by Stacey Wilk
“There is no need to call Pete. I have everything under control. Sheriff Ryker overreacted is all, and he should never have called you and worried you.”
“I’m glad he called me.” That was a truth on many levels. “How long have you been drinking again?”
“It was one time.”
“Gage said it was more than once. He arrested you so you’d stop. Dad, it’s been sixteen years since Ava died. When are you going to stop falling apart? Or are you sick?”
Was that what all this was about? Did her father have some terminal disease he didn’t want to tell her about? She couldn’t lose him too. She would have no one left.
He waved her words away. “Healthy as a horse. I had a slipup. It won’t happen again. You can tell Gage arresting me worked. No more drinking. Are you ready for dinner? It’s just me tonight, but I can whip something up.” He stood and ended the conversation. He smoothed his wrinkled clothes.
She stood too. “I want you to promise me you’ll go to a meeting while I’m here.”
“I promise.” But the distant stare returned to his eyes. He took her elbow as they made their way to the small owner’s cottage where her family had once lived.
“Why won’t you stay in the main house?” She held the door open for him.
With five bedrooms and a king and queen connecting en suite taking up the second floor, the main house had plenty of room for him. He could have been renting out the smaller cottage for more money than one room. But he wouldn’t hear of it. His family lived in the cottage on the water. Even if his family had basically been nonexistent for years.
“I think I’m going to stay up in the main house.” She braced herself for his reaction.
“Why would you do that?” He rummaged around in the kitchen, not bothering to turn in her direction while he spoke.
“Because it’s empty, for one.” And she didn’t want to sleep next to Ava’s shrine.
“And for two?” He pressed his lips together in a thin line.
“How long have you been having trouble booking the rooms?” She fisted her hands on her hips. There was no two. She didn’t come home because of Ava. She didn’t sleep in the lake house because of Ava. Everything was always about Ava.
“Stay in the cottage tonight with me, okay?” He filled a pot with water.
“Don’t avoid my question. How far behind are the bills?” They might be in jeopardy of losing their home. She needed to know what she was up against.
“Why do we have to have this conversation every time you step foot in my house?”
“Because you keep drinking.”
He slammed his fist on the counter. “Enough, Calista.”
She jumped but forced herself not to flee. “I’m just wondering when you want your life back.”
“I lost my life the day Ava died.”
She fought the tears threatening to spill. She would not cry in front of him. “I lost something that night too. When will you see that?”
He turned his back and busied himself with the burner that wouldn’t light. “Losing a child is very different. You never get over it.”
“She isn’t coming home, Dad. But I’m standing right here.” The ache of loss and frustration lowered her voice.
She turned on her heel and went out the door, closing it quietly behind her.
This would be a long four weeks. But she would stay and help him out. And maybe if she were lucky, she’d fill the void in her heart opened by Ava’s death, spread wider by losing Gage, and blown apart by the senseless loss of a seventeen-year-old kid she loved.
Except she had never been lucky.
Chapter Two
The bell over the door to Howard’s Hardware greeted Calista as she stepped inside. Like most things on Main Street, Howard’s was exactly the same. The long metal shelves were filled with everything all the large chain hardware stores carried. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, always unsure if they wanted to keep burning but were too stubborn to go out.
And of course, there was Howard. He was a permanent fixture behind the counter, wearing the blue smock with his name embroidered over the pocket. He was older, like the store, with his hair now the color of snow and three chins where there had been one, but his smile was as sure as it was when she was a teenager.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Calista Hartman front and center in my store. Call the press. I have a celebrity from the big city here.” He laughed a full, hearty sound that managed to welcome home everyone who entered.
“Hi, Howard. Thanks, but I’m hardly a celebrity. I just live somewhere else now.”
“Anyone who leaves and makes it in a crowded, dirty city is a celebrity in my book. Came back for the fresh air?”
“And the big Fourth celebration. Didn’t want to miss another year.” She hoped that sounded believable.
“What can I help you find?” He tapped the counter with his meaty fingers.
She pulled a list out of her purse and handed it over.
He grabbed a pair of readers from under the counter and plopped them on his nose. “Whoa. That’s a lot of projects. Are you hiring someone to help?”
“I thought I’d do it myself. I wanted to get my hands dirty.” Maybe the work would help what was ailing her. She wanted to redecorate Ava’s room this time too. She hadn’t figured out how to break it to her dad. They hadn’t spoken since she walked out of the cottage the day before.
“You’ll have plenty of projects to get dirty with.” Howard waved her list in the air.
The bell above the door stopped her from responding. She clamped her mouth shut and turned toward the sound. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. Not Gage.
A lanky young man with sepia-colored skin and inky hair bounced toward them as if he might be a Labrador retriever puppy. His smile was wide, and his long hair floated on the wind he created in his wake.
“Hello, Justin.” Howard waved.
“Hi, Mr. Hornsby. How’s it hanging?”
“Hanging low, son.”
Justin laughed and revealed slightly crooked top front teeth. His smile floated up into his dark brown eyes. His jeans hung loose on his legs. Two people could fit inside those pants with him.
“Justin, I would like you to meet Calista Hartman. Her dad owns the Hartman B and B over on the lake. Calista, Justin lives in the next town over and likes to come by to ask me silly questions.”
Justin stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
She was taken with him and slid her hand into his firm grip. The tattoo on his arm snaked its way under the sleeve of his Grizzlies football T-shirt and peeked out on his neck.
“Mr. Hornsby, any openings in the store?” Justin leaned against the counter.
“Afraid not, young man. But I have your application on file in case something changes. Calista, I’ll gather up some of the things on your list. Just plain white paint for the walls?”
“I think white will freshen everything up a bit. I can accent with color if I want to make any real changes. Thanks, Howard.” She turned to Justin. “Do you go to UM?”
He glanced down at his shirt, then back at her. “First year. I want to be an architect.”
“Are you looking for summer work?”
“Yeah. I’m trying to save money. I can do just about anything. I’m pretty good with my hands. I took a lot of shop classes in high school.” He held up his hands and wiggled his long fingers.
“Do you have any references?”
Howard returned with three cans of white paint, most of the things on her list, and placed them on the counter. “I’ll vouch for him. He helped me paint my fence over at my house. Showed up every day on time. Worked hard. Paints pretty well. Not as good as I do, of course.” Howard spilled his warm laugh all over them.
Justin smiled again. “Thanks, Mr. Hornsby.”
“Are you looking for some help at the B and B?” Howard kept his gaze on the register, as if his comment were no more important than the weather.
&nbs
p; She hadn’t planned on hiring anyone this morning when she left the house. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to dip into her savings to pay someone, and her father would fight every change she tried to make. Bringing someone into their arguments seemed pointless. But Justin reminded her of Fox, a young man with a future.
Fox had wanted a job too. He’d wanted out of the gang life that turned him upside down. He had considered becoming a social worker if the local community college would accept him. They hadn’t for the fall semester, but he wanted to try again. He’d wanted to make his grandmother proud of him.
Maybe there was a mother back home rooting for Justin, and he wanted to show her he was a good man who could support himself. Or maybe there was a grandmother like her neighbor Berta who had prayed for her grandson night after night only to have her prayers go unanswered.
“Justin, I have some projects at the B and B that could use a little male strength. I can’t pay much, but I will feed you breakfast and lunch every day. It’s dirty work, but if you’re willing, I’ll hire you.”
His eyes grew to the size of those paint cans, then narrowed to slits. “Really? Just like that? Why?”
She recognized the suspicion. Why would some stranger want to help him? “I can’t do it all by myself. My dad is there, but he won’t help. And he’ll probably get in the way and try to take the paintbrush right out of your hands. It won’t be pleasant. He’s stubborn. But if you think it’s too tough for you, I understand.” She rummaged through her purse for her wallet and handed over a credit card to Howard.
Justin’s gaze bounced from side to side. She kept her mouth shut and was thankful Howard did the same.
“What kind of projects?” Justin said.
“Painting.” She pointed at the cans. “Lots of painting. Some minor plumbing work. Fixing anything that doesn’t hang right or open right. A few other odds and ends. Maybe some landscaping.”
“For how long?”
“I need the B and B looking good for the Fourth. After that, I’m heading home.” Hopefully, her father could carry out the rest of the summer on his own. And if Justin proved to be an asset, she could keep him on and pay him from her personal checking account.
She’d have to do some advertising for the B and B too. She could focus on bringing in the guests if she had help repairing the place. She was pretty sure her father would make himself scarce.
Howard handed her the receipt. “Do you need any help getting your belongings in the car?”
“I’m fine, thanks. It was nice to meet you, Justin.” She grabbed the items Howard had bagged and one paint can. “I’ll be back for the rest.”
She popped the Honda’s hatch. Voices drifted over from across the street as she stored her new purchases in the back of the car. Her spine straightened, and she tried to ignore the effervescence of excitement and confusion in her belly.
One voice held the telltale low timbre she would never be free from. That voice had whispered endearments and promises in her ear while strong arms held her close. She could close her eyes and conjure Gage Ryker as easily as glancing across the street to him standing there.
The love she knew with him warred with the hurt. The dull, endless ache in her chest spread into her stomach. He had let her down. What he’d done was unforgivable. Ava was dead because his brother killed her, and Gage had done nothing about it. She and Gage could never be together. She wished her heart would get on the same fucking page as her head. She took a breath and rubbed her mala beads between her fingers.
Howard’s glass door opened, and Justin bounced out holding the last two cans. His presence derailed her thoughts, and she was grateful.
“Here you go, Miss Hartman.” He placed the cans in the back of the SUV.
“Call me Calista.”
He wiped his hands on his legs. “Okay. You didn’t mention how much your job paid.”
She hadn’t thought about it. She probably should have checked the going rate before opening her mouth. “How’s fifteen an hour?” Even if that was a little low, she would pay cash. That would equate to more. She had money saved for a rainy day. It looked as if the skies had opened up and deposited Justin to assist her.
“I guess that’s cool.”
“So we have a deal?”
“Yeah, sure.” His voice stayed neutral, but his crooked smile gave him away.
“Why don’t you come and see the place this afternoon?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Um, I have some stuff to do first. Is four o’clock okay?”
“Perfect. See you then.” She stuck out her hand.
He shook it. “Thanks.”
“No, thank you. You’re going to help me a lot.” She would do herself a favor and not get attached to this young man. Everyone she loved left her, and Justin couldn’t replace Fox, just as Fox couldn’t replace Ava.
He turned to go, and she made her way around to the driver’s door. A magnetic pull forced her gaze to drift toward the café.
Gage stood there with his hands clasped at his waist. His cold stare froze her in place. Her heart wanted to run over to him, but she fought her heart with her head and told it to stay put. She gave him the slightest of nods and climbed into the SUV.
She drove away without checking to see if he noticed. It didn’t matter. He’d arrested her father when he could have probably issued a warning and given her dad a break, but Gage would never ignore the rules. And he would always be the brother of the man who killed her sister. She owed Ava her loyalty.
She had nothing else to offer.
Chapter Three
Gage craved a cold beer, a hot meal he didn’t have to cook, and one night to himself. The beer was the only thing he could guarantee. His teenage daughter always required his attention, whether she appreciated it or not, and his deputy was bound to call him before the night was through.
He dragged himself up the front steps of his small cottage. All the lights were out. Had Izzi gone to bed already? He was late coming home tonight because Mrs. Steadman over on Pinewood called about some neighborhood boys making a lot of noise. When he arrived, the boys, if there even were any, had long gone. He suspected Mrs. Steadman had only imagined the noises outside. She was lonely since her husband died, and called the department weekly requesting he come by.
In a small town, everyone thought the sheriff was in charge of fixing all their problems. He twisted the unlocked doorknob and stumbled over shoes right inside the door. “Shit.” How many times had he told Izzi to move her sneakers?
He took a second to allow his eyes to adjust to the dark room. Two pairs of shoes? Rustling and whispers scurried to his right. He drew his gun. His heart broke into a canter. Were they being robbed this time? He flipped the light switch. “Freeze.”
The living room was bathed in light. He blinked against the stark brightness or against the vision in front of him.
“Dad,” his daughter yelled. She shoved her arm into her shirt and tugged the hem down her bare stomach.
A tall young man tripped over the coffee table filled with beer cans. Was this guy yanking up his zipper?
His heart went from a canter to a furious gallop. He wanted to break this kid’s neck for putting his hands on his baby girl.
“Isabelle Ryker, what the hell is going on here?” With shaking hands, he shoved his gun back in its holster.
“Nothing.” She pushed her hair away from her face. Her lips were red and swollen. Her chest heaved.
He stifled a groan. There was a hell of a lot more than nothing going on. “Who is this?”
“Dad, this is—”
“Never mind, I don’t give a shit what his name is. Where did you get the beer?” He glanced back to the table. Four beer cans.
Red blotches bloomed on her face. “From the fridge.”
“Our refrigerator?” He must have heard her wrong. She knew the rules. The liquor was his and his alone until she was of age.
“Sir, let me explain—”
“Young
man, shut up while you still can.” Had he seen this kid somewhere before? He looked familiar. “Do you two go to school together?”
The boy looked from Izzi to him. “Yeah, we both go to UM.”
“Did you tell him you went to college?” She was going to give him a heart attack.
“Dad, let me explain.”
“Isabelle, yes or no.”
She worked her teeth over her bottom lip. “Yes.” She turned to the kid. “I go to Backwater High.”
The color drained from the boy’s face. “You told me you went to Montana.”
Gage didn’t care if the kid had been snowed by Izzi. That didn’t excuse the heavy petting he’d interrupted in his own damn home.
He couldn’t believe what was playing out in front of him. “Son, she’s fifteen. If you’re any older than that, you’d better get the hell out of my house before I arrest you for statutory rape.”
“Daddy, stop it. We weren’t doing anything wrong. I like him.” She put a hand on the boy’s arm, but the kid moved away.
“You told me you were eighteen. I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know. I’d better go.” The kid tried to sidestep the table.
Gage held up a hand and stopped him in his delinquent tracks. “How old are you?”
“I’ll be nineteen this summer.”
“Are you drunk? And don’t think about lying to me.” He ground his teeth. He would have to give this kid a ride home and explain to his parents their son and his daughter were engaged in underage drinking. He could arrest them both and maybe should just to prove a point.
“No, sir. I only had one and a half.”
“Get out.” He pointed to the door.
The kid grabbed his shoes and ran out the door.
“You’re grounded forever.” He turned away from her.
“Dad, it’s no big deal.”
“No big deal? You’re a child. That kid could go to jail for what you were doing. And what the hell are you doing allowing some boy to put his hands all over you? Didn’t I teach you better than that? And the drinking. You’re underage. That’s illegal and against my rules. Why would you take my beer? How did you even meet him?”