Chapter 13
thirteen
“Some women fear the fire. Some women simply become it.” - R.H. Sin
Jocelyn’s whole body tensed at Cole’s words. He tipped his head toward the swinging door she’d seen him and other servers disappear through. Apparently, it led to more than just the kitchen.
“Natasha isn’t like her family.” He leaned forward, pushing out of his seat. “Might want to give her a shot.”
She watched him stand. He didn’t act like he was going to sit again, and panic clawed at her belly that he was about to abandon her to her sister.
Natasha had been pleasant the day before, but Jocelyn’s interaction with Lydia left a stamp of fear that she’d read her wrong—that she was about to experience a betrayal of memory.
The familiar ache of being misunderstood settled in her chest like an old companion.
“Didn’t ask for my two cents, I know.” Leaning down, Cole placed his hands on the table. “But I think you’ll be surprised.”
“Wait,” she said, grabbing his wrist as he pushed away before she could think better of it.
He pried her hand off but held it warm and tight, and in a move that shocked her out of her panic, pressed it to his lips. “You’ll be fine, Darlin’. Promise.”
Her mouth fell open for a moment before Natasha reached them, like some unseen tether had pulled her across the restaurant. Jocelyn’s attempt at a smile didn’t feel successful—probably because she was still reeling from Cole’s gesture, analyzing every nuance of what it might mean.
“Hey there, Cole,” Natasha said warmly.
“Hey, Tash,” he replied with a gentle smile. “Get you something?”
Natasha glanced at Jocelyn, uncertain. The panic in her face matched what raged in Jocelyn’s gut. Then she looked at the sing-o card left where he’d been. “Am I takin’ your seat?”
“Gotta make the rounds. Help yourself.”
Natasha looked again at Jocelyn, who only shrugged and scooted her empty milkshake to the side. Even that small movement made her feel like she was giving up more ground than she wanted to.
“Can I get the hangover burger?” Natasha asked as she sat.
Cole nodded then looked at Jocelyn for her order.
Jocelyn couldn’t imagine stomaching much. “Fries.”
He nodded and left, but Jocelyn’s nerves remained, buzzing under her skin. She rubbed her palms against her thighs as if she could erase the tension. This was a mistake. A horrible idea. Right?
Across the room, a few curious glances lingered on them. Jocelyn told herself not to care, but heat still climbed her neck, spreading up to paint her cheeks. Natasha seemed unaffected, her discomfort rooted not in the crowd but in Jocelyn’s presence.
“Is sing-o night your usual activity of choice?” Jocelyn asked, trying to fill the silence that stretched between them.
Natasha gave a soft laugh. “Not usually, but I don’t mind it. It’s kinda fun.”
Jocelyn glanced around the room again. All of the gawkers had moved on with their meals. “It is, isn’t it?”
“You played against Cole,” Natasha said, spinning his used sing-o sheet under her pointer finger.
“I issued a challenge. He accepted.”
Natasha let out a low whistle. “Lord, he does like a challenge.”
A weird twinge of jealousy stole through her at the thought that Natasha knew him—and he knew her—in ways Jocelyn didn’t. She scolded herself for caring on either front.
“Glad you got him to cut loose a little. He stays wound up tight most of the time.”
“Does he?” Jocelyn mused. Wound up wasn’t exactly the phrase she’d use. Intense was more in line with her experience. Even now, she felt his gaze burning across the room, charged with energy.
“A lot of it has to do with John,” Natasha continued, her neatly manicured fingers tearing tiny pieces off the corner of the sing-o sheet. “He figures—and folks around here don’t let him forget it—that he’s gotta prove he belongs in this town, live up to his daddy’s name.”
Jocelyn’s brows knit low as she glanced toward Cole again. He was talking to someone at the bar now, his fingers drumming lightly over the surface like he needed to burn some of that pent-up energy.
“His daddy’s name,” Jocelyn repeated dryly, giving her half-sister a wry smile.
Natasha returned it. “The hero who saved a little girl.”
Jocelyn clicked her tongue, looking down at her hands on the table. It was still strange to hear it put that way, like she was a newspaper headline, a human interest story. But it was her childhood that had gone up in smoke.
“I remember driving by your house,” Natasha said softly, expression cautious. “We drove by that way a lot. One day the house was there. The next day, it was gone.”
Oh, how those words smarted. Jocelyn took one long toke of oxygen, desperate to keep the conversation moving. “I stopped over there a couple times. It’s still weird that there’s nothing there.”
Her sister’s expression softened. “I’ve seen it so many times now, just empty like that. It’s sad. But it’s become almost normal.”
Another zing of pain pin-balled through Jocelyn’s heart. There was nothing normal about it, but she knew that wasn’t what Natasha meant. She redirected the pain—and the anger—and when she looked away, she caught Cole’s appraising eye for a moment, like he knew they were talking about tough things.
Wouldn’t have been a stretch, no matter the topic.
“Why does Cole think he has to prove anything to anyone?” she asked, turning back.
She’d heard enough of his history to know he’d floundered, but why that had any bearing on his life now, or his reputation in this town, she couldn’t fathom. But she wasn’t a stranger to the label a parent’s name placed on their child.
Natasha’s smile was grim. “He was the town hell-raiser for a long while.”
Jocelyn snorted. Ellen Hauser had said as much plenty of times in her letters, though she never did go into detail.
“What kind of hell? We talking tee-peeing the principal’s house? Or selling drugs to elementary school kids?”
Natasha laughed at the wide spectrum of options. “Somewhere in between? I was too young to catch the details, but I remember he got himself arrested more than once.”
Jocelyn’s jaw dropped. That was definitely not anything Ellen had shared with her, though it made sense the woman’s kind heart wouldn’t want to paint her son in such a negative light.
“For what?”
“Petty theft, far as I remember. Don’t think he ever sold drugs, though folks like to talk about how he dabbled in tryin’ some. But that’s mostly just the mothers—you know how they are.”
“The mothers,” Jocelyn repeated, leaning back in her seat. “Sounds like the name of a horror movie.”
Natasha huffed a laugh. “They can be downright awful.” She rolled some of the paper scraps between her finger and thumb, back and forth. “Mama and her little pack of high-and-mighty friends.”
“Ah, yes,” Jocelyn murmured.
“Anyway, they embellish.”
“Who doesn’t?” There was a bitter edge to Jocelyn’s words she couldn’t block. The things they’d said about her mama…
Natasha winced. “Anyhow, he was the wild one, and him and his daddy never did have an easy go of it.”
Based on Cole’s words a few moments before, that wasn’t surprising. Ellen had hinted that there was fault on both sides. But Jocelyn’s experience at their house the other day hadn’t seemed as strained as she’d been led to believe. And the way Cole jumped to John’s defense…
“He looks at you a fair bit,” Natasha noted.
Jocelyn didn’t have to ask who. She was all too aware of how often Cole’s attention lingered on her—or the way he seemed to reluctantly seek her out whenever she was around.
The flutter in her stomach and the easy way they seemed to fall into flirting banter told her it was not a good idea.
It was best she added the distance while she could.
“I’m not here to stay,” Jocelyn said, though Natasha hadn’t asked the question. The implication had been there clear enough.
Her half-sister cocked her head. “What’re you here for, then?”
Jocelyn hesitated. As much as she felt she owed this town nothing, Natasha was different. Seemed to be different. And they were sisters. Yet her mouth remained closed.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me,” Natasha said as Jocelyn’s hesitation stretched.
Jocelyn took a bracing breath, but Cole’s reappearance interrupted her.
He slid their food onto the table, then shifted closer. “Brian’s here. Want me to get rid of him?”
Natasha started to sink lower before she thought better of it and straightened. “No, it’s fine. Thanks, Cole.”
He nodded, his eyes flashing to Jocelyn before moving on. But his steps carried him toward the man she assumed was Brian, his movement belying a predatory grace. A story there, certainly.
“Who’s Brian?” Jocelyn asked.
Natasha’s lips twisted against an answer. But as she spun her basket and pulled out the ketchup, she sighed. “That’d be my ex.”
Must’ve been a bad break-up if Cole was willing to toss him out over it.
“He’s an asshole,” Natasha muttered.
“That asshole is coming over here.” Jocelyn tracked the dark-eyed, dark-haired swaggering cowboy whose gaze had locked on her sister.
Natasha rolled her shoulders back like she was about to enter a boxing ring.
“Hey, Tash,” the cowboy drawled, appraising Jocelyn with an interested slant to his expression.
She nodded. “Brian.”
“Who’s your friend?” he asked, winking as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. A wedding ring caught the light before it disappeared into the denim, and suspicion stirred hot in Jocelyn’s chest.
“She’s…” Natasha faltered, looking at Jocelyn.
Might as well dive right in. It wasn’t a step Jocelyn wanted to gloss over.
“I’m her sister,” she said, not offering to shake his hand.
Natasha gave her a grateful smile, tentative and brief.
His brows shot up. “Sister? Well, I’ll be.”
“Damned?” Jocelyn offered.
Natasha’s surprised snicker had Brian shifting his weight.
He gave Jocelyn a tight once-over before turning his attention fully on Natasha. “I’m in town for tonight, Tash. Would love to catch up.”
Her cheeks flushed. “That’s not a good idea, Brian.”
“Aw, just old friends talkin’ and stuff.” He flashed her a solicitous smile, used to that working.
No doubt “and stuff” meant a hell of a lot more than just chitchat.
Natasha’s fingers fluttered on the table, her gaze fixed on the food before her. Jocelyn could practically feel her sister’s resolve wavering.
But she gave a firm shake of her head. “No, thanks.”
He opened his mouth to protest again, wearing the look of a man certain this was some kind of game.
“We already have plans,” Jocelyn cut in before he could get another word out. “And family trumps… whatever you are.” She waved her hand up and down his body like he was a weird and disgusting abstract sculpture.
A sneer threatened to mar his obnoxiously pretty face, but before he could say whatever he was gearing up for, Cole interrupted.
“How’s everything look, ladies?” His tone was pleasant, but his eyes were hard, his expression anything but friendly as he regarded the cowboy.
“Looks great, Cole, thank you,” Jocelyn replied when Natasha said nothing. The red that had bloomed on her sister’s face had only deepened.
“You gonna order somethin’?” Cole’s question sounded more like a threat than an invitation.
Brian looked at Natasha, who refused to meet his gaze. “Tash?”
Natasha looked at Jocelyn and lifted her chin a little higher. “As she said, we already have plans.”
Brian sputtered, then glared at Jocelyn before grunting in frustration and storming toward the door.
Cole gave the sisters a nod and moved on, though he tracked Brian’s progress until the man was out the door.
Jocelyn found herself a bit amped even after he was gone, and she looked at her half-sister, whose food sat untouched. She wanted to ask for the story but fear of breaking what little bridge they had built kept her mouth shut.
The seconds ticked, and Jocelyn was about ready to throw caution to the wind when the words burst from Natasha like a dam breaking.
“He was engaged.” Her blue eyes flashed up, full of regret, before dropping again. “I didn’t know. Not at first, anyway.”
Jocelyn worked hard to slow her intake of breath. This new connection felt too fragile for her to react, though every part of her wanted to.
“He’s with the rodeo circuit. Breezes into town, then is gone for months.
So it was a fling. Supposed to be a fling.
But by the time I figured it out, I was in too deep.
Took me a long while to let go.” Natasha pulled a lock of ashy blonde hair forward, winding it around her finger.
“Then he up and brought her through town, and I saw her. Saw him with her. And that’s when it hit me—he was never gonna leave her for me. ”
The parallels were cruel. Jocelyn’s mama, too, had once been trapped in the orbit of a man who would never choose her. Jocelyn had lived her whole life with the fallout of that truth, and now she saw it mirrored in Natasha’s regret.
“Problem is,” Natasha whispered, “my fool heart still wants him, even though my head knows better.”
Jocelyn swallowed hard. She understood, too well, the ache of wanting what you knew you could never truly have.
Then, on instinct, she reached across the table and closed her hand over Natasha’s. For once, she didn’t analyze it or pull back. She simply held on, silently wondering if maybe all the brokenness in their pasts had been leading to this—two half-sisters finding a sliver of connection.
Because if she had come back to Cedar Hollow a year or two earlier, Natasha might never have let her close at all.
Their decisions might have defined them, but the consequences had changed them, and now a door existed where it hadn’t been before.