The Ground Beneath (You and Me Book 1)

by Stephanie Vercier

  Sheila zooms out of the office come lunchtime, already running five minutes late for another meeting with the Carmichael’s. Hunter is under pressure too, calling me but only able to talk for a few minutes. “The coaching team is riding my ass, still trying to figure out what went wrong on Sunday,” he tells me, the sound of his voice a mix of amusement and exhaustion. “But I love you. I needed to call you and tell you that.”

  “I love you too,” I reply, a smile remaining on my face until long after he’s hung up.

  If it were nice out, I’d walk down to the waterfront and grab a quick bite to eat, but it’s gray and cloudy, sheets of rain hitting against the windows of the office, so I stay in, nibbling on some banana bread from a gift basket one of Sheila’s clients had sent in as a thank you. I know that I should probably work straight through the allotted time for my lunch break, but as I begin to do just that, something I thought I’d be able to dismiss begins to gnaw at me.

  I hadn’t forgotten what Daniella Schaffer told me about in Coalton, but I’d delayed doing any further research. Part of my excuse was that I didn’t want to start digging into the events surrounding Hunter’s family without clueing him in—somehow that just felt wrong. But I also knew that any investigation of that accident would trigger memories of the one that took Wyatt and Abe’s life too.

  Would I ever be ready for that?

  If something major has been missed, as Daniella seems to think the case is, then I decide I have to be ready.

  As I begin, I promise myself I won’t dig for more than twenty minutes, first pulling up the full archives for The Mountain Gazette, using the password Daniella had given me back when we thought I might be working for the paper. Quickly, I find the obituaries for Meredith Lawrence and Angela Brinkman, Hunter’s mother and aunt. Next, I’m able to locate the small, quarter page story about the accident that Daniella had shown me in the printed version of the paper. In all of the archives, those are the only two mentions of the crash that took two lives and altered so many others. There are, however, engagement and marriage announcements for both women, a picture of Hunter’s mother with her students on a class field trip, and a story showcasing his aunt as being a hobbyist beekeeper. Even through the grainy photographs of the digitally recorded newspaper, Meredith and Angela are beautiful.

  Regardless of how badly I’d like to just stop searching right here, I have to admit it is strange that two women who were obviously well known in their community would be talked about so little when it came to their untimely deaths.

  A few more minutes of research uncovers that while The Mountain Gazette didn’t report on the accident, other papers in the region had. I find multiple archived stories from papers in Ellensburg and Wenatchee, including front-page articles that name the victims and include quotes from Sheriff Clyde Mitchell, Wyatt and Micah’s now deceased father.

  ‘It appears the driver was surprised by something, likely a deer, an elk, or some other wild animal, and it caused her to swerve and veer down the embankment. At least that’s what the evidence at the scene appears to show.’

  The articles, with varied degrees of depth, go on to quote Sheriff Mitchell’s promise that further details would be released after a full investigation, one reporter going on to question whether a guardrail on that stretch of road could have prevented the accident, another editorializing on the sad nature of the victims being sisters that were well liked in their community—supported by quotes from neighbors—and what a heavy loss it was for their family.

  My chin trembles, and I wipe away a tear that manages to slide down my cheek. I picture Hunter as a little boy, being told the two most important women in his life were suddenly gone, his safe and loving world being torn apart. The emotion should make me want to stop, but it spurs me onward instead. I type in both Meredith Lawrence and Angela Brinkman’s names for my next search, without adding any key words about the accident.

  The results this search returns are mostly articles, blog postings and even a few videos about Hunter, some about him going to State in high school, then his success as a college player, and finally as an NFL quarterback. In these stories, his mother and aunt are usually mentioned as a way to punctuate Hunter’s loss, but none of them are investigative. They don’t question the reason for the accident or look deeper into why there was no final reporting done on it. The only known cause, it seems, is what Sheriff Mitchell had been quoted as saying all those years ago, that a deer or an elk or some other wild animal had surprised Hunter’s mother and made her swerve, launching her vehicle off the edge of an embankment and slamming full force into the trees below.

  My ringing phone startles me, actually makes me jump in my seat. I’d gone past the twenty minutes I’d allocated for myself now, and I imagine it’s Sheila calling to tell me I’ve forgotten something incredibly important. But it’s Mallory’s name that pops up on my screen.

  “Hey, Mallory,” I say, surprised to finally hear from her. “I’m glad you finally called me back.” I tried to get a hold of her numerous times after what had happened at the stadium, to ask if she was okay, but her only response was a text to say she was fine.

  “Sorry,” she says, sounding tired. “I thought I owed you a call. Things have just been so crazy with school and…” her voice fades away, and for a moment I think we’ve been cut off.

  “Mallory? You there?”

  “Yeah… I’m here. How are things with Hunter?”

  A smile returns to my face at the very mention of his name. “It’s going really good, kind of fast, like we’ve already said I love you, which I know is crazy, but it feels real, and I think Hunter’s a pretty patient guy.” I could go on, gushing about how grateful I am to be with Hunter and how I’m a little worried too, how love is rewarding but scary and that I’m trying to stay at least a little grounded, but I don’t want to be that girl who can’t shut up about her relationship. “Maybe we have a bad connection,” I say after a few moments of silence. “I can’t hear you.”

  “Oh… uh, huh,” she says, like she hadn’t even been listening to me. “Sorry… that’s great about you and Hunter, really. I think you’re so good for him.”

  “And what about you?” I ask, deciding there has to be something weighing on Mallory’s mind.

  She lets out a long, labored sigh, then says, “I don’t know what to do, Allison.”

  “About what?”

  “I’ve been seeing Scott again.”

  Oh, no.

  “He’s such a dick,” she continues, “but I just can’t give him up. I mean, he tells me it’s just sex, but he must have feelings for me if he keeps coming back, right?”

  The last thing she’d want to hear from me, a girl who is giddy with happiness with a man who does love her, is that Scott is just using her for sex. So, I try to be more tactful than that.

  “I don’t know, Mallory. I guess maybe you should take him at his word? You know, you deserve a lot better than someone who doesn’t feel the same way as you do.”

  Silence.

  “Maybe ask him if he’s willing to make some kind of commitment to you?”

  “I guess,” she says, her voice flat. “But I know what he’ll say. Part of me just wants to hold on, like maybe the more we’re together, the more he’ll realize he needs me. Am I just being stupid?”

  Stupid isn’t the word I’d use, but if I thought it’d be helpful, maybe I’d tell her she isn’t being quite as smart as she could be about it. If Wyatt had been as brutally honest with me as Scott seems to be with Mallory about their relationship, I wouldn’t have been able to just sit by and accept it.

  What I do say is that, “I think you just really care about him, but if he’s not treating you right and telling you it’s just sex, maybe it would be better to stop seeing him, even if that choice hurts at first.”

  Scott is a good looking guy, but Mallory is an even better looking girl, and she shouldn’t have to waste her time on someone who doesn’t know how lucky he is, a guy who got drunk
at the stadium and hit on me—and probably lots of other girls—because he’s the kind of guy who’s only after one thing.

  “I know you’re right,” she says, “I mean, I really do. Anyway, thanks for listening and sorry for not getting back to you sooner. I’d have come by the condo, but it’s kind of weird now that my aunt is gone.”

  “Hopefully she’ll be back soon,” I say, remembering how sad Sheila looked when she told me Lisa had flown out to New York to check into some jobs, a career path Sheila didn’t seem to support, probably because it took her wife to the East Coast.

  “You think she’s coming back?”

  “Um, yeah. She is, isn’t she?” Maybe I’m being naïve, but I don’t want to imagine her being away permanently.

  “I don’t think so, Allison. She accepted that job offer in New York. It sucks, but I have a feeling that her and Sheila are pretty much done.”

  “I didn’t realize it was that bad.” It’s true. I didn’t.

  “No? All that arguing didn’t clue you in?”

  “I guess I just don’t want to think that Sheila has to be alone now. It’s really sad.”

  “Life can be shitty,” Mallory says, sighing. “Anyway, thanks again for listening to me about my Scott drama. I’ve got to run, but we should catch up soon, like grab coffee or a drink or something?”

  “Sure,” I say. “I miss hanging out with you.”

  “Me too,” she says. “We’ll chat later.”

  It takes me a minute to work through my thoughts on Sheila and Lisa and Mallory and Scott and how it seems every relationship has its upheavals. When I’m finally ready to get back to my research on the crash, Sheila pretty much charges in through the front door of the office, a very harried look on her face, and announces in a rushed breath, “And now we’ve got a black tie event to plan!”

  “Is everything okay?” It can’t be by the look of utter frustration that remains on her face.

  She shakes her head, then rests her elbow on the counter in front of me, draws in a very deep breath and releases it. “It’s as okay as it can possibly be for what it is, but I’d like to be able to add another six hours to each day or figure out how to function without any sleep.”

  “I’ll do whatever you ask of me to help,” I say, feeling a little guilty for looking up car accidents when I should have been checking off tasks for Sheila.

  “You may regret saying that when you realize the long days ahead of us. All the hoops Theresa Carmichael has me jumping through might guarantee you no more than a few minutes of time alone with Hunter for the next few weeks.”

  “Theresa has you doing all of this? The black tie event?”

  Sheila purses her lips and nods. “I’m going to keep telling myself it’s worth it to have landed her husband. And hey, it’s not as if I’ve got a personal life at the moment, so I might as well devote everything I’ve got to that woman and her never ending needs.”

  “I’m so sorry about Lisa.” It’s what comes out of my mouth instead of commiseration about Theresa, her mention of her personal life an opening to at least let her know I’m thinking of her.

  Her eyes go wide, but only for a second, before relaxing. “You’ve realized she isn’t coming back then?”

  “Mallory told me.”

  “Aha. Well, it’s not as if we’ve divorced… yet. In the meantime, I think I’d just rather bury myself in work and not have to discuss it.”

  “I’ll be buried with you then.” She’s going to need me, and I hope I’ll be able to prove my worth.

  “Very good,” she says, then walks off toward her office, saying, “More toiling awaits.”

  As soon as I sit back down, ready to start going through all those emails and phone calls that I need to return, I get a text from Hunter.

  I’m stuck here for a while, but let me take you to a late dinner tonight. Will you be free by 7?

  This is the first night I might actually have to choose work over Hunter, and I hate to do it, but I can’t just leave Sheila alone to drown underneath everything when it’s my job to help her.

  I might be stuck at the office all night. New clients, and there’s an avalanche of work. Do you want me over when I’m done? Might be quite late.

  I hate typing those words when the plan had been to spend real time together, but I don’t think it can be helped, and I’ll be missing having a meal with Hunter as much as I hope he’ll miss me. When I see him beginning to respond, I’m worried he’ll be upset and might realize I’m more trouble to him than I’m worth, that I can’t give him the time he needs. But he remains the Hunter I’ve fallen in love with, telling me it’s okay, that he understands and that he’ll pick me up even if it’s well past midnight.

  But if it’s much past that—he types—then I’ll have to just go in there and kidnap you.

  And I think I just might be okay with that.

  Chapter Fifteen

  HUNTER

  “I simply can’t spare her,” Sheila tells me over the phone.

  “Yeah, but she’s a natural at these volunteering gigs,” I argue. I’d called and asked Sheila to free up Alli today, even if it was just for a few hours. She’d had her working so much in the last couple of weeks that the only time Alli and I got to really spend together was in bed—not that I was complaining about that part—but I was hungry for something more.

  “You don’t have any volunteer duties or appearances planned,” she tells me, her mind like a steel trap.

  “No, not planned. But what I thought was that I might head on over to Children’s Hospital again and see what’s up.” I’d been thinking a lot about the kids and family members Alli and I had met with that day, especially Logan, the kid I’d had a heart to heart with, and I was eager to see him again.

  “Very noble of you Hunter, but you have to realize that ever since we signed on Henry and Theresa, they’ve had us running around like dogs chasing our tails… especially Allison.”

  “Wait… who did you say you signed on?” I’m telling myself I can’t have heard right, that even though Alli told me her workload had increased because of some new clients, I think she’d have told me if it was the Carmichael’s.

  “Henry and Theresa Carmichael,” Sheila says, like it’s a chore having to repeat herself. “Is your hearing as torn up as your rotator cuff?”

  “But Theresa can’t stand you. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “And how exactly would you know that?”

  Fuck.

  I know because I’d been sleeping with Theresa for three years, and she made no bones about how much she disliked my agent. And, to my knowledge, Sheila is none the wiser to that.

  I’m about to make up some lame reason when she laughs and says, “Well, it’s common knowledge, isn’t it? It’s not like I’m very fond of her either. I can’t believe Allison didn’t tell you.”

  Saved, I say, “Alli doesn’t really talk about work stuff. She doesn’t gossip. But I still don’t get why you’d sign somebody you can’t stand.”

  Sheila laughs for the second time, like I’m too stupid to get it. “Come on, Hunter. I’ve got one word for you. Money.”

  “But was it Theresa or Henry’s idea to sign with you?” I ask, unable to let it go, my unease continuing to build.

  I can hear the annoyance in her exaggerated sigh. “If you’re worried about this affecting the amount of attention I give you as your agent, it won’t. I’ll be hiring extra help if I need it, and you should know by now that I’ll work my ass off for you, no matter what it takes.”

  Not at all what I was worried about, but it gives me the time to reassess, to realize Sheila won’t have the answers for me if it’s Theresa who’s up to something.

  “I don’t have any doubts in your abilities,” I say.

  “That’s good to hear. And to prove what an amazing agent I am, I’m going to have a chat with Alli and see if she can spare a few hours for you. I’ll want her back by one though, Hunter. I’m still running a business here, you real
ize.”

  “I absolutely do,” I say, hearing the excitement in my own voice, like I’ve just gotten permission to take the most beautiful woman to a ball as long as I get her back before midnight. “Have her call me when she’s not busy?”

  “I’ll do that. And be sure to post some more pics of your visit today. It’s good publicity.”

  “Sure,” I agree.

  But getting attention isn’t why I’m doing this.

  “I didn’t thank you for getting me out of there,” Alli says from the passenger seat of my Porshe as I hunt a parking spot down at the hospital. “I should have asked Sheila myself, but sometimes I feel guilty because there’s so much work to do.”

  “Hey, you’re the one doing me the favor by coming with me. I just hope this doesn’t end up putting you behind on what you need to get done.”

  “Oh, there’s always going to be work—trust me on that. This is just a really nice reprieve.”

  “Well, you have my undying gratitude for saving my ass and coming along.”

  She gives me a little smirk. “You don’t actually need me here, Hunter. You really came into your own when we were here last. You don’t give yourself enough credit—you’d have been fine without me.”

  “Sure, I’d do okay, but I’m so much better when I’m with you.”

  “Okay,” she says. “I’ll take that. The same can be said for you, you realize?” She smiles, that beautiful smile I can’t resist.

  As soon as I pull into a spot and turn the ignition off, I’m leaning over and kissing her.

  I could probably go on kissing her all day, turning the car around and driving back to my condo and spending every moment of our remaining time together exploring each and every last inch of her body. She’s probably getting the same picture in her head because she breaks off the kiss and lightly pushes me away.