The Soldier's Refuge
Autor:in
Sabrina York
Gelesen
19,9K
Kapitel
11
Chapter One
Natalie Tuttle pulled to the side of the road at the crest of the hill and stared down at the quaint little town of Coho Cove, tucked neatly into a curve of the Washington coast just north of the Columbia River. After seven years, here she was, looking down the barrel of a long-avoided homecoming to a town she’d never liked.
Surely, the churning in her gut wasn’t trepidation...
It must be hunger.
Yeah. Hunger.
When had she last stopped to eat on the twenty-plus-hour drive from Los Angeles? Somewhere in Oregon, if fast food counted. Not that she’d been in such an all-fired hurry to get home, but Celeste’s tone, when she’d shared the news of Momma’s stroke, had been worrisome. When Dad had died, and their brother Nate, Celeste had been the only one who hadn’t lost it. That telling quaver in her voice was probably why Nat had plowed through the drive with hardly a potty stop.
And now she was here.
Yay.
Only a medium-sized part of her wanted to turn around and flee.
From up here, it looked like an ideal place to live—a charming, slightly rustic seaside town with the picturesque pier and marina, and the southern curve of the bay where the old mill once stood. It was especially pretty, bathed as it was in the orange and pinks and purples of the setting sun. But looks could be deceiving.
Her jaw tightened as old feelings arose and compressed in her chest; memories swelled in her mind.
No.
She pushed that detritus away. Natalie wasn’t that girl anymore. She’d left this town in her dust the day after graduation and never returned. She’d remade her life, her self-image, her everything once more. As a military kid, the instinct was second nature and Nat had become exceedingly good at it.
She liked who she was now—established, successful, sure of herself. Totally independent of anyone else. She didn’t want to go back to feeling like a misfit. She would not become the butt of their jokes again just because she was different.
With any luck, she could remember that.
Fortunately, this was only a quick visit to see Momma—who’d had a stroke just as their decades-long housekeeper broke a hip tripping over one of her Chihuahuas—and to give her sisters a hand with caregiving for a bit. It was wrong to leave everything on their shoulders, even if being here—without grinding her teeth to the nubs—was going to be a challenge. It was only right that she pitched in for a week or so to help Amy and Celeste—mostly Celeste—negotiate this life change.
It was good timing, too. The TV show she worked for as an art director was on hiatus. Normally, she’d have gone on a long European jaunt and visited a thousand museums, or met her family members somewhere fun when the show was on hiatus. Instead, this.
Ah, well. There was no putting off to tomorrow that which you dreaded doing today. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Pepe was still asleep in his carrier in the back seat, then pulled back onto the road and started down the hill into town—with a stop at her favorite burger joint on her mind. As anxious as she was to get eyes on Momma, it wouldn’t be fair to show up this late in the evening and expect Celeste to make her dinner.
If she had missed anything in this town—other than her family—it was a Sparky’s burger. She’d had dreams about Sparky’s burgers and woken up salivating. Besides, after that drive, Nat fancied more than a quick PB and J to restore her soul.
She was practically drooling as she neared the 1950s throwback malt shop on Main Street, so it was particularly annoying to realize it wasn’t there anymore. Oh, the building was still there. But instead of Sparky’s, the neon sign read Bootleggers: Craft Beer for the Rebel in You. A sign on the door indicated they did, indeed, sell food, but since Natalie had always hated the smell of beer, she decided to drive a block to the east in hopes that Smokey’s, the local barbecue joint, was still there—and thank God, it was.
It made sense to get her barbecue to go—the Smokey’s dining room was notoriously...sticky—so she made her way up the rain-spattered, slick steps, pulled open the creaky door and sauntered up to the counter to order. Her eyes widened in surprise as she recognized the man in the Smokey’s Keep it Blazin’ apron. It took a second to find his name in her mental file cabinet, but when their eyes locked, it came to her.
“You’re Baxter Vance.” She didn’t mean to say it. It just came out.
He nodded but his eyes were blank. “Have we met?”
“Yeah. We went to high school together.” You used to call me Butterball. With the emphasis on butt.
“Really?” He shot her a grin. Gosh, he looked like such a nice guy. Too bad she remembered what he really was. “What’s your name?”
“Natalie Tuttle.”
His eyes went big, really big, and he gaped at her. His shock was hardly insulting at all. “Nuh-uh.”
“’Fraid so.”
“Wow,” he said. And then, “Wow.”
“Yeah. It’s been a while.” Seven years, to be exact. Time enough to replace every cell in her body—she’d read on the internet.
“Wow.” He nodded. Come to think of it, he had always been something of a one-word wonder.
“I’m back for a visit,” she said, even though it was none of his butterball business. Momma had ingrained etiquette into her offspring’s souls from birth, with chants of Mabel, Mabel if you’re able, keep your elbows off the table, exhortations to wear white gloves on Easter Sunday, and other nonsense. Dad had been an army officer, and everyone knew that an officer’s kid served as a reflection of his effectiveness as a leader. How things looked in their household had always been paramount. Certainly, more important than how they actually were. This deeply rooted ethos usually served Nat well, but since she was polite by default, it sometimes irritated her. Like now.
“Wow. Well, you really look...great.” His eyes flicked over her in a way she really didn’t like, especially because it was him.
“Thanks.” She sucked in a deep breath to indicate a change of topic and said, “Okay. So, I’d like a half rack of the Smokey Pigs, with coleslaw and a couple of those cornbread muffins.”
“Sure,” he said, for some reason still agog. And, “Wow.”
“And I’d like that to go,” she added as he continued to gawk. Honestly, she wasn’t that different. Was she? She’d matured a little, slimmed down a little...gotten a stylish haircut, contacts. But basically, beneath all that, she was the same nerdy girl she’d always been. Wasn’t she?
“Oh, yeah. Sure. Sure.”
She leaned in and gave him a wicked smile. “And I’m really hungry, so if you could hop to it, that’d be great.” She never would have said something that snarky—bordering on rude—if she hadn’t been nearly cross-eyed with fatigue. And, dare she mention, starving. Still, politeness reasserted itself. “Sorry. Kind of in a rush. The family is expecting me.”
“Sure. Sure.” He took her payment and went to work on her order. At least he didn’t make those little piggy noises he used to make whenever he saw her in the high school cafeteria with actual food on her tray. If he had, in her current mood, she’d probably have clocked him. She was no longer a shrinking violet. She was no longer an easy mark for bullies.
She sat down at a sticky table and scrolled through her phone as she waited for her order—not because she had any urgent texts to read, but because if she looked busy, he probably wouldn’t try to talk to her. She needed some time to process this surreal moment.
Because this was Baxter Vance, one of the reasons she never wanted to come back this town. Somehow, he wasn’t quite as, well, tall as she remembered. And nowhere near as impressive.
He’d been the leader of the pack back then. The instigator of all her misery. Mr. Most Likely to Succeed, Prom King, THE stud on campus...and now, he lived in the same small town and worked at the rib place where the uniform was, apparently, a filthy apron.
Facing him hadn’t been as hard as she’d expected. Maybe she could do this homecoming thing without too much angst. Maybe?
But then, Baxter Vance wasn’t the one she’d dreaded meeting most. Not by a long shot. Lola Cheswick and Sherill Scanlon leaped to mind. And, of course, Jaxon Stringfellow. He, however, didn’t have to leap to mind because he was always there for some bizarre reason, burrowing in her memories, popping up at the most inopportune times.
Heat scorched her cheeks at just the thought of him. Her whole body went hot and cold, as it always did when thoughts of Jax danced through her mind.
Quit it, she told herself. Don’t forget what he did to you.
He still lived here. She knew it. Her friend Sheida had mentioned in passing that her brother had returned to town after a stint in the army. Amy had mentioned him as well, with fondness in her tone.
How flipping awkward would it be to see him again? Talk to him? With actual words? It was probably going to happen, sooner than later, so she might as well prepare. She could probably say something blasé like, “Oh, hey, Jax. Nice to see you again.” Or, “Remember that time you kissed me on a bet? Oh, yeah. That was hysterical.”
But it hadn’t been hysterical, had it? Not to her.
She should have known better. The captain of the football team kissed cheerleaders like Sherill, not the chubby, awkward “newcomer” who never quite found her place or herself in this alien universe filled with people who’d all grown up together.
Nope. Guys like that didn’t kiss girls like the girl she’d been. Not on purpose anyway. Not unless he did it on a bet. Which was, clearly, hilarious. But only to him and his crowd.
For Natalie, the utter chagrin had been just one more reason to get the hell out of Dodge the second she could. And for seven years, it had served as a reason to not return.
Not because some snotty football players had laughed at her. She couldn’t have cared less what they thought. It was Jax’s part in the debacle that had crushed her. For some reason, she’d thought better of him. She’d thought their friendship, at least, had been a real thing.
But like most men, he’d let her down.
Whatever. Ancient history. Suck it up, Buttercup. Move on.
If she did see him again, maybe she should just pretend not to remember him? Maybe that would be best.
When Baxter brought over her order, he hovered while she collected her things, as though he wanted to talk to her. Pity she was too tired and hungry to linger. Even if she hadn’t been, lingering with him did not appeal. It never would. Nat grabbed the brown paper sack, already spotted with grease stains, tossed a too-cheery “Thanks” over her shoulder and pushed through the door.
She should not have been in such a hurry to escape a conversation with her painful past. She should have remembered how slick the steps had been when she’d come into the joint. But she was and she didn’t, and as a result, she slipped on the middle tread; her foot—and her food—went flying, and she landed on her butt, hard, in the mud at the bottom of the stairs.
The impact made her head spin for a second. The pain made her woozy. That was probably why it took her a minute to realize that the man standing in front of her holding out his hand to help her up, with a look of concern on his—gorgeous—face was not an angel as she might originally have assumed.
He was, in fact, Jaxon Stringfellow himself.
And damn it all anyway. He was even hotter than she remembered.
It was an instinctive reaction, Jax supposed—when one saw a woman fall down three stairs and land that hard—to reach out a hand to help her up. He did so without thinking. But then, their gazes met and locked, and a thunderbolt hit him. Hit him so hard that he was incapable of saying anything other than a purely instinctive “Are you all right?”
Natalie Tuttle. Her name rang in his head like a bell. She’d finally come home.
He’d known she was coming, so he wasn’t sure why he was surprised, or stunned, or whatever the hell this gut-wrenching emotion was.
She’d changed, he had the presence of mind to notice. She’d grown up. Gone from cute to drop-dead gorgeous. She’d lost the straight-across bangs that had always clashed with her glasses and added a diamond nose ring, declaring the rebel she’d always been, albeit secretly. Her hair was slickly styled, sadly missing the careless ponytail and random nibbled pencil behind one ear—sometimes both—and she’d become, well, svelte. He wasn’t sure he liked that part, or the fact that she’d become someone he nearly didn’t recognize.
But those eyes didn’t change.
Maybe they were the source of his discombobulation.
They cut right through him. They always had.
He saw the exact second she recognized him. The muscles around her mouth tightened. Her cheek bunched. She swallowed.
Oh, and she totally avoided his hand as she helped herself up—thank you very much. Then she nodded primly, collected her bag of food and made her way to her car. In a hurry.
He could hardly blame her. He’d been a jerk back then. A stupid kid. And obviously, she remembered.
His buddies had egged him into kissing her—dared him, really—there behind the bleachers in the gymnasium. And he’d done it. Partly because they encouraged it, and partly because he’d wanted to kiss her. There’d always been a connection between them. He could not deny his attraction to her—at least to himself. But he’d never acted on it because, well, he hadn’t had the strength to stand up to his friends and step outside of expectations.
After having been an outsider his whole life himself, he was suddenly, now, one of the cool kids, and she hadn’t fit the narrative.
But he’d wanted to kiss her, and so he had. And it had been, well, wonderful.
Until—a second after his lips left hers—his friends had surrounded them, howling like hyenas...at her. Laughing at her.
She’d stepped back, away from him as she’d realized that she was the butt of a stupid joke...again. And he had been the agent of her humiliation. He hadn’t meant it to be that way, but intention changed nothing.
The memory of that moment—her wounded expression—was burned onto his brain. The regret, the embarrassment of his rotten behavior had haunted him for years. He’d wanted, needed to apologize to her, to explain, but had never had a chance. She’d left home for LA right after graduation, and she’d never come back. Not once in seven years.
But now she was here. Now he had the opportunity to clear his conscience, make things right with her—if he could. If she’d even listen to him, which was a big if.
His heart leaped as she paused by her car, blew out a breath and headed back to him. Well, stormed back to him. He sucked in a breath, steeled his spine. This wouldn’t be easy, but then, when were apologies ever easy? She paused beside him, but before he could open his mouth, or form the words he’d been practicing forever, before he could say anything, she bent down, picked up her keys, which had fallen in the mud and, without even a nod this time, turned around and walked away from him again.
Damn.
Damn, damn, damn.
Natalie Tuttle had finally come home.
He had no idea why that thought scared him to death.
Or he did.
Hard to tell which was worse.
His boots were heavy as he headed into Smokey’s to pick up his order—Amy and the boys were waiting for supper and he was already late—but his mood was heavier. Nat’s reappearance had kicked up old feelings about her and insecurities about himself—things he’d rather ignore.
But he couldn’t.
Baxter’s reaction to his entrance to the restaurant didn’t help. His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. “Jax?” He slapped his forehead. “Man, this is a weird day.”
Jax held back a sigh. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with Baxter’s melodrama. Especially not while he was still reeling from his encounter outside with Natalie, and that upheaval of old guilt. Aside from that, he hadn’t slept well the night before—the nightmares again—and he was just plain tired. “Hey, Baxter. Just here for Amy’s pick up,” he said, hoping that would be enough to move things along. He should have known better.
“You’ll never guess who just left.” Baxter leaned forward, his expression alight. The dude had always loved gossip, so it was hardly a surprise. It was almost a shame to burst his balloon.
Jax did anyway. “Natalie Tuttle?” And, when Baxter beetled his brows, “I saw her in the parking lot.”
“Doesn’t she look hot?” Baxter shook his head. “Who’da thunk it? Natalie Tuttle. Wasn’t she was the dorky nerd you kissed on Senior Skip Day?”
He knew damn well it was, so Jax didn’t reply.
“How bizarre that you both show up on the same day.”
Was it? Was it really? “I live just down the road, Baxter,” Jax felt compelled to remind him. Sure, when he’d returned home from Afghanistan, totally wrecked emotionally and spiritually, he’d shut himself in. To heal, he’d told himself. He’d deliberately avoided other people as much as he could, focusing on his work. Oh, he let in some folks, like his best friend Ben and his sister Sheida and Pops. And Amy and the boys, of course. They’d been central to his healing, those boys. Other than those exceptions, he’d made it a point to avoid people.
But things were starting to change now. He was making a deliberate effort to get out into the world more. Forcing himself to open up, at least a little. Baby steps, right? Hence, his very simple offer to run to Smokey’s to grab dinner for Amy. The last thing he’d expected was an emotional ambush in the form of Natalie Tuttle...
“Dude.” Baxter, who seemed to have no inclination to get Amy’s order, leaned on the counter and blew out a chuckle. “I haven’t seen you in forever. No one has. You’re like that rich guy who holed up in his mansion and let his fingernails grow super long.” And yeah, he even glanced at Jax’s fingernails. “Was it really that bad over there?”
Yeah. Yeah, it had been bad. But Jax and Baxter weren’t friends anymore. At least not close enough for Jax to share the dark details of his trauma. Or the lingering PTSD and night terrors. In his estimation, no one needed to know about the things he’d seen. And, frankly, it was no one else’s business how he was coping. Maybe his demeanor got thought Baxter’s thick head, because he sobered.
“Well, it’s good to see you,” he said as he reached for the bags that had been sitting under the heat lamp throughout the conversation. He handed them over. Finally. But he wasn’t finished. “It’s just bizarre that you both came in tonight, you know?”
Jax nodded as he gathered the food. Yeah. It was bizarre. If he hadn’t been running late he would have missed her. He wasn’t sure if that would be better or worse.
He’d known Nat was coming back to town. Amy had mentioned it. He just hadn’t been prepared for a face-to-face with her. Not at all. But, as awkward as it had been, that altercation in the parking lot, he couldn’t deny that somewhere, deep in his soul, a sliver of excitement lurked.
Because Natalie Tuttle had finally come home.
Natalie had no idea how she arrived at Momma’s house. The shock of seeing Jax again had taken over her brain for the entire drive, and habit had just taken her through the streets until she pulled up to her old home. But here she was. In the driveway. Sitting in the dark in her car. Thinking about him.
He didn’t deserve her attention, but that didn’t seem to matter to her poor pathetic heart, which insisted on this obsession. She’d thought about that day, about him, about what he’d done, a thousand times, and her adult brain could process it for what it had been. A stupid joke for stupid boys to cackle over. They’d all probably forgotten about it long ago. Jax had probably forgotten about it.
It was pretty clear Jax had forgotten about her, too, given the fact that he hadn’t said a word to her, other than “Are you all right?”
Are you all right?
No, dammit. You made me cry. You wounded me to the core. You warped my self-image and all my relationships with men since.
That was a heavy load to dump on an eighteen-year-old boy. She knew it. Heck, she’d done some pretty foolish things at eighteen. She also knew that, now, she was the only one carrying the load. No one else even cared—about ancient shenanigans or her resultant pain.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to just let it go? To be free of those bad feelings? She was a grown woman now. She’d had a boyfriend. Had had several since that debacle with Jax.
She should be able to move on. She’d tried. It hadn’t worked. But then, letting go would have been a lot easier if she hadn’t been half in love with him.
Half in love? Could she not even be honest with herself? She’d been totally, completely, head over heels in love with him.
And he’d kissed her on a bet.
It could be amusing. It should be. But some tiny part of her reptilian brain clung to it. Damn it all any—
She jumped as someone knocked on her window, and then gusted a laugh as she saw her sister Celeste press her nose against the glass like a puppy. “Are you coming in?” Celeste said in a playful plea.
“Of course. Yes.”
Celeste opened the door and, as Nat stepped out, pulled her into a hug. Oh, it was warm and long and lovely. Celeste had a way of sowing calm to all around her and Natalie reveled in it. “It’s so awesome to see you again,” she chirped in her chirpy voice. “Thank you for coming. Momma’s so excited. We all are. The boys especially. Oh. Can I help you?” she asked as Nat reached back into the car to grab her dinner.
“Could you take this?” she handed over the Smokey’s.
Celeste took a deep whiff and moaned.
“And I’ll get Pepe.”
Her sister’s brow rumpled. “Who?”
Nat opened the back door of her sedan, pulled out the cat carrier and lifted it aloft. “Pepe, meet Celeste.”
“OMG. He’s so cute,” she said, though not much of Pepe’s adorable black-and-white face was visible through the peepholes. Celeste reached for the carrier.
Nat caught her hand. “Oh no. Don’t get too close. He bites.”
Her sister lurched back. “Why do you have a cat that bites?”
“He doesn’t always bite. Only when he’s in the carrier.”
“Hmm.” Celeste’s smile was infectious. She shifted the ribs under her arm and led the way into the house after Nat locked the car. “Momma hates cats,” she said apropos of nothing, and Nat grinned.
“Does she?” They both knew damn well. Other than Mr. Bunnynose, who had not lasted long, they’d never had any pets. “I couldn’t leave him alone in LA.” Not knowing how long she’d be staying.
“In that spacious one-bedroom mansion you own?” Celeste’s brow wrinkled. “And what do you do with—what’s his name again?”
“Pepe. As in Le Pew?” Because he was black with a white stripe. And she’d always had a fondness for French skunks.
“Ah! And what do you do with Pepe when you travel?” One of the reasons Natalie had never come home was that her work often required her to travel—most of the shows she worked on were filmed on location, usually a sound stage, far from LA.
Or, at least, that was the excuse she used for the last seven years. Sometimes it was true.
“My neighbor keeps him. He has two cats as well.”
Celeste waggled her brows as she opened the door. “Tell me about this neighbor. Is he cute?”
“Super cute.”
“And...”
“And he’s married.”
“Rats.”
“To Steve.”
She deflated. “Of course.”
As they engaged in this nonsensical prattle, Nat took in the living room of her mother’s house. The first thing that hit her was the smell. Momma’s house had a certain odor. The scent of familiarity, perhaps. It smelled like...home.
Nothing had changed. At all. The Hummels still marched across the mantel, interspersed with family photos. Even the chimneysweep was there, his little ladder glued on—a trifle askew—marking the time Natalie had broken it while dance-dusting.
Momma always said, “You don’t need to dance when you dust,” but Natalie did. Otherwise, dusting was just work.
Grandma’s Clovelly plates—etched with quaint scenes from her hometown in England—rested on a shelf above the arch into the dining room. Grandma met Grandpa during WWII and they’d lived in this house until the day they died. Most of the tchotchkes sprinkled about had been theirs, which was probably why Momma couldn’t bear to let them go.
Natalie had hated dusting them all, but now they were a warm reminder of two people she’d loved very much.
“Well?”
She glanced at Celeste, who was staring at her. “It’s the same,” she said.
“Your room is the same, too. Don’t be embarrassed by all the posters.”
“Oh, Lord.” There had been no teen idols for her. Her posters had all been of the nerd variety. Such as the one with two crows, titled “Attempted Murder.” She’d always been a dork. Still was. But now she was a dork with glee. And she got paid for it.
“Where’s Momma?” she asked as she set everything down.
Celeste sighed. “In her room. She was tired so she went to bed, but she made me promise to wake her when you got here.” And then, when Natalie headed for the stairs, Celeste caught her arm and tugged her to toward the back of the house instead. “She’s in the guest room. Since she needs a walker, it’s...easier for her to stay on the ground floor. Come on.”
She needed a walker? Natalie swallowed heavily as they made their way down the hall. Even though Celeste had tried to prepare her, she knew that it would be difficult to process all the changes the stroke had wrought. Momma had always been a strong, independent woman. And, indeed, just the sight of the walker, with its tennis ball feet, parked at the end of the bed in the shadowed room was a gut punch.
“Momma?” Celeste said softly. “Nat’s here.”
“Natalie?” Momma’s voice was a little slurred and her face was slack. As she struggled to sit up, her left arm hung slackly.
Nat, biting back her shock, sat next to her on the bed and took her mother’s hand. “Hey, Momma. I’m home,” she said softly.
“Natty,” Momma said on a sigh. “It’s so good to see you. How was your drive?”
“Long,” she said on a laugh. “How are you doing?”
Momma blew out a rude noise and gestured to her body.
“Better every day,” Celeste said in a chirp that might have been a little forced. “We were able to get her to the hospital right away. That’s important with a stroke you know, because they can mitigate the damage with intervention and treatment, if you’re quick.”
Momma barked a laugh. “I didn’t want to go,” she said. “Celeste insisted.”
Nat nodded. “It’s nice having a nurse in the family. I’m so glad Celeste realized what was happening.”
Momma nodded, but said, “I hate hospitals.” And then she yawned.
“You’re tired,” Nat said. “I should let you rest. Unless you’re hungry? I brought Smokey’s...”
“Yum,” Celeste said encouragingly, but Momma made a face.
“You go. Eat. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” She practically pushed Natalie away.
“Are you sure?”
In response, Momma snuggled deeper into her pillows. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” But then, as Nat stood and headed for the door she called out, “Oh, Natty?”
“Yes, Momma?”
“I’m glad you’re home.”
It was heartwarming and sweet and a wonderful thing to hear, and it nearly brought a tear to Nat’s eye. “I’m glad too, Momma.”
“Come on. Sit down. Eat.” Celeste pulled out a chair at the old dining table.
“Will you eat with me?” Nat offered.
Celeste glanced at the grease spots on the brown paper bag and licked her lips. “I couldn’t.”
“I got a whole rack...”
For some reason, Celeste set her hand on her tummy. “Oh, I really shouldn’t...”
But in the end, she did. She got a plate for Natalie and one for herself too, poured two glasses of red wine—after a short discussion about which vintage best accompanied Smokey’s barbecue sauce—and went at those ribs like a velociraptor coming off a vegan diet.
When there was nothing left but a boneyard and a couple corn muffin crumbs, Nat brought in her bag and Pepe’s food and litter box, but though she was dead tired, she couldn’t go to bed. She’d always loved chatting with Celeste and face-to-face was so much better than phone calls or Zooms; it had been the better part of a year since she and Celeste had been together.
While she loved all her siblings, growing up Nat had always been closest with Nate and Celeste; she and Amy had always seemed to rub each other the wrong way. The worst of it had been the horrible fight they’d had right before Natalie left.
It was better, now that they were adults, especially since the boys had come along, but even then, conversations with Amy could be a minefield. Natalie tried to stay in the safe zones which resulted in somewhat superficial interactions.
With Celeste, on the other hand, she could talk about almost anything, so this evening was a treat.
Nat let Pepe out of his cage so he could avail himself of the litter box and explore, then refilled their glasses.
“I gotta say,” Celeste said, rolling her wine between her palms. “You look really great.”
Nat lifted her glass. “Thanks.”
“What’s so different?”
“The nose ring?” Nat said with a grin.
“Ahh. It might be that.” Celeste attempted a smile. “I’m surprised Mom didn’t mention that.”
Nat nearly laughed out loud, because in the past, Momma had made quite clear how she felt about loose girls with piercings. She’d always been prim and proper, the perfect military wife. Everything in their lives had been precise and SOP—standard operating procedure, in military speak. Dinner at six—right after Dad came home. Lights out at eight. When they were little, the four of them had worn matching outfits, and there were many “casual” photos of them lined up by height. Something as radical as pierced ears had been taboo. She grinned at her older sister. “I’m a grown-up now. I make my own decisions.”
“Well, I’m glad you decided to finally come home.”
Nat made a face. For her this was a tender point. “I’ve come home lots,” she reminded her sister. “We did Raging Waters for John J’s birthday last summer. Remember? And that family trip up to Victoria on the Clipper two years ago? That weekend in Friday Harbor for whale watching? I always come home when I can—”
“I meant here. Coho Cove. Home.”
Nat took a breath. “This town isn’t home. Not for me. It never was.” It was the end of the world. It was the place where you moved after your father died and the perfect, magical life you knew dissipated into the wind.
It hadn’t helped that, shortly after they’d settled in Coho Cove, her twin brother, her partner in crime, Nate, had died from a totally unexpected case of anaphylactic shock. Nat had been left to navigate this unfamiliar landscape, and high school, without him. Just another empty space in in her heart. Another reason why it was too painful to be here. Nate’s death had hit everyone hard, especially following so closely after their father’s passing, but Nat had never really recovered.
Celeste noted the downturn of her mood and frowned. “I really have missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
“It’s only the four of us now. We’ve got to stick together.”
Well, hell. What could she say to that? She couldn’t think of anything, so she said nothing.
But Celeste wasn’t done making her point. She took another sip of wine, then blurted, “You could have come home, you know. At least for Christmas.”
Nat stood up and wandered to the fireplace. Her gaze landed on the family picture they’d taken while skiing in the Alps. Dad had been alive then. Nate, too. She stopped herself from tracing her brother’s face with her finger, but just barely. “My job is demanding,” she said, and not for the first, or the tenth, time.
Celeste wasn’t placated. “You always make us come to you.”
Natalie forced an evil grin. “But I have Disneyland.”
Celeste narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Okay. I did love Disneyland. And the boys—” She trailed off because they both knew what their sister’s boys had thought of Southern California’s collection of theme parks. They’d hit every one. Multiple. Times.
“Even Momma had fun in Disneyland.” Was it wrong to remind Celeste of that? Even if it was to gloss over that niggling shred of guilt about not coming home for so long. But honestly. No one in her family understood how miserable she’d been in this little town. When they’d moved here after their father had died—massive heart attack while they’d been stationed in Stuttgart—everyone else had simply slid in, found their place, as though they belonged—even Nate. And no one in her family had had a clue why Natalie been so miserable here, because it had been far too painful to explain.
Simply put, her world had shrunk. One day, she’d been living in Germany, taking weekend jaunts to Paris or Munich and the next, she lived in a Podunk mill town—that wasn’t even a mill town anymore. Regardless, she’d known, immediately, instinctively, that she didn’t fit in here.
Even if she had been able to put words to her discomfort, her family, undoubtedly, would have pooh-poohed her reason—they’d always pooh-poohed her reasons. She was Natalie, after all. Dad’s little drama queen, the family goofball.
So, she’d lived here, in this tiny little universe, surrounded by people who didn’t understand her.
There had been one bright light, though, in those early days.
Back then, before he joined the football team, Jax had been an outsider, just like her. He’d been the person who had come up to her empty table at lunchtime on her second day in Coho High, and asked to join her. They hadn’t talked much, other than to discuss what was in their lunch bags, but it had meant the world to her to have some connection. With someone.
As time went on, over lunch every day, the two outcasts found affinity in silly things like love of art and music, philosophical discussions and spirited arguments over the best jellybean flavors.
For a long while, Jax had been the only one who seemed to understand. At least, she’d thought he’d understood her.
But then, he joined the football team, and he was suddenly popular, and she receded into the shadows again, a ghost in her own life. Suddenly he didn’t meet her eye in the hall anymore. Suddenly he had a new lunch crew. And suddenly she was alone again.
Well, not totally alone. She’d made some other friends by then, other misfits like his sister Sheida who was too smart for Coho High, and Ben Sherrod who was an outcast too, and Ian MacMurphy and the yearbook team. But even with these new friends, Natalie felt the loss of Jax’s friendship to her core.
That kiss in the gym, behind the bleachers, had been the killing blow of their relationship but, honestly, it had begun to fade long before then.
Celeste reached out and touched her hand. “Natalie. You should go to bed.”
Nat blinked. “What?”
“You’re practically falling asleep right here at the table. Come on. Let’s get you and Pepe upstairs.”
“But Amy? The boys?” She’d hoped to see them tonight. If even for a moment.
Her sister chuckled. “They’re probably in bed already. It’s past nine and Amy gets up at 0-dark-thirty. You can stop by and see them tomorrow.”
Oh. Right. Nat was used to all-hours living. She needed to remember that when people lived in small towns, they had small schedules. “How’s Amy’s bakery doing?”
Celeste shrugged. “It’s the only bakery in town.” She stood and collected the plates and trash. “Come on. You’re tired. You go to bed. I’ll clean up.”
And yeah. Celeste was, as usual, exactly right. Natalie was asleep almost the moment her head hit the pillow. There was barely a moment to reflect on her unexpected altercation with Jax—which was a blessing.
He was nothing to her now but an artifact from a wounded past.
She’d moved on.
No doubt he had, too.
