Safe Love

Chapter 1

My breath shuddered as I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my car shaking similarly over the ruts in the gravel highway.

I did it.

After packing up my car in the middle of the night, I got behind the wheel and started driving. Anxiety was coursing through me and the only way to quiet it was to continue reminding myself that I did it. I was doing the damn thing. I wasn’t turning around or looking back.

I left him.

The sky was starting to change colours over the horizon, dipping from a cotton candy pink into a dark, lazy blue as a yawn escaped me.

I had been driving almost nonstop since I left, not that you could tell by the continuous sea of canola fields flowing in the breeze lately.

The only proof I’d been driving for hours was not the view that had stayed the same over the Saskatchewan prairies, but the kilometres ticking up on the odometer and the hours passing by on the clock.

Nothing I could play through the speakers was enough to drown out the noise in my head as the tears pricked my eyes. But I refused to let them fall, to give away any more of myself for him.

I had no idea where I was going to sleep tonight, but no matter where it was, it would be more peaceful than the bed we once shared.

I rolled down the driver’s window and let the fresh air fill the inside of the car. Instantly, my tense body relaxed a fraction and my grip loosened. The sweet smell of the flowering canola was a balm to the terror that was ruthlessly battering the rest of my senses.

The ding of the gas light startled me from my thoughts.

“Dammit!” I slowed down and pulled to the side of the small highway as I shook my head at myself.

I was so lost in my thoughts. So worried about being seen with my red, swollen eyes that I had completely neglected my gas tank and where exactly I was.

I could see a green sign in the distance that indicated a town coming up, but I was nothing without the directions from my cell phone. Thank you, modern day technology.

I cursed when I realized I didn’t have service. Of course, just my luck. But, on second thought, at least Nick really couldn’t get a hold of me now. I blocked his number and turned off my location as soon as I left, but that fear was ever present.

I put my foot back on the accelerator and threw my phone down on the passenger seat, staring ahead toward the upcoming town.

There had to be a gas station and a hotel I could stay at for the night.

I was hopeful they’d take cash, but I knew I wouldn’t be above sleeping in my car either.

Though, I’d prefer not to do that in the middle of nowhere.

I scoffed at the town’s name on the sign as it came into view.

Love.

“You have got to be kidding me.” A watery laugh escaped me.

I guess there was no better place to explore a new version of love than a place with that very same name.

After spending damn near a decade in a relationship with someone who had only brought me down and called that love, I was determined to write a new definition for myself.

I was finally ready to show myself the type of care and love that I knew I deserved—I just didn’t know how to find it yet.

“Hello?” I called out as I walked into the bed and breakfast I found on the edge of town.

“Heavens to Betsy!” came a voice that sounded warmer and more melodic than the wind chimes on the deck that sang in the breeze. “Goodness, dear. You startled me! How can I help you?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I thought this was a bed and breakfast,” I said to the woman standing in the kitchen.

Her hair was the most perfect shade of white, the only part of her lacking any sort of colour.

She wore a bright blue dress, but it was covered by a floral apron.

At least, I was pretty sure it was floral, there was more flour and stains on it than anything.

I quickly glanced over my shoulder to make sure I hadn’t passed through a time portal when I walked through the door. I was sure I’d seen a sign outside, however worn, that said this was a bed and breakfast. Whispers of Love. I was willing to bet the whole town was romantically named.

Walking in here was like walking into the warmth of a grandmother’s house.

The smell of fresh baking paired with an apple cinnamon candle filled the area.

Every single bookshelf was bursting at the seams with worn adventures ready and waiting to be picked up once again.

Any free space was lined with the cutest knickknacks that told the story of a life fully lived.

It wasn’t cluttered, but cozy. A fire roared in the wood stove, emanating a warm hideaway, and the couches with the obviously handmade afghans were calling my name as I suddenly felt deflated.

There was no way this was a bed and breakfast. I had to have walked into someone’s grandparents’ house.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I—I’m so sorry—” I stumbled over my apologies—and my feet—as I turned for the door, mortified.

“Now, just you wait a minute, dear. You stay right there.”

“I’m sorry?”

“As you should be. Startling an old lady like that and then trying to rush away without a cup of tea when you obviously need to rest.”

I quickly schooled my shocked expression. I had fixed my makeup in the car before I came in, and thought I did a pretty good job of hiding my swollen features, but I guess nothing gets past Grandma.

“My name is Beatrice, but you can call me Trixie. Everyone in Love does. Now, chamomile or lavender?”

It took a moment for my brain to play catch up. It had been so long since I experienced genuine kindness, and from a complete stranger at that, that I could hardly make my mouth work to speak.

“Chamomile would be great. Thank you so much.” I wanted to tell her my name, but Crystal didn’t feel like me anymore.

When your name had only been said with anger for so long, the feelings of shame were built around it.

I felt so disconnected from my old life, from my own name, and I needed a fresh start. “I’m Stella.”

Going back to the nickname my grandfather had called me felt more than right at this moment. This old farmhouse reminded me so much of the space I grew up in. Although it looked very different—my grandpa kept things around for necessity and not for décor—the energy was the same.

Trixie had a presence that made me want to collapse in her arms, and the space around her had that same type of nurturing comfort. I didn’t realize until right now how much I’d been missing it.

“Stella, beautiful. Welcome to Whispers of Love.” Her smile was genuine as she placed a steaming cup in front of me.

“Now that they’ve built that big new fancy hotel up on the main highway, not many folks come through this way.

So, you’re in luck. You can have your choice of the Lovers’ Loft, Honeymoon Hideaway, or Sweetheart Suite. ”

My stomach sank. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.

Being surrounded by this romantic atmosphere was sure doing a number on my shattered heart.

At thirty-two, I had always pictured my life rich with love and family.

I thought I’d stay in a Honeymoon Hideaway on my honeymoon, or in a Sweetheart Suite with my sweetheart. But such a dream did not exist anymore.

“I—uh…” The chamomile tea soured in my stomach as I struggled to find a way to thank Trixie for her kindness but explain that I wouldn’t be able to stay here.

“Never mind,” she said, interrupting my thoughts. “The suite has the biggest bed and the nicest tub. Bring your tea but leave your bags. I’ll have Calvin bring them up for you.”

I hadn’t seen anyone else in the cozy home while I’d been here, but I assumed Calvin must be her employee. I cradled my teacup in my hands like I now protected my heart, like it would crumble through my fingers if I wasn’t ever so delicate with it.

While I followed Trixie to the room, she paused at the bottom of the stairs to knock on a door off to the right. “Cal, sweetie, when you’re done in there can you help with some bags?”

I heard the clank of some tools and pipes before a deep voice responded. “Sure thing, Gram, almost finished up with the sink in here.”

“Don’t know what I’d do without that boy,” Trixie said with a soft smile—probably more to herself than anything—as she continued up the stairs leading me to the last room on the left.

Trixie opened the door, and I felt my first bit of hope. With a name like Sweetheart Suite, I was expecting a ridiculous heart-shaped bed with cupid decor littering the space.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

It wasn’t modern by any stretch. I was almost positive there was a time warp somewhere in this house.

The vintage vibe from downstairs extended into the bedroom up here.

The light switch lit up a swag lamp hanging in the corner that filled the room with the softest warm glow while my eyes found the huge bed.

Trixie wasn’t kidding. This had to be a California king, with more pillows, quilts, and afghans than I could ever imagine.

My brain knew the rest of the room was beautiful, too, but with how tired I was, I couldn’t take any of it in.

“Make yourself comfortable, dear. Calvin will bring your bags up shortly. Breakfast will be ready at eight but take your time. There’s always more than enough food. My room is just across the hall, so don’t you hesitate if you need anything at all, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Trixie.” My voice was barely a whisper as I lowered myself onto the bed. I grasped one of the crochet blankets in my hands like my life depended on it, and at that moment, I wasn’t convinced it didn’t.

I didn’t even hear the door click shut as Trixie left the room and I dozed off.