by Rachel Leigh
I’ve moved into my new apartment but haven’t even begun to unpack boxes yet. Something won’t allow me. There was a glitch in the paperwork from the buyers of the old house and it’s still in pending status. Maybe that place isn’t meant to be sold, or maybe I’m just thinking too much into it and too afraid to let go of something else in my life that had significance.
With my bag in one hand and a travel mug filled to the brim with coffee in the other, my phone begins buzzing in the pocket of my hoodie. I drop the bag to the floor, causing some of the coffee to spill out of the top. Reaching in, I pull out my phone, not recognizing the caller.
“Hello.”
“Nash Whitmore, this is Gary Bridges from Pelton Farms calling to let you know that your”—he pauses—“Demon Berry Blood wine is ready for pickup.”
The wine. Of course. I forgot all about that. My heart twinges when memories of that day flood back.
He continues, “We can hold it for fourteen days. If it’s not picked up by then, we will put a new label on it and sell it in our discounted cooler.”
“No problem at all, Gary. I’ll be there to pick it up within the next hour or two.”
With that, we end the call.
Sending Lori a quick text, I let her know that I’m six minutes out. Rowan is at work for another hour. Apparently she picked up a bartending job at some pub in Redwood. Hopefully the men in that establishment are keeping their hands to themselves. The idea of another man touching Rowan has my jaw ticking in fury. Another reason why I can’t let any more time pass. The longer I wait to tell her how I feel, the longer I risk her moving on.
I pull into the townhouse and pick out Lori’s immediately when I see her neon green Volkswagen Beetle in the driveway. There is a row of connected houses on a dead-end street, with Lori’s being directly in the middle. There isn’t much of a yard, but the view in the distance is an open desert. Before I can even get out of the truck, Lori comes briskly down the driveway in her slippers and a long sundress. “Nash.” She beams, opening the door for me and throwing her arms around me like we’re long lost friends.
“Good to see you, too, Lori.” I return the hug, much less forcefully.
“Oh would you stop it.” She swats my arm. “Call me Aunt Lori.”
“Okay. Aunt Lori.” I inwardly chuckle. Grabbing my bag from the passenger seat, I swing it over my arm and climb out of the truck. The weather is pretty much the same here, just a tad bit drier than Sunnyville. Christmas lights wrap around the windows that face the driveway. Even in the sunshine of the day, they’re still on. Barely able to make out the red and green glow, but a hint of light reflects off from the glass.
“Rowan should be home in about twenty minutes, so I’m going to get out of your hair and give you two some privacy.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary. Stick around.”
“No, no. You have a lot to talk about.” We begin walking up to the house. “Besides, I have to finish up some last-minute shopping.”
As soon as we step inside, a little white ball of fur yelps at my feet, wagging its little tail and pawing at my leg. “Who’s this little guy?”
Lori scoops him up. “This is Buster. Rowan adopted him last week. She’s always been such an animal lover. Saw him at the pound when she was volunteering and couldn’t resist.”
I give him a rub to the head and he begins licking my hand. “I didn’t even know she was doing volunteer work.” There’s probably a lot I don’t know. I’m aware of the big stuff. Who her family is, what life was like growing up. I know that she likes her popcorn slightly burnt and gets choked up at sappy movies. But there is so much more I want to know. Does she sleep on her side, back, or stomach? What’s her favorite animal? When is her birthday? Damn, I don’t even know when her birthday is.
Suddenly, I feel inadequate. It’s possible that coming here was the stupidest idea I’ve ever had. She’s doing well. Seems like she’s happy. Is my visit going to wash up the pain of the past? It was a spontaneous trip because I’ve felt this aching emptiness inside and I thought that if I could just see her, even for a short time, I’d feel complete again. I never considered what happens when I go back home.
Lori takes my face into her hands. The musky smell of whatever perfume she’s wearing rolls off from her and tickles the hairs in my nose, almost making me sneeze. “Don’t be nervous. She’s going to be so happy to see you.”
I smile, trying not to look at the bright pink smear of lipstick on her teeth.
I wasn’t nervous until she said that. Or maybe I was and now I’m nervous that it shows.
Damn, I feel like a schoolboy getting ready to ask the hot girl to prom. Rubbing my sweaty palms on my jeans, I look around the small space. It offers a homely feel. Candles flickering on the center island of the kitchen that connects to the living room. An open floor plan with just a small hallway off to the right. There’s a tabletop Christmas tree in front of the window with a silver star on top. A couple small presents sit underneath the end table it’s perched on.
“Let me show you your room for the next couple of nights.” Lori begins walking down the hall to a beige carpeted staircase. I follow behind her and when we reach the top, there is another small living room with just a sofa and a television mounted on the wall, a bathroom, and two more rooms. “My bedroom is downstairs. You’ll be staying in the room up here across from Rowan.” She points to the bathroom. “Towels are in the closet in there.” She turns behind her and opens the door, but my eyes are focused solely on the room across from it with the open door. Rowan’s room. Her bed is made up with a white comforter and matching white pillows. A small nightstand with a white lamp, and Gemma’s black journal. Curiosity pulls me in the room as Lori stands at the doorway and watches.
Walking over to the nightstand, I skim my fingers across the black leather. “Has she read it?”
Lori closes her eyes briefly and nods.
Would it be an invasion of privacy if I opened it? Gemma never mentioned that she wanted me to have this. It was meant for Rowan.
Whatever it was, it must not have pertained to me. Rowan has never attempted to call me and talk about it, so it must have just been something between the two of them. Something from their childhood, perhaps.
Looking around the room, I see that one thing hasn’t changed. Rowan’s clothes are thrown all about on the floor on the other side of the bed. For some reason, it pulls at my heartstrings a little. It’s the little things.
“What’s going on here?” Her voice comes from behind me, spinning me around and leaving me breathless. Lori must have seen her coming, because she’s nowhere in sight.
Tossing my hands up, I grin. “Surprise.”
“Yeah, you could say that. What are you doing here? In my room?” She comes toward me quickly, her demeanor changing. “Give me that.” She swipes the journal out of my hand. I didn’t even realize I had picked it up.
“I’m sorry. I was just—”
“Just what? In the neighborhood?”
I knew I was taking a risk coming here. The last time I saw Rowan she was walking out of Dr. Harris’s office with a shattered heart because I overreacted about her hiding the death certificate.
“No.” I shake my head. “I was talking about the journal. I was curious if you’ve read it.”
Hugging the journal to her chest, she looks past me, avoiding eye contact. “Why are you here, Nash?”
“Would you believe me if I said I missed you?”
A forced laugh escapes her. “No. I wouldn’t believe it. You can’t miss what you never had.”
With the journal in hand, she turns to walk out of the room, but I stop her, grabbing her arm and spinning her back around. “Why would that be so hard to believe?”
Sad eyes stare back at me. “Why didn’t you call? You just decided that showing up here was a good plan?”
“It seemed like a good plan at the time. Now, I’m not so sure.” My fingers rake through my hair as my gaze shifts to th
e floor. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.” I push past her and walk straight out the door.
She doesn’t come after me. Instead, her voice carries out of the room, “I read it all.”
Stopping in my tracks, I turn back around and look at her as she stands right where I left her. “And?”
“You might want to sit down for this.”
Chapter Nineteen
Rowan
Instead of explaining everything, I let Nash read the last page in the journal. Chewing on my nails, I watch him as he sits on the edge of my bed next to me. Journal open and sweat beading around his hairline.
I didn’t plan to show him, but seeing him standing there with so many unanswered questions made me want to give him the clarity that he deserves. I’m still hurt that he let me leave the way he did. But I’m also grateful that he gave me a place to stay while I was in Sunnyville.
He glances up from the journal for a moment with a look of sheer puzzlement. Opening his mouth to speak, nothing comes out, then he turns back to the journal. “I didn’t know this,” he says with his eyes still on the paper.
“Didn’t know what?”
Looking up at me again, he continues, “Gemma never told me she was driving the car.” An awkward silence fills the room. I had no idea she withheld that information. I knew it was hard for her to talk about, but I’d assumed Nash knew. He was her husband. “Why wouldn’t she tell me this?”
“For what it’s worth, she never talked about it to anyone.” I cross my legs and resume chewing on my nails.
“Did you know before this? That she was driving the car?”
I nod. “Mmhmm.” A piece of my fingernail comes off and I pick it from my tongue. Nash looks back down at the journal and continues to read.
Then his head shoots up like a rocket heading for space. “What the hell?” His eyes bore into mine. I’m not sure what to make of his expression. There is confusion, of course, but more than that, I can’t tell if he’s disappointed or relieved.
“What? Say something, Nash.” My words beg for some type of response so I know what he’s thinking.
He slams the journal shut and stands up, pacing in front of the bed in small strides as he stuffs his hands in the pocket of his jeans.
“Nash?” I question again, “Would you please say something?”
Pointing to the journal, he shouts, “Who does she think she is?” This isn’t the reaction I was expecting. I didn’t think he’d fall into my arms and fall in love with me, by any means. But I didn’t expect him to be so angry. Is it really so bad that she’d want him to marry me one day?
Is it really that far-fetched? Granted, I do realize that marriage, love, and everything in between cannot be forced. I took what Gemma wanted to heart, and it did ease my guilt, but I would never force a man to be with me just because it’s what she wanted. It’s obvious that Nash doesn’t want anything Gemma is requesting. Not only because of his reaction now, but also his reaction when I left—or lack thereof.
I don’t say anything. Instead, I wait for him to get out what he needs to say.
“She pursues me. Makes me fall in love with her. Marries me”—he huffs out a sarcastic laugh—“then takes her life. But not before planning this whole charade to try and get you and me to what? Fall in love?”
I roll my eyes and use the same tone as him in agreement, because it’s better than asking him why it is so ridiculous. “I know, right?”
“Everything that happened, it was because she set it up.” He begins counting on his fingers. “You coming to Sunnyville. You sticking around to wait for a death certificate that had already been filed and mailed to Dr. Harris,” he snarls. “That’s a real crock of shit there.” He holds his fingers up again. “Then you come all the way here while I’m in Sunnyville missing the hell outta you. That was her plan?”
He missed me?
“How could she have known it would even work out? She seems to think our dreams align”—he air quotes—“and that’s what she went off from? We met once before and she thinks we are destined to be together?” He keeps rambling, but I don’t even hear the words.
He missed me?
Standing up, I take his left hand into mine, stopping his body from moving at the speed of a cheetah. “You missed me?” I look up into his brown eyes.
“Of course I missed you. I’m here, aren’t I?”
I take his other hand. “Why did you let me leave that day? Why didn’t you try and stop me? You never even called.”
His grip on my hands tightens as he takes a step closer, eating up the space between us. “Why did you leave? Why didn’t you call?”
Touché.
“I was hurt. You accused me of hiding the letter to bide my time with you and force you to fall in love with me.” It hurts even saying the words, especially to him.
Blowing out a huff of air, he downplays it. “Those weren’t my words. I never said you were trying to force me to fall in love with you.”
“You insinuated it. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?”
“I’d be lying if I said that I do. All I can say is that I’m sorry and hope that’s enough. I was hurting, too. This whole thing has been a clusterfuck of emotions. I think we are both entitled to being a little upset and confused.” His teeth graze over his bottom lip, tugging the corner in his mouth.
If I ever questioned whether or not he could still turn me on, my question is answered by the buckling of my knees and the hammering of my heart in my chest. He’s still sexy as hell, maybe even more so. “So are you still confused?”
His eyes flirt with mine before sliding down to my mouth as his lip rolls out from between his teeth. He shakes his head. “No, not even a little bit.”
Biting back a smile, giddiness overcomes me. “Are you still upset?”
He shakes his head again. “How can I be? It’s the most wonderful time of the year and I’m here with you.” His arms wrap around my back, one hand pressed against the small of my back as he pulls me closer. “What about you?” He peers down at me. “Are you confused?”
Then his mouth crashes into mine. Or mine crashed into his. I’m not really sure. What I do know for sure is that whatever spark we had before, it’s multiplied by the thousands. This kiss is everything I’ve been dreaming about for the last month. It’s soft but hard, sweet but savory. The way his tongue intertwines with mine, moving at just the right speed to awaken a sensation inside of me that craves more. His lips perfectly connected to mine like they were molded just for me.
When he pulls back, I pull him right back in. Savoring every moment of this out of fear that it won’t happen again. His hand grazes under my shirt as his palm presses to my back, forcing my chest to his.
“Are you two hungry?” Aunt Lori hollers. We laugh simultaneously into the air between us, sucking it back in. Kissing one more time then stopping what has started, before it goes too far that neither of us is able to resist what comes next.
“Be down in a minute,” I yell back to stop her from coming any closer.
Nash adjusts himself in his pants and laughs. “Well, that’s a buzzkill.”
“You have no idea.” Aunt Lori is great, no doubt. But she is so clingy and nosey. She asks more questions than a four-year-old child. She means well, and I love her for it.
“So, how long are you staying?” I ask, as I pick the journal back up and set it on the nightstand. Looking down, I realize I’m still in my work clothes and I probably smell like greasy food and whiskey, considering I spilled a shot of it on me when I first started my shift today.
Flopping down on the bed, he folds his hands under a pillow beneath his head. “Figured I’d stay until Christmas. I’ve got a week off from work and spending the holidays alone is a drag.”
I take a seat on the edge and tuck one leg underneath the other. “What about your family? You don’t want to go see them?”
“Actually, that was the plan. But plans changed last-mi
nute and I wanted to come see how you were doing.”
The fact he’s here should ring bells in my head. He’s actually fricken here. He drove all this way to see me. He could have called, but he didn’t. He came. Yet, I still want to pinch myself to make sure this is real. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. Contrary to the way I acted. I was just taken by surprise.”
“I thought you liked surprises.” He winks with a sheepish grin plastered on his face. One that I’m sure mimics mine, because I can’t shake this giddy feeling.
“I do. And I love this surprise. I guess I just instantly put my guard up when I wasn’t sure what your intentions were.”
His hand slaps over his chest. “My intentions are pure. I swear it.”
The scent of lasagna begins drifting into the room. “Smells like Aunt Lori cooked us dinner.”
Nash springs off the bed. “Smells good. And I’m starving. I’ve also got the perfect beverage to go with an Italian dinner.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?”
Grabbing my hand, he leads me out of the room. “You’ll see.”
Aunt Lori has already set the table, only it’s not set for three, it’s set for two. A tall pillar candle is lit in the middle and the lights are dimmed. I’m not sure if it’s the heat rolling off the oven, or my embarrassment about how Aunt Lori is playing matchmaker here, but I know darn well that my cheeks are as red as the sauce on that lasagna.
Wiping her hands on her apron, Aunt Lori’s eyes dance from Nash to me. “I’m going down the road to the neighbors for our annual Christmas cookie baking. You two enjoy.”
“Thanks, Aunt Lori.” I slap a hand to my forehead.
Once Aunt Lori is gone, Nash excuses himself for a minute. Taking a seat, I begin scooping some lasagna onto my plate along with a piece of garlic bread.
Nash returns with a shit-eating grin and his hands behind his back.
If I didn’t know any better I’d think he was about to drop down on one knee. But I do know better and that thought is ridiculous. “What do you have back there?” I peer around the side of him, but he turns his body.