Page 18

EIGHTEEN

The following Sunday afternoon, Meredith walked along the river that ran between her property and Bronwyn’s. There was a big football game on, and she didn’t care about it at all. Mo had been out of town all weekend and would be driving home later tonight. Cal was with Landry at The Haven, watching the football game with a few actual pro football players whose season had ended in January. Bronwyn had decided to throw a big viewing party. Landry, The Haven’s art teacher, had made some football-themed serving bowls that Meredith had to admit were awesome, and Bronwyn had asked Landry and Cal to help her host the event.

It hadn’t been a hard sell. Cal had jumped at the opportunity and had already sent her a photo of him between two men who were apparently famous. Meredith didn’t recognize them, but she was happy for Cal.

Bronwyn had asked Meredith to come too, but she declined. She hadn’t been alone in days. Gray had made sure that there was an officer in shouting distance at all times. He’d even had one follow her home from work on Thursday and Friday.

She had gone to The Haven to help with the decorating and had made a few quick arrangements for the party, but then she’d happily returned to the safety and solitude of her own home. A place where she didn’t have to fake being happy.

A few months ago, her life had been quite lovely. She’d been reasonably content. Maybe even a bit on the self-satisfied side. Now? The man she thought she loved had rejected her. And her do-gooder ways had put her on a hit list.

Pride goeth before the fall.

She’d heard that her entire life. She hadn’t expected the fall to be quite so ... brutal. Or to last so long. She was so tired. Tired of hurting. Tired of being afraid. And tired of everyone feeling sorry for her.

She’d tried to hide her misery. But based on the way people treated her, she’d done a poor job of it. The Sunday after the kiss that shouldn’t have happened, her mom called her out for being a grump. She had to come up with an explanation. One that didn’t involve saying, “Gray kissed me and then apologized for it. And then he explained, and it was heartbreaking and stupid at the same time. I told him that, and now we aren’t speaking to each other. And probably won’t ever. At least not until I attend a wedding with him in a few weeks, but I can’t think about that.”

She’d blamed her gloom on the short days and long nights. Many people suffered from seasonal affective disorder. Why couldn’t she?

Her parents hadn’t pushed her, but she didn’t think they’d fully bought it. Nonetheless, her mother continued to send her links to articles about combating the winter blues, which was why she’d been walking along the river every afternoon for the past couple of weeks. Trying to get some sunshine. Light exposure. Vitamin D. Whatever.

It hadn’t worked.

She caught a whiff of something floral. And there on the bank ... the paperbushes had bloomed. The flowers were tiny and delicate and had always been a favorite of hers, both for their scent and their blossoms. She felt a kinship with the hardy bush that had the audacity to bloom in late winter.

She’d never decided if the paperbush was a late bloomer or an early one. Not that it mattered. Either way worked. But she imagined it as a warrior that not only survived the winter but refused to be contained by the cold. It was tough but beautiful, and it showed off delicate blossoms while everything else was still cowering in the soil, not daring to peek out for fear of an early frost.

She gave herself a mental slap. Getting philosophical over a shrub? She needed to get a grip.

If she could snap a decent picture, she might be able to recreate the paperbush blossoms. They’d look lovely in Cassie’s real bouquet. Meredith knelt at the top of the bank, phone in hand. Ugh. The angle was all wrong. She leaned farther over the edge in an attempt to get a better shot.

The soil under her knee gave way, and her body tilted forward in an almost slow-motion crash. The phone fell from her hand, and she stretched her arm to catch it. Her hand and the phone did an aerial dance as she tried to grab it, but the phone slipped away and bounced down the bank with her body following behind.

Unlike the phone, she didn’t bounce. She slid, face first, straight toward the river.

The phone left the bank and entered the river with an ominous kerplunk, and she skidded to a stop a foot from the freezing water.

She lay gasping for air before the image of her phone splashed across her closed eyes. She jumped to her knees and reached for the device. The water was ridiculously cold, and for a split second she wondered if the same thing was true for drowned phones as it was for drowned people. Maybe it wasn’t truly dead until it was warm and dead.

She plucked the phone from its watery landing spot and groaned. Not even Mo would be able to fix it. The screen wasn’t shattered. It was punctured.

She stared at the spiderwebbed screen for a moment. One of her nephews was fascinated with electronics and gadgets. He’d enjoy taking her phone apart. She tossed the phone to the top of the bank and then did a modified bear crawl up the side until she reached the top. When her torso was on level ground, she didn’t bother standing up. She rolled over and lay down, leaving her legs to dangle over the slope.

She’d tried sunlight, fresh air, and movement, and what had it gotten her? A destroyed phone and an even worse mood than she’d started out in. She hadn’t even managed to snag the photo she’d been trying to capture.

“Lord, I give up.” That was the best she could do in the prayer department. She didn’t feel like talking. She stared at the clouds and willed her body to relax. The sun would be setting soon, and the sky was a glorious riot of color. It was quiet here. Peaceful. Safe.

And wasn’t it just about the most annoying thing ever that none of that made her happy? She wanted to be safe. But peaceful? Not so much. She liked excitement. She’d expected her life to have more spice.

Instead, she’d turned into a hobbit. She lived in a tiny house surrounded by family. There was a lot of delicious food, and she could eat second breakfast anytime she wanted. But at thirty-two, she was beginning to give up on the idea that anyone would come along and invite her on an adventure.

She had no idea how long she lay there. She wasn’t praying or consciously thinking about anything. She wasn’t trying to solve all of her problems or come to terms with the drama that had unfolded.

She took deep breaths and tried to be where she was.

“Meredith!”

She opened her eyes. Had she fallen asleep? She didn’t think she had, but she must have if Gray was yelling at her in her dreams.

“Meredith!”

That had not been a dream. The sheer terror in the voice drove her to a seated position. “Gray?”

The man in question ran toward her. He didn’t walk. He didn’t stalk. He was in a full-on sprint. When he reached her, he dropped to his knees beside her. His hands touched her shoulders. Her arms. Her hair. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“What?” She’d been so relaxed. And now Gray was yelling and examining her the way she’d seen her papa check out a cow that he was worried about.

Gray spoke between gasps. “Got ... a call ... Mo said ... you fell.”

And just like that, it all became crystal clear. She would have to kill Mo. She’d miss him, it was true. But there was simply no other option.

Gray continued. “Your phone ... signal ... you didn’t answer ... he called ... me.” His breath slowed and he straightened.

She moved to get up, and he held a hand in her direction. “Wait. Did you hit your head?”

She ignored him, scooted her tush back so her feet were on level ground, and stood. “No, I didn’t hit my head. I’m completely uninjured. And until you came caterwauling through my property, I was spending some time grounding.” She thought that’s what it was called.

“Grounding?” Gray pulled his phone from his pocket, but his tone made it clear that he wasn’t buying her explanation. “I’m pretty sure most people who spend time ‘grounding’ don’t look like they slid down a bank and into a freezing-cold river.”

“I didn’t go into the river.”

He ignored her and spoke into his phone. “She’s fine.”

“Who is that?”

In answer, he handed her the phone.

She took it. “Hello?”

“Meredith? Your phone sent me an alert that you’d fallen. Then you wouldn’t answer. I didn’t know what to think.” Mo’s terror-tinged relief siphoned all her anger away. Well, most of it.

“You told me that fall detection app you installed probably wouldn’t work, and now you’ve gone and gotten everyone all hot and bothered over nothing.”

“I’d say it worked even better than expected. It sent out the alert.”

“Yeah, and then it died before I could tell everyone what had happened.” She spared a glance at Gray. “I think you nearly gave the police chief a heart attack.”

“He’ll live.” Mo paused. “So the phone is toast but you’re good?”

“The phone is ruined. And I’m fine.”

“What happened?” His voice was settling into its normal range.

“The paperbushes are in bloom. And they’re so beautiful. I thought I’d snap a few pictures and see if there’s any way I can recreate them. But I leaned too far over the bank.”

At her words, Gray pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

Mo huffed. “You fell down the bank?”

“I dropped my phone. I tried to catch it and lost my balance.”

“So, you fell down the bank.”

“Technically, it was more of a slide. The phone, though. The phone definitely fell.”

“And you didn’t think to, oh, I don’t know, go home?” His volume and pitch went up quite a bit on those last few words.

“I am home, you moron. I’m on my own property. I’m as safe as can be. If I want to lie here and contemplate the sunset, I don’t need to ask you”—she cut her eyes toward Gray—“or anyone else for permission.”

“I know that, Meredith. I also know there’s every reason for us to be concerned about you. You’re being targeted by people who do not have your best interests at heart. Or have you forgotten that someone tried to run over you?”

“I have not forgotten. I can’t forget. I think about it all the time. But was it necessary to call the chief of police to come look for me?” She could hear the embarrassment and near-hysteria in her voice and tried to pull it back down to its normal register. “There are about a hundred Quinns in spitting distance. I don’t think my dropped phone requires law enforcement—”

“He volunteered.”

Now it was Meredith’s turn to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Excuse me?”

“I tried Cal. I tried Dad. I tried Chad. I tried Connor. No one was nearby. In the midst of my calls, Gray had called Cal, who told him what was going on. Gray was nearby and he volunteered. I realize he isn’t your favorite person right now, but I was fairly certain you wouldn’t shoot him on sight. And if you had been in trouble, he has the skill set to help.”

Gray watched as Meredith took three slow breaths. When she spoke, her voice had lost the edge of outrage it held earlier. “Okay. Given that I have no phone, it’s up to you and Cal to let the family know that I’m not dead in the river. You created this situation. You fix it. I don’t want to be deluged with concerned family members.”

She looked to the sky. Gray got a definite, “Why me, Lord?” vibe from her as she shook her head, nodded, and finally said, “Fine.”

No man alive had ever heard the word fine spoken in that tone and believed that everything was, in fact, fine. Gray had a moment to be thankful that her ire was directed toward Mo, but then she focused in his direction and said, “He’s leaving.” And she waved him away, then turned her back on him.

If she thought her dismissive gesture would work, she had a lot to learn. He waited as she continued to listen to Mo. What was he saying to her now? Mo wasn’t known for being talkative. Maybe he was talkative, but only with a very select few? And, of course, Meredith would be one of the few. She adored her brother. Anyone could see it.

The old pain pierced through him. He’d been adored that way. Once. And he’d given up on having anyone care about him with that kind of loyalty and devotion ever again.

But ... Meredith. Not that his feelings toward her had ever been brotherly in nature. His feelings were the kind that would get a man punched in the face by a big brother. He’d been fighting them since the day she waltzed into his office and told him she was giving the place a makeover.

And he’d succeeded in ignoring them, or at least not thinking about them too much, until that moment in her shop when she’d slid into his arms and he’d known he was hers.

And then he’d stupidly convinced himself that he could stay away from her and that eventually his feelings would go away.

He’d been so wrong.

She turned then and slid the phone into her back pocket. “You’re still here.” She was going for cool, calm, and disinterested. He could tell. But she was too frustrated, maybe even angry, to be successful.

“I am.”

She tilted her head to the side and gave him the fakest smile he’d ever seen. And he’d seen some doozies. “Chief Ward.” Her voice was sweeter than cotton candy.

“Yes, Dr. Quinn?”

She kept up the smile and the accent and the ditzy attitude. “I sure do appreciate you performing your civic duty and rushing out here to rescue me, but as you can see, I’m no damsel in distress.” She stood straight and lost the vapid expression. Her next words were clipped and so hard they could have cut through granite. “You’re on private property. My property. And I’d like you to leave.”

She had a point. He glanced around to get his bearings, then walked ten yards away from her and sat on a fallen log.

She blinked. Ah, yes, there was the princess coming out. She’d expected him to do as she requested. Well, demanded.

And he had. Technically. Your ball, Meredith.

“Was I unclear?”

“Nope.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“I’m not.”

She blinked twice. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not on your property, Dr. Quinn.”

She glanced around, and he saw the precise moment she understood. He gave her a few seconds to stew about it before he spoke. “I’m not here as the chief of police. I came as a private citizen at the request of a friend. And, as a private citizen, I have an open invitation to the property of Cal Shaw.” He pointed to the tiny marker that Cal had shown him once. “And I’m on his property now.”

If she’d fought back, he could have kept up the pretense, but she didn’t. She threw up her hands. “Fine. Sit there. I don’t care. I’m going home.”

She turned and walked away, and there was so much hurt and defeat in her posture, Gray couldn’t take it. He called out to her, “I’m sorry.”

She whirled around. “Don’t say that to me.” Her voice vibrated with fury and pain. “Don’t.”

He wanted to go to her. To grab her and hold her and beg for forgiveness, but he didn’t have that right. He could have had it, but he’d been an idiot. If he wanted those rights, he’d have to work hard, so hard, to earn them. He shouldn’t try. He’d made his choices and he should live with them.

She turned to go, and he lost the battle. “Meredith?”

She didn’t turn but she did stop. He expected exasperation, maybe anger. What he got was a sad, “What?”

He didn’t know if this was the time, place, or right way to do this. But he couldn’t let her walk away from him thinking he didn’t care. “I’m a flawed, broken man. I know this. I’ve known it for a long time. And I used that knowledge to build walls around my heart that no one has ever breached. Until you. And when the walls fell, instead of saying thank you, I pushed you away and tried to rebuild them, higher and stronger and even more impenetrable than they were before.”

She wasn’t moving, so he kept talking.

“But the thing is, I can’t seem to manage it. Every time I try, I remember how it felt to hold you, and they crumble around me. I hear your laughter and the stones I’ve gathered disintegrate to dust.”

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t run away. That was good. Maybe.

“I am sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry I fought against my feelings and yours. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I do want you to have fair warning. I’m going to try to win you back.”

She turned then. Her eyes were dry. Her expression pained but not gentle. “You can do whatever you want, Gray. I can’t stop you. But fair warning. When I see you, my walls grow higher. When I hear your laughter, they harden. And when I remember what it felt like to have you hold me, then push me away? I build faster.”

Her words ripped through him like shrapnel. He had no idea what she saw when she looked at him, but he made no effort to hide the pain. He didn’t enjoy the agony searing through him, but he’d take it. Their relationship was like a broken limb that hadn’t been set properly. It had to be rebroken so it could heal.

She turned and left without a backward glance.

He watched until she was out of sight, then returned to his vehicle. It wasn’t until he was almost home that he realized Meredith still had his phone.

And hope, that audacious rascal, settled into his bruised heart.