Chapter Twelve
Larkin had been right in guessing Carson would be at Grey’s Saloon. There he was, in the very back booth, looking like a guilty kid with his hand in a cookie jar. Who was the cookie? Larkin wondered grimly.
On the walk here she’d lectured herself on the impropriety of what she was doing. She should trust Carson, not check up on him behind his back. He was probably meeting up with a friend or a business associate. He was under no obligation to explain himself to her.
Now she was glad that she’d come to see for herself.
The guilty expression that had washed over his face when he first spotted her told her everything.
This was a meeting he’d wanted to keep secret.
Maybe they’d only shared a few kisses, but she’d thought they meant something.
And if they hadn’t, she needed to find out right now.
Her trust in men had already been a problem.
After this she might well become a confirmed cat lady.
Or a dog lady. The type of pet was negotiable.
As she was thinking all this, she’d been closing the distance between her and Carson. Soon she would be able to see who was sitting in the booth seat opposite him. She wondered if Carson used dating apps. Maybe this was someone he’d hooked up with on Tinder or something.
Stiffening her spine, she let her gaze slide from Carson to the mystery person. At first all she saw was red hair. Then a profile.
Her step faltered. A beard?
Carson wasn’t meeting another woman after all. It was a man. She felt a flush of embarrassment, but she couldn’t retreat now. She would have to make the best of—
She stopped dead when it hit her. The beard had been confusing. But as soon as she’d seen those light green eyes, she’d recognized him.
Carson was meeting with Andrew McCardle.
For several seconds she felt completely numb. And then the tidal wave hit. All the emotions she’d struggled with over the years. Anger, shame, disgust, a cesspool of awful feelings she had tried to put behind her.
Andrew had met her gaze just long enough for her to recognize him. Now he was staring into his empty glass, looking like he wished he could disappear. Carson didn’t look very happy either, but at least he wasn’t trying to avoid her.
“I’m sorry, Larkin. You weren’t supposed to see this. See him,” he clarified.
“I don’t understand how this is happening. You told me you weren’t friends anymore.”
“We’re not,” Andrew said quietly.
“That’s for damn sure.”
“Then why…?” And then she understood. Completely disregarding her stated wishes, Carson had decided he would confront Andrew about what he’d done to her the night of the prom. “I told you I wanted to leave it in the past.”
“You told me you didn’t want to press charges.”
People were looking their way. Damn it, now they were going to be a public spectacle. Well, what did she care?
“Way to split hairs.” She was so angry, she wanted to slap Carson. And she wanted to slap Andrew even harder. But she’d done that, and more, on the night in question, and it hadn’t stopped him.
“This situation is impossible. Andrew, I’d hoped to never see you again.
But since I have, there’s something I want to say to you.
You better never harm another woman the way you did me.
Forcing me to have sex the night of our prom.
That was supposed to be one of the happiest nights of my life. Instead it was the worst.”
“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that you didn’t like what we were doing.”
“What?” The word exploded out of her like a bomb. “I fought you! How could you—”
But Carson was already out of his seat. He yanked Andrew to his feet, then pounded his fist into the side of face. Dazed from the punch, Andrew slowly sank to the floor, his knees giving out.
Everyone in the bar went absolutely quiet. Meanwhile the Zac Brown Band’s song about “Chicken Fried” played incongruously from the sound system. Larkin stared from Andrew, moaning on the floor, to Carson, looking like he was getting ready to throw a second punch.
Then a gruff voice from behind the bar said, “Folks, settle your bill and take your party outside. You can come back when you’ve cooled off. That’s all except for you, Red. You I don’t want to see in here ever again.”
*
Andrew showed remarkable powers of recovery once a little cold air was blowing in his face. He hurried to his Audi SUV, locking himself into the driver’s seat like he was afraid Carson was going to come after him again.
Carson wasn’t. He was more concerned about damage control with Larkin. She was some pissed and he couldn’t blame her.
“That was ugly. I’m sorry, Larkin. You weren’t supposed to be here.” He wondered why she’d come to the bar in the first place, but there were more pressing problems to deal with right now.
Hands on hips, she glared at him. “What was Andrew doing there? You must have called him. Arranged a meeting. But why?”
“Because of what he did to you. I couldn’t live with myself until I’d called him out.”
“More like punched him out.”
“He brought that on himself with what he said to you.”
Larkin threw up her hands. “Seriously? That’s all you have to say in your defense? Did it even occur to you to check with me before contacting him? What if seeing Andrew again just made me relive the trauma? How could you possibly know if I was strong enough to handle that?”
That thought hammered him. “Did it?” he asked quietly. “Did seeing him again make you…”
“No.” She sounded surprised. “Actually it didn’t.”
“Are you sure?” If he’d compounded her injury he didn’t think he could live with that.
“I—I think so. Those words I said to him? They were the same words I spoke to my therapist when we role-played confronting Andrew about what he’d done.
But it did feel…I don’t know, cathartic?
…to say them to his face.” She took a deep breath.
“That doesn’t mean I forgive you for inviting him to Marietta. ”
“In my defense—as weak as it is—you weren’t supposed to be here.” He hesitated, then added, “Why did you come to the bar anyway?”
She turned her head away. “It was a stupid reason.”
“This sounds interesting.”
But instead of explaining, she stuffed her hands in her pockets and started walking.
The storm had not abated during the time he’d been at Grey’s.
All was silent, except for their boots crunching through the snow.
The fluffy crystals coated everything: rooftops and pine trees, garlands and Christmas lights.
It would have been a perfect winter night if not for the wind, which seemed to face them at every turn.
The weather seemed a perfect metaphor for the mess he’d made of things tonight.
He’d felt like he wouldn’t know any peace until he confronted Andrew, man to man.
And he still felt that what he’d done had been necessary.
But it hadn’t been right for Larkin, and that was the problem.
The least he could do was be honest about that.
“You’re right,” he finally said. “I arranged that meet-up with Andrew to make myself feel better. When all I should have cared about was what you needed.”
“I don’t like what you did. But I appreciate the honesty.” A few seconds passed, then he heard her sigh. “I guess I should be honest too. I got sort of jealous when you said you had plans this evening. I thought maybe you were…”
She didn’t finish, and it took him a moment to figure out where she’d been headed. “You thought I was meeting another woman?”
She jerked her head in a quick nod. “For all I know you were dating a string of women before I showed up.”
“Not a one,” he assured her. “I’ve been pretty honest about my feelings for you. Why would you think I’d want to meet up with another woman?”
“Trust has been an issue for me,” she admitted. “And it turned out you had been going behind my back. Though not for the reason I guessed.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. They were back at Bramble House, and he guessed this evening wasn’t going to end with a kiss or even a nightcap. He walked with her to the porch and was relieved when she didn’t go straight up to her room, but paused for a moment, looking at him.
He wouldn’t do his cause any good if he told her how hot she looked when she was furious. He was partial to the puffy coat and scarf look. But when he tried to adjust the scarf as he’d done on the toboggan hill earlier, she batted his hand away.
“These past few days have felt surreal. Sometimes I feel like it’s only been a few weeks since I last saw you. Other times you seem like a totally different person from the Carson I grew up with.”
“People change, but not at their core. You know me better than almost anyone else in the world.”
“You figure that works both ways?”
“That I know you? Yeah, I do. Which only makes me feel even more shitty that I didn’t see the game Andrew was playing back then. I feel so damn guilty about that. That’s why tonight happened.”
“Getting a chance to confront him face-to-face was more healing than I thought it would be,” she admitted. “But that punch. No wonder our world is in such a mess. Men need to realize that violence isn’t the way to solve problems.”
“You’re right. The punch solved nothing. But tell me honestly. Wasn’t it just the tiniest bit satisfying to see that jackass get knocked off his feet?”
She glared at him. Then the corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly. “I hate to admit it, but it did feel good.”
Relief washed over him, but it didn’t last.
As she opened the door, she gave him one parting shot. “That doesn’t mean I’m not still furious with you though.”
*