When Dad left the training field, opening the gate, Ruff came barreling over to Aidan, running with the fury, love, and determination Aidan ached for Beck to show. But her steps were slow and tentative, as if she dreaded this reunion.
He tried to swallow, tried to accept that, but there was a big fist in his throat that only threatened to make things worse.
“Hey, Ruffer!” He reached for the dog, who leaped into the air and smacked his paws on Aidan’s chest. Together, they rolled to the grass and wrestled for a minute, an old and familiar contentment rolling through Aidan.
Then he looked up and saw Beck, and every emotion he’d battled for days and weeks came screaming to the surface. He loved her. God, he loved her. He didn’t have a doubt, not one single one.
But that expression on her face, visible as she got closer and closer? The pull of her brows, the set of her chin? Beck was mired in doubts.
Oh man. Here we go. Crash-and-burn time.
As he got up, he grabbed a tennis ball they’d been using during training and whipped it across the field, sending Ruff on a tear and giving them some time alone.
“Thrown like a baseball player,” she said as she reached him.
He acknowledged the compliment with a silent nod, not entirely sure what would happen to his voice if he said her name.
“Bet you could teach Ruff to catch with his mitt, too,” she added. “He rarely puts it down.”
He started to answer, then let her words hit him. He could teach Ruff? Like, in the future? Did that mean…
“You’re not leaving?” He could have kicked himself the second the question came out. What the hell kind of greeting was that, other than desperate?
She slowed midstep, silent for a beat. A beat too long.
“That would be a yes,” Aidan concluded quietly.
On a sigh, she gathered up her hair in one hand, pulling it off her shoulders and letting it drape down her back in a nervous gesture he knew often preceded talking about something she didn’t enjoy.
“Mike and Sarah are moving to Florida,” she finally said. “When the insurance money comes through and the house is sold.”
“My dad said Mike’s doing okay.” Aidan took a step closer because, well, he needed to. Needed to touch her, too. “Lungs are clear? No aftermath?”
“You saved him from anything serious, Aidan,” she said, not for the first time since the fire. He couldn’t question her gratitude, that was for sure. “You got him out of there so fast, so safely. It could have been…” She let out a rough exhale. “I can’t think about what might have happened.”
“Then don’t.”
She squished up her face. “I can’t help it. It’s all I think about.”
“Then you need to get out more often.” One more step, and now she was within reach of his arms, but he didn’t lift them.
She held his gaze, her eyes moving over his face, studying him intently. “I need to get back to…work.”
“You can work here.” He wasn’t going to dance around this. Wasn’t going to give up without a fight, damn it. “There are babies in Bitter Bark. Studios. Camera equipment. There’s even a guy who doesn’t want you to leave so bad, he can’t breathe.”
“Aidan.” She barely whispered his name, but Ruff came back then, not running but carrying the ball. He relinquished it easily, but when Aidan tossed it again, Ruff merely collapsed at his feet, curling around him with one satisfied bark.
“And there’s a dog who loves you more than he loves me,” she said on a soft laugh.
“He loves Mike more than both of us combined.”
“They have a special relationship,” she conceded. “And Aunt Sarah’s even fallen for him, since Ruff’s so calm when he’s with Uncle Mike. But there’s only one man alive who makes Ruff happy, and that’s you.”
“I know how he feels,” he said, reaching for her hand. “Because there’s only one woman who makes me happy, and that’s you.”
She sighed and barely smiled, letting him hold her hand but not exactly grasping back with any kind of affection. “I can’t, Aidan. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”
He closed his eyes and let that hit.
“It was so hard that night,” she whispered, closing her fingers lightly around his. “It was one of the worst things I’ve ever been through, and I’ve been through a few. The feeling of you slipping away, being gone, another—”
“But I’m right here, Beck. Alive and well and in love with you.”
She bit her lip, like she had to stop herself from saying what she felt.
“Tell me,” he insisted. “Tell me you don’t feel exactly the same way, and I will give up right here and now. But you have to be honest, Beck.”
She took their joined hands and pressed his knuckles to her lips. “I’m in love with you, too.”
“Oh.” He tried to pull her closer, but she wouldn’t let him, rooted to her spot.
“And that’s why I can’t stay.”
He froze. “No, I’m not going to accept that. It’s lame. It’s weak. It’s not—”
“It’s true,” she finished. “And you need to respect my fear and understand what I’ve lived with most of my life. You’ve lost your mother, Aidan. And you’re still mourning her, right?”
“Of course.”
“Well, I’ve lost my mother, my father, and my only sibling.” She narrowed her eyes to let that sink in. “And the other night, when I looked up at that window and you didn’t come out, my fears strangled me. They owned me. They are real, and I can’t live with that…that…possibility looming over me.”
“So you’d rather not live at all?” His voice rose in frustration. “Beck, every person on earth who loves anyone lives with that possibility. The only way you can avoid it is to never love anyone.”
She stared at him…as if to say that was exactly what she was going to do. And nothing would change her mind.
“When are you leaving?” he asked, buying time to plan his next strategic move. He couldn’t quit.
“I’m helping Sarah and Mike pack up. A week at most.”
Oh man. A week.
“And I’ve decided to leave Ruff with you.”
He blinked at her. “What?”
“Ruff belongs to you, Beck.”
The words sliced him in half. All he wanted when he met her, and now, that decision couldn’t be more wrong.
“That Army form post-dates my letter,” she added. “For some reason, Charlie changed his mind, and I think we should respect that. We’ve always agreed to honor Charlie’s wishes.”
“Well, it’s not my wish,” he ground out. “I want you. And Ruff. And, hell, I want Mike and Sarah to stay so Ruff has his job. I want…” Everything he couldn’t have.
Her eyes shuttered, and a single tear rolled, giving him hope.
“Beck, honey, don’t make yourself miserable on purpose. You think that’s what Charlie wanted?”
“I don’t know what he wanted,” she admitted with a sob threatening her voice. “I’m scared and confused and need time and…perspective.”
“So you want to go home and get some?”
She nodded, swallowing visibly.
He closed the space between them and slipped his arms around her. If patience was his only strategy, he’d be the most patient human to ever live. “Then take it. Get perspective. When you know that we’re right together, Beck, I’ll be here, waiting for you.”
With one more audible sigh, she backed away, then bent over to pet Ruff. “See ya around, Ruffie.”
Her voice broke with a sob, but she turned and headed back to the gate, moving far faster than she had on arrival. As if he understood the battle was over, Ruff didn’t run after her. He barked once, then looked up at Aidan as if to say…you won.
“But I lost, bud. I lost the girl, the dream, the life, everything.”
He watched her go, kept his gaze on her until she disappeared, then scooped up his dog, draped him over his shoulders, and marched down to the creek where no one w
ould see him cry.
* * *
Cleaning out Charlie’s room wasn’t any easier with Sarah than it had been with Aidan, but the job had to be done.
Beck stood in the middle of a room full of big black garbage bags, a dozen plastic bins, and piles of sports uniforms, camos, T-shirts, and jeans.
The two of them had been quiet except for the occasional “donate or toss?” question that helped them divide up the remnants of a life well lived. Twice, Beck had heard Sarah sniff back some tears, but they’d laughed a few times, too. And took one break to look through his high school yearbook. Beck had given up when they hit the K’s and she’d seen Aidan’s senior portrait.
He’d been a golden boy, indeed. And his hair might have darkened over the years, but his good heart only got…golder.
On a noisy sigh, she climbed over a box and made her way to the nightstand, which was stuffed. “He was such a pack rat,” Beck muttered. “I never keep anything for more than a year.”
“You keep it in your heart,” Sarah said as she snapped the lid off a bin she’d dragged out of the closet. “You carry things around for years, but they don’t take up as much space as your brother’s…oh, video games.” She sighed. “I’ll put them in the donation pile.”
Sarah was right, Beck thought. She had more baggage than the belly of a 747. But she didn’t stuff it into drawers and bins. No, she let it weigh her down, ruin great relationships, and force her to live alone when all she wanted was…
Aidan. And Ruff. And the life she’d started to dream about.
She tried to swallow, but, as always, a sob threatened. In the days that passed since she’d last seen Aidan, she hadn’t gone one full minute without missing him.
Was she doing the right thing? It sure didn’t feel right.
She pulled out a few magazines, two called Aviation Week and another Maxim that hadn’t been stuffed under the mattress. She tossed it in the trash bag before Sarah could see the six-inch cleavage that graced the cover.
Under those she found… “Oh wow.”
“What is it?”
“This was Mama’s.” She eased out a scrapbook she’d immediately recognized from her mother’s worktable in the kitchen. “I totally forgot how obsessed she was with scrapbooking.”
“Oh, that’s where they went. To Charlie’s drawer.” Sarah gave a wry laugh. “Who’d have guessed he’d want scrapbooks?”
She flipped open the cover to the first page, where her mother’s scripted handwriting was under the image of a country road bathed in sunshine and the colors of autumn.
We don’t meet people by accident. They cross our path for a reason.
Glued to the opposite page were pictures of family friends Beck barely recognized, such as a lady from the neighborhood who used to come over for coffee and one of the teachers from school. Mama had had a whole life full of friends Beck hadn’t even realized as a child.
On the next page was the image of a road sign and the words: An unexpected detour can change your life forever. Plus a picture of her father, looking younger than Beck was right now.
An old coil of pain curled up her chest, tightening everything in its path.
On the next page, a sunset with the silhouette of a couple holding hands, gazing into each other’s eyes. When a girl is in love, you see it in her smile. When a boy is in love, it’s in his eyes. The whole page was covered with snapshots of Mama and Daddy, dating, married, and as young parents.
Beck wiped her eyes and studied each picture, grazing her fingers over a few as if she could reach out and touch these people. Page after page, she could hear her mother’s clever quotes and see how life had made these sayings real to her.
Waiting is a sign of true love. With a grainy, shiny picture from Beck’s very own sonogram, too out of date to even make out the shape of a baby. She flipped another page, reading the words and ignoring the pictures. Phrase after phrase, handwritten by her mother.
Just the thought of being with you tomorrow is enough to get me through today.
If you want to know where your heart is, follow your mind when it wanders.
Love is like oxygen. You can’t see it, but you need it to live.
We meet by chance. We love by choice.
More tears swam now, blurring her vision. In her head, all she could hear was the sweet, familiar, happy sound of Karen Spencer sharing wisdom, advice, and love. Wasn’t that what she was doing right this minute? Using her little proverbs to guide her daughter from beyond?
Or was Beck simply an emotional mess looking for answers that were right in front of her?
She closed the book, unable to take anymore. She should give this to Gramma Finnie, and not only because that would give her an excuse to visit Waterford Farm again. She’d love—
“Oh my God, Rebecca! Rebecca!”
Beck whipped around at the sound of Aunt Sarah’s high-pitched voice. She stood in the middle of the room, holding a slip of paper. “I found it! I found the recipe you’ve been looking for.”
“What?” Still clutching the book to her chest, she scrambled over, nearly tripping on boxes. “Where was it?”
“In this folder he called ‘cheat codes.’”
“I guess they’re not just for video games,” Beck said on an excited laugh. “What is it?”
“Baking soda!”
Beck stared at her, jaw dropped. “What?”
“That’s it!” Uncle Mike boomed from the hallway, making Beck wonder how long he’d been out there, loitering and listening. He stepped into the doorway with the brightest eyes Beck had seen since the fire. “And it was you, Sarah. Don’t you remember?”
She frowned, glanced at the paper, then up at him. “That first time I tried to make sauce? The day of the Best of Bitter Bark Festival? You got so mad because I put baking soda in by accident. Told me I needed to keep my skills in the bedroom, not the kitchen.”
“I didn’t hear that,” Beck said on a moan.
But Mike chuckled, then let out a good, hearty laugh, the first time she’d heard that sound since before his stroke. “It was why I won, I swear. No one else ever did it.”
“Actually, a guy named Chef John does,” Beck said, getting them both to look at her. “I found his YouTube video and even mentioned it to Aidan, but he scoffed at baking soda in sauce.”
“Who wouldn’t?” Uncle Mike barked. “But then it won because it adds a certain something, like a taste you don’t even know you’re missing.”
“Umami,” Beck whispered.
“And I’ve been sneakin’ it in ever since,” Uncle Mike continued. “Won me twenty-four medallions that those nice firefighters managed to save.”
“Could be twenty-five.” Sarah waved the paper at him. “The contest starts in about an hour.”
“Seriously?” Beck choked. “It’s today? I totally forgot.”
“And Ricardo Mancini called last week to offer you his kitchen if you wanted to enter,” Sarah said to Mike. “I told him that was kind, but…”
“And win for what? Slice of Heaven is gone,” Mike said. “Burned to the ground.”
Beck glanced down at the book in her arms, conjuring up one of the pages. “Strength doesn’t come from your tears,” she whispered. “It comes from getting up and trying again.”
Uncle Mike held her gaze for a long, long time. “If I win that contest, Beckie, you know what I’ll want to do. You know.”
“You’ll want to rebuild Slice of Heaven.” It wasn’t a question. She knew that look in his eyes. It used to be there every morning when he mixed his dough.
He looked at Sarah. “She’s right.”
Sarah nodded and reached for him. “Then let’s try again, sweetheart. Florida will always be there.”
A smile broke over Beck’s face as she squeezed her mother’s scrapbook. It was like she was right there, rooting for them, sending her sage advice, loving them from her place in heaven.
“Let’s go to Ricardo’s!” Beck said. “Bring that reci
pe, Aunt Sarah.”
Uncle Mike waved his hand. “Pffft. I remember it.”
Sarah and Beck shared a look, and Beck snagged the paper and stuck it in her scrapbook, carrying it with her. “In case he forgets.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Ricardo’s kitchen was completely unfamiliar. The proofing box was in the wrong place. The counter was slippery. The room was jammed with unfamiliar people. And, of course, the oven…well, the oven was modern and could easily hit 700. That was one big change right there.
But all in all, the experience was no different than climbing into the cockpit of someone else’s bird and having to adjust muscle memory to get the job done. Bottom line, it was flying. And the bottom line today, in this strange kitchen, with Ruff at his feet and the owner at the next counter rolling dough with masterful moves, Aidan was just making pizza.
By now, he could do it in his sleep.
He tested the doughball and leaned back, wiping his hands on the Slice of Heaven apron he’d found in his laundry basket at home. Probably the last remaining one on earth, and Aidan had eyed it for a long time when he’d found it, thinking that it might be the perfect thing to “return” to Beck so he could see her again.
But at Wednesday night dinner, the conversation had turned to this weekend’s Best of Bitter Bark Festival, and every single member of his family had pressed him to compete. Ricardo Mancini had come by Waterford Farm the day before, as so many neighbors and townsfolk had, to check on Aidan and offered the use of his kitchen to anyone from Slice who wanted to compete. He said he made the same offer to Mike, but it was turned down.
It hadn’t taken much to get Aidan to agree to compete, but only as a representative of Slice of Heaven, so if he won, he could give the medallion to Mike to take with him to Florida, along with the other twenty-four that Dec and his crew had managed to save.
And his entire family had come to support him, of course, from Gramma Finnie down to newborn Fiona and every Kilcannon in between. They’d already claimed seats at the judging area on the square, ready to root for him.
If only…
Don’t go there, Kil.
He worked the dough harder, stealing a glance to his left to check out Ricardo Mancini, a big personality with a shock of white hair and black brows, who spoke with a hint of New York in every word. He rolled with flair and tossed the pie in the air, making his restaurant employees break out in a cheer and Ruff bark.