My neck cranes as I take in all three stories of the lake house. In broad daylight, there is no way to hide the imperfections plaguing the home. The chipped paint and rotting wood siding doesn’t bode well, especially when paired with the tarp covering a majority of the roof. Most of the windows look outdated and their wood frames decrepit from old age. Vines crawl up the exterior walls, completely out of control as if they want to swallow the house whole.
Maybe that’s for the best.
The house is a wreck. In its current state, I’ll be lucky if I find a buyer willing to purchase the place.
All you need to do is find one person willing to take a chance. That’s all.
I release a tense breath before ringing the doorbell. It takes Lana a whole minute to answer the door, her eyes barely open and her hair a wreck as she steps out on to the porch wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt that barely reaches her mid-thigh. The material falls loosely over her curves, accentuating the shape of her breasts.
Blood rushes through my body, directly toward the source of my newest problem. I wipe my face with my palm. “Please tell me you don’t make it a habit of opening doors dressed like that.”
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” She looks down.
“The fact that you’re barely wearing any.”
She crosses her arms, which only pushes her boobs up. “You’re the one showing up on a Saturday morning without an invitation.”
“I need the keys to the guesthouse.” My molars smash together.
“Oh.” Her lips press together. “Give me a second.” She disappears into the house before coming back a minute later with a key ring.
I reach to grab it, but she clutches it against her chest.
“Hold on.”
“What?”
“How long do you plan on staying?”
I grin. “Trying to get rid of me already?”
“No, although I’m sure the mice staying in the guesthouse will do that for me.”
“Mice?” My eyes widen.
“A whole family of them.” She has an extra special glint in her eyes.
I shrug like the idea of mice doesn’t repulse me. “No problem. Merlin will love the challenge.”
“Who’s Merlin?”
“My cat.”
Her head tips to the side. “You have a cat?”
“Surprised?”
“That you can take care of a living, breathing organism? Absolutely.” She delivers her venom-coated words with a vicious smile that does wonders for my dick. Blood flows directly to the source, making the front of my pants uncomfortably tight.
I reach for the keys again, but she clutches them in a tight fist.
“Wait.”
“Why? So you can insult me some more?”
She takes a deep breath. “I have one thing to ask of you.”
“What?” I quit tapping my foot.
“Don’t talk about selling the house when Cami is here.”
My forehead scrunches. “She doesn’t know?”
“Nope, and I plan on keeping it that way.” Her gaze drops toward her glossy red toenails.
What are you hiding, Lana?
“She’s going to find out eventually, especially when I’m packing stuff into boxes,” I press.
Her jaw ticks. “How I handle things with my daughter is none of your business.”
“Fine. I won’t tell Cami about the house. But if she asks me questions—”
She doesn’t bother letting me finish my sentence. “Deflect like you always do. It’s one of the few things you’re actually good at.”
“I seem to remember you thinking I was good at more than just that.” I fight my frown with a smile, although her words pierce at what little confidence I have left.
Her nostrils flare as her cheeks turn pink. She all but launches the keys directly at my face before slamming the door shut.
Totally worth it.
Lana is a filthy liar. I checked the guesthouse twice for any mice and didn’t find a single critter. The house is in far better condition than I thought it would be in after being abandoned for a few years. My grandfather built it for any visitors long after he moved in, so the modest 1,100-square-foot floor plan is more modern compared to the main house. With three bedrooms and its own private dock, it’s the perfect hideaway.
I let Merlin out of his crate and set up his litter box and water bowl before spending the entire day cleaning the house from top to bottom. Although I considered hiring a crew to help me, I decided to do it myself to keep my mind busy. It’s not like I have a job or any real responsibilities besides completing my part of the will.
I lose track of time. It’s not until my stomach growls that I finally stop cleaning and drive into town for dinner. Most of the restaurants are closed already, so I’m left with only one option.
The diner.
The bell above me rings as I open the door.
“You again?” Isabelle sighs from behind the counter. A couple of people turn in their barstools to search for whom she is talking to, only to glare once their eyes land on me.
“Nice to see you too, Isabelle.”
“The feeling isn’t mutual.” She walks toward the hostess stand at the front of the diner.
“You know, I’m starting to think small towns aren’t as sweet and charming as people make them out to be.”
“Oh, we are…to anyone but you.”
“You wound me.” I rub at the spot above my heart with a pout.
She smacks my head with one of the menus before showing me to a corner booth toward the back. There are only a few people seated throughout the place, all of whom watch me take my seat.
“What can I get you to drink, Hal?” She taps her notepad with the tip of her pen.
“It’s Cal.”
“Stick around for long enough this time and maybe eventually I’ll get it right.”
“Is that the reason why you hate me now?”
Her lips turn down. “I don’t hate you.”
“Are you sure?”
“My momma raised me better than to hate anyone, including trust fund babies like you.”
My head tilts. “Then why do you dislike me?”
“For the same reason a majority of the town does.”
Well, at least she’s honest. “Is it because of my drinking?”
She scoffs. “No, although that doesn’t help matters.”
“Then what?”
“It’s because you broke Alana’s heart.”
My smile slips.
“We’re a small town here. When one of us hurts, we all do.” She tilts her head in the direction of a man gliding into the diner on an electric wheelchair. “When Fred struggled to afford a new wheelchair, we all chipped in to buy him a fancy electric one.” She points her pen at a woman wiping the countertop with a rag. “Betsy there married a rich out-of-towner with a heavy fist and the inability to understand the word no. And do you know what we did to him?”
“Chopped him up into little pieces and spread his remains across the forest?”
Her lips twitch. “We wish. Wyatt and the new sheriff keep us in line, so we were forced to go about things the legal way. Drove him out of town by hiring a fancy lawyer from the big city. Everyone pitched in to pay the fee, and it was worth every penny because now Betsy and her kids are free to live their lives.”
I swallow hard. “That’s good.”
“Bottom line is that we look after our own here. If Alana doesn’t want you around, then who are we to make you feel comfortable?”
My lips press together.
“It’s no sweat off our backs after we saw what happened to Alana the last time you left.”
Fuck.
My stomach rolls, the acid climbing up my throat.
You need to get out of here.
My eyes flicker to the door.
Isabelle steps into my eye line, forcing me to look up at her.
“We’re the ones who had to watch Alana struggle with heartbreak the last time you left. She stopped going out, lost weight, and barely spent time around anyone besides her mama and two best friends. It was like she was fading away before our very eyes. Not that she would ever tell you that because that girl is too sweet for someone like you.”
Desperation to escape claws at my throat. I reach for the flask in my pocket, only to pause when Isabelle catches the movement.
Her brow arches. “I’m not sure why you’re back or what you want with our girl, but the whole town will be watching closely. One slipup and you will wish you never returned.”
My tongue feels heavy against the roof of my mouth. “I’m not here to hurt her.”
“For your sake, you better hope not. I’ll be back with a water.” She turns away, leaving me to process everything she said.
My eyes screw shut as I fight the urge to take a sip from my flask.
You don’t need to drink every time someone says something you don’t like.
My hands tremble against my lap.
Alcohol won’t change your reality.
I’m not looking to change it, but rather cope with it. Yet no matter how many deep breaths I take or what I tell myself, Isabelle’s words poison my chances of making it through my meal without drinking.
She was fading away before our very eyes.
The acid in my belly bubbles with each reminder of how much Lana struggled after I left. How she struggled to live because of me.
Did you really expect her to move on from one day to the next?
No, but I wanted more for her than me and my issues.
I pull the flask out and take a swig before tucking it back into my pocket.
My phone vibrates.
Iris
Hey! How was your day?
About as good as I expected. What are you up to?
Her text comes back a minute later after Isabelle stops by to take my order.
Iris
Watching Declan cook dinner.
At least one of us is having a home-cooked meal tonight.
You sound jealous.
Maybe because I am. Not of Iris and Declan per se, but of how my situation compares to theirs. I know it’s not right. It makes me feel sick to be anything but happy for them. But there is this part of me—one I rarely like to acknowledge—that wishes I had what they had.
I want to be happy. I try so damn hard, yet no matter how big I smile or how loud I laugh, I always feel empty. It’s a cold, creeping feeling that consumes me late into the night, until I’m forced to welcome my old frenemy.
Addiction.
My phone buzzes from an incoming text.
Iris
He just burned himself taking the bread out of the oven and then proceeded to curse in five different languages.
My sadness dissipates with a laugh.
Shouldn’t you be helping him?
Iris
We’re a modern couple, Cal. He cooks. I watch. He cleans. I also watch.
Is that the key to a successful marriage?
Iris:
That and a big dick.
I choke on my sudden inhale of air.
“I thought it was you sitting here but I wanted to make sure.”
I look up at Wyatt, whose body casts a shadow over my phone. His dark hair peeks out from underneath his deputy hat, teasing the edge of his uniform collar.
“Wyatt.” My teeth grind together.
He tips his hat like a gentleman, tempting me to knock it off his head. “I heard you were back.”
“Alana told you?”
He shakes his head. “Cami.”
Of course she did. “What do you want?”
“Just thought I would stop by and give you a warm Lake Wisteria welcome.”
I cock a brow. “Is there such a thing?”
“Everyone here is good people.”
“So long as you don’t piss them off,” I grumble.
The crackle of Wyatt’s cop radio interrupts us, and he adjusts the volume with a quick turn of the knob. “Speaking about that…I wanted to warn you to stay away from Alana and Cami.”
“A warning? How utterly unoriginal.”
He leans forward while holding on to his holster with a tight grip. “Do you have a death wish?”
“No, although I’m sure you would be more than willing to put a bullet in my head. After all, you didn’t mind stabbing me in the back as soon as I left.”
His eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”
“You and Alana.”
“What about us?” He doesn’t even blink.
“How long did it take you to go after my girl?”
“She’s not your anything.”
My fingers dig into the soft flesh of my palms. “Alana might be yours now, but I’ll always be her first in every way that counts.” First kiss. First love. First heartbreak. No matter how hard Wyatt tries, he will never be able to erase our history, even long after I leave this godforsaken town for the final time.
With the way he stares at me, it feels as if he is reading my soul. “Are you…jealous?”
“Jealous of you? What for?” I give him an unimpressed once-over.
“My question exactly.” His lips curve upward, only stoking my irritation like one would fan a flame.
Isabelle arrives with my burger, saving me from Wyatt and his perceptive stare.
I gesture toward my plate. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather eat my dinner in peace without your toxic masculinity stinking up the place.”
“Of course. Nice seeing you, Percival.” He tips his hat.
Him calling me by my middle name reminds me of too much, all at once. My stomach churns, and the food in front of me becomes inedible.
I flip him off. “Fuck you, Eugene.”
“I think I’ll fuck Alana instead, but thanks for the offer.” He winks.
The bastard. My right eye twitches.
“Maybe I’ll even go there tonight.” His eyes brighten. “It’s not like you could hear us all the way from the guesthouse, right?”
I always kept my aggression on the ice and away from others, but all it takes is Wyatt grinning at me, talking about fucking Lana, to tip me over the edge.
I bolt from my seat and reach for him. Either I’m out of practice or he learned some new moves because I end up slammed against a table, my hands cuffed behind my back within five seconds flat. It’s embarrassing how quickly he takes me down, so I’m grateful only five people bear witness.
As if she read my mind, Isabelle holds up her cellphone and snaps a photo. If that ends up on the internet, Declan will hang me by the Dreamland flagpole for all the park visitors to see.
Wyatt pulls me up and shoves me toward the diner entrance. “Welcome back, asshole.”
