Winter's Path: (A Seasmoke Friends Novel) (22 page)

She slid under Ian’s arm and grinned up at him. “I’m still training him, but he’s a keeper. You have to come to the engagement party. It’ll be at Ian’s house. I live there now.”

Ian sipped his beer. “The romantic over here wanted it on Valentine’s Day, since it falls on a Saturday. And yes, do come. Bring Matt.” He gave me a pointed stare.

“I wouldn’t miss it. I’m sure Matt won’t either.”

The others joined us, and Matt’s gaze slid right past me. We chatted about Dee’s pregnancy and Summer’s engagement party, the holidays, work.

“I can’t get over how different the house looks.” Summer shoulder-bumped me. “Matt said you did all the decorating. You have no idea how many times I visited his place in Greensboro and wanted to go Jackson Pollock all over. All that gray and white he had going.” She shuddered. “This is really beautiful, and more like him.”

“Thank you.” I chanced a peek at him, but he was studying his glass. “To think, all it took was a roll of duct tape to restrain him and
voila
.”

Well, that got a laugh.

Amber and Rock showed up shortly after, and I went into the kitchen with the pretense of offering them food. Amber took a plate into the living room where everyone gathered as Rock hung back with me.

He surveyed the scene, then me. “So, that’s them. The infamous Seasmoke crew.”

“Yep. Pretty gorgeous, aren’t they?” The day was weighing on me and I leaned my hands on the island, hung my head. I wanted to go home and lick my wounds, damn it.

Rock came up behind me, caging me with his size, and rested his hands on my shoulders. “You look awfully worn out, Jen-Jen.”

Tilting my head back, I rested it on his chest and glanced at him upside down. “What else is new? I’m fine.”

His grunt served as a response.

Dee strolled in, rubbing her belly with one hand and her lower back with the other. “Is this your guy, Jenny?”

I laughed. “No. I’d need traction if we ever hooked up. Rock’s a good friend. He works for me at the bar. Keeps the asshole’s out.”

Rock offered his hand over my shoulder. “Nice to meet you. And congratulations on the little one.”

Dee shook his hand and sized him up, her pursed lips and nod saying she approved. “Traction, indeed. You are one huge guy.”

Rock and Amber didn’t stay long, taking off an hour after arriving. The older couples headed out for drinks, leaving the rest of us to chat. Summer curled in Ian’s lap on a chair. Dee snuggled with Rick on the couch, Matt beside them. I nursed a glass of wine in the recliner.

“We should do this more often,” Rick said, kissing Dee’s hair. “All of us getting together, I mean. And not just in July. These are our roots right here. Time we embrace that, I think.”

Ian nodded. “Agreed.” He looked at Matt, at me. “You two should visit Charlotte, maybe for New Years. We can make some new traditions and pop down here more often.”

Smiling into my wine, I took a sip, touched they wanted to bring us deeper into their lives. We’ve known one another for so long, yet we’d never attempted to take a step past summer. “I would love that.”

By midnight, I was toast. As Matt walked everyone to the door, I wrapped up the leftover food and put it away in the fridge. I don’t know why I was buying time, waiting to talk to him. I should just leave, too. Deal with him tomorrow.

He came up behind me as I set the trays in the sink, pressing his warm, hard body to my back. “That went well, I think.” He kissed my hair, wrapped his arms around me.

And no. I was wrong. I couldn’t do this tonight. I closed my eyes for a brief moment and then eased out of his hold. “I’m headed out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait.” He blinked. “You’re not staying?”

The bafflement on his face was enough to have my mood shift from hurt to pissed off and back again. I walked into the living room and grabbed my coat. “Your parents are staying in the guest room. They’ll be back soon. Wouldn’t want them to learn your dirty secret, would we?”

He froze, jaw open.

Crap. That was snarky and not how I wanted to start the conversation. Shrugging into my coat, I focused on the buttons and avoided him.

He stepped in front of me. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Never mind.” I dug in my purse for keys.

“No, it wasn’t nothing.” Frustrated, he grabbed my hand and tossed my purse aside. “You can’t say something like that and expect me to ignore it.”

“Why not? You’re pretty damn good at ignoring things. Me specifically.” And now I sounded needy. Lovely.

He straightened. Dropped his hand. “Jenny, I...” A ragged sigh escaped his lips.

There he went again. Not finishing what he started. “You what? You’re sorry?”

Slowly, he shook his head. “I’m not following. Tell me what’s going on.”

Something inside me snapped, and I knew there was no going back. But I’d been complacent too long, giving him time to process because that’s who he was. No more. At some point in my life, I had to take a chance, even if that meant losing everything.

Dialing my voice steady, I looked at those beautiful hazel eyes that had been my lifeline half my life. “I’ve had a lot of pain slapped on me through the years, but no one’s hurt me near as bad as you did tonight. Do you realize this is the first time you’ve looked at me since I walked in the door? You went out of your way to ignore me in front of everyone who matters to you.” I bit my tongue to keep the tears at bay, but it didn’t work. My throat closed and my eyes burned. “You made me invisible.”

Regret slammed into his gaze so fast I got whiplash. He reached for me, but I stepped away. “Jenny—“

“Word of advice, Matt. When a woman’s got her hands around your neck, it’s a sure sign she’s maybe slightly angry with you.”

His brows slammed together, his jaw ticking. The scared concern in his eyes said he was finally understanding. “You’re not invisible. I never meant—“

“We haven’t lied to each other in twelve years. Don’t start now.” I sucked oxygen, starving. “You set out this evening with the goal of pretending we didn’t exist. It backfired, though. Ian noticed. Don’t worry, Matt. I’m pretty sure he won’t say anything. You needn’t concern yourself with the shame of being with me.”

Anger flared in his eyes. “I’m not ashamed of you.”

“Like hell.” I clenched my teeth. “The worst part is that it was
you
who showed me I was somebody. You gave me the courage to open my mouth and sing. You told me I was better than where I came from. You made me beautiful and strong.” Shaking, I let the tears fall. “But at the end of the day, in your eyes, I’m still the tattooed nobody born to a strung-out junkie and living in a shitty apartment over a bar, serving drinks. I’m not the girl you bring out in public.”

“Knock it off.” He closed the distance in two fierce strides, shoving his face in mine. “You are everything I said you are. You are not a nobody.” His hands flexed as if wanting to touch, but they remained at his sides. “You’re transgressing your insecurities onto me. You know you could be so much more, and yet you hide behind a mic in your grandfather’s bar.”

I shoved him back a step. “Don’t you dare. I’m not good enough, so you throw obstacles up that don’t exist. I’m happy where I am. I’m happy playing to a small crowd. I don’t like the limelight and certainly don’t need a record label telling me how and what to perform. Notoriety isn’t what I’m after.”

“That may be true, but you’re still hiding. You’re not happy, Jenny. You’re content. There’s a difference. No one knows that better than me.” He closed his eyes and drew a calming breath.  “I needed time, and that had nothing to do with not wanting to be seen with you. I’m proud of you, not ashamed. I just...” He shook his head, defeated.

It dawned on me what lay at the root of the problem, and I was only a splinter of the issue. He might genuinely believe what he said, but that didn’t solve the crisis. It amplified it.

“You just can’t take the risk,” I finished for him. His wide gaze flickered to mine, then away. “You forget I know every relationship you’ve ever been in, every woman who’s been in your life. Think about it, Matt. There’s a fundamental difference between them and me. It’s been there from the start. Yet you refuse to engage, even with me. Ask yourself why.”

A swallow worked his throat while he stared over my shoulder in an obvious attempt to dig for his own truth. The desperate, broken expression told me he wasn’t there yet. He may never get there, and my theory was mere hypothesis. No doubt, I was probably wrong, fishing for excuses with the incorrect bait. If I were to be honest with myself, the illusion I’d clung to for a decade would shatter. He was right about one thing. I wasn’t happy, and content was the best I’d get. At any rate, he had to be the one to figure it out. I was never what he wanted. I was just the girl he couldn’t have.

Hope was too dangerous. Something I’d forgotten along the way. Even if the very guy who’d demanded I dream was the one to strip it away again. I took the chance and came up empty, but at least I finally tried. Lesson learned.

Agony wrenched my chest and squeezed the breath from my lungs. Damn if he’d see any more of my tears. Walking around him, I grabbed my purse and headed for the door, stopping with my hand on the knob.

“What do you want from me, Jenny?” His whispered plea barely rose above my pounding heart.

My back to him, I stared at the door. “I want you to make a fool of yourself for me, even if the gesture is only...” Hell. There was no pain worse than this. I thought I knew pain, but I was so, so wrong.

“Is only what?” When I didn’t answer, his voice broke. “Is only what, darlin’?”

I looked at him over my shoulder. “Even if the gesture is as simple as you loving me back.”

The second recognition hit, his chest stopped moving. Everything about him went utterly, deadly still. A wrinkle of doubt, of clarity, creased his forehead. He stared at me, his gaze burning with torment and shock and fraught with helplessness. And damn him. His red-rimmed eyes filled.

He said nothing.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “That’s what I thought.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Matt

I
stood there in the middle of my living room, gutted, long after Jenny had shut the door behind her. Hands in my hair, I glanced around, seeing nothing but the fractured look in her eyes before she’d left.

Maybe I was ten kinds of a fool, but the thought of her loving me had never occurred to me. I mean, yes, we’d loved each other for years. Probably since the first second we’d met that hot day on the beach. We’d connected in one of those rare fate-like moments people rarely experienced. We’d been friends and a crutch and support for a decade plus. But love? The kind it was apparent she felt...I hadn’t a clue.

And she’d been right. I’d allowed fear of...who knew what to keep her in this box, stupidly not realizing it was feeding into her ingrained insecurity of not being worthy. Christ. I was the one not good enough. I was the one who couldn’t get a handle on what was wrong, not her. From the get-go, Jenny had an innate ability to read me, to get inside my head and fix things. Without her, I was fucking lost.

And I had the sinking suspicion there was no mending this rift. Her walking out tonight was the period to the end of our sentence. Panic clutched my chest. One more thing I couldn’t control.

The things she’d said...they made sense. My relationships. How I’d hurt her. All true. But she seemed to know why, and that blinding insight was out of my peripheral. I don’t know what in the hell was wrong with me.

Nauseated, I paced. I closed my eyes, rubbing my lips in thought, and was near hysterics. My skin itched and my head rioted and my muscles tensed. I hated it. Hated this feeling of not being grounded. And my anchor for the past decade had walked out. Because I was an asshole.

The front door opened and I whirled, only to deflate at finding my parents. They hung their coats and Mom walked over to me, offering a hug.

“You cleaned up already.” She glanced around, back to me. “It was a very nice party. Everyone had a wonderful time.”

I nodded. “It was great seeing the crew again.”

“Was it just me or did Jenny seem quiet tonight?” Her lips pursed. “Is her grandfather doing that poorly?”

Dad wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “She was vague about Christmas, too. She always comes up for the holiday.”

Our conversation from before the party rolled around in my skull. When Jenny had claimed she might not be able to join me at my folks’ house, I’d been too shocked to respond. That had been my first sign something wasn’t right. Hell, Christmas without her wouldn’t be the same and...

Shit. I rubbed my forehead. “She thinks I don’t want her there.”

“That’s absurd. Of course, you want her there.” Mom waved her hand as if swatting an irritating fly.

“We had a fight,” I muttered, distracted. “Her grandpa’s declining fast, but that wasn’t her only reason.” Sighing, I looked them in the eye and told them what I should’ve said weeks ago. “Jenny and I have been seeing each other. As more than friends.”

Dad didn’t appear surprised. “About time. What’s the problem?”

Barking a laugh, I tilted my face heavenward. “I’m an idiot. I wanted to keep the relationship quiet until we had some footing, but it...” Backfired. Hurt her. “I’m an idiot, is all.”

Mom shrugged. “Knowing is half the battle. You’ll figure the rest out.” Leaning in, she kissed my cheek and turned toward the steps. “Bring her to Christmas or else. Goodnight.”

Smiling, I watched them disappear upstairs and absently pulled my phone from my pocket when it rang. I answered with a quick hello without checking the ID.

“Matt? Matt Holcomb?”

More tension knotted my shoulders as I pulled the cell away from my ear and saw the screen. Joe. Served me right for not screening my calls. Cara’s brother had been relentless with messages, so it was probably time to deal with him.

“Hello, Joe.” I shook my head. Acid ate away at my gut. “I got your voicemails. I don’t know what you want from me, but—“

“To talk. That’s all. Fifteen minutes of your time. Can we meet somewhere?”

I opened and closed my mouth. He’d sought me out after two years for a reason. I’d been trying in all that time to move on and the guilt still had its claws deep in me. Meeting Joe couldn’t make the situation any worse.

“Fine. Where and when?”

He was silent for a beat. “I know it’s late, but what about now?” He rattled off the name of a diner near the strip.

I glanced around the empty room, up the stairs where my parents slept, then at the door, remembering how Jenny had left. To move forward and figure things out with her, I needed closure with Cara. Joe was the closest I’d get.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

The diner was a twenty-four hour hole in the wall that reeked of grease and burned coffee. I strolled deeper inside, my stomach in knots, and scanned the tables for Joe’s face. Finding him in a corner booth, I headed that way and slid in across from him.

He watched me through hooded eyes the same shade as Cara’s, and the similarity stalled my lungs. The sibling resemblance was uncanny. Though he looked the same as he had a couple years before, he seemed to have aged ten years. Hollow blithe haunted his gaze. His dark hair was messy, but clean, his jaw unshaven under an unsmiling mouth.

I ordered coffee when the waitress came by and nodded my thanks as she filled my cup. With that out of the way, I cleared my throat, wanting to be anywhere but here. “So.”

His fingertips tightened on the mug. He was the one who’d asked me to meet, yet he appeared to be weighing his words. “I appreciate you coming. I didn’t get a chance you talk to you at the funeral.”

Taking a sip of bitter brew, I let the heat slide down my throat. It did little to warm me. “Didn’t realize you saw me.” I’d stayed in the back and had remained only long enough to offer my own silent twisted form of goodbye.

“You also gave the police a statement.”

The hairs on my neck stood erect. Was that what this was about? Blame? “I was the last person to see her alive.”

The way he stared into his coffee made me think he blamed himself for his sister’s death. “She wasn’t always like that, you know.” His distant tone traveled the small space between us and petered out with the clang of diner noise. Dishes clanking. Muttered voices. “As a kid, she got straight A’s. She had a photographic memory. Did you know that?”

A grin threatened. “I did. She used that parlor trick the night we met.”

He breathed a laugh, his smile a ghost. “Cara was the people person in the family, the extrovert. I preferred my own company. She was a normal kid. Took ballet, played with dolls, had lots of friends.” His smile slipped. “Then our parents died and the light in her just—“ he snapped his fingers “—blinked out. Shrinks called it survivor’s guilt.” He glanced out the window at the headlights passing by on the strip. “I think the drugs helped her forget, took the edge off her pain.”

With a weary sigh, he refocused on me. “When you walked into the club, I figured you were another in a long line of distractions. But then you came by the next night, and the one after. She didn’t do repeats or form attachments. Yet you...for you she made an exception. Looking back on it, I think she saw in you what she could’ve had in another life.”

Hell. I ran a hand down my face and tried to keep the coffee in my stomach. “In a way, she reminded me of a friend of mine.” Jenny. It always circled back to Jenny. I’d denied that truth, even to myself, but it was high time I quit. “My friend lost her mom to drugs. Her and Cara resembled each other in appearance and attitude, to a degree. Part of me saw your sister and thought that it could’ve been how my friend wound up if we didn’t have each other for support.”

Thing was, Jenny would’ve made it just fine without me. She was strong and smart. She’d had her grandfather. Cara had chosen the easy route for her grief instead of leaning on Joe. Jenny had made her own way, fought her demons with her head high. But at the time, subconsciously I saw the worst case scenario for Jenny in Cara, recognized the desire I’d masked for Jenny.

And fucked up everything.

Joe scratched his jaw. “I keep telling myself she’s happy now. She’s at peace and back with our parents, which is what she ultimately wanted. But as her big brother who should’ve protected her, I’m having trouble getting past it.” He shifted in his seat. “I sold the club and started working a shipping job at a warehouse. I’ve been dating someone, and it’s going okay. I guess I need to know what happened that night.”

Again, Jenny drifted to mind. Trade Cara’s place for Jenny, and Joe would be me. A guy riddled with regret and desperate for closure.

With a sip of coffee for courage, I jumped in. Told him about our argument over rehab and her screaming at me to leave. “She didn’t want to hear anything I had to say, didn’t want my help. I called her a cab and left. Regretted it ever since.”

He studied my expression as if picking apart my motive. “Did you love her? I mean, you’d only been together a few days, but...”

“I cared about her, but it wasn’t love. Not for either of us.” But I had been looking for love, if I were being honest. I was seeking love and adventure in all the wrong places because I thought I couldn’t have the one person I truly desired. Such an idiot. “Cara and I never would’ve worked.”

He watched me a moment and then unzipped a backpack on the seat beside him. He set a small freezer bag filled with seashells on the table and nudged it toward me. “That was in her purse when her body was found.”

I picked up the bag and noted one of my old business cards was inside with the shells. I didn’t remember giving her one, but there it was.

“That’s how I got your number. I don’t know why she had that, or what it means.”

Memory shifted in my mind. Why we’d argued. The things we’d shouted at one another. The way I’d pleaded with her.

We can go on a date, eat out at a restaurant. Hell, I don’t know. We could spend a lazy afternoon collecting seashells.

The breath seeped from my lungs. Damn.
Damn, damn, damn
.

After I’d left her under the pier that night, she’d done just that. She’d...collected shells. Christ. It had been an olive branch, and she’d died before I could ever have the opportunity to reach for it. Or she’d known she was going to die and left me this as a message. Either way, the whole situation sucked. Down to the nitty-gritty kind of suck.

I cleared my strangled throat. “It was something normal, one of the things I’d urged her to do. Collect shells.” I tore my gaze from the bag to him. “That’s why she had this.”

His brows furrowed, understanding in his eyes. “You should keep it, then.” His finger tapped a staccato beat on the formica tabletop. When he finally spoke again, his voice was rough. “The autopsy report said she had enough cocaine in her system to kill her even if she hadn’t gone in the water.”

My jagged laugh could’ve cut glass. “If that’s your way of saying it wasn’t my fault, I have a rebound. You weren’t driving the car that killed your parents, and you didn’t die with them. Cara didn’t get that, but you should. She made her own choices and they aren’t your fault.”

I stared at him, just a brother who missed his sister, and rose from the booth. Fisting the bag of shells, I sighed. “When you think of her, remember the little girl playing with dolls who danced ballet. That’s the person you lost, not the woman I knew.”

With a sound of duress, he closed his eyes. After several moments, he opened them and nodded. “Thank you.”

I turned to leave, then paused. “You have my number. We should do this again. Only next time, with something stronger than coffee.”

My head all over the place, I drove around the nearly deserted streets searching for the cemetery where Cara was buried. It took me another twenty minutes to remember the gravesite once there. In a spot right beside her parents, her simple headstone rested.

Kneeling, I deposited the shells near her name and pocketed the bag with my business card. Melancholy settled deep in my chest for her and for Joe. They’d been dealt a shit hand and I could only hope she finally found peace.

“I got your message.” I wiped dried leaves from the edges of Cara’s stone and glanced once more at the shells, wishing things could’ve been different for her. “Thanks for letting me know you were okay.” Rising, I breathed in cold, damp air, knowing there was nothing else I could say or that she’d want to hear.