7. Daphne
7
DAPHNE
The next morning, I wake up on the mattress on the floor of my apartment, blinking sleep from my eyes. My limbs are heavy, but I force myself to get up and hop in the shower, letting the warm water rouse me. As I wash myself, I think back to last night, a lump of unease growing in my throat.
God, why did I have to mention what Rita said?
I left Garrett’s shortly after dinner. Everything was going perfectly until I mentioned the “criminal” comment. After that, he was more distant, almost like he was waiting for me to leave. So I didn’t stick around. We finished our dessert and said goodnight, the atmosphere strained between us. All because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.
I don’t regret telling Garrett about my parents. He was so kind and understanding, and when he told me he believed I wasn’t involved, I know he truly meant it. He’s the first person ever to believe me, and it got me wondering whether he’d dealt with similar false accusations—that’s why I mentioned Rita’s comment. But I knew I shouldn’t have said it the second the words left my mouth. It upset him. He tried to hide it, but I saw the way the light dimmed in his warm brown eyes, and now I’m more curious than ever.
I don’t believe Garrett is a criminal.
He gave me the benefit of the doubt when I told him about my family, and I owe him the same…but there’s obviously a story there. Something that still hurts him. I wish I knew what it was. I wish I knew why Rita Danvers said that about him. But now, I’ll probably never find out. I’m pretty sure I’ve blown it with Garrett, and I can’t see him opening up to me anytime soon after last night.
With a sigh, I step out of the shower and towel myself dry before getting ready for the day. Thirty minutes later, I’m in the car following the twisting mountain road toward Garrett’s cabin. My heartbeat quickens the closer I get, and when I finally come to a stop beside his pickup, I suck in a breath.
Garrett is standing in the open doorway, wearing dark jeans and a blue flannel shirt. He looks more rugged than ever, big and wild, and his gaze follows me as I get out of the car and head toward him, my legs trembling slightly.
I really wish my body would stop malfunctioning in his presence.
“Morning,” he calls as I approach, his voice a little croaky from sleep.
“Good morning.” I smile at him.
His eyes linger on mine for a moment before he looks toward his truck. “I need to head into town. Grab a few things. Make yourself at home while I’m gone, okay?”
He keeps his eyes averted, and I can’t help wondering whether he’s trying to get away from me. The thought is like a punch to the gut.
How did I mess this up so badly?
“Do you mind if I tag along?” I ask, the words out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I could really use some, uh…some extra paint.”
Garrett’s brow creases, but he nods. “Sure.”
His reluctance hurts more than it should, and as he helps me up into the passenger seat of his pickup, I wonder why the heck I’m doing this. I should stay here and work on my painting, not traipse after a man who doesn’t seem to want me here. But before I can say anything, Garrett is in the driver’s seat and we’re heading away from his cabin.
Silence settles between us as we descend Cherry Mountain, weighing me down until I can’t stand it anymore.
“Listen, Garrett…I’m sorry about last night.” I fiddle with my hands, keeping my eyes on the road ahead. “I never should have mentioned what Rita said, and I’m really sorry for upsetting you.”
In my peripheral vision, I see Garrett’s hands clench around the steering wheel, and he lets out a deep sigh.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Daphne. None of this is your fault. I’m the problem here, not you.” He pauses for a moment, and I chance a glance at him. His jaw is tight, and he’s breathing hard, like he’s trying to collect himself. “Fuck, I’m sorry for making you feel like you did something wrong. It wasn’t that at all. I promise.”
“Then what was it?” I ask, more confused than ever.
“I felt guilty.” He shakes his head. “You assumed what Rita said about me was false…which was sweet as hell of you. But it was also a mistake.”
“You mean you did commit a crime?”
“Yes. It was years before I moved here, but people still found out somehow. I was nineteen.” He grimaces, almost like he’s in pain. “I don’t like to talk about it. I served my time…”
My mind races with possibilities: burglary, arson, drugs. But one thing rises above the noise in my brain.
Nineteen.
That must have been at least twenty years ago. Whatever crime Garrett committed, it happened decades ago, yet people like Rita are still making him suffer for it.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him.
He looks at me, brows raised. “What for?”
“People shouldn’t go around calling you a criminal for something you did when you were nineteen. It’s not fair.”
He makes a noise deep in his throat, and the way he looks at me makes me lightheaded. “Plainville didn’t deserve you, Daphne,” he says. “Hell, this town doesn’t deserve you, either. But I’m glad you’re here.”
I glow at his praise, beaming at him. “So am I.”
The awkwardness from last night has dissipated, and as we reach The Craft Corner, I’m so relieved I asked to come along with Garrett. There’s still so much I want to ask…so much I want to know. I wish he trusted me enough to tell me what happened all those years ago, but I can’t blame him for being cautious when people like Rita exist. I know how it feels to want to leave the past behind for good, and I don’t want to force him to relive his mistakes.
“I’ll only be a minute,” I tell him once we’re parked.
“I’m coming with you.”
He’s already climbing out of the truck, hurrying to open my door for me, and together we walk toward the art supply store and head inside. I don’t really need anything—I was only saying that as an excuse to come with Garrett—but I’m way too embarrassed to admit that. I grab the cheapest pack of brushes I can find, feeling Garrett’s eyes on me as I head for the counter.
“Hang on a sec,” he says, reaching out a hand to stop me. “Is that all you need? I thought you wanted some paints?”
“Oh…uh, no, these will be fine.”
Garrett gives me a meaningful look. “Daphne, you can get whatever you want. I’m paying.”
“But—”
“No buts.” He crosses his arms. “Seriously, I owe you. I was an asshole last night. Let me make it up to you.”
I protest once more, but Garrett is already steering me back toward the paints, encouraging me to pick things out. Every time I insist I have enough, he points to something else he wants to buy for me, and when we eventually reach the clerk, my basket is full of new paint colors and supplies.
“Honestly, Garrett, this is way too much.”
“No, it’s not.” He looks at me pointedly. “You deserve it.”
I thank him over and over as he pays for the stuff, then he carries it out of the store for me. His giant strides are twice the size of mine, and I rush to keep up as we cross the parking lot toward his truck.
“Hey!”
A voice cuts through the air, and I whip around to see an old woman marching toward us, looking triumphant. I hear Garrett stop too, and my stomach lurches as the woman gets closer. It’s Rita Danvers—the busybody from the bakery.
“What do you think you’re doing with that young lady’s possessions?” she snaps at Garrett, hands on her hips. Then she turns to me. “Is this criminal bothering you? Did he steal your bags?”
I gawk at her. This woman can’t be serious.
“He didn’t steal anything!” Indignation rises in my chest. “He very kindly bought these things for me, and now he’s carrying them for me too.”
“Oh.” She looks disappointed, like I’ve robbed her of a juicy new piece of gossip.
“And his name is Garrett! Not ‘this criminal’. You have no right to go around calling him that.”
“Daphne, it’s alright.” Garrett sounds weary, like he’s dealt with this situation a million times before. “Let’s get out of here.”
“No, it’s not alright!” Anger rushes through me, and as I look at Rita, I can see the judgment of everyone in Plainville written on her face. I was too scared to stand up for myself then, but I can’t let her speak about Garrett like this. “You shouldn’t gossip about people, Rita. It’s cruel. It ruins lives.”
“A spade’s a spade.” She clicks her tongue. “You want my advice? Stay away fr?—”
“No.” I cut in. “I don’t want advice from someone like you. Not ever. And if I ever hear you talk about Garrett like that again, I’ll…I’ll tell everyone your little secret.”
It’s a bluff. I don’t know a thing about Rita Danvers, least of all her secrets. But everybody has one, right? And to my delight, I see her blanch.
“My little secret?” She laughs, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “What secret? I don’t have any secrets.”
“Really?” I raise an eyebrow. “That’s not what I heard.”
“Why? What did you hear?” There’s a desperate edge to her voice. “Whatever it is…it’s not true!”
“Bye, Rita.”
I turn on my heel and head back toward Garrett, who is watching me with his eyebrows raised. Once I reach the truck, I look back at Rita, relieved to see that she’s scurrying off down the street, texting frantically.
“I guess she really does have a secret after all,” I say, chuckling despite myself. “It was a bluff, but she looks pretty rattled.” Then my smile drops as I look at the seriousness on Garrett’s face. “I’m really sorry she said that about you. It was so uncalled for! I wish?—”
But my words are cut off in an instant when Garrett grabs me. He pushes me back against his truck with a deep groan, his hands tangling through my hair, and all at once, he’s kissing me hard. His beard is rough against my chin, his mouth hungry and urgent, sucking the breath from my lungs. The world turns white, my heart hammering as I lose myself in him—the smell of pine, the hard muscles of his chest pressing against me. He tastes raw and musky, and I can’t get enough of him. My arms loop around his neck, and it doesn’t matter that we’re in the middle of a parking lot. It doesn’t matter who sees. Let people talk. Let them whisper. Let them judge. Because right now, all that matters is Garrett, his lips on mine, our tongues melding, hands grabbing desperately at each other.
All that matters is him .