Winter's Path: (A Seasmoke Friends Novel) (23 page)

In talking to Joe tonight, the deep-rooted guilt I’d been harboring began to unfurl. I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t listen to my own logic. In truth, the guilt had started to abate after opening up to Jenny weeks before. I only wished I’d done it sooner. She would’ve set me straight and helped me to see the bigger picture.

Time to move on.

Back at the house, I stared out the patio doors at the wind-tossed sea and moonlight glimmering off the waves. My stomach was a riot over my fight with Jenny. In all our years as friends, we’d rarely fought. We had two very different personalities and disagreed often, but never like tonight.

I’d hurt her. Terribly. That had never been my intention. She was my everything. I needed to fix things and didn’t have a clue how to proceed. Meeting with Joe and getting a semblance of closure about Cara had helped, but my issues in regards to relationships went way deeper and farther back than her. Jenny had been right about so many things, namely my love life.

I glanced over to the spot where we’d met, two sixteen year olds on the same beach by chance. My first reaction to her had been visceral and, to date, the most potent experience to ever happen to me. She’d looked so frail and broken standing in the sand watching the ocean. And beautiful. So damn beautiful. But it went beyond a physical punch. The lonely part of her had called to the fixer in me. If there were such a thing as soul mates, I think I’d recognized mine that day.

Before meeting Jenny, I hadn’t dated much, if at all. Girls tended to confuse me and I’d been a bit of a bumbling moron. Not so with her. Still, I’d spent that first day with her, trying to figure out how to proceed. Having no skill made me over think it instead of taking action. And then Ian had swooped in with his charm and roguish experience. I’d never allowed myself the privilege of digging into how I’d really felt when that happened. But looking back on it, he’d inadvertently reiterated what I’d suspected. Girls wanted the bad boy, not the good guy. I may have shut my reaction down, yet the effects were still rippling. I’d wanted her with the youth and heart of pure innocence, but she hadn’t wanted me.

My first broken heart had occurred around a summer bonfire surrounded by friends. And I’d never gotten over the crushing blow.

My folks were wonderful, but I had led a somewhat sheltered life. Though I hated the moniker, I
was
the good guy. I couldn’t have sex for the sake of pleasure alone, couldn’t play games with the heart or deliberately act to hurt another. It just wasn’t a part of my genetic makeup. I needed connection. And seeing Jenny in Ian’s arms had cut a chunk right out of my soul. She still had the piece.

Tack on twelve years and an impenetrable friendship. Milestones and breakups. Phone calls and emails and vacations. Secrets and dreams. I’d held onto her the only way I could.

Jenny hadn’t been wrong the night we’d first made love. At the time, I hadn’t seen it, but my ever clever best friend had. Every relationship from the time I was sixteen to when I’d moved to Myrtle was the exact opposite of what I’d truly desired. Her. So I’d sought quiet blondes who I would never truly connect with and with whom I’d never be satisfied. Then came Cara at a time when my mind recognized what I’d been missing, even if my heart hadn’t, slamming home the reasons why I should stay on the wrong path.

Sighing, I rested my forehead on the patio glass. Pink and orange hues of sunrise poked through the horizon. Seagulls flew over the water and the seagrass swayed in the winter wind. Immobile, I watched it all, missing her with everything I had in me.

My parents eventually emerged from the guestroom and we had a quiet breakfast together before they headed back to Greensboro.

After, I stood in my living room, seeing Jenny in every stitch of fabric, each knickknack and picture and wall color. Mostly, in the way she’d turned a home into something that was mine. Housewarming presents were lined up by the fireplace from the night before, still unopened. Crouching, I searched through the small pile until I found hers. There wasn’t a card, just a tag, and I sat to open the gift.

Inside a small cube box was a snowglobe, but instead of white flakes there was sand. A few tiny seashells settled to the bottom, and when the water cleared, two figurines emerged. A girl with long dark hair standing next to a guy with short reddish hair. A wooden slat sign on a post in a dune was beside them that read
Seasmoke
. The gift had to have been custom made and it ripped the breath from my lungs.

Christ. She’d put a lot of thought into this and had recreated our first encounter, suspending it, literally, in time. For me. For us. As usual, she was miles ahead of me, telling me that moment had meant as much to her as it had me. She’d chosen me, loved me.

And I’d all but thrown her away with my careless actions. Because...because...

Hell. Because I could lose her. Some other man could take her away from me or she might one day resent settling for the good guy. And I wouldn’t survive it a second time.

There.
There
was the underlying issue. Basic protective instinct I didn’t even need.

With shaking hands, I carefully set the snowglobe on the mantle. Unshed tears burned my eyes while I tried and failed to get a grip.

Running my fingers across my lips, I attempted to find a way to rectify my mistake. Chasing her down and dropping to my knees didn’t seem fitting. An apology from me and professing my love would be enough for her, but it wasn’t for me. Because I did love her. Had for years and would until the day I died.

I want you to make a fool of yourself for me, even if the gesture is only as simple as you loving me back.

I froze. Recognition dawned and my heart pounded. Blowing out a measured breath, I pulled my phone from my pocket and searched my contacts for Summer, then connected the call.

“Remember when you gave my engagement ring back and said you had to approve the woman I married, that she had to be good enough?”

“You know I do.” There was a smile in her voice when she responded, reminding me of sweltering summers and fond memories and ice cream melting on a cone. “Did you get your girl?”

“Not yet. But you can help me make sure I do.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jenny

“
H
as he called?” Facing me, Rock crossed his arms and leaned against the back counter.

Perched on the bar top, I swung my legs in nervous energy. “No.” Nearly an entire week, and not one call, text, or so much as a smoke signal from Matt. Even when he’d lived in Greensboro we’d never gone this long without talking.

“He will.”

I shook my head. “I’m not so sure.” Rubbing my forehead, I dropped my gaze and forced my stomach to stop rolling in dread. “I’m an idiot cliché. Girl professes her love. Guy runs for the hills.”

Rock’s brows pinged in awareness as if he knew something I didn’t. In fact, he’d been acting strange all damn day. “As a guy, I’m telling you, he’ll come around. You didn’t see the way he looked at you when you sang. Or how when you walk into a room, his only focus is you. He’s so in love with you he doesn’t know up from down.”

Too gutted to even hope, I glanced around the empty tavern. Rock and I had talked all afternoon about the details for Winter’s Den. Matt had been right about one thing. I wasn’t happy. Unlike what Matt thought, I didn’t want to hit up record labels or put my music out there. It was personal, something just for me and my regulars.

But I had been restless the past year, even before Matt had moved to the coast. I’d ignored the sensation mostly out of guilt. This bar had been Grampy’s legacy to me. It was my hope to one day pass it down to my kids, if they wanted it. Yet I did want more. For a girl from the wrong side of the tracks who had little more than a couple business certificates, it was fruitless to entertain the notion. I wouldn’t even know where to begin to seek something else. This was my station in life.

Then the fight happened with Matt, resulting in me trying to get my mind off him and spotting a job posting in Sunday’s paper. A realty company was looking for a stager for their listings and their rental units. Someone to set the scene for potential buyers, turn empty spaces into a warm welcome. Other competitors had done it for years and had been successful in flipping sales, even houses that had been in foreclosure.

Wafting on the ad, I’d thought about how I’d redecorated Matt’s house, his office, and remodeled the tavern. I always had a keen eye for that kind of thing and had a lot of contacts for resale shops. I could turn nothing into something. But I knew Matt and his interests. These people and their sites were strangers, plus I had no experience. In a moment of insanity, I’d applied for the job anyway.

The interview on Monday had been formal. Tuesday, they’d sent me to an empty condo they’d been unable to sell as a second interview. While a human resources director and a realtor watched, I’d staged the place with items they had in storage, picking and choosing what fit the feel of the space. This morning, they’d called and offered me the job. Three days a week, kickass salary, plus a bonus commission if the site accepted an offer.

Per my discussion with Rock, he’d manage Winter’s Den. I’d bartend on Tuesday and Friday nights, fulfilling my need to stay connected and sing for my crowd. I’d still own my Grampy’s bar and be a part of it, but I’d also get an out. Rock and I agreed we’d need to hire another bartender to help him out.

The bubble of glee over the job and not settling warred with missing Matt. I’d loved him for so long, not only as a friend, but as a man. I’d long ago lost hope he’d ever see me as more than what we’d always been. And then, for a few blessed, amazing weeks, he did. Part of me wished I hadn’t known that kind of happiness. It only hurt ten times more when it was over.

Damn it all. Ignorance really was bliss.

Whatever. The wait staff would be here any minute and there was thirty minutes until we opened. Time to drown my misery in work.

Rock’s thumbs flew over the keypad of his phone and he wore a suspicious cheese-ass grin. “Texting love notes to Amber?” At least Rock was happy with his woman. He deserved it.

“Not this time.” With a shake of his head, he pocketed the cell and walked to stand in front of me. “I promise you, Jen-Jen, everything’s going to work out.”

“Uh huh,” I drew out slowly, my disbelief evident. He was definitely acting weird.

Nevertheless, I served drinks and flirted with customers and cheered the singers for open mic night. Fridays were always crazy and tonight was no exception. I barely had time to catch my breath. A few regulars tried getting me to change my mind about taking stage, but I just wasn’t feeling it. Noting the time, I announced last call after the final guy on our list was finishing his song. Another hour and I could fall face-first into bed.

Rock came up behind me. “We have a last minute add on for open mic. I’m leaving you with two guys to help you man the bar. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” I said, distracted. I filled two beers from the tap and made a whiskey sour before his words sank in. “Wait. What?”

But Rock wasn’t there. In his place stood Ian and Rick. Ian’s dark eyes were lit with mischief and Rick’s sly smile only served to amp my worry. They’d never come into my tavern while they were in town and I didn’t even know they were making the trip down.

Ian’s gaze drifted around and shifted back to me. “Nice place you have here.”

“What are you guys doing here?” I tossed a towel aside.

Rick took my shoulders and turned me to face the stage. “We’re doing a friend a solid.”

Ian grunted. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

What in the hell was going on? “Wouldn’t miss what? I...”

And then I spotted the reason. Guitar in his lap, Rock sat on a stool near the corner of the stage. Summer and Dee stood next to him. God. They were here, too? But...it was Matt crowding the mic stand that stopped my heart. Wearing faded jeans, a fitted black tee, and heart in his eyes, he locked his gaze with mine and offered a slow
aw shucks
grin.

“Ian,” I whispered. “What is he doing?”

“Best guess?” He shrugged. “Something he should’ve done a decade ago.”

Matt cleared his throat. “Y’all will have to forgive me. I know Jenny usually does your last number of the night, but we have a little interruption in routine just this one time. This is going to break the rules because the song isn’t original, but I got Rock’s permission. I’m also afraid I don’t have near the musical talent as her customers, so bear with me.”

“No.” I gasped. “He isn’t. He isn’t going to sing.”

“Looks like it to me.” Rick shoulder-bumped me.

Matt’s gaze on mine, he took a deep breath. “I made a terrible mistake in letting her think she didn’t matter. I’m standing here in front of all her people and our friends to let her know how sorry I am. I love her so damn much, and I think she should know that I’m
not
ashamed to make a fool of myself for her.”

My jaw dropped. The room spun. “Oh God.”

The crowd let out
aws
while Rock strummed a few chords on the guitar.

And then...Matt sang. To me. For me. Like no one else was in the room.

It took me a moment to recognize the song as Rascal Flatt’s version of
Broken Road
. With Rock on instrumental, Matt sang the lyrics about setting out to find true love and how the road led right back to her. Meaning, me. His voice wouldn’t ever hit a billboard top chart, but it wouldn’t break glass either. Like his speaking voice, his deep baritone was smooth, even if he did go off-key several times. As Summer and Dee chimed in to sing the chorus with him, I lost it.

And crap. My eyes were leaking. Trembling, I pressed my fingers to my lips and tried to draw oxygen. I couldn’t believe he was up there doing this. Matt, who always had to be in control and hated attention. And he obviously had gotten Rock onboard to help him out, never mind that he’d sought our friends to make sure they were here.

“Damn it, Ian. He turned me into a sap.”

He slung his arm around me. “Naw. You should see Summer when she watches old movies.”

I laughed through tears. My heart cracked ribs it was pounding so hard.

By the time Matt got to the second verse, he seemed a little more comfortable. The blush of embarrassment had faded from his neck and his hands were no longer shaking on the mic stand. I let the meaning of the story immerse me and realized why he’d chosen this song. It was us to a T. It was about lost time and obstacles and distance, then finally going back to the beginning and seeing what had always been there.

God. I couldn’t breathe my throat was so tight. My chest filled to max capacity.

The craziest thing happened. My rangy group of patrons sang the second chorus with him. I froze in shock. Whether out of pity for Matt or because they’d just gotten into the spirit of the moment, their voices rose up to fill the room. Sweet Lord. They were a hard rock crew with some blues thrown in. Country typically wasn’t their thing. But hell. The whole bar was singing a damn ballad.

Burying my face in my hands, I dropped my elbows to the counter. For as long as I lived, I’d never get over this. Would never forget this moment and the chance he’d taken on us.

Ian slid his arm around my waist and spun me in a sloppy dance while Rock did a short instrumental. I buried my face in his chest. My body recognized his familiarity and the comfort I’d physically sought from him for years. Last Seasmoke trip, he’d finally gotten Summer, the woman he’d always wanted. Seemed fate had decided to throw me a grace, too, and allowed my chance with Matt.

Ian eased away from me with a smile. “Go get him, darlin’. Go get your happy ending.”

I looked toward the stage as Matt sang the last few lines. His gaze was still on mine, his hand...over...his...heart.

Yes. Hell, yes.

Hoping this wasn’t a cruel dream, I spun around and ducked under the bar’s side flap. Working my way through the crowd, I dodged back slaps and congratulations on my way to the stage. To him. It took freakin’ forever. I vaulted up the two steps and launched into his arms. He stumbled a few steps, but he caught me. With my legs around his waist and arms banding his neck, he smiled at me. My Matt.

And screw it. Words could come later. I kissed him. Long, reckless, and a little desperate, I kissed him with everything I had. The crowd cheers were white noise in the distance.

Once we resurfaced, I caught Rock, Summer, and Dee leaving the stage out of my peripheral.

Sighing, I looked into the hazel eyes I’d known most of my life. “Hi,” I breathed, my world right again.

“Hello.” He smiled, a wrinkle between his brows, warmth in his gaze.

“I can’t believe you did that.”

He shrugged as if it were no big deal. His expression sobered as he cupped my cheek. “We need to talk. I’ve got a thousand things to say.”

“I’ve got some things to share, too.”

Nodding, he glanced around and set me on my feet. Then he bent and hauled me over his shoulder fireman style. I squeaked as he carried me toward the back rooms.

We passed the bar and I looked up, blowing hair out of my face. “Rock, close the bar tonight, would you?”

Wiping a glass with a white towel, he winked. “You got it.”

Matt fished around in my pocket for the keys, unlocked the private door to my apartment, and kicked the door shut behind us. With a quick reset of the lock, he climbed the stairs, me still over his shoulder.

“I can walk.”

He skimmed a hand over my thigh. “I’m not letting you go for so much as a second tonight.” Plopping into a recliner, he adjusted me until I straddled his lap. He cupped my cheeks, thumbs stroking my jaw. His gaze was haggard and apologetic and fraught. “I missed you so damn much.”

“Ditto.” I gave him a brief kiss and let the week’s tension drain from my sore muscles.

“You wanted to say something. Go first.”

A remainder of unease still lingered in his expression, so I didn’t fight him. Whatever he had to tell me weighed on him, was evident by the rigidity in his shoulders. I mentioned the job offer and the plans for the bar Rock and I had discussed. As I went through the details, pride filled his eyes and curved his lips.

I shrugged. “You were right about not being happy. I just didn’t understand what I wanted or where to go. The tavern was all I knew. I was thinking about maybe taking a few interior design courses.”