Chapter Twelve
Diana
Two weeks later. Hayden, CO.
I tilted my head back, shielding my eyes from the afternoon sun so I could look at Valerie’s storefront. A sense of pride hit me then, knowing her mother, Nancy, would’ve loved it. The flower shop would be a beautiful addiction to our town—one that would last generations. My eyes scanned over the antique detailing etched into the wood as I hummed my appreciation.
It looked amazing.
The sign was being delivered later this month, but that hadn’t stopped my friend from painting the front of the old brick building lilac with green trim. It stood out, adding a pop of color to the street. Suddenly, I wanted to call Thomas to see if we could schedule a little spruce up of my building.
I’d just gotten back into town from meeting with a client and wanted to stop by to see how things were going—and to apologize to Valerie for avoiding her. I’d been a crappy friend for declining her invitations out to the ranch and even to lunch on Monday in town. I couldn’t see her, because despite how much I treasured her, she was connected to Hallow Ranch. Right now, I needed to do everything in my power to not think about that place or the cowboy who worked it.
After the eye-opening conversation with Chase, I made the ultimate decision to try and distance myself from anything and everything Mags.
The jingle of a bell snapped me out of my thoughts, and I lowered my gaze, finding a tall brunette stepping out of Val’s shop dressed in paint-stained overalls, her wavy hair piled into a bun on the top of her head. Her brown eyes met mine, and she froze, sucking in a breath.
Abbie.
I smiled, not able to stop it. “Abbie,” I greeted warmly, dropping my hand from my forehead.
She blinked, and the splatter of paint on her cheek shifted when she returned my smile, the shock of seeing me fading away. “Hello, Diana,” she said softly, taking me in.
“I was beginning to wonder when I’d see you in town again,” I teased, stepping up to her, my heels clicking against the pavement. “I figured Beau would keep you hidden for a few more weeks, at least.”
From what I’d gathered, Abbie was moving back, leaving her life in Denver.
Abbie rolled her eyes, shaking her head and scoffing. “Don’t get me wrong, he tried, but I needed to come up for air eventually. He can’t keep me at Hallow Ranch forever.”
I ignored the pit of jealously growing in my gut. Even Abbie and Beau, after all the pain and heartache, managed to find their way back each other. Valerie and Denver, despite hating each other at first, found love, and it was a beautiful twist of fate that brought Harmony and Mason together.
Then, there was me.
“I know my opinion might not mean much to you, Abbie, but I’m really happy you and Beau found your way back,” I told her, meaning it. “I never gave up hope.”
Emotion flashed in her eyes, and she cleared her throat. “Thank you, Diana.”
An awkward silence fell between us, the history that tethered Abbie and me together coming to the forefront of my mind.
Six years ago, after she rejected Beau’s proposal, I ran into her at a coffeehouse in Denver. We said nothing to each other, only staring, tables, and strangers between us. Eventually, she returned to her work, and I finished up mine. An hour or so later, I took the chance, packed up my stuff, and walked directly to her table. I’d never forget the way she tensed, expecting harshness from me, judgment.
But I didn’t give her either.
I simply wished her well and extended a hand of friendship.
She never took it.
I couldn’t blame her, as I was tied to Hallow Ranch and this town. I would’ve been a reminder of everything she had to move on from. Guilt tugged at me once more, reminding me of how I’d been treating Valerie for that last couple of weeks.
Clearly, the same memory was on Abbie’s mind, as she cleared her throat and looked down to her paint splattered shoes. “Diana, about the coffeehouse…I’m sorry.”
My brows snapped together, and I shook my head. “Don’t you dare apologize to me for doing what you thought you needed to do in order to protect your peace,” I said firmly, needing her to understand that how she acted was completely reasonable.
Guilt was now swimming in her brown eyes as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I was a bitch.”
A laugh bubbled up my throat then, the first time I’d laughed in weeks. “Abbie, you are the furthest thing from a bitch, I assure you.”
“Still, I wouldn’t have felt right until I apologized,” she countered softly. “I just….”
“You were protecting Beau, thus protecting Hallow Ranch,” I reminded her, giving her a small smile. “Trust me, you had every right to act the way you did.”
Her eyes widened, and she took a step forward. “You know?” she breathed, bringing a hand to her chest.
I nodded. “Denver told me everything.”
She stared.
“I’m so sorry for everything that happened to you, Abbie,” I murmured. “No one deserves that, least of all you.”
She looked down the sidewalk, finding it empty. This time of day, right after lunch, the town was always quiet. The foot traffic would ramp back up just before the schools let out at three. “It’s weird being back here,” she confessed, her eyes scanning the street.
“I can only imagine.”
“Pastor Burton smiled at me this morning,” she informed me, meeting my eyes again. “ At me . The daughter of the home wrecker who ruined his marriage.”
Her mother, Sheri Spears, was different kind of monster. I’d learned about her dark reach within weeks of moving to Hayden and starting my firm. That woman had ruined countless marriages and relationships in this town. Now, she tended to stick to herself, living in a trailer on the outskirts of town. I lifted my chin, holding Abbie’s gaze and repeating the words my own therapist told me years ago. “Your mother’s actions have nothing to do with you or the woman you’ve become.”
She nodded. “I know that,” she replied softly,
Thank God for that, because I still needed my therapist to repeat it to me every few months. I shifted my weight and adjusted the files in the crook of my arm. “Besides, you’re famous around here.”
She scoffed and brushed a loose chunk of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Yeah, I know all about the wall.”
I bit back my smile. Beau and Bart, the owner of the town’s hotel, decorated a wall with all of Abbie’s news articles she’d written for The Denver Tribune . Each story had been framed and put up on display for the entire town and all its visitors to see. She was one of the best damn journalists in Colorado.
“To be quite honest, Abbie,” I said, pausing until she looked back up at me, “the entire world deserves your writing. It’s powerful.”
She stared at me, her brown eyes shining, for a few moments before blurting, “Fuck, I can’t quit!”
I tilted my head in confusion at her outburst, but before I could get a word out, she spun on her heel and dashed back inside. “Diana, what have I done?” she called out through the open door.
I followed her, the doorbell jiggling above me as I entered. I found Abbie pacing back and forth, yanking her bun out so she could shove her hands into her hair.
“Abbie? What’s going on?” I asked gently, unsure of what to do.
She didn’t answer me, muttering something underneath her breath as she moved to one side of the store.
Renovations were underway, the disgusting blue carpet from the eighties had been ripped up and thrown away—thank God--and old check-out counter had been pushed to the back wall. I knew Valerie was planning on putting in white and lilac tile, checkered. It was going to look stunning.
“I have to tell Beau,” Abbie declared to me. “I have to call my old boss and take back my notice.”
My eyes widened, and I looked to my right to where Abbie stood, watching her thumbs fly across her phone screen. She—she quit the Denver Tribune?
That was when I noticed the plethora of painting supplies around her. A cup of paint brushes and dirty water was perched on top of a ladder, cans of paint lined the wall, and an artist palette was carefully balanced on one of the ladder steps. I lifted my eyes, and my breath caught on the beginnings of a floral mural on the wall behind her. There was a butterfly peeking out from behind Abbie’s shoulder. It was nearly finished, and if I focused, I could see the sketches of the flowers lined on the sage green wall.
“I can’t quit writing—I can’t quit the Tribune,” Abbie muttered frankly to herself as she put the phone to her ear. She looked over to me. “On a scale of one to ten, how likely is it for Beau’s phone to get my call out in the pasture four?”
“Zero,” I deadpanned.
She groaned as she pulled the device away. “I need to call and tell him I can’t quit the Tribune. We said we would figure it out, and I was willing to quit and stay here, but what you just said…” She trailed off and let her head fall back on a groan. “I love Beau. I love him so much, but this—-
Panic shot through me like an arrow. “Uh, please don’t leave that man again and definitely don’t do it because of my compliment. I can take it back,” I offered. She opened her mouth, but I was faster. “Your writing is terrible. Absolute crap,” I lied.
Abbie blinked. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a terrible liar?”
“There’s a reason I didn’t pursue criminal defense,” I tacked on as a joke.
She pressed her lips together, trying to hold back a laugh.
“You could call the satellite phone,” I suggested, moving across the space to set my stuff on the counter.
“I don’t have the number. I lost it years ago.”
I looked over my shoulder. “Are you going to leave him again?”
She shook her head. “Leaving Beau was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Diana. It nearly killed me the first time. I just got him back, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting him go again,” she rasped, her voice suddenly brimming with emotion. “I just—I need to find out if there’s a way I can have both: the newspaper and Beau.”
I smiled, satisfied. “Good.”
A minute later, my phone was against my ear as I waited for Denver to pick up to the phone. It was a rare occasion I had to call the satellite phone, usually only doing it for emergencies. When Denver was out in the pastures, I learned quickly it was wise to leave him alone. He had a ranch to run, after all. That job was hard enough. The phone rang six times before someone picked up.
“Hallow Ranch.”
I closed my eyes as the world around me began to fade, the voice on the other side of the phone breaking me all over again.
Two weeks.
I’d spent the last two weeks doing everything in my power to forget the way he looked at me, the way he held me, the way he shattered me. I buried myself in work, took three new clients, skipped a multitude of meals, binged twice in the late hours of the night, and even spent three nights in some fancy hotel in downtown Denver in a poor attempt to escape the pull this cowboy had on me.
“M-Mags,” I stammered, leaning back against the counter.
What the hell was he doing with the satellite phone?
His jagged voice changed then, from bored to alert. “Diana? What is it? What’s wrong?”
Not this again. I couldn’t do this again.
I opened my eyes and looked up to the ceiling, my heart pounding in my ears. “Where’s Denver?”
“Wrangling a bull,” he answered, his voice growing dark. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said, clearing my throat and making the mistake of looking at Abbie. Her head was tilted to the side, a look of confusion and wonder painted across her features like the mural on the wall. Then, her eyes narrowed, and I looked away from her. “I’m here with Abbie at the flower shop, and she needs to speak to Beau.”
Mags was silent.
No damn surprise there.
“Why are you at the flower shop?” he asked, clearly not giving a single shit about Abbie’s needs.
“Because I can be,” I snapped before I could stop myself.
He ignored that. “Beau is with the herd.”
“And where are you?”
“Not with the fuckin’ herd, Firefly.”
“Stop calling me that,” I spat, hanging up the phone. I let out a sound of frustration, slamming my cell onto my stack of folders before sinking my fingers into my fresh blow out, tugging at the roots.
“Holy crap,” Abbie breathed.
My head snapped up, and I jumped back when I found her in my space, her eyes wide, jaw slacked.
“What?” I asked, playing dumb and hoping she couldn’t see right through me. I looked to the wall, then back to her, then to the front door, and then…back to her. Her brown eyes were wide, a pull in them I couldn’t fight, seeking the truth. She reared back, the silent truth hitting her, and my stomach dropped to the floor.
Was I really that easy to read?
She stammered as I shook my head. “I—I—you—”
Before I could think, I slapped my hand over her mouth. “Don’t,” I begged, my voice cracking as tears stung my eyes. “Don’t say it. This is the first day in over two weeks I haven’t shed a tear over that cowboy.”
Abbie’s shock melted away then, pity in her warm eyes. She reached up, setting her hands on my shoulders. After I let my words settle between us for a moment, I dropped my hand, my face twisting with grief. “Abbie,” I rasped.
“Oh, babe,” she murmured.
Then, I was wrapped in her embrace, and it was then I knew, Abbie was going to be a damn good friend.
“Mr. Gibsy, sir, I know—”
Abbie’s words were cut off by the sound of a muffled male on the other end of her phone. I was sitting on the counter, ankles crossed, laptop balanced on my thighs, reading over a contract Thomas had sent.
It’d had been two hours since I came to the shop, two hours since Abbie discovered the truth about Mags and me, and two hours since I’d come to terms with the fact that I would never be able to hear that man’s voice again without hurting.
I looked up from my screen, my glasses perched on the tip of my nose. It had been the first time I’d worn them in months, giving my precious corneas a break from contacts. I watched Abbie as she chewed on her thumb nail, pacing back and forth.
“You and I both know I’m the best damn writer you have,” Abbie countered, her voice steady.
I smirked.
“I can write from anywhere. You don’t need me sitting in an office five days a week to do so,” she argued. Pause. “If I need to find a source in the city, then I’ll go to the city. I was never in the office anyways. I was out, hunting for leads, unlike Mark, who, last I checked, was contemplating the idea of letting an A.I. program write his articles.”
Her boss shouted on the other end, his voice so loud, she had to pull the phone away from her ear.
Abbie shot a look to me, biting her lip. She had him by the balls now. I scrunched my nose at her.
My cell began buzzing by my thigh, pulling my attention from Abbie. I knew it was Thomas, checking in, so I blindly reached for it and put it to my ear.
“Hey, I’m almost done looking this over,” I rambled. “It looks really good, Thomas. I should have it back to you in the next ten minutes.”
The line was silent.
“Thomas, you there?” I asked, reading over the last paragraph while Abbie continued advocating for her career in the background.
“Who the fuck is Thomas?”
Mags’ deep voice filled my ears for the second time today, shocking me so much, I nearly let my laptop fall to the floor. I scrambled to keep it steady, and my eyes shot up, making sure Abbie didn’t see. Thankfully, she was too pre-occupied.
“What are you—”
“Two things, Firefly,” he all but growled, the sound alone heating every single inch of me. “One, hang up on me again, I’ll redden your ass. Two, who the fuck is Thomas?”
A sound left me, something between a squeak and a gasp. “I—what?”
“Not repeating myself.”
I hopped off the counter, my heels clacking against the old tile, my teeth grinding. I closed my laptop. Abbie, who was facing me now, mouthed, “Who is that?”
I lied, mouthing back, “A client. I have to take this outside.”
She nodded, waving me off as I moved across the space, pushing the door open, the late afternoon sunlight hitting my skin. “Where the hell do you get off on calling me and demanding to know my business?” I asked, my chest heaving as I stood in the middle of the sidewalk now.
He was silent.
I pulled the phone away, checking to see who’s phone he was calling me from. I had everyone’s number at Hallow Ranch, but I didn’t recognize this one. “Whose phone is this?” I asked.
“Mine.”
Wait—what?
“You have a phone?”
“Clearly, since I’m talking to you on it.”
“Don’t get smart with me,” I warned.
He muttered something I couldn’t understand before he clipped, “Called to make sure you were okay, Diana. Nothing more.”
Nothing more.
“Why would you do that?” I asked sharply.
“Because no one at Hallow Ranch has seen or heard from you in two fuckin’ weeks, and for all I know, your dumbass of an ex could be hanging around,” he answered simply.
Lucas was not “hanging around.” The day after Chase and I had our talk, he was escorted to the edge of town, given his car keys, and told to “fuck off” and to “never come back.” It was unofficial, off the books, but so far, effective. I hadn’t heard a peep from him or my parents—thank God.
“I—”
“You missed Harmony’s birthday.”
I froze, my eyes on the concrete. “What?” I whispered.
He said nothing.
“When was her birthday?” I asked, guilt hovering over me like a vulture. Mentally, I was flipping through my color-coded planner, knowing all the birthdays for this month were written in orange, double underlined and circled. Harmony’s, I remember, also had a sticker beside it.
“Last week. Valerie told everyone you couldn’t make it.”
Now I was the one who was silent.
“Diana, we need to have a conversation,” the cowboy said then, his rough voice unusually soft now, reminding me of all the other times he’d been gentle with me, like I was the most precious thing in the world.
That was the last thing I wanted. I didn’t want to have a conversation with the man I was hopelessly in love with.
But I had to move on.
“Go ahead,” I offered, a lump in my throat now. I moved closer to the building, hearing some locals walking down the sidewalk behind me.
Mags, being Mags, got straight to the point. “What happened between us doesn’t need to ruin your relationships with everyone else out here.”
I pressed my lips together and leaned against the building, my head bent. “I know that,” I whispered. “I just needed some time.”
More silence.
“Seeing you, after what…” I trailed off, looking down the sidewalk as I took a deep breath. “It would’ve pushed me over the edge, Mags.”
Nothing.
His silence hit my nerves just right ,and before I could stop it, another confession escaped, riding on a broken whisper. “I feel like a fool.”
“You have no idea how honored I am to know you feel that way about me,” he finally said, his words gentle and honest.
A tear landed on my cheek, and I wiped it away quickly. I didn’t know what else to say, so I chewed on my bottom lip, ignoring my heart crying out for him.
“Kills me, Firefly,” he murmured.
My eyes closed.
“Fuckin’ kills me.”
“Stop,” I begged. “You can’t—you can’t call me that.”
“Never again,” he vowed.
That hurt worse.
“Where do we—How do we—”
“When you’re here, I’ll be out of sight,” he declared.
“But—”
“They’re your family too, Diana. They love you and want to see you. You deserve to see them. It would be easier for us both if I stayed clear.”
“You did that anyways,” I countered.
He said nothing, and I thought about all the times I’d run into him.
When I was there, Mags never stayed clear. He was always around, lingering, watching.
“Hi, Diana!”
My head shot up to find Martha Shelly walking her dog. She was in a cream tracksuit, her hair twisted back and out of her face, her hand in the air, casting me a wave.
“Hi, Martha,” I greeted softly, smiling.
“What are you doing on this side of town?” she chirped.
If my heart wasn’t in the process of breaking, I might’ve laughed at her silly question. My office wasn’t far from here, and she knew that. She was just being a nosy old lady.
“Visiting a client,” I answered, hearing Mags move on the other end as I gestured to the flower shop.
Martha looked at it, recognition hitting her. “Oh! This is belongs to Denver Langston’s wife, right? I heard a rumor about her opening a floral shop.”
I nodded. “Yup, that’s the one.”
She looked at me and then to my phone, clearly reading the silent message. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. See you at book club!”
Crap, I’d forgotten about book club.
As she walked away, Mags cleared his throat.
“Sorry about that. I’m standing outside,” I muttered.
“Don’t you ever apologize to me, Diana,” he clipped. “Ever.”
My bottom lip wobbled. “Okay,” I rasped.
Minutes passed before he broke me again. His words came out as a guttural, jagged whisper. “I’m sorry, baby.”
I sucked in a gulp of air, pain shooting through me. “You can’t call me that either.”
“After I say goodbye, I’ll never call you anything again,” he promised. “Just have to right now, okay?”
I tipped my head back, the sunlight hitting my face as my eyes closed. “Just do it,” I begged.
Silence.
My face crumbled. “Do it, Mags.”
“Goodbye, Firefly.”
I hung up before he did, and it took everything in me not to fall to my knees on the sidewalk.