Chapter 19
“ H oney, wake up. I have an idea.”
“Mom?” Polly squeezed her eyes closed. She’d been asleep. Dead asleep. A do-not-want-to-be-woken kind of asleep.
“Who else would it be?”
She groaned and dug her head deeper into the pillow. “I’m sleeping.”
“It’s seven a.m. It’s time to wake up.”
“Says who?”
“Your mother.” Mom shoved her. “Come on. Don’t you want to hear my idea?”
“Unless it involves more sleep followed by coffee—really hot, really strong coffee—no.”
“It involves something better…a party.”
Okay, she was not getting any more sleep this morning. Damn her mother.
She rolled to her back and gave her mom what she hoped was a withering glare, but probably just looked like an overtired side-eye. “It’s only been three days since you found out your husband could be a serial killer, and you want to talk about a party?”
“Yes.”
“No.” She shoved her sheets back and climbed out of bed.
The second she’d gotten home the night of the town meeting, Polly had told her mother about Jonah.
And it had been every bit as bad as she’d thought it would be—tears, angry yelling, throwing of a wedding ring across the room.
And her mother had not come out of her depressed coma since… well…until now.
The more Polly thought about it, the more uncomfortable she became with the idea of her mother being around Jonah. Yes, Joel didn’t think Jonah was guilty, but until it was disproved, the idea of her mother being anywhere near the guy made her want to break out into hives.
In the bathroom, she threw water on her face. Nope. She didn’t feel any more alive.
“This isn’t a normal party,” her mother pressed from right behind her. “It’s a divorce party.”
She frowned at her mother in the mirror. “A what?”
“There’ll be signs that say ‘end of an error’—‘or’ not ‘ra.’ I’ll have ‘divorced as hell’ balloons and wear a sash that says ‘recently divorced.’”
Was Polly still dreaming? Or were divorce parties actually things that people did? God, her mother wasn’t even divorced yet.
She left the bathroom and headed to the kitchen. She didn’t just need a double shot. She needed a triple. The more caffeine the better, because these last few days with her mother had been long .
“Dress code will be black,” her mother continued. “You know, like a funeral. We’ll do it at Trap and have karaoke and play breakup songs. We’ll ask if we can serve individually wrapped cookies as party favors that say ‘freedom.’”
Polly spun around. “Mom. Stop .”
“Why? You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
“I think you need to slow down. These last few days have been a lot with?—”
“Don’t say it.” Immediate tears gathered in her mother’s eyes, but just as quickly, she blinked them back.
“I know you probably won’t believe this, because I’ve had so many relationships that haven’t worked, but I really loved Jonah.
I still love him, and my heart feels broken, and I just… I really need a distraction right now.”
Polly’s heart stumbled. “But?—”
The doorbell rang.
And that would be Maggie. She’d asked her best friend to come over because her mom loved her and, well, because Polly could use all the help she could get in this house right now. Maybe Mags could talk some sense into her mother about this party idea.
“I’m just going to let Maggie in. We’ll see what she thinks.” She crossed to the door and tugged it open. “You’re ear?—”
The word died on her tongue.
Not Maggie.
“You can’t be here, Jonah.” She went to close the door, but Jonah was too fast, pressing a palm to the wood.
“Wait, stop, please! I just want a couple of minutes with Liv.”
There was a gasp from the kitchen, then fast footsteps.
“No,” Polly said firmly. “You are part of an open murder investigation. And until that’s complete, you need to stay away from both of us.”
It wasn’t even about whether she liked the guy or not anymore. It was about safety. Four women in this town had been murdered in the last twelve months, and Jonah was the only suspect.
“That wasn’t my gun.” He glanced behind her, his eyes wide. “Liv, you have to believe me. That wasn’t my gun! And what happened between you and me was just a fight. Couples fight . It doesn’t mean we’re over.”
The silence from her mother was loud, and it made fear shoot into Polly’s veins. Fear that her mother would ignore the fact that he’d been found with a gun in the woods. That she’d close that bit of distance between them and take him back even though he could be a killer.
“I need you to leave, Jonah.” Polly’s voice was firm. “If you don’t, I’ll be forced to call the sheriff.”
It was a poor threat. Ward would take a million years to get here, if he came at all, then likely do nothing. But dammit, she had nothing else.
All Jonah’s attention was on her mother. “You know me, Liv. You know I would never hurt anyone. I’m not capable of that.”
Her mother took a half step forward, only to retreat again. “Polly’s right. We need to have a break. At least until all this gun stuff is over.”
Thank God.
Disappointment weaved through his features. He swallowed, shooting her a glance before looking back at her mom. “I love you.” They were his final words before he stepped back.
Polly closed the door and flicked the lock, her heart beating far too erratically in her chest. She wasn’t sure why. Because there was a chance that man could be a killer? And he had his attention set on her mother?
She looked at her mother, whose attention was still on the door as if she was waiting for Jonah to reappear.
Polly forced a smile to her face. “How about that coffee?”
Joel pulled up outside the Blue Swan Inn.
Figured Bronte was staying here. Even if Ethan hadn’t found her location, Joel should have known just based on the fact that it was the nicest accommodation in town. Not that it came close to what she was used to.
He climbed from his truck and crossed the parking lot. The inn was a two-story building with a faded-brick facade and ivy along the edges of the windows. It was cute. Charming. But to Bronte, it probably came across as cheap and old.
He stepped inside the lobby, the faint smell of coffee drifting from the dining area to the right.
The lady at the reception desk was on the phone and didn’t look up. Perfect. He didn’t need to talk to anyone. He already had her room number. How Ethan got that information, Joel had no idea. He didn’t question it.
On the second floor, he strode down the hall to room eighteen and knocked on the door.
Footsteps sounded from the other side, then the door flung open. Bronte’s lips curved into a wide smile, as if their last conversation had never happened. “Joel! Hi. Come in. I don’t remember telling you where I was staying.”
He stepped into the room. There were florals on the bedspread and heavy maroon curtains bordering the windows. The closet door was ajar, and he could just see Bronte’s clothes hanging inside.
So she wasn’t packed. She wasn’t even mid-packing.
“Why are you still here, Bronte?” He turned toward her.
The door closed with a click, and she waited until she was facing him to answer. “Because I’m not one to give up so easily. Unlike other people.”
“I’m not giving up. I’m just not marrying you.”
She frowned. “Why do you keep saying that? Of course you’re marrying me. This has been planned for almost as long as we’ve been alive.”
“By who?”
“You know who—our parents.”
“Exactly. Do you really want to marry me?”
Her mouth opened and closed. “I mean, what do you want me to say? It’s not about what I want?—”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m a Simmons and you’re a Dawson.”
“Who the fuck cares?” He felt like throwing up his damn hands. “You get one shot at life. You really want to be stuck in a loveless marriage?”
“Love has never been part of this arrangement.” She frowned at him like bringing love into this conversation was ridiculous. “My parents never loved each other and look at them. They’re rich and successful and they have everything they could ever want.”
“Are they happy?”
Her frown deepened. “What?”
“Are they happy? Because mine aren’t. They have more money than they need.
They have power and a successful business.
There were weekly articles written about them in the media.
But no one could ever convince me that they’ve ever been happy, or even content, with the lives they have.
Hell, I don’t even think they know what happy is. ”
She was silent for a moment. “So, what? You’re just going to walk away from the life that was planned for us?”
“Yes.”
“Because of a girl who makes coffee?”
“Because the life I have planned for myself is much more than whatever our parents want for us in Houston. I don’t want money.
I want love , Bronte. Real love. I want to wake up excited to see the person I chose to spend my life with.
I want to work a job I’m excited to do, with friends who are more family to me than my own parents ever were. ”
Her brows flickered, as if living a different life, a life on her terms, was something she’d never considered before.
“Your parents are going to be so angry,” she whispered. “They want this more than we do. They want to drill our land. They want to consolidate everything.”
“And your parents won’t be happy either. But none of that has anything to do with us.”
“You’re not afraid of everything you have to lose from walking away?”
“I’m more afraid of what I’ll lose if I don’t.”
She glanced around the room, like she was taking it in for the first time. “And you’re okay with this…ordinary life?”
“Yes. Because it’s mine . I chose it. And I choose her.”
Her gaze flashed back to him. It took her a few moments, but finally she nodded. “Well…I’m not going to stand here and fight for you to see my worth. Obviously, I can’t make you marry me. I’ll leave.”
Just like that? It felt too easy. “I wish you nothing but the best, Bronte. And I’m sorry that I wasn’t more direct with you. I shouldn’t have assumed my parents would get the picture and break things off for me. That was wrong.”
“Yeah.” That was all she said.
He stepped into the hall.
There would be repercussions from his parents for what he’d done. But he didn’t care. Everything he’d said to her was true. This was his life, and he was living it on his terms.
Bronte hadn’t been devastated, of course. More bewildered. Hopefully him choosing more for himself would encourage her to do the same.
When he reached the car, he pulled out his cell and texted Polly.
Joel: Hey. Just checking in. You doing okay?
Their kiss from the previous night had been playing over in his head all day. And it reminded him of exactly what he was fighting for.
Her.
Them.
A future together.
Polly: It’s been interesting. And busy. Any news about Jonah?
Joel: Not yet. Hopefully soon.
He’d just hit send when his phone rang. It was his mother.
Well, that news had traveled fast.
He didn’t answer. He needed to get to work, and whatever they thought they needed to say to him…they didn’t. He’d told them not to contact him again, and he’d meant it.
Polly was his priority. His team was. And keeping this town safe.