Page 5 of Against All Odds (Ember Falls #3)

“I stayed because I didn’t want my marriage to be over. I stayed because I thought I could fix it, make him happy. I don’t know, I was stupid.”

My parents had the most amazing marriage ever. They were happy, traveled the world, were explorers, and found joy in everything. My dad told me that he and Mom agreed they weren’t going to have kids, because of their careers, but then I came along and it was the best accident ever.

They loved me, found a way to have it all, and that is what they say a marriage is—sacrifice and understanding. Together, it was about balance and finding compromise to have their family.

I spent my entire life idolizing that kind of relationship. Where it’s not a sacrifice but a compromise to give each other what they need to be content.

Ana’s lip quirks into a sad smile. “He didn’t deserve you.”

“No, and I should’ve left years ago.” I wipe away a tear.

“Are you upset because you love him still or because of how it ended?”

I think about that for a moment. Do I love Dylan? I don’t. I wanted to love him. Lord knows I tried to make things work. I kept giving and giving, hoping he’d see the real me, but he never did. Not when all he could see was himself.

“It’s more that I’m mortified. I found out that not only was my marriage over, but he cheated on national television.

This will forever be on the internet and in magazines.

People will always look at me and make their assumptions about who I am, because of him.

The comments on social media are scathing. ”

Ana smiles warmly. “Look, people are fucking assholes. Let them be little keyboard warriors, blaming you, but remember that he’ll also be immortalized as a cheating prick.

You know that, right? He’ll be judged as well, and I’m going to do everything I can to remind the world of exactly the type of man he is. It’s going on my next podcast.”

Oh, that’s going to go over well. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

There’s a gleam in her eye that I’m all too familiar with. “Wish away, bestie.”

“It doesn’t matter what type of things you say, Ana. At the end of the day, I married him and I put up with his shit and now I’m going to be divorced.”

“And I’m going to throw you the biggest party when it’s over.”

I laugh. “I can’t wait.”

“Now tell me more about your hot neighbor.”

I roll my eyes but tell her everything about when we saw each other again.

I forgot all the bad things about this house.

For instance, my house with Dylan was huge, and it came with all the modern amenities. A walk-in shower, butler’s pantry, big open floor plan with beautifully designed touches, and all top-of-the-line appliances.

In Ember Falls, this house is ancient, creaks when the wind blows, doesn’t have central heat or air, and has the hot water go out after three minutes.

I’m frantically rushing to rinse the conditioner out of my hair as my teeth are chattering.

I try counting to stop the numbness from the frozen ice shower I’m currently taking, but nothing is keeping my mind off it.

This is going to be the first thing I fix. Well, that’s not true. I need to get the heat on first.

“Fuck it,” I say, turning the water off. I let whatever product didn’t rinse out just stay there and grab my towel.

I shiver and climb out of the bathtub, wrapping it around me and rushing into the bedroom, where the fireplace is blazing. I stand, dripping wet, in front of it, letting the heat start to thaw my limbs.

After a few minutes, my teeth stop chattering and I run to my bed, grab my clothes, throw them on as fast as I can, and go back to the fire.

I need to get the radiators to work again. I just don’t know how. I tried turning the valves, but it was so late, already freezing, and I heard a howling noise that made me not want to be outside if it found its way to where I was.

I forgot just how cold it gets in the mountains at night. At work, someone said they thought it’ll snow by the end of September.

Southern California weather is far superior to this.

Thankfully, there was a pile of firewood against the house that Grandma always kept in case the heat went out, which it did often, apparently, and I set a fire in the wood-burning stove downstairs and one in the fireplace up in my room.

Knowing that I can’t just keep burning the pile of wood since it goes fast, I’m going to have to bite the bullet and ask for help.

I get in my car and ride the half mile over to what I hope is still Everett’s house. I make the right down the drive, feeling like I’m fifteen all over again, only not on a bike this time.

Time feels as though it stood still in Ember Falls. His home is the same, burnt-orange siding with brick on the lower half. The rocking chairs still stand on the left of the small porch. God, so many nights Everett and I would sit there together.

My smile is automatic as the memories come forward.

As I park and get out of the car, the front door opens and he exits.

Our eyes meet and there’s a familiar flutter in my stomach, the one I always got when he looked at me. My hands rest on the top of the door, and I lift my hand to wave. “Hey.”

“Hi,” he says and then clears his throat.

“I was hoping you still lived here.”

He pulls the front door closed. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be buried on the land here.”

“Oh. Do they do that? I mean, I didn’t think that you could just bury someone on their land. Although I’m not a lawyer, so maybe you can. I’m going to look that up.”

I really wish my brain would work right and I didn’t babble around him. My chest is tight as I look at the boy I once loved and could talk to so easily. Now there’s a strange tension between us.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he steps down off the porch.

I feel so stupid, but it’s either I swallow my pride and ask for help or freeze to death. “Actually ... I was kind of hoping you could help me? I hate to come here and ask. Trust me, if it wasn’t dire ... I wouldn’t.”

“What’s wrong?”

Everett steps closer, now just in front of me, and I do my best to slow my heart rate.

You’re too close, you’re still hot, you’re not supposed to still make me weak in the knees.

I don’t say any of that, though. “I can’t get the heat to work.”

His brow lifts. “And you thought I could help? I’m one of the least handy people here.”

I give him an awkward smile, one that’s more teeth than anything. Great, now I look like an idiot as well as sound like one.

“It’s the propane tank. I couldn’t get the lever to turn, or maybe it’s something else. I don’t know, but it’s freezing and I don’t have enough firewood for another night.”

“You used firewood?” Everett asks in surprise.

“It was that or become an icicle.”

He laughs once. “You can’t be using the fireplaces when you have no idea the last time they were cleaned. Let me go take care of something first, and I’ll be there in ten, okay?”

I nod. “Thank you, Everett. I appreciate it.”

“Of course.”

I get back in the warm car and head to my house. The fire has dwindled to almost nothing, so I walk to the side porch, grab a couple more logs, and get it going again. The last thing I need are frozen pipes.

A few minutes later, I hear the familiar sound of tires on gravel. Everett gets out of the car and heads toward me. “Where’s the propane tank?”

“Behind the shed on the left.”

He nods and I follow him out. He’s wearing a pair of tight jeans, boots, and what looks like a brown bomber jacket. He has that effortless, I’m-so-hot-I-can’t-help-myself kind of vibe. It’s just natural and the way his ass fills out those jeans—yeah, still hot.

Why couldn’t he be ugly?

Why couldn’t I roll back into town and find that he wasn’t here or he wasn’t still completely delicious?

It would’ve made this return just a little easier. Then I wouldn’t have to think about the stupid mistakes I made when I walked away from him.

That’s just not the way my cookie crumbles, though. I’m the girl who gets to see every error of my ways, sometimes even on television thanks to my soon-to-be ex-husband.

“Back here?” Everett asks, snapping me out of my maudlin thoughts.

“Yeah, right there.”

He goes around the left, finds the buried propane tank, and lifts the lid. “The line isn’t open.”

“Are you sure? I turned it.” I come around to look.

The wind whips my hair into my face, obstructing my view. I grab handfuls and peer at the tank.

“To open the line, it should be parallel like this.” Everett turns it. “Do you have one against the house?”

“Should I know this?” I ask.

He snorts. “Probably. We’re off the grid here, for the most part, so knowing your propane and septic would be a good thing.”

He’s probably right. “I had someone come here and keep up the property, but I don’t really know the details.”

“I know, or at least I figured when the house didn’t crumble after a decade.”

Our eyes meet, and for a second the guilt hits me. “I’m sorry, Everett.”

“For what?”

For leaving you. For never coming back. For not giving you the chance to decide. For all of it.

“Everything,” I say, hoping he hears it all in that single word.

Everett gives me a lopsided grin. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Vi. We were kids. Trust me, it worked out fine.”

That stings. “I really hope for you it did.”

“What about for you? You’re married, right? Any kids?”

The way he says it, the almost tightness in his voice, makes me wonder whether he knows about me and Dylan. “No kids, and I was married, but I’m in the middle of a divorce.”

Thank God we don’t have kids. In the beginning of our marriage, I wanted to wait until we were in a better financial situation. Then, when we had money, I just couldn’t ... get myself to want to try.

I kept imagining the life they’d have with him always gone and in the public light.

Not to mention, I’m not sure I’d be a good mom.

My parents loved me, sure, but they weren’t kind and loving.

They were distant and work focused. The only real affection was when I came to visit my grandma. She was the warm and sweet one.

Now I’m grateful I don’t have any kids who would be subject to this absolute shit show I’m living.

He nods slowly and then extends his hand toward the house. As we both start to walk, I hold my hair against my neck.

“I’m sorry to hear about your divorce,” he says.

“Don’t be. It’s for the best.”

“He’s an actor, right?”

I nod. “He definitely is. He was so good at acting like he was married, he forgot he actually was,” I say, hating I opened my big mouth about Dylan.

“He’s an idiot to let you go.”

“I think he’s just an idiot.” I lift my eyes to his, and we both smile. “But, right now, I sort of look like one, huh?”

“Never. You just look cold.”

I laugh. “I was freezing last night.”

“Come on then, let’s get heat in your house so you can warm up.”

I follow him back inside even though, right now, cold is the last thing I feel.