Chapter 19
When Mags came over after work that night, she seemed to have had a good day. She looked pleased with herself and gave me a smug little smile when I inquired how things had gone at the bakery, though she didn’t elaborate. I hoped it was our washing machine adventure that made her look so satisfied. Thinking about it had made me whistle all day as I mowed and weeded the grounds around the house.
After giving her and Gemma a chance to greet each other like the good friends they now were, I suggested to Gemma she should get her homework finished before dinner. Then I asked Mags to take a walk with me while I left the casserole simmering on the stove.
“Like...a hike?” Lifting one foot, Mags held it out for my inspection. “These are my favorite sneakers. They don’t do mud.”
She was wearing another of her runway outfits. This time, it was high-waisted black pants with a stretchy white top that made her breasts look sensational. It was a shame she wasn’t wearing something more casual, but I needed to get her alone, and we should be able to stay clean.
“There’s a path,” I said. “No mud, I promise.”
She was still squinting doubtfully, but I managed to coax her out of the back door.
I’d been thinking about her all day, mulling over how fascinating and fun she was. Last week, I’d watched her serving customers at the bakery and admired her ease with everyone she met. She had a way about her that people responded to.
She had all the qualities I admired, along with a kind of charisma, or magnetic energy, that made it hard for me to take my eyes off her. I could fall hard for her, and before that happened, I wanted to tell her everything about my past and make sure she knew who I was, good and bad.
So that’s what I intended to do.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Down to the river.” I whistled for Zeppelin. “Come on, boy.”
The dog raced ahead of us, following the old stone path that meandered through the trees out back, cutting through the woods for five hundred feet or so before it ended at the river. Beside the water, there was a cleared area with some logs for sitting on. The river wasn’t deep, but it was wide enough that Ruth and I had never managed to make a rock bridge that would allow us to go all the way across without getting wet.
“This is beautiful,” Mags said, looking across to the tangle of tall trees on the far bank.
I nodded my agreement. Dragonflies buzzed softly by, and the water made a nice burbling sound. The trees provided just enough dappled shade to keep the clearing pleasantly cool. It was the kind of place you could sit and dream for hours.
“What are those flowers?” she asked, pointing to a large, leafy plant that crawled along a large part of the river bank. It was covered with clusters of blue flowers.
“That’s wild blue phlox.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Let me guess. You have an app on your phone that tells you the name of flowers, right?”
“Actually, they were Momma’s favorites. They’re one of the first flowers to bloom in springtime, and she used to say that when she saw them, she knew winter was truly over. She loved when they appeared. She always picked a bunch to put in the kitchen.” I smiled to myself, remembering how happy she used to get when she had a jar full of blooms on the windowsill.
“They’re stunning,” Mags said.
“Momma used to call them her fresh-start flowers.”
That particular memory made my heart ache to think about, so to distract us both, I bent to pick up a small, flat stone. Walking closer to the river, I skimmed the stone across the surface of the water. It jumped three times—no, four times—before disappearing.
Not my best effort by any stretch, but Mags said, “You’re good at that.”
“Ruth and I used to come down here all the time. We had stone skimming competitions. My best was six jumps.”
She picked up a stone and weighed it in her hand. “How is Ruth doing?”
“Better, I think. I spoke to her today and she seemed a little brighter.”
“I’m glad.” Mags skimmed the stone. It jumped five times and she let out a triumphant, “Yes!” before spinning to face me, her eyes luminous with delight.
“Beginner’s luck,” I teased.
“You wish.” She moved in close and pulled my face close for a kiss.
Her lips felt great and tasted sweet, as though she’d been enjoying delicious treats at the bakery. Her body was warm and pliant, moving against me as though she was hungry for me, and my body responded at once. I hardened against her, teasing her tongue with mine, and groaning as she ground against me. Sliding my hand to her bottom, I pulled her harder against me. She raked my back with her fingernails, her obvious eagerness ratcheting my arousal.
I wanted her. I needed to feel her.
But suddenly, I realized I was backing her against a tree, moving instinctively without conscious intent. And that wasn’t what I’d brought her here for.
“Wait.” I forced the words from my throat. “Stop.”
“Why?” She sounded hoarse. “What’s wrong?”
Letting her go, I backed away from her, running a hand through my hair and sucking in a deep breath. Somehow I needed to throw ice water over the parts of me that were on fire for her.
“I want to tell you something, and your lips are very distracting.”
She pouted, her gaze still hazy. “So we can’t kiss?”
“Afterward. If you still want to.”
That seemed to startle her, because her eyes cleared. “What do you mean, if I still want to?”
“Please sit a moment.” I waved to one of the giant logs my granddaddy had set in this clearing. Though they’d been here for years, they were sun bleached and hard, and no rot had set in. She settled on one, and I sat a short distance from her, far enough away that I wouldn’t be tempted to stop talking so I could kiss her instead. I had to get out what I had to say, and couldn’t leave the casserole simmering for long.
She sat, her face turned to me expectantly. “Okay?”
“Ruth and I were over there when my momma died.” I pointed to the far side of the clearing. “See where the trees are thick, and behind them, there’s an explosion of vines? There’s a door there.”
She jerked her head around. “Where?”
“See where I’m pointing? Follow the gnarled bit of that tree down and you can make out the door handle.”
It took her a few more moments to spot it, but when she did, her eyes widened. “There. I see it! What is that?”
“It’s a small hut my daddy built to store all the things he didn’t want the police to find.”
“Oh?” She squinted harder. “Well, it’s a clever hiding place. We’re sitting close, and I still wouldn’t have noticed it.”
“Ruth and I used to keep books and toys in there, for when we needed to stay out of the house for long stretches. Our daddy sold drugs to motorcycle gangs, and some of them would spend time at the house. Ruth and I used to hang out here until they left.”
“I’m sorry you had to grow up with so much to fear.” Moving closer, she reached out to take my hand, threading her fingers into mine. It was sweet of her, and I brought her fingers to my lips so I could kiss them. But then I lowered them again to keep talking. I had a lot to say, and I needed to get through it.
“The day my mother died, Ruth and I were over there when we heard our daddy hollering for us. When we went back to the house, Momma was lying by the porch steps.”
She reached her free hand to cover our linked hands and squeeze, her eyes wide with sympathy. “How awful. I’m so sorry.”
“We told the sheriff we saw our momma trip and hit her head. Nobody in town believed us. How could she die falling down a few porch steps? But we wouldn’t change our story, and my daddy’s friends swore he was with them at the time. The sheriff didn’t have enough evidence to charge him.”
“You lied to protect him?”
I nodded. “He said if he went to jail, the gangs he sold drugs to would blame us for their supply stopping. And they’d take it out on Ruth.”
She sucked in a shocked breath, screwing her face up. “That’s awful.”
“He was an evil person, and I believed him. So I lied, even though it felt like I was letting my momma down.” I frowned, remembering the awful weeks after her death. “And I also let down Sheriff James. He’s the one I had to lie to, and he’s a good man. He was kind to my sister when others weren’t so nice.”
“Is the sheriff still around? Maybe it’s not too late to tell him the truth. It might make you feel better.”
“Maybe.”
It wasn’t a bad idea. But I didn’t want to mull it over now. The only person I’d told about my past was my therapist, and I’d done it bit by bit, over multiple sessions. It was a lot to hit Mags with all at once, but I had to do it before our relationship went any further. She needed to know all the things that had shaped me, and how many of the rumors about me were true.
“After that, I took Ruth to Boston and became another person. I worked nights and studied. When I graduated, I got a good job. I bought a house and an expensive car. I had short hair and no beard. I wore nice suits. Everything about me was different.”
Her eyebrows were high. “No beard?” she repeated. “Nice suits?”
“I was clean-shaven.” Despite the ordeal of having to tell her my sordid history, I found myself giving her a little smile. “Everything I tell you, and that’s what you focus on?”
Her lips curved in response. “Shh. I’m trying to imagine it.”
I rolled my eyes and she laughed. “Keep going,” she urged. “Tell me how you ended up hairy.”
“Well, as hard as I was working, I started feeling like everything was fake. Like it was all empty, and none of it mattered. You ever have that feeling?”
She nodded, her expression growing serious again. “I think I know what you mean.”
“I was partying too much. Letting the city consume me. Out all night, barely sleeping, spending every minute busy so I wouldn’t have time to think.” I grimaced, remembering. “But then I got the call to say my daddy had died.”
“How did that make you feel?”
It was the same question my therapist asked, and for a moment I felt like I was in her pastel-toned office instead of sitting on a log in the clearing that had been my childhood sanctuary.
“I knew I should feel elated that the murdering bastard was gone,” I said. “I should be dancing on his grave. But there were other emotions too. Ones I didn’t want to have, because how could any part of me mourn him?”
“He was your father. It’s understandable.”
“I hated him. But his death made me feel even more untethered.” One hand was still clasped in hers, but I put the other on the log beside me, to feel the smoothness of the old wood that had been here since I was a boy.
“Did coming back to Green Valley make you feel any better?” she asked.
“It made everything worse. I had to face everything I’d been trying to forget.” I focused on her warm brown eyes, taking comfort in the softness of her expression and the clasp of her hands. “Ruth isn’t the only one who struggles with depression,” I admitted. “Arriving back here was like sinking into all my bad memories. And I was overwhelmed. For a long time, I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t renovate the house like I’d intended. I only went out to stock up on food.” I lifted one shoulder. “It’s hard to describe what it was like. A dark kind of despair sucked everything out of me. And I did nothing at all for over a year.”
I watched her as I said it, expecting her to be shocked. But her gaze stayed sympathetic and the pressure on my hand remained steady. The crease between her eyes was one of compassion, not judgement.
“Eventually I found a therapist and started on antidepressants,” I said. “It took a while to find the right medication. Then there was some light in the darkness.”
“I’m glad.” She lifted my hand to her lips and kissed my knuckles.
“Coming back here was good for me, in the end. I’ve been finding some kind of peace. I still have nightmares, but haven’t had a bad day for a while now.”
“You’ve been healing.”
I nodded. “If I’d stayed in the city I would have self-destructed. I guess I’m a country guy at heart.”
She nodded, though I wasn’t sure she could understand that, when she so obviously loved her life in New York.
The thought made me restless. Easing my hand from hers, I got to my feet. A smooth stone was lying a few steps away, and I bent to grab it, then weighed its polished surface in my hand.
“In Nashville, Ruth has been struggling with the same issues,” I said. “The other morning, Gemma asked me if she was going to get sick too. I said no, but the truth is, I don’t know.”
Walking to the bank of the river where it curved inward so the water was calm and still, I skimmed the stone over the water with a practiced flick of my hand. It skipped on the surface once, twice, three times, then disappeared.
Mags came up behind me and put a hand on my arm. When I turned, she was looking at me with such warmth in her eyes, I had to swallow past a sudden lump in my throat.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said.
“It’s important you know everything.”
“Because of what happened this morning?”
I kept my gaze level. “Because I’m falling for you.”
After all the truths I’d confessed, it should have been an easy thing to admit to. But my breath caught in my throat as her lips parted and her eyes widened. My confession had caught her by surprise.
And maybe admitting it had been a mistake. She’d only just split up from her rock-star boyfriend, and she’d made her feelings about romance clear. In a few weeks, she’d head back to New York. I was fairly certain she wouldn’t want a Tennessee relationship to complicate her life.
“I...” She swallowed, giving a little shake of her head. “I didn’t expect that.”
I gritted my teeth. It wasn’t the reaction I’d hoped for, but I’d come this far. No sense in backpedaling now.
“How could I help falling for you?” I asked. “You’re beautiful, and you make everything fun. I look forward to seeing you. And I haven’t just been buying chocolate cake every day because Gemma likes it.”
She frowned, and the doubt in her expression made my heart sink. “I like you, Cy. But I need some time to think. I didn’t come here looking for another relationship, and I’m planning on leaving once I fix my Spike problem, so I have no idea how it could work between us in the long term.”
I nodded, determined not to let my disappointment show. We were still getting to know each other. I was rushing things, expecting too much. Feeling too much.
She needed time, so I’d take a step back and give it to her. After all, I didn’t know how things could work between us, either. On paper, we looked like an impossible equation. All I knew was that I wanted to solve it.
“Dinner will burn if we don’t head back.” Thrusting my hands in my pockets, I started walking toward the house.
She walked with me, her frown heavy. “Cy, I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.” I forced a smile. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” she said, trying to smile back. “As usual.”