Beholden: A Small-Town Standalone Romance (Carmel Cove Book 1) Page 14

  “Don’t apologize. It was a hard day.” She gulped. “I would’ve come to the reception after the funeral, but my dad… wanted us to get back.” Her tone suggested that she hardly felt the excuse was justified. “Eli didn’t tell you to come here, did he?”

  My brow furrowed. “No. Why?”

  Even here, the last place to be bothered by his handsome distraction… and somehow, he’d still found me…

  Her chin dipped and she replied very quietly, “I stopped by Roasters the other day. I hadn’t been in since the break-in, but I asked Eli not to mention it.”

  I folded my arms, unwilling to admit I’d been avoiding Eli of late, and instead, asked, “Is everything okay?”

  “Of course,” she replied so quickly the response could only be one of habit rather than one of truth before she turned the conversation on me. “So, what brings you here?”

  My throat tightened. “Well, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be in town, so I thought maybe we could catch up a little,” I said softly. She was really my only family left, aside from her parents who I had no attachment to. No matter what happened in the past, I didn’t want to leave this place with any loose ends trailing behind me. “How are you holding up?”

  I winced as soon as the words left my mouth.

  Our grandfather had just died, she was probably taking it just as well as I was. Then again, Aunt Jackie preferred to associate with the family she’d married into, so who knew how much Jules had seen of our grandfather in the last decade?

  “I’m… handling it.” She didn’t even look at me as she spoke, instead, shifting around me to the sink. “I-I just can’t believe it, you know?”

  Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and I was so jealous. How could she feel this, but I couldn’t?

  “Did you see him frequently? Or recently?” I asked softly, aching for someone to give me some clarity.

  “I hadn’t for a long time. You know how my mom is,” she admitted quietly, clearly embarrassed about her mother the way her face flushed as she spoke. “But in the last few months, I was visiting him regularly. He talked about you all the time, you know.”

  I jerked my gaze up to her green one.

  “He missed you a lot,” she added, driving the sharp stab home, though she was only trying to be kind.

  She glanced around, as though she had somewhere to be… or because she wasn’t supposed to be here, with me.

  My shoulders sagged. I shouldn’t have come. I didn’t know why I had. We hadn’t spoken in years.

  “I’m sorry for interrupting your day. I should probably go, they said you have a meeting.”

  I shivered as a cool breeze brushed against the back of my exposed neck; I’d twisted my hair up into a clip after my shower this morning, and now a few copper strands blew freely across my face as I turned away from her.

  “No, please,” she begged quickly, her hand gripping my upper arm for just a second before she yanked it back. “I-I know I don’t have long, and my dad is already—” She broke off and shook her head, a slight pink breaking through the pristine foundation on her cheeks. “He’s introducing me to someone important. But I have a few minutes. Please, stay,” she pleaded.

  “Okay…” I acquiesced, and we fell back into a leisurely pace away from the main building. “So, what have you been up to… all this time? I haven’t seen you, aside from this weekend, since my parent’s funeral.”

  She and her family had disappeared right after that one, too.

  “Just… working. Here. Helping my parents, learning the ropes. Doing what is… necessary… for the business.”

  “Did you go to school for business, then?” I wondered, thinking back to when we’d only begun to talk in high school about college and then teased lightly, “What happened to nursing?”

  If there was one thing I remembered about my cousin, it was her love of science, almost equal to my hate for it, because all she ever dreamed of was becoming a nurse.

  A dark shadow crossed over her face as her eyes dropped to the path we were walking around the small golf cart parking lot in front of the massive hotel, the path splitting ahead toward each of the two world-famous golf courses the resort boasted.

  “I changed my mind,” she explained quietly.

  “And went for business?”

  I shouldn’t be asking. I shouldn’t care. We hadn’t seen each other in so long and it was going to be back to that hopefully sooner rather than later when I returned to L.A.

  “I didn’t go to college, Laurel,” she finally replied with a dangerous mix of frustration and sadness that shot sparks right up to her hazel eyes as she looked at me.

  My steps faltered at her admission—the single flaw in her picture-perfect shell, and the proof, in my mind, that something wasn’t right. Not because she hadn’t gone to college, but because I knew how much she’d wanted to and being able to afford it certainly wasn’t an issue.

  Jules had always had her head in a book studying for something—learning something. All she’d talked about the summer before our sophomore year was how she couldn’t wait to go to college. And then, out of the blue, she’d been shuffled off to private school without so much as a goodbye.

  “I thought…” I trailed off, trying to think of the right thing to say. “I thought that was the whole reason you went to boarding school, to better prepare you for college. I thought that was why you never answered my messages.” I stopped to stare at her, forcing her to halt, too. “I thought you ignored me because I was a distraction from your schoolwork or something.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you mean? What messages?”

  “I emailed you and then wrote you after you switched schools,” I informed her slowly, wondering why she appeared to have no idea I’d tried to contact her.

  “Oh. Those letters,” she brushed off, quickly appearing to recall what I was talking about. “I’m sorry, yes. I should’ve explained. I-I guess I was just so overwhelmed with the change and the word. School was very consuming, and I couldn’t focus on anything else.”

  I balked.

  One time, I’d snuck two apple fritters from a batch my grandmother had made for the church for Jules and me to share. She had a fight with her parents, and I wanted to make her feel better. When my grandfather—of course—caught us with sticky fingers and asked whose idea it was, Jules had jumped in and confessed—lied that it was her. And right now, she looked just as much a pretty liar as she had that day.

  But Jules wasn’t a liar unless it came to protecting someone she cared about.

  Who was she protecting?

  Quickly recovering from her slip, she apprised me, “From there, I had a place—a business—I needed to learn to be a part of. I’m an only child; it’s my duty to be here and do what’s necessary for Rock Beach to survive. College couldn’t teach me about that,” she scoffed in a way that was almost believable for how many times she’d probably told the same lie. “I would think, of all people, you would understand the importance to some of carrying on a family legacy. Although, you left Carmel, so maybe not.”

  I heard the bitterness scratching through her voice, but it was only on the surface; she said it because she needed me to let this go and not question her further.

  “I made a choice, Jules. I always wanted Roasters… and my future… to be my choice and not an obligation. If my parents hadn’t…” I swallowed over the huge lump in my throat.

  In L.A., no one asked about my family (except my boss a few times) because no one cared, so I never had to talk about them or their deaths. But here, everyone cared about everything—too much.

  “I couldn’t stay. So, I chose a different future,” I argued without the conviction I should’ve had. “I needed to.”

  Her eyes bored into mine with a sea of emotions that would never reach the shore. Instead, only a few drops of the spray managed to escape from the waves.

  “Some of us aren’t that lucky,” she said so softly that if we hadn’
t stopped walking, I might not have even heard her.

  “You can always make that choice,” I replied quietly, noticing a very large man in black stalking over to us, his face so mercilessly stoic it drove a shiver through my body. “You can always choose yourself, no matter what anyone else wants or expects from you,” I promised and then confided softly, “That’s why I’m selling Roasters, Jules. I have to.”

  Maybe if I said it enough times, it would scare away any shadows of second thoughts.

  She stepped back from me, surprise causing another crack in her composure.

  “Laurel, I need to—” she stammered and then broke off abruptly as the giant suit-clad security officer invaded our conversation.

  “Miss Vandelsen, you’re late,” he scolded with a voice that sounded like it came from a machine rather than a man. “Your father is wondering where you are.”

  A complacent smile appeared on her face even as she tried —and failed —to completely wipe the uneasiness from her eyes.

  “Have a safe trip home, Laurel,” she wished me genially as though we’d only been talking about the weather. “I’m so sorry about Larry. I’ll be sure to give my mother your condolences.”

  My jaw dropped slightly as Jules nodded to me like it was some sort of formal goodbye before turning and walking back inside the hotel escorted by the mountain man. By every angle, she went willingly and purposely. Maybe it was just my imagination that saw the chains tethering her to this bejeweled jail.

  What had I come back to?

  What had I missed?

  Something wasn’t right here, I thought, watching Jules and the man disappear into the resort. Did no one else see? Or maybe they just simply believed what she wanted them to.

  Who was I to ask questions? I chided myself. Jules was an adult. She wasn’t locked inside this place like a prisoner. She chose to stay.

  I’d been gone for so long, hadn’t spoken to her for so many years… maybe I was reading too much into her words where there was just a different woman than the one I remembered; maybe that was what happened when I came here—I searched for problems where there were none, expecting them at every turn.

  But better safe than sorry.

  I lost myself in thought, walking back to the truck. The loud clanking as it turned over worried me for a second, before it rattled to life, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

  This was why I left. Too many questions. Too many attachments.

  Too many things to care about that could disappoint me.

  Whatever Jules’ family issues were, they were not my business. I needed to leave the molehill alone and focus on doing whatever I needed to settle my grandfather’s affairs and get back to my other life.

  The sun was just setting by the time I numbly approached the driveway to my grandfather’s—my house; the dim dusk gently illuminating the hidden turn.

  I’d run every errand I could think of after leaving the resort—anything to keep me busy, because maybe that was the key. I stopped at the grocery store, a local clothing store, checked in on my boss, and answered a few work emails I convinced myself couldn’t wait. But inevitably, I’d done everything I could possibly do, which meant coming back to the house was the only thing left…

  My house sat on a small slice of heaven—a lush clearing on a cliff at the edge of the ocean, the waves crashed like a continuous round of applause greeting every arrival.

  Hidden from the main coastal highway, the poorly-paved drive, exaggerated by the loose suspension of the truck, was long and narrowly wedged against the very edge of the rocky coastal cliffs. The precipitous drop was hidden by the thick, overgrown brush encroaching from either side.

  The familiar scrape of branches began to drag along the sides of the old truck before the sound disappeared.

  “What…” My eyebrows squished together. The brush had disappeared.

  Who had—

  Rounding the last curve gave me my answer before I could finish the question.

  Eli.

  My lips tightened as I drove toward his all-too-familiar face.

  So much for avoiding him.

  Standing in the clothes he must’ve worn to Roasters today, judging by the white dust speckled guiltily over them, he hacked away at the overgrowth at the bottom of the drive. His eyes immediately caught mine when he noticed the truck in his periphery, the noise of the electric trimmer drowning out the engine.

  His gaze followed me as I parked next to his truck and hopped down from the cab.

  “What are you doing?” I yelled just as he cut the motor on the tool.

  He stood solidly, pushing up his shirt sleeves over taut forearms and replied, “Cutting back the jungle that’s been growing over the drive. Didn’t want you driving closer to the cliff in order to avoid it.”

  I looked up the drive. I couldn’t argue with him. It wasn’t the safest driveway to start, but the foliage only made it worse. One swerve to avoid a branch could send you down the rocks and into the ocean.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I began, avoiding his eyes. “But thank you.”

  He nodded, a lock of hair falling loose on his forehead. “I was going to do the bushes around the house next… I’ve been doing the landscaping here for some time but after the break-in and…” He didn’t need to say what I knew came next.

  I blanched, my jaw slackening. “He let you?” I glanced around as though looking for proof and then murmured, “He loved doing this stuff…”

  My pap had not only been meticulous about taking care of his property, but he’d enjoyed the process. Whole days out of the month were dedicated to keeping everything trimmed and maintained.

  “I didn’t give him much of a choice.” He chuckled. “Especially not after the nasty gash he gave himself on his leg trying to use this thing a few months ago.”

  With every minute that passed, I fought not to walk right up to this man, curl into his chest, and let go of every hurt I carried. Time and again had shown him to be someone I could lean on—someone I could trust. I shuddered inwardly at the thought, again reminded that being a good person didn’t exempt you from dying… that being a good person didn’t mean I couldn’t lose him, too.

  “Thank you… for looking after him,” I murmured.

  He set down the hedge trimmer and tugged off his work gloves. Who knew such a simple motion could make my body burn?

  The veins in his hands stood out from a long day of demolition and now, yardwork. The skin slightly flushed from exertion. I stared, mesmerized. His hands that knew only how to fix things… maybe if he touched me again, they could fix me, too.

  “Don’t thank me, Laurel,” he rasped, my focus snapping back to his face and eyes that mirrored my own desire.

  My lips parted, softly shaking my head.

  “You should’ve seen him out here though.” He pointed to the extension cord leading behind me all the way to the house. Now that I looked, I noticed every few feet was wrapped with electrical tape. “I bought him this for Christmas a few years back—back when he was still doing yardwork—and he cut the cord so many damn times.”

  I felt a smile break over my face—break through the clouds that hung heavy over any glimpse at happiness.

  “I swear, I came over just for the entertainment of it. He’d be out here for fifteen—maybe twenty—minutes and all of a sudden, I’d hear him yell, ‘Jesus Christ!’ and the trimmer would go silent.” He struggled to speak as his chest rumbled.

  And then I was laughing, imagining the scene, hearing the words of frustration as though my pap were standing right in front of me. And it felt good… so good to remember him this way.

  It was a moment when something more powerful than grief broke through and made me feel light. Made me feel free.

  “I’d help him patch it up,” he continued, his lopsided grin softening the lines of his face, “and another thirty minutes later, ‘Jesus Christ!’”

  Deep, heaving laughs erupted from my chest, ove
rtaking the need to breathe with their force.

  “Look,” he instructed, his hand shook with his own mirth as he lifted up the orange and black striped cord. “It looks like a damn tiger the way I had to keep fixing it with electrical tape.”

  And then, there were tears.

  The last thing I ever expected coming back to Carmel Cove was for the first tears I cried without trying to hide or reason them away to be out of happiness rather than sadness.

  Everything about the moment felt as though, in a different life, this was my world. Living here, surrounded by my family and their memory, with this man who fought to take care of me and make me smile.

  And that was when my laughter stopped. Instinctively. Protectively. Fearfully.

  “Laurel?” Eli immediately stepped toward me, his voice deepening.

  I should’ve moved away. Instead, I remained frozen in place, feeling the strength of the ground underneath me, the stillness in the air I breathed. Maybe, if I didn’t move, I could let him get just a little closer—fill in just a little bit more of my hollowness. Just for a few minutes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I stared at his chest now just a few short inches in front of me, the scent of fresh-cut foliage and Eli’s earthy musk invading my nose and soothing my senses.

  I clung to it as I waded through the fog. “I always thought I would see him again.”

  Even though I’d had no plans to come back, it was an inevitability in my mind that, at some point or another, I’d be back in Carmel… that I’d find my way back home to him.

  His arms came around me like the breeze, soft and soothing and something I couldn’t escape even if I wanted to.

  “It’s okay to miss him,” he whispered, hoarsely, into my hair. “It’s okay to hurt because he’s gone. It’s okay to be angry and sad. I’m angry, too. I’m angry because I should’ve done more. I should have forced those meds down his throat just like I forced him to stop doing all of the yardwork.”

  His words soaked through me, seeping against my skin and into my cells. I wanted to be angry. I wanted to scream at him and demand to know why he left. But I couldn’t be angry.