Chapter 7
Seven
Poppy
I wince as Storm falls forward, tipping dangerously toward the mulch lining the ground of the play area.
Then blink as he somehow twists and lands in a crouch.
“Oh, my God,” I whisper, the speed at which he just moved taking my breath away.
“Honk!” Gerald says, launching himself at Storm again.
Who’s suddenly on his feet, scooping up Gerald and carrying the wrestling, protesting, flapping bird out of the park.
I stand there for a minute, watching.
Then Mom Mode activates and I’m running toward Holly and Chloe. “Are you guys okay?” I ask.
Both of their eyes are wide.
“Gerald went crazy,” Holly whispers.
I nod in agreement, thinking that they’re right, and also that Gerald must really not like Storm. Usually, he’ll hiss and honk and flap his wings and definitely take any and all chances to steal food, but actually attacking someone?
No.
That’s not something I’ve seen before.
I open my mouth to agree with them—
And then Storm is back.
There are scratches on his arms and a red welt lifting on his cheek.
“Oh,” I say, pressing my hand to my chest. “Are you o—”
His gaze locks onto mine.
And my insides? They twist like they’ve suddenly been filled with a thousand snakes.
“We need to talk,” he growls.
Fuck.
My eyes flick toward Holly, and he nods tersely.
Fuck.
“Um,” I begin.
“Hey!”
Jumping, I turn to see Finn striding across the grass, her smile wide.
I glance at my watch. “Is everything okay?” The craft fair isn’t technically over for another two hours.
“I sold out.” She tosses her hands up, joy in her gorgeous hazel eyes. “Can you believe that?”
“Um, yeah,” I say. “I can. Your blankets are beautiful.”
Another toss of her hands. “But I didn’t just sell out of my blankets. I sold out of everything—towels and potholders and table runners, and I even sold the two rugs I brought with me.”
“Like I said”—I bump her shoulder with mine—“yes, I can believe you sold out, girlie pop.”
She presses her hands to her cheeks, still smiling wide. “Right, I’m just…” She drops her hands with a sigh. “Lucky.” A beat. “So damned lucky.”
“And amazing and strong and beautiful and a hard worker with an extremely big heart.” I bump her again. “Which is why you deserve every bit of lucky you have.”
Unlike me.
Because the things I’ve done…
The secrets I’ve kept…
The truth I’ve hidden…
“Eh, I don’t know about that,” she prevaricates, though she says it as she winds her arm around my waist, her voice dropping, her next words genuine. “But, seriously, thank you, Pop.”
I lean against her for a minute, exhale to settle my stomach, and tell her just as quietly, “You’re welcome.”
“So, since I have all of this free time suddenly on my hands, should we all grab dinner together?”
“I—” My gaze drifts over to Storm.
Or where Storm had been a minute before.
Only now…it’s clear skies, soft breezes, and empty grass.
He’s gone.
Familiar, that.
My stomach twists again.
“You okay?” Finn asks.
“Yeah. I just—” I shake my head, ignore the dread inside me that’s growing by the second. “Dinner sounds great.”
“When I grow up,” Holly says dreamily, “I’m going to marry a hockey player.”
I’m tugging the blankets up and over her, tucking her in for the night, and the dreamy statement has me freezing.
Or maybe it’s that I’m barely resisting the urge to flinch.
It’s not like I don’t know how tempting hockey players are—that’s the freaking problem.
It’s that my daughter and I have been spending far too much time with far too many of them of late.
Aiden Black and his adorable wife Luna, who introduced us to Chrissy Dawson, née Dubois.
Chrissy owns a cat rescue and her dad, Jean-Michel owns the Eagles hockey team.
Which brought us in contact with Rome and Huddy and West and…Rhodes.
Who brought Finn and Chloe.
Some might say it’s incestual, how much time the hockey players spend together.
Those people clearly didn’t grow up in Cedar Hollow—the layers of connection, everyone knowing everyone.
That’s incestual.
And familiar.
So really, the problem isn’t that Holly loves spending time with them or that they’re genuinely good guys. It isn’t even that it brings up painful memories to hang out with the players and their families.
It’s that…
Storm is back.
And…he knows.
“Mom?”
I clamp my teeth together, focus. “Let’s take one thing at a time, yeah sweetheart?” I finish tucking her in. “Like first grade. Marriage can wait a couple of decades.”
A pause.
Then an aggrieved sigh. But she nods and settles in, saying, “’Kay, Mom.”
God, I love this girl.
I finish reading our chapter—the latest installment in a series of books about warrior cats—then smooth back her hair, flick off the lights, and close the door to her bedroom.
As I walk down the hall, through the kitchen, and across the living room, the floor is vibrating softly beneath my feet, the buzz of conversations in the bar below echoing through the hundred-year-old wood.
I smile, remembering all the times I’ve felt the same thing, all the years I’ve lived here.
All the conversations I’ve witnessed and the people I’ve met and the home I’ve helped build.
First with my uncle.
Then with Holly.
Christmases and Easter egg hunts and birthdays and visits from the Tooth Fairy.
Tantrums and dinners that were nothing more than sustenance (and sometimes barely that). Diaper changes and sleepless nights and tears that sometimes seemed never ending.
And laughter.
And memories.
And the best times of my life.
All with the buzz of the bar below accompanying them.
I smile and slip out the front door, making sure it latches behind me. Cedar Hollow is a small town, but this is still a bar and my daughter is sleeping inside.
So, I’m careful.
This door locks automatically, and the one downstairs does as well.
Though, I recently installed keypads so Holly can come and go more easily without having to fumble through a bunch of keys like I had to do when I was growing up.
Four little buttons and she can get herself back upstairs.
I make my way downstairs for my shift, stomach knotting as I scan the floor, half-expecting Storm to be on that stool again, nursing another drink named after him. The look in his eyes at the park…well, that hadn’t belonged to a man who seemed like he was going to disappear.
But he’s not in Sully’s.
And that’s not disappointment swirling through me.
It’s…reality—he left before, he’ll leave again.
It’s anger. Because what right does he have to be mad?
He’s the one who left.
Holding tight to that thought, I relieve Cassie and am quickly swept up in mixing drinks and closing out tabs and making sure my geriatric crew of regulars have their beers and soda waters. The hours pass quickly and pretty soon I’m picking up chairs and mopping the floor.
And all the while, Storm doesn’t show up.
No, I don’t care about that either.
There’s a stock take to do, and I have to put in an order for supplies, but I decide that both of those can wait for tomorrow.
Grunting, I dump the dirty water from the mop bucket into the big plastic sink—that’s got to be thirty years old if it’s a day—and stow the rest of the equipment in the back of the supply closet, noticing that I need to do an order for items in here too.
Cleaning products and paper towels, toilet paper and gloves.
And napkins.
And coasters.
And soap for the bathrooms and—
“Tomorrow,” I remind myself, flicking off the light and pulling the door closed behind me.
But I know my mind is going to be filled with lists as I drift off the sleep, so I pause behind the bar, jot down the items, and since I’m already jotting, I do the same for the liquor we’re low on.
Mind sufficiently empty, I turn for my apartment…
Just as there’s a knock on the door.
Maybe the smart thing to be would ignore it.
But this is Cedar Hollow. Someone might be in trouble or have forgotten their wallet. Hell, Gerald may be on the rampage again.
So, I head down the hall, unlock the door, and—
Know in an instant that I should have just gone up to bed.
Because standing on the other side of that metal panel is Storm.
And his thunderous expression…
Well, it spells trouble.