She had a point. I took in all the offerings, mentally planning at least three choices. A throat clearing had my attention drifting away from my upcoming meal. My gaze met a tall blonde done up to the nines. Her stilettos and pencil skirt didn’t seem to fit in a town that was all jeans and boots. “Hey, Liam.”
I forced a smile. “Hey…” Had I met this girl? I searched my brain for a name but came up with nothing.
She extended a perfectly manicured hand. “I’m Bridgette.”
“Nice to meet you.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. She didn’t have the true-fan vibe, but I couldn’t quite get a bead on her.
Bridgette gave me a sultry smile, and the picture got clearer. “I just wanted to introduce myself and offer to show you around. I know all the best restaurants and shops in the area for people with discerning tastes like ourselves.”
A snorted laugh sounded from behind me that I knew was Taylor.
Bridgette’s eyes narrowed over my shoulder. “Taylor,” she clipped.
“Nice to see you, Bridgette.”
Bridgette huffed and turned her gaze back to me. “So, about that tour…”
I fought the grimace that wanted to surface. “You know, I’m pretty busy these days.”
Bridgette stepped in close enough that our bodies were almost touching. “I’m sure I could make it worth your while to take a little break from whatever you’re working on.”
This time, both Taylor and Jensen laughed. At least Jensen attempted to disguise hers with a cough. Bridgette straightened and glared at the two women.
I took that as my cue to make a hasty escape. I pulled out my wallet and handed Taylor my credit card. “Here, get us a bunch of stuff, I’m going to find a restroom.”
Bridgette’s jaw fell open as if no one had ever rejected her tour around town. I might have been rude, but I just didn’t have patience for people like her at the moment. I side-stepped her shocked form and headed towards a hall that led away from the shop’s main room.
I didn’t need a bathroom, but I sure as hell needed out of there. I glanced back to see Bridgette and Taylor in a heated conversation. At first, I felt guilty about leaving Taylor to deal with the girl, but then I saw the smirk on her face. She’d be fine.
I rounded the corner and slammed into someone. Shit. My hands instinctively went out to steady the person I had just body checked. My fingers encircled slim arms. “I’m so sorry—”
My words cut off because the woman shrank away from me with such ferocity, I felt like a monster. I gentled my tone. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Her hand shook as she brushed dark brown hair away from her face. “I-I’m fine.”
I froze. She was gorgeous, there was no denying it, but what had me hypnotized were her eyes. They were a color I’d never seen before, something that hovered on the border between gray and purple. I shook myself from the stupor. “I’m glad you’re okay.” I slowly extended a hand. “I’m Liam.”
She studied my hand for a brief moment before accepting the shake. “Tessa.” She held my palm for only the moment it took for her to say her two-syllable name.
I felt the loss of heat as soon as she moved away. “Can I get you a tea or something to apologize?”
Tessa’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. “No, thank you. I really need to get back to work.”
“Okay—” Again, my words were cut off, this time by her retreating form. I shook my head, trying to clear it from the odd encounter.
I peeked back around the corner to see if my admirer from earlier was still there and breathed a sigh of relief.
“The wicked witch is gone, you can come out now.” Taylor’s voice sounded from a table in the corner.
I made my way towards her. “She was, uh, interesting?” It came out as a question.
Taylor let out a laugh. “She’s the worst. But, hopefully, now that she knows you’re friends with me, she’ll leave you alone.” I arched a questioning eyebrow. “Long story, but I’m not her favorite person. Hopefully, you’ll be less desirable to her simply by association.”
I broke off a corner of some kind of baked good. “See? Your friendship does have perks.” I popped the piece into my mouth. It was some berry concoction of pastry nirvana.
“Good, right?”
“Amazing.” I turned back to eye the hallway. “I accidentally ran into someone back there.”
Taylor eyed me. “Okay…”
“I think she works here.” Violet eyes flashed in my mind.
“Oh, Tessa probably.”
I broke off another piece of berry goodness. “What’s her story?”
Taylor’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”
I shrugged. “Just wanted to know more about her, I guess.” Something was tickling the back of my mind. The hint of a lyric. Something. I tried to grasp it, but it disappeared like a wisp of smoke. I refocused on Taylor.
“I don’t know her super well, but she’s incredibly kind.” A soft look overtook Taylor’s face. “She was really good to me when I worked here. She lives in the apartment upstairs.” I sensed there was more to the story. I didn’t push. But, damn, those bewitching eyes.
3
Tessa
T he panic still had a hold of my chest, tightening its grip millimeter by millimeter. I ducked into the kitchen and moved to the main room, tapping Jensen on the shoulder. “I’m going to take my break.” My voice came out slightly strangled, but there was nothing I could do about it.
Jensen’s smile fell as she studied me. “Are you all right?”
I nodded, licking my suddenly dry lips. “Fine.”
Jensen’s gaze continued to prod, but her voice relented. “Take all the time you need.”
“Thanks.” I turned on my heel and walked as quickly as possible to the back door. Pushing it open, I felt the slightest bit of relief. The cool, early spring air was just what I needed. Leaning back against the outside of the building, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to keep my breaths slow and steady.
It didn’t seem to help like it usually did. My heart still beat in an erratic rhythm, and my breathing didn’t seem to want to obey.
My back slammed into the hallway wall with a force that stole the air from my lungs. Hot breath, stale with the smell of whiskey, filled my senses.
“You were flirting with him. Just admit it.” Garrett’s hand tightened around my neck with a force that I knew would leave bruises.
Things were bad. So very bad if he would risk marking me in a place someone might see. My mind raced, trying to think of anything I could say that might placate him. “I—wasn’t.” It was a battle to get each word out of my compressed throat.
Garrett shook me like a rag doll, knocking my head back against the wall with such ferocity, stars danced in my vision. “Liar. You’re a whore, just like your mother—"
The pain of my nails digging into my palms brought me out of the memory. My breaths continued to come in rapid succession. Name five things you can see, Tessa. Just five things. I searched around me. My lips formed silent words. Grass. Fence. Dumpster. Stone. Car.
I let out a slow breath. Name five things you can smell. Tea. Cinnamon. Chocolate. Pine trees. Trash.
I inhaled slowly. Name five things you can touch. Jeans. Wall. Air. Steps. Grass.
My awareness gradually came back to my body. That’s what it felt like in these moments, that my mind hovered above my physical self, unable to reconnect. I sank to the ground, tears streaming down my cheeks. As I wiped them away, I saw that I had broken the skin on my hands. Shit. I’d have to cover that up as best I could.
My cheeks heated at the thought of what a basket case I must have seemed to Liam. Of all the people for me to make a fool of myself in front of, it just had to be him. A guy whose face often stared back at me from the magazine rack and whose voice often drifted over the speakers in the tea shop.
I gro
aned, letting my head fall to my knees. I’d thought I was getting better. When I first fled DC, I’d had panic attacks every single day. Occasionally, they were so bad, I almost passed out.
When I finally got to Sutter Lake, I’d gone to the public library and started researching. I obviously didn’t have health insurance I could use and couldn’t afford a therapist, but I’d found a surprising number of helpful tools online. Breathing exercises, plans for when an attack did come on, even meditations I could do.
Slowly, the panic had receded. But the thing that helped most of all was not being in situations that triggered me. That meant I was never—and I mean, ever—alone with a man. If I wasn’t alone with a male, I couldn’t feel intimidated or threatened. I wasn’t reminded of him.
I knew it meant I was avoiding a fair portion of life, but I couldn’t figure out another way to keep the attacks at bay. At least, not yet. A faint meow pulled me out of my depressing train of thought. A tiny orange head peeked out from under the dumpster.
“Hey there, little one.”
The tiny kitten studied me but didn’t venture out any farther.
“What are you doing out here by yourself? Where’s your mama?” The kitten looked too small to be on its own.
The furry creature ventured two tentative steps out from its hiding spot.
“That’s it. Come on. I won’t hurt you.” I slowly extended my hand. The kitten froze. “It’s okay,” I encouraged.
With careful, tiny steps, the orange, tiger-striped feline made its way towards me, sniffing the air as it came.
I held my breath as it reached my fingertips. Another sniff. Another step. It nuzzled my hand. “Aren’t you the most precious thing.” I scratched behind its ears. “We need to get you some milk or something to eat. I don’t even know what to feed kittens as young as you are.”
I had officially lost it. Talking to kittens in the back alley of my place of work, the remnants of tears on my face, and dried blood on my hands. I was a freaking mess.
A car door slammed a few shops down. The kitten bolted. I jumped to my feet, trying to track it with my eyes, but I lost sight of the tiny furball two shops down. Shit. Shit. Shit. That little baby should not be on its own. My shoulders drooped. I needed to get back to work. But first, I’d leave out a little milk just in case my new friend came back.
4
Liam
I sat the guitar down with an aggravated thud. The instrument didn’t deserve my rough treatment, but I was frustrated as hell. It was as if the harder I pushed for lyrics to come, the more stubborn they became.
I leaned back against the couch, rubbing my temples. I couldn’t create like this. Well, create anything halfway decent anyway. Expectations of fans and pressure from the label were a surefire way to quash any creative mojo.
I blew out a long breath and let my hands fall to my sides. I stared up at the ceiling, letting my mind wander. It drifted to a place it had many times over the past few days. An image of Tessa shrinking away from my touch filled my mind, her gorgeous eyes flashing.
A melody began to tickle the recesses of my brain. I closed my eyes, trying to catch it. It was there, a whisper of something. I hummed, trying to find that progression of notes. I couldn’t quite capture it.
My phone buzzed on the coffee table, nixing any possibility of harnessing the fleeting wisp of a song. I cursed and roughly grabbed for the object that had interrupted the first inkling of music I’d had in months.
“Hello.” My voice was not welcoming.
“This is Detective Ruiz with the LAPD. Am I speaking with Liam Fairchild?”
My spine straightened. “You got him. How can I help you?”
“You’re a tough man to track down.”
That was exactly as I’d intended it, but I didn’t share that with the cop. “Sorry about that. I can’t exactly have a listed number.”
“I get it. We were just concerned when we couldn’t find you at your place of residence, and your record label couldn’t tell us where you were.”
I toyed with the guitar pick that had been lying next to me on the couch. “Why would you be concerned?”
The detective cleared his throat. “I’m the Los Angeles police detective handling your stalking case.”
My fiddling ceased. I’d known the St. Louis police were going to inform the LAPD of what had happened, but I had no idea that it had progressed past that. “Oh. I don’t know that this should really be a stalking case.”
“Sir, Ms. Speakman’s actions definitely qualify as cyberstalking.” I could hear the shuffling of papers in the background. “I just got off the phone with her doctor at the facility where she was being treated.”
My stomach dropped. “Is she all right?” Thoughts of further self-harm filled my head.
“She’s been released.”
“So she’s better?”
The detective sighed. “She’s been on an extended mandatory hold…” He let the words trail off.
“Okay…” I let my own trail off, unsure where the detective was headed with his statements.
“It’s difficult for medical professionals to secure an extended mandatory stay for patients that want to go home. They must prove the patient is a threat to themselves or others at the current point in time. Ms. Speakman claims she’s better.”
A wave of nausea rolled over me at the reminder of the young woman trying to end her life because I hadn’t acknowledged her. Guilt pricked at my chest, followed quickly by a burst of frustration. Surely, this was too high a price to pay for simply wanting to make music and share it with people who would value it.
The detective pushed on. “Her psychiatrist asked for Ms. Speakman’s hold to be extended, but the request was denied.”
I started twirling the pick between my fingers again. “What does that mean?”
“It means that she’s gone home, but her doctors are concerned.”
I didn’t fill the silence that hung on the line. I had no idea what to say. The woman was a danger to herself, and her mind had twisted in a way where I played a role in that. A role that I wanted no part of.
Ruiz cleared his throat again. “The psychiatrist is concerned about how intensely Ms. Speakman is fixated on you. He’s worried that while no overt threats have been made, she may still try to harm you.”
My jaw fell open just slightly. “Hurt me?”
“Yes, sir.”
I stood and began pacing. “But she’s only ever threatened to hurt herself.” And succeeded, I thought.
“The doctor is concerned that the signs are there. Do you have security with you?”
I wanted to let out a laugh at the idea of towing a security team behind me in Sutter Lake. “I don’t. But it’s not necessary where I am. You saw how hard it was to even locate my phone number, and you’re law enforcement.”
“I think this is a situation where the extra precaution might be worth it.”
I slid open the door to the back deck, cool air washing over me. I leaned against the railing. “I’m telling you, no one is going to find me where I’m at.”
I thought of how respectful the townspeople had been. Sure, some had asked for photos or an autograph, but nothing had shown up online. I was sure a big part of that had to do with Taylor’s boyfriend, Walker, being the deputy chief of police. I knew he’d put out a quiet but strong word that I’d come here for some peace and quiet, and that if the press descended, I’d be forced to leave.
My little respite from the real world had remained intact, and I was incredibly grateful.
Detective Ruiz’s voice brought me back to the moment. “I can’t force you, but please save this number. It’s my cell. You can reach me anytime. I’ll keep you updated if anything changes.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate you calling and keeping an eye on things. I just hope she gets help.”
More shuffling of papers sounded over the line. “I do, too. I’ll be in touch.” And with that, the line went dead.
I
stared out at the sun hanging low in the sky. My shoulders felt as though they carried a thousand pounds—the weight of responsibility. There was nothing I could do. I couldn’t seem to give my label the record it wanted, and I couldn’t give this young woman whatever it was she needed.
I was drowning in unmet expectations. I needed a change of scenery. Maybe I’d go into town and grab some food. Explore. Get my mind off the shitstorm that was my life at the moment. I strode back inside and grabbed my keys.
I PARKED my SUV at the edge of town, wanting the opportunity to walk, explore, and find a distraction for my brain that was currently obsessing over the things that I could do nothing about. The mountain air was crisp as the sun started to set, and the wind rustled the aspen leaves overhead. A few people milled about on the street, but not many. The town was closing up for the day. Maybe this hadn’t been the right place to find a distraction. I should’ve called Taylor, invited myself over to her and Walker’s house. They would’ve obliged without a second thought.
My steps faltered as I passed the closed Tea Kettle, my eyes catching on a bent head of dark hair. Tessa sat at one of the tables on the front porch, hunched over what looked like a pad of paper, furiously scribbling. My mind ran through scenarios. Was she a writer? A musician like me? One unencumbered by writer’s block?
Before I could think better of it, my feet carried me closer. Each step up the path brought the picture into clearer focus. Her pale fingers held a dark piece of something and were smudged black from gripping it. The stick of dark material skated across the page in bursts of speed alternated with moments of stillness. In those moments of pause, her brow would furrow before she attacked the page again.
I paused in my progression to study Tessa’s face. I grinned as I saw a smudge of black across her cheek, and found myself wanting to reach out to wipe it away. I frowned, remembering her reaction to my touch the last go-around.
I took another step forward, clearing my throat. Tessa jumped in her seat, gripping the drawing implement in her hand so tightly, it broke in two. “I’m sorry—” I started. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” I cursed under my breath. “I’m making a hell of a first impression, knocking into you and then startling you when you’re clearly in the zone.”
Beautifully Broken Life (The Sutter Lake Series Book 2) Page 3