Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sam
Today, I have plans.
This is foreign on several levels because it has been years since I’ve had social plans that didn’t involve my ex. He controlled our calendar, among other things, while we were married, and since then, I worked. And worked. And worked a little more, trying to dig out of the hole he’d left me in.
The reality I’ve grappled with in the year since we divorced is that he controlled pretty much everything. The divorce wasn’t messy, once he finally signed, because I didn’t put up a fight. I had no fight left.
And nothing to fight for.
Oh, and he hurt me. I had police reports from it, and he had no hope of saying any of it was my fault.
A painful twinge hits right between my ribs when I think of how I trotted right into his trap. And it was a trap. Or maybe I was just so lonely and desperate to be loved and chosen, I would’ve been happy with anything.
I didn’t have options then, nor did it feel like I had them in the wake of our divorce, thanks to the debt from lawyers and moving into an apartment without warning and so much more, but I do now.
I worked to give myself options, and now I’m here. Exploring them. Finding out who I am and learning to trust myself again.
My one thread of social connection here is through my old work, Maid For Hire, and she’s the reason I ended up in Juniper View.
After my divorce, my coworker mentioned a friend who fled a situation far worse than mine in the past year and, long story short, ended up here.
She’s made a life in JV, and apparently loves it.
And when I tapped out a message to her mentioning our mutual friend from LA had sent me her way, she seemed to know who I was.
She insisted we meet for breakfast at the diner in town. I haven’t tried it yet, and it’s one of the places on my list, so I jumped at the chance. Plus, I can always get drip coffee and an oatmeal to keep it cheap.
By the time I left the house this morning, the sheriff’s car was gone.
The relief I felt after he told me he’d checked things out didn’t hit like I’d hoped because I still feel on edge concerning him.
I’m not sure I would’ve taken this place had I known he’d be the landlord, though with two small daughters, hopefully, he’s not as grumpy and stern as he seems.
Hopefully, he’s not hiding the worst parts of him.
May said he’s a control freak which is abundantly clear already, but I sense it’s nothing like what I’ve experienced in the past. His version is more centered on keeping the people he loves safe, which is vastly different. It’s the only reason I’m staying.
I am grateful, though. And I can be a good tenant. I can stay out of his way, and we can live peacefully.
At some point, I’m sure his brilliant blue eyes will fade from my mind. The cut of his jaw and the sheer size of him, too. He’ll become just another fellow resident of Juniper View.
I enter Jerry’s Diner, which sits a block away from the center of town, and a woman hops up to greet me, smiling as she extends her hands out to me.
“Welcome to Juniper View.”
She’s beaming. And beautiful. Long blonde hair, broad smile, stunning light blue eyes and delicate features to match her petite frame. And so friendly and warm, I feel those wretched tears threaten and have to clear my throat before I respond.
“Thank you. You must be Evie.”
“And you’re Sam.”
We smile at each other, kindred and strangers at once.
“Come sit. Let’s get food and get into it.”
We slide into a rose pink booth, and that’s when I realize I haven’t looked around.
I settle onto the bouncy vinyl and smile at the adorable interior.
The floor is navy and white checkers instead of the traditional black and white, and the booths and accents are made of all shining silver and pink vinyl.
There are six built-in stools at the counter on the far side and a line of three four-person booths along the opposite wall nearest the windows.
I guess for larger parties, they must use the two freestanding four tops at the far end.
All in all, it’s a tiny thing, especially compared to any diner in New York or LA, but it’s completely adorable.
“Isn’t it cute? I love this place, and Jerry is awesome. The food’s great, too.” She shuts her large plastic menu. “I’m definitely buying, so please get whatever you want.”
“What? No. You can’t do that. We just met.”
The look she gives me is something I feel down to my toes. It’s compassion and understanding, and a touch chiding.
“Listen, I know what it’s like to be where you are—from the little Missy told me, I get it. When I came here, I was pregnant. I literally had my baby after being kidnapped by my ex and Grant Ryan delivered me on the side of the road, bless the man.”
My mouth drops open because giving birth on the roadside sounds like a nightmare, but hearing her speak about Sheriff Ryan so warmly clashes directly with my experience of him.
“Right? Wild. And awful. And if the man I worked for when I left my ex hadn’t been Jack McKean, I don’t know where I’d be.”
My small gasp is big enough to draw her notice. She says Jack McKean like it’s some man with a vaguely recognizable name and not one of the most famous actors on the planet.
She grins. “He’s human. I promise. But he was so generous with me.
Still is. He gave me an amazing start. And now I have a job, and I already feel like a part of the community.
I want that for you, and if I can buy you breakfast today so you have one less thing to think about, then I’m doing it, and you’re not arguing. ”
I shake my head, but I feel myself giving in. “I don’t want to be a—”
“You’re not a burden, Sam. You’re a new friend I can’t wait to get to know.”
She’s so certain, and so steady, I can’t resist it. She’s been in a version of what I have and she’s coming out thriving. Granted, having a previous employer who is an A-list celebrity and likely one of the wealthiest people in Hollywood if not the world? Yeah, that helps with the leg up.
Still. If she came from an abusive situation, and she was pregnant…
She’s here, and whole, and demanding she buy my breakfast. Who am I to say no?
Like any woman presented with the wonders of a quality diner menu, I order pancakes and eggs.
My body needs protein, but my heart wants pancakes.
Since Evie ordered first and got waffles, eggs, and bacon, I felt free to do something similar.
Better yet? It’s all delicious. Maybe it’s because it’s been weeks since I’ve had much other than sandwiches or canned foods save that one blissful dinner bought by the nice man, but I quietly profess my undying devotion to Jerry for establishing this fine locale.
“So where are you living? You said you got a place?” She cups her coffee mug in the same way I am—we’re both drawing warmth from the ceramic after the waiter refilled them.
Winter here is much colder than in LA. Weirdly, though, this makes me savor the change that much more. The crisp February chill reminds me I’m not in my old life.
“I did. It’s in a little apartment above a garage just outside of downtown.” Is it weird to tell her whose garage?
“Oh, did you take May’s place? That’s perfect. You’re right by the sheriff.” She sighs, almost dreamily. “He’s such a good man.”
The sip of hot coffee I’m swallowing throttles me and I sputter. “He is?”
She nods rapidly, setting her mug down and straightening in her seat.
“Oh my gosh, the best kind. He delivered my baby on the side of a road. Like… not a thing I would wish on anyone, but he was so strong and calm and somehow didn’t make it awkward that the first time I met him was when my baby was literally crowning. ”
Our eyes are both wide.
“That sounds like an actual nightmare.”
Her head gives one emphatic dip. “Genuinely, I had dreams about giving birth in weird places. But it never occurred to me that a gorgeous sheriff I’d never met would be the man to deliver my baby.
And I’m glad I didn’t have any foresight on that.
” A giggle slips out and her cheeks turn pink.
“Like, he was so great about it, but like… he knows me.”
This shocks me enough that a laugh trips out louder than I planned, and I duck in my seat. “I can’t imagine any of that. Pregnancy. Giving birth on the side of the road. Even the idea that Grant Ryan is nice is baffling my mind right now.”
“Wait, really? He’s…” She shakes her head, gaze casting around the small, bustling space before she settles on her words.
“He’s truly a good man. Every member of that family I’ve met is top-notch, but Grant is good.
I guess he comes off as a little gruff in normal circumstances, but…
just wait until you see him with his daughters. ”
The soft smile on her pretty face makes me wonder if she’s got more than admiration for the sheriff.
“Is his wife nice?”
This time, she’s caught mid-drink. She recovers gracefully and sets her water down. “He’s not married.”
“Divorced?”
What? So I’m nosy about this guy. I should know a little about him, shouldn’t I? He’s my new landlord and he seems to have a permanent scowl especially for me. I want to figure him out a bit and make sure I don’t run any more afoul of him than I already have.
“No. And the kids aren’t biologically his.
” She ducks her head and speaks just above a whisper.
“His best friends died, and he was designated their legal guardian. Ended up moving back here so he had family nearby to help. His brother said something the other day that makes me think maybe he was with someone in North Carolina, and she left him when he got the girls.”
I’m catching flies, my jaw has dropped so low.
“Right? Awful. But this is what I mean. Like, he’s a good man at the core. He might not be caramel-covered, but he’s a good, if tart, Granny Smith apple.”
I grin, because she’s determined for me to like him.
“You know his brother?”
If I thought she’d blushed before talking about crowning, she flushes from the line of her pretty blonde hair down to the collar of her light blue button-up.
“Dr. Declan Ryan, yes. I work in his office at the front desk. He’s—” She swallows hard and tucks some hair behind her ears. “He’s a good boss.”
“Oh. He’s your boss?” I don’t know if she can sense the unspoken question there. Is he just your boss?
She claps her hands together and stands. “Yep. A good boss. And completely oblivious to me as anything but his faithful office lady.” She tips her head to one side as though to say, “what can I do about it?”
“Ah. Dang.” Assuming it’s the same Declan I met at the Corner Coffee Shop a few days ago, I can see the attraction. Add the whole doctor thing in, and yeah. I’d cast him in Grey’s Anatomy before I even knew he was a doctor, so he’s nailing all that. If he’s halfway decent, it’s a deadly combo.
She shrugs. “Nah. I’m grateful for everything I have, and I can’t complain a bit. I love it here. And I’m so glad you’re here. So how about we find you a job?”
I chuckle, rolling with her change of subject, heart beaming with gratitude for this woman who already feels like a new friend.
This is what I need. A source of connection, and someone who gets it. She understands the desire to start again, and she hasn’t pressured me to explain everything.
As much as I don’t know what’s ahead and I can’t shrug off the vigilance and dread I’ve loaded into my baggage, I can’t help but acknowledge this meal feels like an opportunity to set them aside, at least for a little while.