Broken & Torn (Emerald Falls #1)

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Lyla - 18 Years Later

I cruise down Highway 16 and turn up the volume. Matt Maeson plays through the speakers and I nod my head along to the melody. He’s my favorite indie-alternative musician and listening to him never fails to make me feel more calm and happy. It’s exactly what I need right now — to start on a good note. My bright red Jeep Wrangler, Cherry, hums along with me. I named her Cherry when I first bought her five years ago. I was twenty-one and had never owned a car before. Driving around in my Jeep makes me feel an independence I’ve craved my whole life. I don’t like relying on others, so having my own car has been something that fills me with pride. And now, at twenty-six, I’m finally flying away from the nest and leaving my hometown of Edmonton, Alberta.

Today, I’m moving to Emerald Falls.

A small mountain town fifteen minutes west of Jasper, Emerald Falls is known for its views. I’ve always wanted to go to the mountains, but let’s face it — I’m a city girl. That’s where my comfort zone is. I feel most comfortable surrounded by tall buildings and a constant hum of people and traffic. I want to go hiking for the first time, but without someone with me who knows what they’re doing and where they’re going, there’s no way I would survive in the wilderness. But maybe I could make a friend here who could show me the ropes. Hiking sounds so appealing, with fresh air and beautiful surroundings. Not to mention, my therapist always tells me that getting out into nature can be very healing, which is absolutely needed.

Four days ago, I applied for a job posting in Emerald Falls at their local bookstore, June’s Bookshop. The next day, I got a call from the owner, Dennis, and I interviewed with him over the phone. He offered me the job that day, so here I am, on my way to a town I’ve never been to and leaving my entire life behind me.

Dennis was nice on the phone and he sounded excited about my taste in books. He told me that the shop is named after his wife, who had a dream of owning a bookstore in the small town she visited as a child. Unfortunately, she passed away eleven years ago from cancer.

The mountains finally become visible over the horizon, and the feeling of excitement grows. A new beginning, and a new Lyla. I would finally be somewhere that didn’t haunt me with bad memories at every turn. It’s somewhere that I can reinvent myself and meet new people. I feel this sudden and profound sense of elation, thinking about everything I want to do here. Everything that I want to accomplish and the new projects I want to start. I love to draw, and seeing these beautiful views makes my right hand twitch. I long to hold a pencil and brush it gently across a fresh sheet of paper.

Art is something I have always enjoyed, but my therapist recommended I do it more often and use it as a coping tool. Every time I hold a pencil, everything in my head goes quiet. I’m able to detach from the obsessive thoughts and just live in a beautiful moment of creativity and peace. Art has healed my soul in more ways than one and I’m forever grateful that my mom embraced my sensitive and artistic side. My dad was a whole different story.

Before my thoughts could go to that shit-show, I reach the Jasper National Park gates. I ease up to the attendant’s booth and roll down my window. The attendant is a middle-aged looking woman with a name tag that reads ‘Sadie’.

“Where are you headed today, miss?” Sadie asks with a brilliant smile that brings out the crow’s feet surrounding her eyes.

“I’m going to Emerald Falls,” I state.

“How long will you be there for?”

“I’m hoping I’ll be there for a while, I just got a new job.”

“Well, welcome!” she beams at me and starts to type away. “You’ll need what we call a worker or resident pass, which you apply for online. For now, I’ll give you a temporary pass and you can apply for the other pass ASAP.”

I thank her and pass her my credit card. She hands me the temporary pass and wishes me luck. As I pull back out onto the highway, I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. People in the city can be so rude, so it’s refreshing to have such a positive interaction with a perfect stranger. I wonder if everyone in Emerald Falls is this nice.

One can hope.

I maneuver my way through Jasper National Park and find the turn off for Emerald Falls. As I drive through the labyrinth of a road up the mountain-side, I admire the beauty around me. I’ve never seen so many trees and on a clear day like this, the mountains are completely visible. It’s a stunning late August day and I can’t help but feel entirely free with the wilderness surrounding me. There’s something so liberating about being out here that I quickly come to the conclusion that this will be a great thing for me. The independence, the views, the—

My thoughts are interrupted by my head snapping back and straining, and the sound of metal on metal. It takes me a moment to register what’s happened, and then I come to the realization that I’ve rammed into the person in front of me.

Fuck.

I audibly groan and run a hand down my face. I turn on my hazards, grab my wallet and my insurance information from the glove box, and haul myself out of my Jeep. I close the door behind me and approach the vehicle that I hit. The door flies open, and a tall, built man exits abruptly. He storms up to me and the look on his face is venomous.

“Are you completely blind, woman?” He seethes.

I blink rapidly, stunned by his reaction. Sure, I rear ended him. But he doesn’t need to bite my head off about it.

“I’m so sorry, I’m new to town and was looking at the scenery. I wasn’t paying enough attention and that’s on me. I’m so embarrassed.”

His gaze slides down my body, but not in an appreciative way. I run my hands down my outfit, feeling suddenly self-conscious. I’m wearing a pair of Lululemon leggings and a matching tank with my honey blond hair pulled in a pony. Not my best look, but I spent four hours in a vehicle and am moving into a new apartment today.

“Expensive workout clothes you’ve got there.” He lets out a condescending laugh, “A city girl, typical. Next time, keep your eyes on the road, eh?”

I’m stunned into silence. How dare he? He knows nothing about me and is making an assumption based on what? How I’m dressed? Unreal.

“I may be from the city but at least I’ve got manners.”

“I have manners when it matters. Not sure it extends to people that rear end me because they’re too busy thinking about all of the cute hiking outfits they’ll wear while they gawk at the mountain ranges.”

Is this guy serious? I can’t believe the audacity he has to judge me so heavily when he doesn’t know me. And after everything I’ve been through, I’ll never let a man tear me down again.

“I said I was sorry, took complete responsibility, and here you are snapping at me simply because you’re judging me as some arrogant and careless ‘ city girl’. That hardly seems fair. You don’t even know me!” I spit.

“Oh, I know you. You’re all the same. So overtaken by the beauty of the mountains for all of five seconds before you’re running back to the city because you can’t find a Sephora here.”

Now he’s crossed a line. Nope, I am not having it. I take a step towards him, getting in his face. As much as I could anyway, he had to be over six feet tall and I stand at a whopping five foot five.

“You know, most people would take my apology and my insurance information, which will pay for the damages, and be on their way. But you seem intent on taking some vendetta out on me.”

He stares blankly at me. The silence is unnerving and he doesn’t break eye contact. But I am Lyla Thomas, and I never back down. Not anymore. He crosses his arms over his chest, as if intending to wait me out. I hold my ground right back, and place my hands on my hips. If he wants a show-down, that’s exactly what he’ll get.

I take him in while I wait for the asshole to speak. He has dark brown locks with a close cropped beard and striking pale blue eyes. He has a strong jaw and his left brow is arched at me in defiance as I stand silently. If it wasn’t for the fact that this man is obviously a dick, I might be appreciating the view a little more. We mirror each other in our stance, and I’m sure anybody passing by will get a good laugh at us.

He finally sighs. “Fine, give me your information.”

Smugly, I pass over my license and registration, as he gives me his own, and we write down what we need for insurance.

His license states that his name is Parker Hamilton, and he lives in Emerald Falls.

Great. You rear ended a local. Way to make an impression, Lyla.

I proceed to take pictures of the damage and groan. My front end took a small beating, nothing that makes it unusable but will definitely cost a chunk of change to fix. His truck has some dents and scrapes on the back where my bumper hit him, but I figure my vehicle looks worse. My annoyance grows at that. This guy is clearly pissed and his vehicle didn’t even take the brunt of the damage.

Rolling my eyes, I take a deep breath. I need out of this conversation before I start spewing profanities at this man.

“Well again, I’m sorry for not paying better attention. I’ll be more careful next time.”

He glares at me so heavily that I picture steam coming from his ears. The image makes me giggle, and his seething look grows in intensity.

“Seriously? You’re laughing?” he grunts. “This isn’t funny, but of course you think it is. I bet your ‘Daddy’ pays for everything, so shit like this doesn’t bother you.”

I grind my teeth. He picked my weak spot without even realizing it.

“You don’t know anything about me. Yes, I’m from the city and have good taste in clothes, but that doesn’t make me any type of way. So maybe get to know my character before throwing insults my way.” I sneer at him.

He momentarily falters, looking like he feels some remorse, but then his walls go back up and he scoffs at me. He is really testing my patience and that is a first for me. It takes a lot to rile me up, but this man does so easily. How did I let him ruffle my feathers like that?

Fuck, I have to get out of here before his snide comment makes me crumble on the spot.

“Well,” I blurt, “I have places to be and you clearly have a stick up your ass, so I’m gonna go.”

I thrust his documents back in his free hand, snatch mine out of his other, spin on my heel and stalk back to my Jeep.

Parker Hamilton has completely ruined my good mood.

I sincerely hope I never cross paths with him again.

I make my way through town and try to rid myself of the anger I’m feeling. What kind of person speaks like that to a stranger? I can’t wrap my head around why that annoyingly good-looking local felt justified in his words, but I will not let it get to me. I’d spent the entire drive feeling elated and happy to be starting this new journey and I refuse to allow a man to dictate how my day goes. From this point forward, I won’t give him another thought.

I turn onto Main Street and glance over at my phone to see how much farther the bookstore is, and a few short minutes later, I’m pulling up front. June’s Bookshop has a cute burnt red canopy with white writing, and through the window, I can see that the store is fairly long and goes further back than you would think at first glance. Just as I step out of my car, a man that appears to be in his sixties waltzes out to greet me.

“Hi, you must be Lyla. I’m Dennis, the owner.”

He reaches out to shake my hand and I grip his firmly in return. “Thank you so much for this opportunity, Dennis. I’m excited to be here.”

Dennis has salt and pepper hair with whiskey brown eyes, circled by crow’s-feet as he beams at me, but he looks good for his age. He’s dressed casually in jeans, a green t-shirt and is sporting a pair of hiking boots. He stands at just about six feet tall, with broad shoulders and tree trunks for legs. The man is like a big grizzly bear with a shaggy beard in need of a good trim.

“We’re excited to have you on board, especially to broaden our fantasy selection. Let’s head inside and I’ll show you the shop. Then we’ll go up to the apartment.”

I nod and follow him inside. It’s the sweetest little store and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face as I take it all in. Light pine shelves line the walls on each side, with two sets back-to-back running through the middle. The cash register is set in the front left corner, and it looks like there’s an office and storage in the back. I notice a flight of stairs I can only assume leads to the apartment I’ll be staying in. The floors are a slate gray tile and the walls are painted a lighter gray to match. Along the walls are countless pictures of the Rocky Mountains and I can’t help but admire them. I’m not a photographer by any means, but I can appreciate the skill and eye it takes to capture something so beautiful.

Dennis must have caught me getting lost in the images because he says, “My son took most of these photos. He’s always been a sensitive soul and found comfort in reading and photography. You’ll meet him on Monday, as you’ll be working days with him. A real special man, that one.”

I know what it’s like to be the sensitive one in the family. Growing up, I always felt everything so intensely. Joy, irritation, empathy, and sadness. Every emotion was so strong that it felt like I was choking on it. My dad had told my mom that she needed to toughen me up, but she let me be, despite his grievances. I’d spent my childhood getting lost in fantasy worlds and drawing because the reality of my life was too painful to bear.

I come back to the present after drifting off to a time I’d rather forget entirely and say, “They’re stunning. He really has a great eye for it. I wish I could capture the beauty in the world like that.”

Dennis looks over at me and gives a kind smile. In under five minutes, the man already seems like a great boss who obviously loves his kids. I feel a lump form in my throat at the thought of having a father like him.

“Your daughter works here too, right?”

His smile grows at the mention of his daughter as he replies, “Yes, she’s a full time mom. She looks after her daughter during the week while her husband is at work, but she likes to come in on the weekends to give everyone else a break. She wants me to retire but I don’t have the heart just yet.”

A sadness creeps across his eyes and I can sense the deep wound that’s still there all these years later. He obviously loved his wife and keeping her memory alive through their store and their children is clearly something that’s important to him. I grasp his hand and give a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you for trusting me with your store and her legacy. I’m sure she was a wonderful woman, and clearly had a keen eye for design. The store is so lovely.”

That causes his shoulders to relax and he tells me all about how they fought over the design of the interior for a year. Dennis animatedly tells me how he wanted red walls to match the canopy outside, but his wife said it would look too dark and wanted something lighter and less aggressive. In the end, he had caved to keep his wife happy.

We chat a little about his wife and their life here together. Talking about June brings out a brighter side of Dennis and it makes me ache inside. What would it be like to find this great love, only to have it taken away from you too soon?

“Alright,” Dennis says, “enough with the nostalgic stories. Let’s get you settled into the apartment. It faces out over the main street in town and like I told you on the phone, you’ll have a roommate who works here in the evenings.”

To be honest, I’m nervous about living with someone I haven’t met, but I am fully open to this new adventure and am hoping for the best.

We make our way up the staircase at the back of the store and reach a bright green door. He takes a set of keys out of his pocket.

“Here are your keys. The silver one is for the apartment door, and the gold one is for the shop’s front door.” He hands them over to me and continues. “Your roommate’s name is Cassie, and she also works at the coffee shop down the way during the day. Busy girl, that one. Always working or going out with friends.”

He takes out his own set of keys and unlocks the door. He opens it wide and gestures for me to enter first, so I step in and evaluate my new home. It has a small galley kitchen immediately to the left and a coat closet to the right behind the front door. There’s a small bistro style dining set right off the kitchen, and the living area is at the back of the apartment with a large window overlooking the main street just like Dennis had told me. It’s furnished with a small navy blue sectional against the right wall, with a TV and stand set against the left. Underneath the window is an upholstered cream reading bench filled with pillows that are different shades of blue to match the couch. The cherry on top is a beautiful set of bookcases on the living room’s side of the kitchen wall. They’re the same design as the ones downstairs in the store.

Dennis points to the two doors on the right, just past the coat closet.

“These are the bedrooms. A little on the small side but it will still fit a queen sized bed, no problem.”

He then points to the door on the left side of the apartment, just before the TV stand.

“That’s the bathroom. Unfortunately there’s only one, but it’s fairly new and has a rain shower head. A friend of mine renovated this whole unit for me about five years ago.”

“It’s a great space,” I tell him. “I can’t wait to get settled.”

“Do you need help moving your things in?” Dennis asks.

Bless this man. He’s already won over my heart.

“Thank you so much for offering, but the movers are coming in an hour, so they’ll take care of everything.”

He nods and begins to make his way back towards the front door.

“Well, I’ll let you take a look around. Cassie should be home in the next few hours from the coffee shop. My daughter is working the store for her tonight and I’ve been covering today.” Dennis shifts from foot to foot, as if he isn’t sure if he should leave me here. “If you need anything, you have my phone number, right?”

“Yes, I saved it in my phone, but I should be okay.” I reassure him.

“Alright,” he hesitates, “I guess I’ll see you on Monday morning. Be downstairs for ten a.m., and I’ll show you how to open the store.”

We say our goodbyes and once he closes the door, I turn around and survey the apartment. A feeling of freedom washes over me and I immediately feel more at home than I have anywhere else. This space is mine and I’m overwhelmed with emotion. Tears form in my eyes and I let out a soothing breath.

Home.