Playing for Keeps (Hope Valley Book 10) Page 6

  “Charlie?”

  I looked over and spotted Hayden’s eccentric and slightly crazy—in the most awesome way—great-aunt Sylvia working on a huge floral arrangement. “Hey, Sylvia.”

  “Child, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Everything okay?”

  I gave her the best semblance of a smile I could muster, which probably didn’t do any good, and replied, “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

  She arched a speculative brow. “You sure about that? You’re as white as a sheet.” She reached between the folds of her brightly colored, flowy caftan and pulled out a flask. “I keep this on me now that Hayden’s taken over the office and thrown out all my gin. You need a little nip? I’d offer you some of my special brownies, but I had my bridge group over last night and we ate them all.”

  I swallowed down a snort of laughter. “No, but thanks. Is Hayden here?”

  “Yeah, sweetheart. She’s in the office. Just head on back.” I turned and started toward the back of the shop when Sylvia called out, “You know where I am if you change your mind about that drink. Gin’ll keep you young. I’m a shining example of that.”

  Hayden was sitting at the desk in the small, cramped office. Her head came up as soon as I rapped my knuckles on the open door, and her face brightened, her lips pulling into a big smile. “Hey.”

  “Hey back. Just throwing this out there,” I started as I entered the office and took a seat in the one and only chair across from the desk, “but I really hope I’m as cool as Sylvia when I get to be her age.”

  “What did she offer you this time? Booze or pot brownies?”

  “Both,” I said on a giggle while she rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

  “For the love of God, it’s barely noon.”

  “Which just makes her all the more awesome.”

  With a shake of her head and a sigh at her great-aunt’s antics, Hayden dropped the pen she’d been holding and sat back in her chair. “Agreed. But enough about my delinquent aunt. What brings you by? Not that you need a reason to visit,” she said, arching a brow inquisitively, “but I’m guessing something’s up.”

  “What makes you say that? Can’t a girl just visit her friend once in a while?”

  The expression on her face said it all. She knew I was full of shit. “Absolutely. But those deep wrinkles between your eyebrows right there say otherwise.”

  Damn it. I reached up and massaged at the space she’d just pointed at. It was an annoying tell of mine, and if I wasn’t more careful, my face was going to be covered in frown lines well before I hit forty.

  I let out a sigh, sinking deeper into my chair, thanks to the weight I felt resting heavy on my shoulders. “I did something really dumb,” I admitted.

  Abandoning her relaxed position, Hayden sat forward and rested her elbows on the desk, her expression morphing to one of concern. “What did you do? Are we talking get-a-lawyer-on-standby bad or buy-a-shovel-and-drive-out-into-the-woods-late-at-night bad?”

  “Neither of those, thank God.” I pointed a finger at her face and insisted, “But before I tell you, you have to promise you won’t say a word to Micah. He’ll lose his mind.”

  “Okay,” she answered too easily, and I instantly became suspicious. “Although, I do reserve the right to throw you under the bus if what you did is worse than the fact that I went way over budget on catering for the wedding. I’m not above playing dirty if it means I get my crab cakes and prime rib.”

  I felt my brows rise high on my forehead. “Do you really need both?”

  All humor drifted from her features and her eyes narrowed, her voice coming out hard and unyielding as she stated definitively, “Yes.”

  I lifted my hands in surrender, knowing better than to question things when she got that look on her face. My normally sweet and big-hearted best friend had a tendency to turn into a demon spawn when it came to wedding planning. We’d never say it to her face, but all the girls in her bridal party were silently counting down the days until the wedding so we didn’t have to fear Hayden Hulking out over such things as cake layer filling and organza chair bows.

  “Yep. I see that now. Definitely need both.”

  Her features returned to normal, and I let out a soundless sigh at having dodged a bullet. “Right. So spill it. What’s going on?”

  I started to detail everything that had happened the past few days, from Marin showing up at the club covered in bruises, to the showdown with her ex, to Dalton storming into the gun store this morning and ripping into me. By the time I finished, I was slightly out of breath, and Hayden’s eyes were so wide I was afraid they were at risk of falling right out of her skull.

  Finally, after an extended silence, she spoke. “Okay, you’re right. Micah can never know. Mainly because he’d kill you if he found out you ever did something so incredibly stupid!” she finished on a yell. “Oh my God, Charlie! What the hell were you thinking?”

  “My friend was getting the hell beat out of her by an asshole,” I defended fiercely. “I wasn’t actually thinking about anything beyond that.”

  “Well, that’s pretty damn obvious,” Hayden deadpanned, crossing her arms over her chest.

  I gave her a sharp look and continued on like she hadn’t just insulted me. “At least until Dalton shoved some pretty hard facts down my throat this morning.”

  “Well at least that sunk in.”

  “Okay, I get it,” I clipped, throwing my arms out. “I screwed up. Lesson learned. There’s no need to continue beating me over the head with it. Can we please just move on already?”

  “All right. So what exactly are we moving on to? The fact that you believe you’re cursed and, in some ridiculous way, undeserving of Dalton? Or the fact that you’re so head-over-heels crazy for the man, you can barely see straight?”

  I felt myself deflate in the chair. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds like maybe you think we need to address both.”

  She arched that freaking brow again, her look screaming well, no shit, moron. “Charlie, honey, I love you like crazy, you know that. But you have got to let go of this insane notion that something bad is going to happen to anyone you get involved with.” She held her arms out at her sides. “You let me and Micah in, and nothing bad has happened to us.”

  I shot her a glare. “Are you forgetting the fact you were abducted by a murderous psychopath and almost raped?” Because I hadn’t, and the memory still caused me to lose sleep every damn night.

  “That wasn’t because of you,” she said fiercely, the scowl on her face making her soft, delicate features hard as stone. “If you’re determined to take the blame for that, then by your own rationale, I should also blame Micah for the fact Greg Cormack kidnapped me. Is that what you’re saying?”

  My back went straight. “What? Of course not!”

  “Why not? After all, he was the one working the case. He was the one trying to take Cormack down. So if you’re to blame, then he is too, right?”

  My stomach started to twist up in frustration as I tried to piece my scrambled thoughts together. “No. That’s ridiculous.”

  “No more ridiculous than you holding yourself accountable for something that had absolutely nothing to do with you,” she fired back.

  “Yeah, but if I hadn’t gotten tangled up with those people in the first place—”

  “You made a mistake,” she interrupted, her voice dripping with so much conviction I felt the air stall in my lungs. “That’s part of being human, Charlie. None of us are perfect. God knows I’ve made my own fair share in my life. You aren’t defined by the mistake you’ve made, honey. You’re defined by the steps you take to make things right. You got twisted up with some bad men, I’ll give you that. But you didn’t just walk away or pretend nothing happened.”

  She rested her forearms on the desk, leaning closer and lowering her voice. “You risked your life every single day, doing everything in your power to help Micah and Leo take those bad men down. And you did it, babe. They’re gone. As far as
I’m concerned, that’s what defines you. That’s all that defines you. You aren’t just a good person, Charlie. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing.”

  I wanted to believe her. I felt everything she’d just said beating against that wall in my head, the one that had started erecting itself when I was just a little girl, reminding me I was worthless, that I didn’t deserve anything good, that I destroyed everything I touched. The power of her words made that wall crack and tremble, yet it still remained standing.

  I had to swallow against the swell of emotion that tightened my throat. “Th-there are things . . .” I started, feeling a burn form behind my eyes, “from my past that you don’t—”

  “You have secrets,” she interrupted. “Hate to break it to you, sweetie, but that’s not really a surprise to any of us who care about you. You hold them in a death grip, but they’re still there. When the day comes where you feel like sharing that burden with me, I’m here. If that day never comes, I’m good with that too. The decision is yours. But I can say with absolute certainty that how I feel about you won’t change, no matter what.”

  Damn it. That burn behind my eyes was getting worse with each passing second. “You’d better stop or I’m gonna start crying,” I grumbled.

  She smiled, not giving a damn that she was about to send me into a full-blown blubber fest. “Get used to it, Char. Good people deserve good things.” She pointed her finger across the desk and stressed, “And you’re a good person. You deserve a man like Dalton, and I hope like crazy you realize that before it’s too late.”

  Those last four words ricocheted around in my skull like a Ping-Pong ball, echoing painfully.

  Before it’s too late.

  Before it’s too late.

  I’d been so busy trying to fight my attraction and that bone-deep draw I felt for him, that I’d never let myself stop to consider the fact that he might get tired of chasing me or waiting for me to get my head out of my ass.

  It would be for the best, I tried telling myself, but I knew that was a lie. The truth was, I suddenly felt nauseous. The image of him with some other woman flitted through my head, and I had to swallow down the bile that climbed up my throat, leaving a painful burn in its wake.

  “Uh huh. That’s what I thought.” When the cloudiness dissipated from my vision and I looked back to Hayden, she was watching me with a shrewd, all-knowing look on her face. “You really don’t like the thought of him meeting someone else, do you?”

  I narrowed my eyes, throwing daggers her way. “You know, you’re kind of a jerk when you’re right. It’s annoying as hell.”

  She gave me a Cheshire cat grin and lifted her shoulder in an insolent shrug. “You’re only mad because you can’t think of a single valid argument.”

  “Whatever,” I grunted, rising to my feet. “You’ve made your point. I’m hungry. Feel like grabbing some lunch?”

  She snatched her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk and slung it over her shoulder. “I could eat. But you’re buying because I just schooled your ass, and that’s your punishment.”

  “Man, I really don’t like Right Hayden.”

  “You’ll get used to it. Now, move your cute butt. I’m starving.”

  Chapter Eight

  Charlotte

  “Sissy, please don’t go! Don’t leave me!”

  I woke up on a sharp gasp, those words echoing in my head until they faded into a whisper and finally disappeared into nothing. But just because I couldn’t hear them anymore, or the scared little voice that spoke them, pleading desperately, didn’t mean they weren’t still holding on to me, clutching my chest in a vise grip.

  The dream was hanging on, making it hard to breathe as I sat up in bed. I placed my hand over my thrumming heart, willing the organ to slow down. I could feel it banging frantically against my palm. Each inhale made my lungs burn like fire, each beat of my heart felt like a bruising punch to my sternum.

  Closing my eyes, I worked to calm my breathing and slow the shivers wracking my body. Nightmares were a regular occurrence for me. With the life I’d lived, there were so many nasty, ugly things to invade my mind while I slept, that I hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in years. But this was one of the worst, and it was one I hadn’t had in a really long time.

  The sun filtering through the slats in my blinds was a soft pinkish-yellow, alerting me to the fact it was really early, and when I finally glanced at the alarm clock on my bedside table, I saw it was barely past six o’clock.

  Exhaustion made my body feel heavy, like it was being held down with a weighted blanket, but I knew there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d be able to get back to sleep. Climbing out of the comfort of my big, fluffy bed, I padded across my apartment to the bathroom, the only room in the entire place with a door that offered any privacy. I started the shower off warm, letting it loosen the muscles in my neck and shoulders that were twisted into knots from that dream, before cranking the handle over to cold in the hopes that chillier temps would wake me up.

  I let my long hair air-dry into wild, beachy waves as I lotioned my body, taking extra time to apply a topical ointment that was supposed to speed the fading time of the scars left behind by Greg Cormack.

  “Morning, Charlotte,” Ms. Weatherby greeted after whipping her front door open almost as soon as I’d stepped out into the hallway. I felt a tug at my heart as I pictured her sitting beside her front door, just waiting for a chance at some sort of human interaction.

  “Hey Ms. W. You’re up early.”

  “Don’t get much sleep nowadays. These old bones ache when I sit or stand or lie down. There’s no winnin’. Plus, someone in this building needs to keep an eye out for the welfare of the tenants. I saw a strange car in the parking lot the past few days, and no one but me seems to give a good darn.”

  Odds were, that car belonged to someone who’d recently moved in, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I gave her a smile, feeling my face soften as I took her in. “Well, if it has to be anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”

  Her eyes widened behind her Coke-bottle glasses as she pushed the door open wider. “I still have some bacon and oatmeal on the stove from breakfast if you’re hungry. A person shouldn’t skip breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day, you know.”

  While that didn’t sound like the most appetizing combo, I knew where the invitation was coming from, and I decided right then I was going to make more of an effort for Ms. W.

  “You know what? That sounds great. And it just so happens, I’m starving.”

  The old woman’s face split into a smile that made her skin wrinkle like clothes that had been left in the dryer for several days, and I couldn’t deny that it felt pretty damn good to be the one who put that happiness in her eyes.

  “Well then come on in. I’ll make you a plate.”

  The oatmeal had been the consistency of glue. The coffee Ms. Weatherby had served was the color and texture of tar, and everything I’d consumed was still sitting like a brick in the pit of my stomach later that day as I left Whiskey Dolls after a particularly grueling rehearsal.

  When Layla, Marin, and Sloane, another girl from the club, asked me to hit The Tap Room with them for lunch, I tried bowing out, my stomach revolting at the thought of food, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  “So, Mar, how’s the new place?” Layla asked as we took a seat at one of the round tables in the middle of the large room. If you went to The Tap Room in the evenings, it was guaranteed the place would be packed no matter what day of the week. It was a tad bit quieter now, during lunch, but there were still a good number of tables that were full, as well as several of the stools around the bar. “You all settled in?”

  Marin had been in her new place for a week and a half now, and already there was a noticeable change in her. The bruises had faded, barely visible anymore, but it was her expression and how she carried herself now that stood out the most.

  There was a brightness to her that
none of us had seen before. The shadows that had once filled her eyes were gone.

  “I am,” she replied, her entire face lighting up as she did a little bounce in her chair. “I finally got all my furniture and spent a small fortune on decorations and kitchen stuff at the home store, but it was totally worth the credit card bill that’ll come at the end of the month.” She looked to me and smiled big, gratitude shining from her gaze. “I haven’t lived on my own in so long, it’s a bit of an adjustment, but I love it.”

  I returned her smile, feeling a warmth in my chest that helped a great deal in fighting off the chill left behind from my dream earlier that morning.

  “Hey ladies. How’s it going?”

  I looked up at Rory Paulson, the owner of the bar. In all the time I’d lived in Hope Valley, I’d only been to The Tap Room a handful of times, and until recently, I’d never spoken to the raven-haired beauty who ran the place. That all changed thanks to Hayden. I had my girls at the club, but thanks to my best friend introducing me to her circle of friends, I also had a crew outside of the club that included Rory.

  “It’s good. How are things with you?”

  “I’ve got no complaints. Well, other than the fact that Zach’s got himself his first-ever girlfriend.” Her complexion lost a bit of its color as she spoke of her son.

  “Have you met her yet?” Sloane asked. “Maybe she’s really sweet and you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “Not yet. But when I was putting away his laundry last week, I found a box of condoms in his drawer that Cord had bought him.”

  I tried my hardest not to laugh at the sour expression on her pretty face. “I’m guessing things didn’t go too well for your husband after that.”

  “He got pretty well acquainted with our couch after sleeping on it for three nights. There’s a very real possibility I’ll be locked up in the near future for murdering my husband.”

  I couldn’t say I envied her. I’d met their son. They’d adopted the boy a few years back when he was twelve, and to say he’d grown into a handsome teenager was a serious understatement. Something told me this was only the beginning in a very long line of girl drama he’d bring down on his parents.