Until Winter Breaks

  “He didn’t understand about Brady,” Millie said, pressing her forehead to her folded forearms. “I really thought he would.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Diana said. “Otherwise you would’ve told him ages ago.”

  “He’ll come around,” Sadie said. “He came into the salon last week and I cut his hair. He’s not as shallow as you think he is.”

  Millie scowled. “I never said he was shallow.”

  “You just walk around with this air,” Sadie said, setting a plate of fish and wild rice in front of Millie. “This air like you know no one is ever going to understand you.”

  “I do not.” Millie’s head heated, though her mouth still harbored a chill from the ice cream.

  Sadie held up her hands when she met Millie’s murderous gaze. “You don’t treat me like that. Only—” She shot a look of desperation to Diana.

  “Men,” Diana finished before throwing back the last of her drink. “You totally treat men like that.”

  Tears welled in Millie’s eyes. “How do I stop doing that?”

  “Get over Brady,” Sadie said, sitting down to her healthy dinner. “Diana, did you bring any desserts?”

  “Plum cornbread muffins.” She opened a pastry box, and Millie plucked out a treat.

  “Should I call him?” She brushed the powdered sugar off the baked plums, unsure if her stomach could tolerate any more sweets.

  “No,” Sadie said firmly. “He’ll come around. Trust me.”

  Diana nodded. “He really will.”

  Millie wished she felt as sure as her friends, but her confidence was skittering around somewhere on the floor of her dress shop.

  Millie endured the empty hours at the shop on Saturday. Jared had gone to his mother’s for the weekend, which he had told her about earlier that week. She made her own pot roast dinner for one on Sunday, though Jared’s motorcycle rumbled next door about four o’clock. Spoke with Desi, telling her all about the past few days, Jared’s initial reaction, and Millie’s new realizations about herself and her feelings for Brady.

  “Oh, Millie,” Desi said, a door slamming somewhere behind her in Boston. “Are you in love with him?”

  “Falling there,” Millie said. “But I’m also trying to figure out how to get over Brady.”

  Desi squealed, then sobered. “It’s easier said than done, isn’t it?”

  “Absolutely. So, Des, what’s new with you? I feel like all we ever talk about lately is me and my issues.”

  Desi giggled. “Well, I do have some news. You’ll be the first we’ve told, so you can’t say anything to anyone.”

  “Who do I talk to?” Millie asked. “I haven’t called Mom since Christmas.” Saying the words out loud made them true—made Millie realize how uncommunicative she was with her family.

  “I need to call Mom more, don’t I?” she asked Desi.

  “She’d like it.”

  Millie wandered onto her balcony, her gaze automatically drifting to Jared’s house. “So tell me your news.”

  “Cory and I are expecting a baby!” Desi laughed, the sound painting Millie’s life with a joy she hadn’t experienced in many years.

  “Congratulations, Desi!”

  “The birth mom told us this week. The baby is due in just three months.” Millie heard the panic in her sister’s voice.

  “You’ll be a great mom, Des.” Even as Millie celebrated with her sister, she couldn’t help the pang of sorrow over the loss of her one and only pregnancy. She hadn’t been far enough along to tell anyone, even her sister.

  Though she couldn’t see the waves as they crashed against the shore, she felt the pain, loss, and disappointment that had plagued her since her miscarriage wash away.

  She wept with the release, grateful that she was one step closer to becoming the woman who had room in her life for a man like Jared.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jared puttered around Sophie’s house until dark, the phantom of his mother’s advice only paces behind him.

  Don’t let too much time stand between us, she’d said. Or between you and Sophie. Between anyone really.

  She’d somehow known exactly what had happened—why Jared hadn’t called or emailed all those years, why after a certain amount of time, I’m sorry wasn’t enough. He’d lived it so acutely that he hadn’t realized that his mother probably had too. He realized that she probably had things she wished she’d said, and now couldn’t. To him. To Sophie. To her husband.

  Determined not to let too much time pass between Millie and him, he crossed the lawn to her house where the windows were glowing with life. She opened the door before he knocked.

  She wore her favorite yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt. Her hair had been pulled into a ponytail, but obviously a very long time ago. She looked like she’d been held underwater in an overly chlorinated pool.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” he said. “You look terrible.”

  She sniffled, and he engulfed her in an embrace. Held her while she stormed. Kissed away her tears the way he’d longed to do all weekend.

  He managed to get her to the couch, where the evidence of her misery littered the floor and covered the coffee table. “Ben & Jerry’s?” He picked up the empty carton of Cherry Garcia. “Tell me you didn’t eat this by yourself.”

  She half-sobbed, half-laughed. “That’s the third one I’ve had this weekend.”

  His heart constricted, shrinking away from the truth, because the truth slashed with a serrated blade. Determined to make everything better, he retrieve a garbage bag from her kitchen and began cleaning up the take-out containers, cried through tissues, and empty ice cream cartons.

  He turned off the TV and tucked Millie into his side, stroking her hair and humming in her ear. She calmed in minutes, clutching him as if to make sure he was real and there.

  “I’m sorry I was selfish,” he said. “You deserve better.”

  “Don’t.” Her voice sounded like someone had punched her in the vocal chords. “I should’ve told you sooner.” She sucked in a stuttering breath. “But then, I was afraid I’d lose you. That you wouldn’t understand.”

  He touched his lips to her forehead. “Millie, I gotta be honest. I don’t really understand.”

  “I know.” She sighed, tightening her hold on his midsection. “And I don’t know how to explain it.”

  He pushed her hair over her shoulder, revealing one of those sexy, kissable shoulders. “Care to try?”

  * * *

  Millie needed another spoonful of ice cream. Or maybe another carton. She had one more in the freezer, but she stayed snuggled against Jared’s side.

  “Every guy I’ve dated since my husband’s death has broken up with me as soon as they found out about Brady.” She spoke mostly to his knees, making her voice somewhat muted. He continued his slow swiping motion from her elbow to shoulder, his breathing steady and even.

  “One guy tried to understand, but I couldn’t quite explain to him that even though I didn’t choose to leave Brady, he was gone all the same. The other two were just afraid that I wasn’t ready to date again. And you know what? I wasn’t.”

  Jared let the silence linger, remaining nonreactive.

  “Since then, I’ve been a little gun shy about telling people.” Millie spoke true, but there was more. “Especially you. From the moment I met you, I sensed that I could fall in love with you and I didn’t want to ruin that before it could really start.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “You gave me his clothes the night of the gale.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I still have a few of his things I couldn’t get rid of. The thing is, I’ve been slowly working out who I am without him.” She frowned, trying to align the thoughts in her mind. “No, that’s not right. I know who I am without him. He died a long time ago. I’m trying to figure out who I am as a person who doesn’t love him.”

  Jared pressed his lips to her hairline. “I’m sure that’s a slow process.”

  “It’s one I didn’t e
ven know I needed to go through until I met you,” she admitted. “Then I realized there wasn’t room for him and you in my life. I had to choose.” She pulled out of his embrace so she could see his face.

  “I started choosing you over him. And it made me angry. Angry at him for needing his adrenaline rushes more than he needed me. Angry at you for replacing him, which I know makes no sense. Angry at myself for not telling the truth, for not getting over him sooner.”

  Her chest sparked like fireworks, and she had a hard time inhaling. “When you got hurt, it was like reliving that day all over again. I can’t do that.” Her chin trembled. “I can’t.”

  Jared’s eyes bored into hers, and she didn’t put up any walls or don any masks. “I’m a lawyer,” he said. “I’ve never been cliff diving in my life. And I don’t really want to.”

  Millie chuckled through her emotion. “A lawyer who rides a motorcycle.”

  “I told you, the bike—”

  Millie silenced him by putting her finger on his lips. “I know. And I actually like riding it behind you.” She reassumed her grip on his body. “Besides, Jared, people are who they are. They don’t change just because someone wants them to. Brady was the perfect example of that.”

  Out of words, Millie closed her eyes and enjoyed the steady warmth, the constant thrum of his heart in her eardrum, the regular rhythm of his breathing.

  “So I’m hearing that you just need time,” Jared said, dipping his head low so his mouth aligned with her ear. “Time to figure out who you are as someone who doesn’t love him.”

  “Yes.” Relief sang through Millie loud and strong like a church choir.

  He nipped the bottom of her earlobe and traced the tip of his tongue in a slow arc up to the top. “Time to fall in love with me?”

  Instead of vocalizing her positive response, she met his mouth with hers, pouring everything she felt for him into that union.

  “Time I have, sweetheart.”

  She had a hard time saying goodbye to him, but she wasn’t ready to invite him to stay the night. He kissed her in her doorway, his touch light, but heated. “See you tomorrow?”

  “Sure,” she said. “When are you working on Sophie’s stand? I want to come with you.”

  He kept his hands to himself, but leaned in and brushed her collarbone with his lips. “Tomorrow night okay?”

  She almost fell over from the pleasure of his touch. “Tomorrow’s fine.”

  He half-grinned at her, as if he knew he could affect her so completely. “’Night, Mills.”

  She closed the door behind him and leaned against it, a slow smile easing across her face. The past seventy-two hours had been some of the most emotionally exhaustive she’d ever endured. A rush of gratitude for good friends—and a good man—filled her heart. She inhaled strength into herself, straightened her shoulders, and strode down the hallway to her bedroom feeling like a survivor.

  She brushed her hands through her hair, imagining it shorter, the way she’d cut it if she weren’t so attached to keeping it exactly the way Brady had liked. She thought about calling Jared and asking him for his opinion, but rejected the idea.

  This was her hair. Her preference. Her choice.

  She called Sadie, her thumbnail already between her teeth.

  “Hey, Mills. Did Harley McHottie make it back? Did you talk to him?”

  “Yes and yes,” Millie said. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow while you cut my hair.”

  “Sure thing,” Sadie said. “Looks like I have a…two-thirty appointment available. Does that work?”

  “I want it cut, Sadie,” Millie said. “Not trimmed. Not just washed and curled. Cut.”

  Millie could practically hear her friend sit up straighter. “Cut?”

  “Chopped,” Millie said.

  “Two-thirty,” Sadie said again, a smile infused into her tone.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jared accepted the teacup of orange blossom tea from Millie, stretching over to kiss her before he took his first sip. “Mornin’, sweetheart.”

  She ducked her head, her cheeks turning the same color as the pink roses on the china. “How’s your mom?”

  Jared exhaled heavily. “She’s my mom. Overbearing. Passive-aggressive. Frustrating.” He glanced at her. “You know how moms are.”

  “Mm.” She kept her eyes on the waves.

  “I told her about you,” Jared said, which finally got her to look at him. He placed his fingers in hers. “She wants to meet you.”

  “Oh, well—”

  “Not tomorrow, or anything, Mills. Whenever you’re ready.” He flashed her a quick smile before turning away and finishing his tea. “I have to go.” He stood, embracing her when she did too. “I’ll pick up dinner. Chinese okay?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  “We’ll head down to the taco stand after.” He kissed her quickly and leapt the railing of her balcony so he wouldn’t have to walk through her bedroom. If he did, he’d want to take her with him, and she certainly wasn’t ready for that.

  At the wharf, Tripp met Jared at the front entrance. “I’ve booked a deep sea fishing trip for the first week of May. I need to teach you how to run the expeditions. You game to go out on the ocean with me?”

  “Sure,” Jared said, glad to be getting out of the construction shop. He loved shaping wood, creating something beautiful out of planks and nails, but he needed a release from the memories too. “When?”

  Tripp shielded his eyes as he looked toward the ocean. “That’s my trawler. We’ll get ‘er ready today, and set sail tomorrow.” He started toward the boat with Jared in his wake. “We’ll go out several times over the next couple of months, chart the waters, make maps of where the fish are. That kind of thing.”

  “Sure, okay,” Jared said. His father had built dozens of ocean vessels, and he’d always taken them on their inaugural sail. He’d taught Jared how to prepare them, how to steer, how to run them through various situations one might encounter in the ocean.

  “She’s as fickle as she is fine,” his dad used to say about the ocean. “One day she’ll love you, the next have a gun to your head.” Jared had loved sailing with his father, even if none of the ships were actually theirs, even if he barked instructions and advice more than anything else.

  He didn’t drink while sailing; he always claimed that traversing the ocean didn’t allow for anything but the utmost concentration. Jared had believed him then, just as he did now.

  He helped Tripp stock the galley, load on the nets, activate the GPS system, fuel the generators, equip the trawler with ropes. New first aid kits went in the sleeping quarters, the galley, the control room, and on the deck.

  Tripp spoke in an even voice, giving instructions and describing what his customers expected when they booked a trip with Newton’s Nautical Adventures. The church youth group had booked this fishing trip for a group of fifteen and sixteen-year-old boys from Hornbrook, a city about three hours inland.

  “They come every few years,” Tripp said. “They want to teach the boys about the fishing industry, about boats, about hard work. They’re good customers, and the boys don’t bring any attitude with them.”

  Jared listened, wondering if his life would’ve been different if he had belonged to a group like that when he was growing up. He didn’t spend more than a few seconds thinking about it, though. With a possible future with Millie, Jared wanted to keep his focus forward, not back.

  His phone rang halfway between lunch and quitting time. Tripp had gone back into the office, the trawler ready for the following day’s expedition, so Jared answered the call from Shawn, his realtor.

  “Jared,” Shawn said. “What’s your schedule like this week? I still have those two properties to show you.”

  “Give me a sec,” he said, poking his head into the office. “Can I take off a bit early?” he asked Tripp, who sat behind the counter, his eyes roaming his clipboard. He waved, and Jared returned to the dock.

  “How about now?
” he asked. “I have a couple of hours before I need to get home.”

  “Let’s meet at the first location,” Shawn said. “Are you familiar with the new Starfish development?”

  “No.” Jared sat on his bike.

  “South of the city limits, on the way to Pelican Rock.”

  “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  But Jared didn’t like the new development. Or the lot closer to the center of town that had just gone up for sale. As he leaned against a fence with Shawn, he said, “I don’t think I want to build a house.”

  “Okay,” Shawn said, making a note on his phone. With his perfectly styled hair and designer suit, he looked every bit the tailored realtor who could close any deal. “So we want an established place.”

  “Somewhere with trees,” Jared said. “I don’t suppose I can afford an ocean view.” He’d miss that, or maybe he’d just miss being next door to Millie. A new thought blinked to life.

  “And I want to rent.”

  Shawn’s eyebrows lifted, but he didn’t question Jared, who smiled into the sunset. If he rented, he could give up his lease and move in with Millie more easily.

  * * *

  A knock landed on Millie’s door, which caused her to stiffen and rake her hands through her now-chopped hair. It was the cutest it had been in a decade, cut stylishly into an A-line bob that accentuated her cheekbones. At least according to Sadie, who’d also added blonde and red highlights to Millie’s normally dark hair.

  “Come in!” she called, taking the coward’s way out of introducing her new do to Jared.

  “I come bearing Chinese—” He deposited the two bags of cartons on the kitchen counter and took her face in his hands. “Your hair.” His eyes broadcasted dozens of questions.

  “Do you like it?”

  He caressed the ends of the A-line before sweeping his hands around her neck, tickling the soft skin there. “Do you like it?”

  Her eyes fell to the floor as a smile tugged against her lips. “I’ve wanted to cut my hair for years.”