Page 25 of Dream Weaver (Spellbound in Sedona #3)

ABBY

I drove down the road, wiping my eyes. Cursing Jay. Liselle. Even Cooper. But most of all, cursing myself.

The road was scalloped from overuse, but I raced down it anyway, then flew out onto the main road. An oncoming car hit its brakes, beeping wildly.

I cursed them too.

A police car passed in the opposite direction, and I wiped my eyes again. Was driving while blinded by tears a punishable offense?

I drove without thinking, and for some reason, instinct took me to Heavy Metal Sedona. I pulled up by the rear doors, then slumped. I’d never felt more broken or pathetic.

It was Sunday. A day off. The sun was shining. The sky was a postcard-worthy blue. Claire was safe and happily entertained. I’d spent two incredible nights with a sweet, sensitive man.

But I’d walked out on him.

I winced when my own subconscious attacked me. Just like Mom.

And, ouch. That cut. Deeply.

My mother had a long love ’em and leave ’em history, dumping an entire series of men, as well as her own daughters.

My father had walked out on me countless times too. Even when I’d reasoned and pleaded with him, as Cooper had done.

God. I was just like them.

Don’t ruin this, I’d told myself that first night with Cooper. But that’s what I’d just done.

I stuck my face in my hands and shuddered with sobs that refused to come. They just dammed in my throat, choking me.

Neither of my parents had real relationships. Neither had real friends. And here I was, alone on a Sunday. At work, for lack of a better option.

Actually, it was even worse — I did have better options.

Option one: rushing back to Cooper and begging for forgiveness.

Option two: driving home and commiserating with my sisters.

Option three: cooling off for an hour, then rushing back to Cooper and begging for forgiveness.

I just couldn’t bring myself to do any of those things.

I wrapped my fingers around the steering wheel and leaned my head against it. Pa-fucking-thetic. That was me.

On the other hand, forgetting my daughter was totally unforgivable, especially when I was facing a custody suit. That was what made me march out Cooper’s door, despite my soul screaming to stay with him. I couldn’t afford to look like a woman who slept around. Jay — and his lawyers — would pounce on that and use it to steal Claire from me. Not only for joint custody, but maybe full custody.

I knew what Erin would say. She was always the reasonable one.

One night with a great guy is hardly sleeping around.

Two nights, Pippa would point out with a waggle of her eyebrows.

I grimaced, glad I hadn’t gone home.

But nothing they might say changed the fact that I couldn’t let Claire down. I couldn’t risk losing her. I was a mother, and that would always be my priority.

I had Claire. I had Roscoe. I didn’t need a man. No matter how much I wanted him.

I sat in the parking lot for a long, long time, listening to cars zoom by on the main road. Not many, though, because it was Sunday, and most folks were sleeping in…enjoying the company of their loved ones…relaxing…

I shoved the car door open, punched in the metal shop’s key code, and stomped inside to fire up the forge. I had a couple of hours before picking up Claire. Enough to start on the next ax head.

Eighteen down, two to go.

Bang! I slammed the metal with all my might, making sparks fly.

I waited instinctively for Cooper’s echoing hit. Wham!

But, duh. It never came.

I grimaced and went at the metal with a sullen bang! Bang! Bang! No rhythm. No joy. No teamwork.

Two hours later, I sat back, staring at the result. That wasn’t an ax head. It was a battered lump of steel.

I threw it into the scrap pile and started a new one. Walt would be furious at the waste, but that wasn’t my problem right now.

At lunchtime, I stopped for a grocery run. Not because I was hungry, but in order to stock up for Claire’s sake. I got all our usual staples, plus brownie mix. Claire loved making brownies. We could make them together. Everything would be fine.

I threw in two more boxes of mix, then three rolls of chocolate chip cookie dough. Then the edible stuff you used to write on cakes, plus a few edible flowers, plus—

I caught myself there, knowing full well what I wanted couldn’t be found on a shelf in the supermarket.

But that didn’t matter, I decided, briskly pushing my shopping cart to checkout. As long as Claire was happy, I was happy. I had her, my sisters, and their fathers. I had Roscoe and the ranch. I had everything I needed, and everything would be fine.

* * *

Everything was not fine. Starting with the news I got from Ingo, once we met back on the ranch.

That had indeed been Jay in the pickup Cooper and I had spotted on our way to Devil’s Bridge.

“Security cameras at one of the resorts along Dry Creek Road caught him passing early that morning — twice,” Ingo said, looking grim. “Once on the way in at four in the morning and again on the way out, closer to dawn.”

“What about Liselle?”

“The camera didn’t get a good enough view to ID his passenger.”

“Well, Cooper can ID her. He caught her scent at Devil’s Bridge.”

Ingo shook his head. “Unfortunately, his word isn’t enough without corroborating evidence. I got a team up there as quickly as I could, but the storm destroyed any evidence we could have used. Still, we’re working on it. I promise you, we’re working on it.”

Unfortunately, working on it didn’t involve hustling over to Liselle’s place and arresting, or even questioning, her.

“We can’t do that without firm evidence linking her to Jay, the storm, or the vortex disturbance,” Ingo said.

I know he was doing his best, but that was a bitter pill to swallow. Who knew what Liselle was plotting next — and what role Jay played in her nefarious plans?

On the other hand, something didn’t add up. Liselle wasn’t that powerful a witch. I was sure of it. How could she have stirred up a storm that big alone?

I was starting to think my third theory — the one where Liselle was involved with a stronger witch or warlock — was most likely. If so, why the hell were they after me?

So, things were not at all fine, and even a batch of double fudge brownies couldn’t change that.

Still, I did my best to pretend things were normal.

I got Claire to school as usual on Monday morning, then headed to work, stiff as a steel rod until I realized Cooper wasn’t there yet. Good.

“Morning, Abby,” Bob called.

“Morning,” I muttered.

Walt echoed him, and I hung my head in shame. Later on, I vowed, I would dig through the scrap pile, retrieve that lump of steel I’d wasted, and rework it.

“You and Cooper made incredible progress on the axes.” Walt patted me on the back. “Good job.”

Bob looked over and whistled. “Wow. Did you take any time for yourself on the weekend?”

I puffed air up over my cheeks. Yes, in fact. I’d spent two sizzling nights screwing Cooper, and my girl parts were still tingling. Maybe a good thing, since that was the last action they would see for a long, long time.

But action was one thing. Even worse was the damage to my poor, mangled heart. I had no one to blame but myself, though.

The door opened again, and my heart stopped, then clunked back into action.

“Morning,” Matt mumbled groggily.

Pablo followed, all cheery, as usual. “Good morning.”

No, it wasn’t. And it was about to get worse. Because I could sense another person behind him.

The door swung open a third time, and there was Cooper, blocking the view of the massive mesa in the distance behind him.

My heart lunged, trying to reach him. In my imagination, I yanked it back and wrestled it into place, kicking and screaming.

“Morning, Cooper,” Bob called.

Cooper nodded, then looked at me from all the way across the shop floor. His features were stiff, his eyes cold and hard.

His voice matched both. “Morning.”

“I was just telling Abby what great progress you two have made.” Walt gave him an extra-large version of a pat on the shoulder. “If you want a job in the off-season, you come to me, son.”

My heart stopped. God, I hoped not.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll be in Wyoming,” Cooper said.

My heart crumbled at the prospect of him so far away. Worse, the prospect of him together with Greta. But, heck. Cooper deserved happiness.

Still, another corner of my heart broke off and clattered against the floor. One more piece of wreckage for the scrap pile.

“Well, you’re ahead of schedule, and that’s great,” Walt concluded.

Cooper stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor. “About that… Today will have to be my last day. I really have to get back to the fire crew.”

My stomach folded in on itself, and my soul screamed, No! No! No!

But that was the way things had to be, right?

“Now, that’s a real shame.” Walt frowned. “But we appreciate what you’ve done. Right, Abby?”

I nodded, finding Cooper’s eyes. “I do. I appreciate everything.”

Just a whisper, but it was from the heart. That was the least I owed him.

“I figured I’d work on the last couple of handles today,” he said — to Walt, not to me.

Ouch.

“Well, let’s get started,” Walt announced, and everyone got to work.

Cooper stuck to the woodworking corner of the shop, and the few times we interacted, his demeanor was cold and disinterested. My weak attempts at questions or comments got stinging, single-syllable answers.

All in all, the same treatment I’d given him his first few days in the shop. I deserved it. But damn, did it hurt.

The next time I stopped to heat the metal in the forge, I rubbed my forehead against my sleeve to dry off the sweat.

A full minute later, I was still there, because the tears kept coming.

I had ruined the best thing that had ever happened to me — well, second-best, after Claire. I would be alone forever. I was a terrible person, and I could barely wield magic. Nothing useful anyway. And when it came to dream weaving…

Well, if I could do that, I would dream up a world where all my mistakes were erased. Where it was just me, Claire, and my sisters. A small, simple world without pain, heartache, or outside interference. Especially the kind with warm brown eyes that came wrapped in soft flannel.

But life didn’t work that way, did it?

“You okay, Abby?” Bob asked softly.

I snapped my head up, wiping the last tears in the process.

“Fine. Thank you.”

The sound of my hammer drowned out the words, but so be it.