Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
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The sun had set, cloaking my little cottage in darkness. Damn, I hated winter hours. It felt like time for bed by six PM. Considering I owned a bar that stayed open late, nights didn’t usually bother me, but they just stretched out so long this time of year. Temperatures had dipped into the thirties, and all I wanted to do was curl up with Keeley and a movie. Something with a lot of action. Maybe The Old Guard . That one was always good for some quality female-led ass kicking.
I’d just pulled a pizza from the freezer when someone knocked at my front door. My shoulders tensed. What if it was Peyton? Or worse, Ford? I wasn’t prepared for unplanned drop-bys. There hadn’t actually been any yet, but I figured it was only a matter of time. Tonight might be the night. Peyton had started school a couple days ago. Which I knew only because everyone on the island was talking about it, not because Ford had told me.
What if she wanted to talk about it?
Damn it. I was in my comfiest, frumpiest sweatshirt and yoga pants. Which shouldn’t actually matter. I wasn’t trying to impress either of them. But I needed more armor before our next encounter, because the kid got under my skin. And her dad… Her dad was a complication I wanted to go back to avoiding.
Keeley’s tail thumped against the floor as she lifted her head.
“If that’s Ford, you’re fired as a guard dog.” I padded to the door in sock feet.
But instead of my new neighbors, I found Willa and Gabi on my doorstep, loaded down with bags that clinked ominously. Roy’s massive black form crowded behind them, his tail wagging ninety to nothing as he strained toward the door and Keeley.
“No.” I crossed my arms, planting my feet in what was probably a futile attempt to block their entry. “Whatever this is, no.”
Gabi shouldered past me anyway, hauling what looked suspiciously like several bottles of wine and a canvas bag that smelled divine. “You’ve skipped the last two girls’ nights, and we’re staging an intervention.”
“Because I’ve been busy. And we finished our rewatch of Ted Lasso .” That had been our excuse for the last couple months of girls’ nights, our collective obsession with the show giving us a perfect reason to gather weekly. “We’re between shows.”
Willa followed her inside, Roy darting around her to greet Keeley with enthusiastic sniffs. “We all know you’re not busy. You’re in prime avoidance mode, and we’re your friends, so we’re not letting you wallow alone.”
“I’m not avoiding anything.” The protest sounded weak even to my own ears, and the knowing looks they both shot me made it clear they weren’t buying it either.
“Sure you’re not.” Gabi started unpacking containers of what smelled like Caroline’s famous lasagna. Damn it, I had a real weakness for her sister’s lasagna. The aroma of garlic and herbs filled my kitchen, making my stomach growl in betrayal. “Which is why you’re about to eat frozen pizza alone.”
I crossed my arms, trying to ignore the way my mouth was watering. “Maybe I like frozen pizza.”
“Nobody likes frozen pizza that much.” Willa uncorked the first bottle of wine with practiced efficiency, the pop echoing in my kitchen. “We brought real food and better company. And you’re going to tell us everything.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” I watched Roy curl up with Keeley in his favorite spot by the kitchen island, clearly settling in for the duration.
“Bree.” Gabi’s voice went gentle, taking on that doctor-knows-best tone she’d perfected during her residency. “The guy you’ve been avoiding for a decade just moved in next door with the teenage daughter no one knew existed. There’s plenty to tell.”
I accepted the glass Willa handed me, knowing resistance was futile. The rich burgundy promised a temporary escape I desperately needed. “Fine. But I’m not talking about the past.”
“We’ll start with the present, then.” Gabi began dishing up the lasagna. “How are you really handling all this?”
Every instinct I had shouted at me to deflect. I didn’t do all this feelings shit. It never solved anything and just left me feeling worse than I did to begin with. I’d done stints in therapy over the years. I knew all this was because I was shit at attachment—what had my therapist called it? An avoidant attachment style?—and had trust issues out the wazoo. Life had done a damned good job presenting me with plenty of evidence justifying the continuation of all those trust issues.
But these women had worked hard to get close to me, and they’d been really good friends. I knew they were doing all of this for what they perceived to be my own good. And considering both of them were in stable, committed relationships, maybe they weren’t wrong.
Not that I was looking for one of those.
The reason why was right next door.
“I’m crawling out of my skin.” The admission slipped out without my permission, my fingers fidgeting with the stem of my wineglass.
“Because you’re afraid of running into Ford, or because Peyton reminds you of you when you were a kid?” Willa asked.
I took a long sip of wine while I tried to organize my thoughts. “Both. I get antsy every time Ford comes home, but I get through it because I know it’s never for more than a week at a time. We both know the rules of engagement, so I just have to wait him out. But now? Now he’s home. Presumably for good. I know I won’t be able to continue to avoid him in the same way. I wouldn’t be able to even if they hadn’t moved in next door.”
“And you won’t try because of Peyton.” Willa watched me with those observant hazel eyes that always seemed to see straight through my defenses.
I sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. “No.”
“Tell me something. That afternoon she showed up at the Brewhouse, Sawyer and I were there. You could have let him call Ford and run interference on all of it. He’d have happily saved you the stress of that.”
“I know.” The words came out barely above a whisper.
“So why didn’t you let him? That’s not a criticism. I’m legitimately curious.” She leaned forward, elbows propped on her knees, waiting for my answer.
I bought myself some time by forking a bite of lasagna. For a moment, my attention was distracted by the herbed ricotta filling and bright tomato sauce. Was there anything better than homemade pasta? The warmth and comfort of it settled in my stomach, a welcome buffer against the weight of this conversation. But my friends waited with expectant gazes.
“She would have run. She came all this way fueled by desperation, with this idea in her head of finding her dad the only thing keeping the fear at bay. Once she got here and found out that Ford wasn’t around, she was getting ready to bolt. I saw it in her eyes. If anything had happened to her because I was too chickenshit to call him after all this time, I would never have forgiven myself.”
“Bree, you’re many things. Chicken shit isn’t one of them,” Gabi insisted.
Oh, how wrong she was. But I was in no mood to disabuse her of that opinion.
“So that’s why you brought her home with you that first night?” Willa prompted.
“I figured she’d be more likely to trust someone who’d been where she is. I was a lot younger when it happened to me, but I still understand it. It’s a shitty thing, not belonging to anyone. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop. If I could keep her safe until he got here, I had to. Even if it meant having to face him again.”
Gabi topped off the wine I hadn’t even realized I’d drained. “And how did that go?”
“I didn’t murder him.” Or throw myself into his arms . “I’ll call that a win.”
I could still see him standing in my entryway, taking up all the space, looking exhausted and terrified and more vulnerable than I’d ever seen him. Ford Donoghue had always been a rock. Seeing him like that had left me… weak and wanting to be there for him. The urge to comfort him had been so strong I’d had to dig my nails into my palms to keep from reaching out. But that wasn’t who we were to each other. Not anymore. We’d burned those bridges more than a decade ago.
“You helped him look for her when she ran off.” Willa’s soft voice was a question of its own.
I twitched my shoulders, trying to appear casual even as my wine glass trembled slightly in my grip. “He asked. I was the one most likely to figure out where she’d gone. And I was right. That wasn’t for him. It was for Peyton.” The words sounded hollow even to my own ears, but I clung to them like a lifeline.
Neither of them looked as if they believed me, but at least they didn’t call me out on it. Their shared glance of understanding made me want to crawl under the table.
Willa cut her pasta into small bites, not quite looking at me. “I know he hurt you. But it’s been a very long time, and it seems like the two of them are going to be in your life, whether you like it or not. Is there any possibility that this could be a chance for the two of you to start over?”
“No.” The answer was instant. Visceral. “I’ll be there for Peyton because she needs all the people in her corner she can get, but I’m not opening the door to Ford again.” My fingers tightened around my fork until my knuckles went white, and I forced myself to relax my grip.
Letting him back into my life in any capacity was a recipe for heartbreak, because he could never be what I needed him to be. I was safer having no expectations at all.