28. Chloe
Chapter 28
Chloe
I felt like I had been run over by a bus.
I hadn’t been sleeping, and I could barely keep food down. JJ and Karl were tiptoeing around me. The pit of despair was so warm and cozy, making it hard to want to leave. But I had so much to do.
“Get your ass out of bed,” Celine barked, yanking the blankets off me. It was August, but I’d made myself a nice little cocoon.
I threw an arm over my face. “I’m tired.”
I’d spent the past two days in bed, blaming morning sickness. In reality, I was having a nervous breakdown. What was true? What was a lie? For almost my whole adult life, my decisions, my actions, and my plans had been built on a foundation of lies. I’d come back to Lovewell to buy Gus’s company and make his life miserable. To get the kind of satisfaction that would heal these old wounds.
But my life had been flipped upside down. My own father had lied to me, and I’d torn myself up thinking Gus hadn’t loved me. Now, I was developing real, annoying feelings for him.
“Get your ass up. You have shit to do. And you’re scaring the children.”
I groaned. “JJ and Karl are not children.”
“Don’t you have an arson investigation to deal with?”
I picked my head up. “Yes,” I huffed. “And a company to run, and I have horrible split ends. Oh, and I need to confront my father and determine whether he conspired to keep me away from the love of my life twenty years ago. You know, nothing major.”
“Great. See? You have quite the to-do list to tackle. I can help with the split ends. I’ll call the salon and get you an appointment.”
Stomach lurching, I touched my hair. It was my pride and joy, and I didn’t trust just anyone with it.
“Becca is fantastic,” she said, already typing away on her phone, as if reading my mind. “Now get in the shower.”
Becca. Why was that name familiar? As I got showered and dressed, I mulled it over but came up blank.
Celine forced me into my car and sent me on the way. Only a few minutes later, I pulled up in front of a very cute looking salon. The Chop Shop was on Main Street, close to the diner and the post office, and was, from the outside, far trendier than I had expected for Northern Maine.
Inside, I was greeted by a tall woman with blue-streaked hair, a sleeve of tattoos, and the kind of cool punk-rock vibe that screamed don ’ t fuck with me .
She was pleasant and professional, asking thoughtful questions about my vision for my hair. Then she snapped a cape around my neck and started to work.
“I’m impressed you came in here,” she said. “I’ve been dying to meet you. The famous Chloe who stole Gus’s heart.”
I locked eyes with her in the mirror, my heart suddenly thundering. Oh, yes. Becca had been Gus’s casual hookup friend. Karl had heard a rumor at the gym, and while I had brushed it off at the time, the way she was looking at me confirmed it all.
What a sight I was: puffy eyes, no makeup, and gaping at her like a damn fish.
While she was cool and edgy, I was an uptight girlie girl. Was this the kind of woman Gus was normally attracted to?
And why was I spiraling? I had way more pressing concerns, and jealousy was not rational.
“You’re not going to fuck up my hair, are you?” I asked after an excruciatingly awkward silence.
Becca froze and blinked at my reflection, then burst into laughter. “I should just for that comment. Please.” She waved a hand. “I’m a pro.”
“I’m sorry,” I stumbled, my brain and mouth not coordinating. How could I say something like that out loud?
“Okay.” She took a step back and put down the scissors. Then she spun my chair so we were facing one another. “Gus and I hung out casually. I’m a single mom trying to make my way in a new town. And I’m still desperately in love with my late husband.”
“Oh shit.” My stomach sank. God, I was such an asshole. “I’m so sorry.”
She nodded once, her expression neutral. “Gus has been a friend, a support, and yes, a hookup. But that’s it.”
My ears were hearing that she wasn’t a threat, but even so, my heart was still pounding in my chest.
Hookup? The word stuck in my head, and suddenly, my nausea returned. The thought of him being with anyone but me made me want to retch. I needed to get a hold of myself.
“Can I cut your hair now?” she asked. “I do have other appointments today.”
With a deep, cleansing breath, I nodded and smiled, calculating the massive tip I’d have to leave her to atone for my unhinged behavior.
“You know,” she said as she focused on trimming. “He came in here a few weeks ago. Early one morning, before I opened, demanding a haircut and a beard trim.”
I frowned, confused about where she was going. “Okay.”
“He told me that he could no longer hang out with me because the love of his life had returned to town and he was going to do everything he could to win her back.” She cocked a brow. “Sound familiar?”
My cheeks heated, but I was speechless.
“Listen, I pride myself on not being a gossip, but I own a salon, so it kind of comes with the territory. I know he’s wild about you. He’s sweet and intense and incredibly loyal.”
She kept chatting as she expertly cut my hair, seemingly unbothered by my inability to respond.
Finally, after replaying the timeline in my head, I found my voice. “I didn’t realize he told you that.”
“I respect how he did it. Straightforward. He didn’t ghost me or lead me on. Not that I’m capable of being led on.” She twisted her wedding band on her finger. “But Gus is a good friend. And if you hurt him—”
“I’m not sure there’s any way we won’t both end up hurt,” I said, giving in to the honesty she inspired. “But there’s a lot of history there.”
She nodded. “I get it. But as someone who lost the love of her life forever, let me give you a little advice—don’t give him up too easily.”
I was stalling. It wasn’t hard to do when the Caffeinated Moose was just down the street from the salon. I enjoyed an iced latte and a molasses cookie, then scrolled on my phone while I worked up the courage.
It was almost five, so there was a good chance I’d catch him on his way home.
Finally, I steeled myself and headed for my car. I prided myself on confronting issues head-on, but the thought of staring down my dad and learning the truth scared the shit out of me. Almost as much as my growing feelings for Gus.
My father still lived in the home I’d grown up in. A boxy colonial he’d kept well maintained. The blue paint was fresh and the landscaping was pristine. My mother’s roses were perfectly pruned and blooming beautifully. I expected nothing less. My dad always had liked to keep up appearances.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d set foot in this house, but it was now or never. I’d been my mother’s daughter, and my father had spent my childhood working nonstop. When she got sick, I stepped in, caring for her and my siblings, cooking and doing laundry and signing permission slips.
During that time, he all but disappeared. He worked long hours and then spent every night by my mother’s side. He was there for her. But to us kids, he was a ghost.
When I worked up the nerve to get out of the car and ring the doorbell, the man who answered the door was older than I remembered, his blond hair faded to mostly white. As a child, I’d seen him as this larger-than-life character. Now he seemed almost frail in his neatly pressed polo shirt and khakis.
“Chloe,” he said, his voice warm but a little wary. “I’m so glad you finally stopped by.”
He ushered me into the living room. It was still painted a cheery yellow, which my mother had loved, and the family photos lined up on the mantel were perfectly dusted. Heart aching, I walked over to them, running my fingers along the frames. In the middle was my parents’ wedding portrait. My mother looked so young and beautiful, and my father so strapping and handsome. I lingered, wishing she were here right now. If only I could hear her laugh, tell her about my morning sickness, and ask her how she took care of us all while making it look so effortless.
My father appeared at my side and surveyed the photos. An assortment of happy family memories perfectly preserved. Graduations, birthdays, and family trips told an incomplete story.
“I miss her every day,” he said softly.
I closed my eyes, fighting back the tears. This was a wound that would never close. “Me too.”
“Come chat with me. I want to hear all about what you’ve been up to.”
After he’d poured us each a glass of iced tea, we settled in the living room and chatted about timber. Pricing, supply chain, equipment, the shortage of skilled labor, the usual.
After we ran out of common topics, I put down my glass and folded my hands. My heart was racing, and I was drenched in sweat. I wanted to leave the house, leave these memories, rather than initiate a conversation that would confirm my worst fears.
But I owed it to myself to find the truth.
“Dad, I need to ask you a few questions. About my divorce.”
His lips turned down in a confused frown. “That was ages ago. What does it matter?”
Pulling my shoulders back, I steeled myself. “It actually means a lot to me.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “And I want the truth.” Shifting to the edge of the couch, I ignored the blood whooshing in my ears and forced the words out. “Did you coordinate with Mitch Hebert to make Gus and I get divorced? Did you lie to me and tell me he traded me for land? Did you hide his messages, calls, and letters from me?”
Sitting back, his face suddenly gaunt, my father ran his hands through his thinning hair. “I can’t remember it all,” he said. “But it was such a difficult time.”
“It was awful for all of us,” I said, my patience thinning. “Particularly me, since I lost my mom and then my husband back to back.”
“When your mother died, I just lost it,” he said, his voice choked. “I had four kids to raise and no idea how to do it. I tried to do right by you.”
My heart sank. I was pretty confident that was an admission.
“You pushed me away,” I gritted out, my already cracked heart splintering further. “You cut off most of my contact with my family and friends and manipulated me into divorcing the man I loved.”
His face fell. Gus was right. There was so much more to this story than I’d ever known.
“Because you were destined for more than this place,” he argued. “More than this life. Mitch Hebert is a liar and a criminal. He may be behind bars now, but even back then, he wasn’t trustworthy.”
“But Gus is not his father.”
His face was red now, and anger radiated from him. “How was I supposed to know that? He was a kid. You were a kid. I had to honor your mother’s wishes. You were so smart and so accomplished. It broke my heart watching how hard you pushed yourself to take care of your mother and your siblings. You cared so much for her every day up until her death.”
“And you punished me for it.”
“No, Chloe. It made me realize you deserved better. I wanted more for you.”
“So you lied to me?”
He at least had the good sense to look a little guilty. “Yes. I did what I had to do in order to give you a bright future and a chance at something more than a shitty life as a logger’s wife in rural Maine.”
The admission knocked the wind out of me. “And the letter you gave me?”
With a long breath out, he lowered his chin, averting his gaze. “Mitch wrote it.”
My stomach churned, and my blood ran cold. I needed to get out of here and away from all of this. I’d been so resolute, so certain of what had happened. But everything I knew had been a lie. Sold to me by someone I trusted.
“Gus said he wrote other letters.”
“Yes.” He nodded once. “I still have some of them.”
My heart tripped over itself. “You do?”
Brushing at the knee of his khakis, he sighed. “I didn’t open them, but given the messages he was leaving on the answering machine, I could only imagine what they contained. I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away. So I tucked them aside and pretended they didn’t exist. Eventually, he stopped sending them.”
Hands fisted in my lap, I reined in the urge to lash out at him. “I want them.”
He heaved himself out of his seat slowly. “I have some things of your mother’s that I set aside for you too. Some of her books, jewelry, and other small things. There are a couple boxes in the basement. Give me a moment.”
My heart ached. I wanted every single piece of my mother that remained on this earth. But no object could ever fill the void that she’d left. Especially now, as I was beginning my own motherhood journey.
I was waiting at the front door when he came back upstairs. Without a word, I took the plastic bin from his hands and turned to leave.
“You don’t have to forgive me,” he said, his tone distraught. “I know I fucked up. But look at you. Look at all you’ve accomplished. Look at the strong woman you’ve become.”
I put the box down and turned to face him, disgust and anger boiling up inside me. “My accomplishments are no justification for lying to me. For manipulating me. Jesus, Dad. Do you hear yourself? You took away my free will and broke my heart in the process.”
He narrowed his eyes, his chest puffing out. “I did the best I could at the time. You’re not a parent. You can’t understand.”
“Turns out I am a parent.” I cradled my belly. “I’m pregnant. That’s part of the reason I came here, to learn the truth so I can move forward with my life.”
His face lit up. “A baby? That’s wonderful news.”
This should be a happy moment. I was telling my father about my child. But I was full of anger, and if I was honest, feeling detached. We’d never been close, and it had never been more clear why than in this moment. Because he didn’t respect me enough to tell me the truth and let me make my own choices.
My feet itched to move. I couldn’t be here anymore. In this familiar house filled with memories. I wanted to be with one person. My person.
I needed his comfort and his support. Things I’d never sought from another human being before now seemed as essential as breathing.
“Goodbye, dad,” I said, picking up the box. “I need to think for a while. Thank you for this and for finally being honest with me.”