Healed By My Hyde (Fairhaven Falls #9)

Chapter 1

The last book slid into place on the shelf with a satisfying thunk.

Chloe stepped back, hands pressed to the small of her aching back, and surveyed her handiwork.

The boxes of books she’d brought with her were now neatly arranged on the shelves on either side of the small fireplace—the last step in making her new rental cabin feel like home.

A peaceful place to lick her wounds and welcome her baby into the world.

Sunlight streamed through the living room windows, illuminating the second hand furniture that she’d covered with flowered throws and the multi-colored rag rug she’d added to the worn wood floor.

The bed in the tiny bedroom was neatly made with her familiar cotton sheets and well-loved quilt.

Her vintage luggage was stacked neatly in the corner, the leather straps worn soft with age.

The luggage had belonged to her great-grandmother—the same great-grandmother who’d once lived in Fairhaven Falls.

Full circle, she thought, running her palm over the swell of her belly. Her ancestor had left the town all those years ago, and now she had returned.

“I think this is the right place for us, little bean,” she murmured quietly. Only the distant rush of the river and the creak of the old floorboards settling disturbed the silence. She’d wanted peace and quiet. She’d gotten it in spades.

The melancholy crept in before she could stop it, heavy and familiar. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. There should’ve been someone else here, hauling boxes, arguing about where the furniture should go, making plans for the nursery. Someone who gave a damn. Instead, she’d gotten Travis.

Travis, with his perfect teeth and his casual cruelty.

Travis, who’d gone white as a sheet when she’d told him she was pregnant, who’d stammered through half a dozen reasons why now wasn’t a good time.

Travis, who’d slid a check across the coffee table three days later like he was paying off a gambling debt.

“For your trouble,” he’d said. “And, you know. To make this go away.”

She’d stared at the check, her hands shaking.

“I’m keeping the baby.”

“Jesus, Chloe. Be reasonable.”

“I am reasonable. I’m also keeping the baby. You don’t have to be involved.”

His expression had shifted to relief, plain as day. Relief that he wouldn’t have to pretend to care, that she was letting him off the hook. The check had increased by several zeroes. All she had to do was let him sign away his parental rights.

She’d chosen to take the money, deciding that no father was better than one who resented the child before it was even born. Instead she would use it to start over somewhere no one knew her, somewhere she could build something that belonged just to her and her baby.

Reasonable, she thought bitterly.

“Your father,” she told her bump, “was a coward. But you? You deserve better than him. You deserve someone who’ll show up. Someone who’ll stay.”

A particularly aggressive kick landed just below her sternum, and she laughed.

“I’ll take that as agreement, little bean.”

She crossed to the tiny galley kitchen, filled the kettle, and set it on the old-fashioned gas stove. The matches rattled in the box as she struck one, her hands not quite steady, and the gas caught with a whoosh.

Time to focus on the future, she decided as she waited for the water to boil.

Her first prenatal visit with Dr. Jackson, the one and only doctor in Fairhaven Falls, was in two hours, and she was looking forward to it.

She loved the idea of an old-fashioned small town doctor rather than the impersonal clinic she’d attended for the first part of her pregnancy.

She’d decided Dr. Jackson was probably a white-haired older man with a soft southern drawl and courtly manners.

Despite the small size of his practice, his office has been reassuringly professional.

She’d spent the better part of yesterday filling out forms about her medical history, Travis’s medical history (family history of being a spineless git, she’d been tempted to write), and her due date.

Three months to go. Twelve weeks until she became responsible for an entire human being.

No pressure.

The kettle began to whistle. She poured the boiling water over a chamomile tea bag and watched the water turn gold, matching the leaves on the trees outside the window. The colors of fall surrounded the cabin, wrapping it in russet and amber. Beautiful, if a touch melancholy.

She carried her mug to the window, cradling it in both hands, and let the steam warm her face.

The forest pressed close here—oak and hickory and towering pines—and somewhere beyond them ran the river she’d heard all night through her open window.

A soothing rush that had lulled her to sleep better than any white-noise machine.

The town itself was only about a mile down the river as the crow flew, but the drive was considerably more complicated.

She had to make her way up the long, winding track through the woods to the main road, and follow that along the edge of the valley before finally descending to the charming downtown area along the river.

Charming and… different. Fairhaven Falls was known for its thriving community of Others.

Here, the creatures of myth and legend who lived alongside humans were not only accepted, but welcomed.

That kind of tolerance was exactly what she wanted for her child.

The connection with her grandmother had added to the appeal, and she’d ended up leasing the cabin for six months.

She’d seen Others in the city before, but always at a distance.

The charming satyr who’d handled the lease had been a revelation.

She sipped her tea and wondered who else she might encounter—a fairy?

An orc? Perhaps even a dragon. A dragon would certainly be different from any of the men she’d met before.

Travis had been deeply, aggressively normal. Boring, even.

Stop thinking about him.

Her stomach growled. Time for breakfast. There was bread in the cupboard, peanut butter in the fridge, and half a banana going brown on the counter.

She could make something—or she could treat herself to a proper meal at the cute little café by the river she’d spotted when she’d signed the lease.

She glanced at the clock and decided she had plenty of time for pancakes.

Decision made, she downed the rest of her tea, pulled on the wool plaid coat that wouldn’t close around her stomach any more, and headed for the door. I need to add maternity clothes to my list. Hopefully she could find a thrift shop in town as well.

The morning air bit at her cheeks as she stepped outside.

October had arrived in earnest, and despite the array of colors, many of the trees had already started losing their leaves.

Her cabin sat at the edge of a small clearing, with no other buildings in sight.

A quarter mile to the nearest neighbor, according to the landlord. Beautiful and peaceful, but isolated.

This is what I wanted, she reminded herself as she climbed into her car.

The River Café was perched at the end of Main Street, across from the Town Square.

An outside deck overlooked the wide river that flowed along the edge of town but it was empty on this cool morning.

She pulled into a parking space a short distance away and tried not to stare as a huge troll in mechanic’s overalls with a little girl tucked against one shoulder put his other arm around a curvy human woman. They looked so happy—like a family.

We can be a happy family too, even if they are only two of us, she thought, patting her stomach.

She walked into the café, a bell announcing her entrance, and was immediately enveloped by coffee-scented warmth.

Exposed beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and fairy lights twinkled in the corners despite the daylight.

Diner-style booths lined the walls while mismatched tables and chairs filled the center of the space.

Almost every seat was occupied, and she hesitated by the door. An older blue-skinned woman wearing a pink 50s style waitress uniform whizzed by and gave her a quick smile.

“Just give me a few minutes to find you a seat, hon.”

She shifted uncomfortably, but before she lost her nerve and headed back out the door, a tiny elderly woman with a cap of white curls appeared at her elbow. She was wearing a neon green tracksuit that clashed rather spectacularly with her pale green skin, but she beamed up at Chloe.

“There you are, dear. Come and join us.”

“That’s very nice of you, but—”

Despite her attempt to refuse, a tiny and surprisingly strong hand closed around her arm, and she found herself being escorted firmly across the busy room to one of the booths along the back wall.

The other occupant of the booth, a pleasant-faced older woman with a witch’s hat perched rakishly on her silver hair, gave her a friendly smile.

“You must be Chloe. Flora told me you’d moved into the old Thornhill cabin.”

“I did, but how did you—”

“Small town, sweetie.” Flora urged her irresistibly towards the bench seat, and Chloe gave up trying to argue. “Now let’s get you fed. You can’t live on peanut butter and hope when you’re growing a whole other person.”

The comment was oddly specific and she gave the old woman a startled look. Flora’s smile widened, revealing disturbingly sharp teeth, and the other woman shook her head.

“Stop teasing the child. Don’t mind her, Chloe. We’re always happy to see newcomers.”

The waitress stopped long enough to place a steaming mug of tea in front of her then hurried off again. The tea was strong and sweet, with a hint of something floral she couldn’t identify. She took a grateful sip and eyed the other two women nervously.

“As you guessed, I’m Chloe. I just moved to town.”

“I’m Gladys,” the silver-haired woman said. “And this is Flora. She runs the local inn.”