach had done a crazy little flip-flop.
“Hi. Again. Uh, no. Definitely not here for a wedding.”
“Right. I’m a wedding coordinator. These decorations are for tonight,” she’d said, feeling like her wedding question merited an explanation. “This is so not my day.” She’d reached for the ribbons he was holding, and he’d piled them into the box. “Lucky you—you get to save me twice.”
He’d stooped to pick up her binder—gallant of him—and then paused. Held on to it while she finished picking up the last two bows and tapped the snow away.
She’d reached for the binder.
Why was he staring?
“I really appreciate this. You’ve been my hero today.”
He’d handed the binder back, but in the jostle, his file folder fell open, the documents fluttering to the sidewalk. She’d reached to grab the paperwork and sucked in a breath, her hand stilling. There, in tidy print on a real estate agreement in her hand…COLE BARRETT.
No. She’d looked at the listing address. No. No… Everything inside her had frozen.
And maybe it shouldn’t really matter, but somewhere deep in her heart…well, this was not how she’d wanted to meet Cole Barrett again.
He was supposed to be pining for her.
Not showing up to wreck her life.
“Cole Barrett?” She’d snatched the folder away, and lost any hope of keeping a lid on her words. “So you’re the one who’s trying to ruin my life.”
If he thought he could walk out of her life fifteen years ago and then come back and take everything from her—
Her eyes had burned.
No. She’d shaken her head.
She was so done crying over Cole Barrett. She’d grabbed her box and walked away, not daring to look back.
Now, two hours later, she was still trembling. But she had to shake it off. Shake him off.
Because she had a wedding.
Megan stood up, took one last look at the reception hall.
Showtime.
At least she’d managed her pre-wedding prep with focus. Shelly Anderson was going to have a happily-ever-after today no matter what. With blue flowers and bows. With the gorgeous floral displays Claire Atwood had delivered. Witnessed by eighty close friends and family, and Elsa, her incontinent Pekingese.
Because if Megan couldn’t have the happy ending, then someone around here should.
Chapter 2
Cold, stale air wrapped around Cole when he stepped into his grandfather’s house, and a sharp mustiness stung his nose. He flipped the light switch. Nothing. It figured. He’d had to practically pry the door open to get inside.
He dropped his green rucksack on the floor and let Megan’s words drive into him. So you’re the one who’s trying to ruin my life. Yeah, returning to Deep Haven had been a gross tactical error. He pressed his palms to his temples, let the jumble in his head settle. This was supposed to be fast. In and out.
The hurt in her eyes, the accusation. He knew what betrayal felt like. And all he could do was watch her walk away, taking with her the only good pieces of his entire day.
Think. He was a seasoned Ranger, skilled in tactics and strategies. He could figure out how he’d get this wreck of a house sold. And what was Megan doing here?
He grabbed his phone to illuminate the room, but the darkness swallowed the light. With a tug, the curtains opened and a gray pallor was cast across the room. The sight of Grandpa’s recliner in the corner gave him pause. Ratty and worn, but sitting exactly where it always had.
Exactly where he’d been the night the social worker brought Cole to Deep Haven after the car wreck. He’d just known Grandpa would be able to dull the ache in his heart. Ease the pain. That they’d have good times again, like his summer visits. But as soon as he’d entered with his suitcase and backpack, he knew everything had changed. The joy was gone from Grandpa’s eyes and he spent more evenings with his whiskey than with Cole.
And when he reached his tipping point…
Cole swallowed and set his jaw. He’d never understand how a man could lash out at a child. Maybe grief could actually break someone, the loss of losing his only son two years after losing his wife to cancer. But even the broken must answer for the choices they made.
A knock at the door jolted him back to the present.
He tugged it open, bracing himself for another barrage from Megan.
A dark-haired man stood in the doorway, a ragged beard covering half his face.
“Can I help you?”
“Casper Christiansen.” He held out a hand.
Casper Christiansen. Really? Last time he saw Casper, they were slapping the puck around on the frozen rink near the school. And they’d both been twelve. Casper stood there in a heavy green parka, snow sticking to his hat and determination in his eyes. Clearly this wasn’t intended to be a social call.
Still, Casper was an old friend. An ally. And Cole was feeling pretty desperate for one of those. “Casper? Geez, did you never start shaving?” He shook the offered hand. “Cole Barrett.”
It took a second, but Casper grinned and nodded. “You’re kidding! Cole Barrett. Wow. Good to see you.” He laughed and pulled Cole into a man hug, smacking him on the back before releasing him. “It’s been forever.”
“I never would have recognized you.” Cole shook his head and smiled. “Come on in.” He stepped aside for Casper, lifting and pressing the door shut behind him.
Casper slid his knit cap off his head. “When I heard some guy was trying to evict Megan, I was expecting it to be Lorraine Barrett’s son. I’ve never met him, but I didn’t think it would be you.”
Ouch. “Thanks for that. But, no. My aunt has decided to take a hands-off approach since she convinced my grandfather to go into care—that’s always been her SOP.” One of only two other blood relatives—the woman who’d refused to take him in. She and her son had never reached out to Cole. Yeah, Cole had little use for her either.
“And my cousin’s too busy chasing his next big thing to bother.” He tried another light switch. Nothing. “I’d offer you coffee, but I don’t even know if there’s a functioning coffee pot in the place.” He gestured to the couch. “Do I want to know how you found out about the house sale?”
Casper looked down at the faded couch. “It’s okay, I can stand. I happened to be with Darek when his wife, Ivy, told him.”
Great. “And she heard…?”
“Megan called looking for a lawyer. Ivy’s the assistant county attorney.”
Cole held up his hands. “Hey, man, I had no idea it was her.”
“And her son.”
Yeah, the day just kept getting better and better. Now he was the cad not only forcing her out of the apartment, but she had a son. A son. That news stirred the nausea in his gut. He still hadn’t eaten anything except the stale donut. Maybe that was a good thing.
“You okay?”
“Nathan didn’t say there was a whole family.”
“It’s just Megan and her son.” Casper smoothed his hand over his beard. “She’s a single mom.” He paused. “The dad isn’t really involved. Lives in the city.”
Cole wanted to ask. Wanted to know more. But it really wasn’t his business because she was right. He’d left town and moved on, only letting the childhood memories kick around in the back of his mind when the world grew still around him.
“What about you? Is that your minivan out front? Wife? Kids?”
“No. It’s compliments of Duluth Auto Rental. It was supposed to be an SUV.” That van. He needed to ditch it ASAP. It had gone from a ridiculous mix-up to a large-scale reminder of the failures in his life. “Divorced,” he said, staring at the family portrait on the bookshelf. His parents flanked him on b
oth sides, all smiles, standing beside his team’s hockey trophy. They made it all seem so easy.
Casper gave him a nod. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It was for the best.” Because he wouldn’t stay married to a woman he couldn’t trust. Please, Cole. I’m sorry. Let’s work this out—get counseling. He’d discarded Rebecca’s pleas and served her the divorce papers as soon as he’d returned from deployment. He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve moved on.”
“So—you’re trying to sell this place?” Casper’s incredulous tone was impossible to miss.
“I know. It’s a bit of a fixer. It doesn’t look like my grandfather has touched anything since I was a kid. I haven’t even made it through the whole place.” Cole led Casper through the living room to the kitchen. He tried the faucet. Nothing. “Apparently, there are plumbing issues too.” He turned the handle back. “My aunt must have had the city shut off the water.”
“I suggest you fix the lighting too. Buyers tend to like modern conveniences.”
“You’re full of helpful tips, aren’t you? I always thought Darek was the know-it-all.” Cole doubled back to the first-floor half bath that sat off the short hallway between the living room and kitchen. He pulled open the door and surveyed the interior. Ugh. “Why did anyone ever use peach-colored sinks and toilets?” He closed the door.
“That is one of the great mysteries of interior design, I’m sure. At least it isn’t a black toilet. I’ve seen those.” Casper leaned against the wall next to the stairs. “And you’re getting some heat. It’s at least fifty-five in here.”
“Almost tropical.” Cole paused at the thermostat on the wall. The indicator hung near the fifty-degree mark.
“And you’re selling now? You’re not sticking around?”
“The money will pay for Grandpa’s memory care and no, I can’t stick around.” Cole shook his head as he took in the entirety of the first floor. “I guess I’d better take a look upstairs.”
Each step groaned under their weight as they climbed to the second floor.
Cole swallowed and veered away from his old bedroom facing the backyard, instead turning to his grandfather’s bedroom at the front of the house. A quilt lay at the foot of the tidy bed, careful folds highlighting the craftsmanship.
“At least these rooms don’t need major work.” He ran his fingers across the perfect stitching on the quilt. This pattern is called a wedding ring. He remembered watching his grandmother work on it, mesmerized by her ability to create uniformity as her needle pressed in and out of the fabric, again and again. I take all these pieces that don’t seem to belong anywhere and bring them together.
Casper shoved his hands into his pockets. “So, when you leave here, where are you heading next?”
“I’m waiting on a job interview with the U.S. Marshals Service and, once I’m hired, I won’t be around to deal with this.” When his grandfather’s caseworker had called about the care facility, Cole didn’t understand why he’d been named on the Power of Attorney. And maybe part of him resented the need to step in and deal with the affairs of the very man who hadn’t been there for him.
“That’s not your everyday career path.”
“I’ve been serving in the Army for seven years as a Ranger. Was looking to get out because…” He paused, choosing his words. Because he couldn’t watch more soldiers’ lives risked for the media sound bites they might make. Doomed missions soldiers were being sent on to meet someone’s political agenda with little chance of success. “It’s kind of a long story, but my buddy from the Rangers and I made plans to work for the U.S. Marshals Service together. He’s already been hired, and I got sidelined in the process to come take care of this mess.” He gestured toward the house. “He’s already working in DC, so the plan is that I’d work out of that office, too.”
“Sounds like a good job for you. Not too much of a change of pace, huh?”
Cole laughed. “Yeah. What about you? What have you been up to?” He led the way back down the stairs.
“Married. I have a beautiful daughter. Another baby on the way. Did some adventuring before I discovered a treasure right here in Deep Haven.” Casper reclaimed his spot against the stair wall. “I still love archaeology, but my family is my focus. I’m able to help around town.” He looked out the window. “We’re supposed to have a storm coming in. I help make sure the city plows are ready to go. Was just finishing up when I saw the van out front.”
Cole nodded. It made sense that a man like Casper would settle down and raise his family here. After all, he had roots. “And your parents?”
“They’re semiretired. Letting Darek head up the resort. I help out here and there.” Casper paused, his mind in apparent thought. “I’m heading back to my place for dinner. Why don’t you join us? You can stay with us until you get this place squared away.”
“I’ve slept in much worse.” Cole toed his boot against a loose floorboard at the base of the stairs. “I really don’t want to impose. I’m not sticking around.”
“Dude, no. I’m not letting you stay here. You don’t even have running water. We’re supposed to have a snowstorm tonight, and while fifty-five degrees may keep your pipes from freezing, you’re going to appreciate someplace warmer. Grab your gear and follow me.”
And there went his plan to steer clear of any Christiansens.
Ten minutes later when Cole followed Casper into his lakeside bungalow just down the road, garlic and oregano filled the air. Cole’s stomach betrayed him with a low rumble.
The bungalow felt warm. Homey. Bright orange flames crackled in the stone fireplace, the sweet scents of cedar and pine filling the space and blending with the smells from the kitchen.
“Raina is in the kitchen,” Casper said. “C’mon.”
Cole followed him through the house to the kitchen at the back. A woman stood at the counter slicing garlic bread, her long, dark hair pulled back.
A blue-eyed girl with curly dark hair stood on a chair next to her, helping.
Oh, Casper had definitely married up.
“Get everything in town covered?” She leaned in to give Casper a kiss. “And you brought company.” She smiled, her hand against the curve of her abdomen.
“I did, as best as could be done. Cole Barrett, my wife, Raina, and our daughter, Layla.”
“Ma’am.” He nodded to her.
Raina turned from the cutting board to the oven and grabbed a potholder. “The new villain of Deep Haven?”
“Pardon?” Did she say villain?
“I spoke with Megan a little while ago. She mentioned some trouble with the apartment.” She popped open the oven, slid a casserole dish out, and set it on a trivet.
“Oh.” Cole was definitely behind enemy lines. “I didn’t realize—” He stared at the lasagna. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had homemade lasagna. Cheese bubbled across the top, lightly golden.
She raised a hand. “It’s okay.” Her soft laughter filled the space, warm and bright. “I’m giving you a hard time.” Raina winked. “Mostly. I’m sure it’ll all get figured out.”
She pulled a serving spoon from the drawer. “Affordable rentals are hard to come by around here, especially this time of year.” Raina wiped her fingers on a towel. “But, it’s nice to meet you. We’re glad to have you join us.” She began slicing the pan of lasagna. “Dinner’s ready. Why don’t you two wash up?”
He had the distinct feeling he knew exactly what Raina’s idea of “figured out” would look like. And it didn’t include a For Sale sign in the front yard of his grandfather’s house. But how hard could it really be to find another rental?
When Cole sat down at the table, he paused while Casper reached out, slid his fingers into Raina’s, and said a blessing over their meal. Even thanked God for bringing Cole back to town and allowing them to share their home.
The gesture rubbed a raw spot in Cole’s chest that only got worse as they talked over dinner and shared with him what each of the Christia
nsens had been up to. It wasn’t unlike meals with his parents, and Cole blinked away a little heat in his vision when Casper lifted Layla into his arms. The small hands curling around her father’s neck, her face buried against his neck.
“Daddy, will you read me a story?”
“Of course.” He turned to Cole. “Make yourself at home.”
Raina began clearing the table.
Cole got up, grabbed a couple dirty plates. “Please, let me wash. It’s the least I can do.”
She gave him a gentle smile. “I never argue with a man who begs to wash dishes. The scrub pad is next to the sink.”
He set to work on the smaller cooking bowls first while Raina began drying. “Thank you for dinner. That was amazing. I don’t even remember the last time I had a real, home-cooked meal, let alone lasagna that good.”
“You’re welcome. I’ve been perfecting my lasagna for quite a few years.” She lifted another bowl from the rack. “That must be hard. Always being on the move. Being away from home.”
Maybe it was. If he ever stopped long enough to think about it. If he had a true home, he might miss it, perhaps. He’d forgotten what it felt like, maybe. “I’ve been on the move for as long as I can remember. When I left Deep Haven, I went into foster care in Duluth.”
“And then into the Army?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Megan said she knew you,” Raina offered, placing measuring cups back into the cupboard.
“Yeah. We lost touch when I moved.” He thought of the woman on the road. The woman whose day had gone amok. What had she said? The abyss of terrible. And the truth began soaking into his bones, leaving him cold. It was him. He was the one, exactly like she’d said on the sidewalk, who’d ruined her day and, somehow, possibly her life.
Not the impression he wanted to leave on the girl who’d, once upon a time, helped him through the worst year of his life.
“That happens.” Raina paused, set a cutting board back into place, and turned to him. “It’s funny, sometimes, how God brings us full circle, when we’re ready.”
Still the One Page 3