“If that’s how you treat your friends, then no wonder you slashed the tires of someone you didn’t even know.”
She stilled. Her gaze narrowed.
“Are you accusing me of slashing that waitress’s tires?”
“E-ver-ly,” he repeated slowly. “And I don’t have to accuse. I’ve got proof.”
“I think you’ve said enough.” She started to push her chair back.
Cole reached across the table and grasped her by the wrist. “I’ve got plenty of experience stopping a woman’s exit,” he said in little more than a whisper. “Now, if you want to know what I intend to share with the press and the police and what I might keep to myself, I suggest you sit your ass back down.”
She sat. Her eyes welled with tears. It took a huge effort on his part, but he hardened himself against the sight of them.
Letting go of her, he sat back in his seat and folded his hands together on the table. When she dabbed at her eyes with the napkin, he decided to make it quick.
“The next time you partner up with someone to commit a crime, you might not want to choose someone as self-centered as Mason Wallace,” he said. He watched her face drain of color. “He was more than willing to share the details of your plans when he was threatened with jail time.”
“Jail time for what? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Save it,” he said. “He told us that he saw you slash Everly’s tires that night at Prix Fixe.”
Mason had submitted written testimony that he’d been in town since shortly after Thanksgiving. He’d decided to travel to Atlanta once Jake told him that Everly was working with Cole. Funds had been tight for months, and he’d seen Everly’s new “job” as an opportunity.
The day her tires were slashed, he followed Everly to Cole’s house to confirm what Jake told him. He then tailed her to Prix Fixe that night, planning on talking to her privately before he made his presence known. He’d figured that she’d be willing to offer him some of her newfound money to keep quiet about Cole’s injury and stay out of her life. Catching Abigail while he waited in his rental car had changed his plans.
“When he confronted you,” Cole continued, “you offered to pay him to keep quiet. Since he needed the money, he didn’t turn it down. Money is pretty easy to track, you know.”
She blinked several times and downed the rest of her cocktail.
“Mason observed what happened after Everly’s tires were slashed. He saw that I went to her home and spent time with her. I paid for the tires. So he wondered what I might do if Everly was assaulted. In his mind, it would strengthen our relationship.”
He didn’t add that Mason had reasoned Cole would be more likely to help him out when he asked for money if Cole was in love with Everly. Initially, Mason thought he’d get Cole to pay him to keep quiet about his injury. Then he decided that Cole’s attachment to Everly would make him freer with the cash, and he wouldn’t have to use blackmail at all.
After staying at Jake’s for a while, he devised the plan of asking Everly to help him get the umpiring job, thinking he would be able to settle in the area and then have plenty of time to get money from Cole. His temper-invoked decision to leak the news story ruined his chances at that, however.
Abigail frowned as she processed Cole’s statement.
“You didn’t know that Mason wanted me and Everly to bond when you agreed to go along with his plans,” he said. “He knew of your jealousy over Everly and he played on it. He shared details about how Everly was over at my house all the time, how she had spent the night. That must have really gotten you worked up. You’ve never been in my house. You know my policy on bringing women there.”
She didn’t comment. Her nostrils flared and her jaw tightened, though.
“He convinced you to have your brother, the aspiring baseball player, use his bat on Everly.” The words were hard. Angry. He couldn’t speak calmly about that, even now. “Little did you know, that would just push me and Everly even closer together.”
“If what you’re saying is true,” she said, “then any feelings you thought you had for her were surely destroyed when she went to the press about your injury.”
He shook his head. “You’re really something else, Abigail. How could you not know that I’d make the connection between you, Mason Wallace, and Joan Shumaker?”
“I don’t know what—”
“Oh, give it a rest. You deliberately led Everly to Joan at the ball and abandoned her there, knowing I’d see the two of them and wonder. You’d been planning with Mason how and when you’d leak the story and make it seem that Everly did it. He decided that the money you offered him now was worth getting revenge on his daughter and losing any possible money from me down the road. You added fuel to the flames by conspiring with him to record himself talking about a plot against me. You happen to be one of the few people who have my personal e-mail address. And what do you know? Mason said you gave it to him so he could send the recording to me.”
“I gave him your e-mail address, yes,” she said in clipped tones. “But it wasn’t for the reasons you’re implying. He just said he wanted to reach out to you. Since you were dating his daughter, I didn’t think twice about it. I shouldn’t have been so careless, I admit.”
Cole smiled, but there was no humor in it. “Mason figured you’d say as much. Lucky for him, Everly wasn’t the only one he recorded.”
She couldn’t hold his gaze. Pressing her fingertips to her mouth, she produced two more tears and shook her head.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she said in a strained voice. “I was just trying to protect you.”
“Protect me? How, exactly? By leaking the details that Mason got from Everly’s grandfather to Joan and jeopardizing my career? By hurting the woman I love?”
The last word had Abigail jerking in her seat. Just then, the server arrived with their entrees. He saw enough between Cole’s quiet fury and Abigail’s tear-streaked face not to linger.
When he left, Cole picked up his fork. “Here’s the deal. Since Marshall’s one of my best friends, I won’t rip his heart out by saying you started dating him to make me jealous. I won’t tell him that you did those things to Everly because you’ve been carrying a torch for me. You can make up whatever the hell excuse you want to avoid getting together with me and Everly, because we’re clearly never going there.”
He ate a bite of the chicken salad he’d ordered. She didn’t even look at her food.
“You’ll call Joan as soon as you leave here and tell her that you gave her information that wasn’t, in fact, true. I’m not injured and Everly isn’t posing as my girlfriend. She is my girlfriend. I don’t care if you lie and give Joan your ‘I’m his friend and I was trying to protect him and jumped to conclusions’ speech. Maybe she’ll buy it. Since the results of my physical came back negative for any injury, she’s going to print a retraction, anyway. You’re just shoring up my case.”
She stared at him. Wiping her cheeks, she nodded. “And the police?”
He ate another bite of his salad, letting her stew for a minute. Her complexion had turned a shade of mint green.
“Everly gave her father the option of handing his evidence over to us and leaving the country rather than turning him over to the police. He decided to take her up on it. So you’re the one left holding the bag, so to speak.” After a pause, he continued, “If you ever come near me or Everly again, that evidence goes straight to the police. I assure you, my attorneys will not only pursue assault charges, they’ll go for attempted murder.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re out of your mind.”
“On that, you’ve got me beat by a mile.”
Insult flared in her gaze. “Fine.” She reached for her purse. “Are we done here?”
“Abigail, we were done a long time ago. It’s well past time you accepted that.”
Chapter 53
Eleven months later…
“How about Satan?”
&
nbsp; Everly glanced at Cole over her shoulder as she hung another ornament on their Christmas tree. He was sitting on the floor, tugging on a rope toy currently clamped in the sharp teeth of their three-month-old chocolate Lab puppy.
“You can’t name a puppy Satan,” she argued.
When she reached out, he handed her another ornament from those they’d picked out together the week before. Then he selected another one and managed to get a hook on it with his free hand.
“Sure you can,” he said over the puppy’s playful growls. “He ate the baby Jesus out of our manger, didn’t he?”
She considered that as she hunted for another spot to fill on the tree. “I suppose that’s true. But he also ate Joseph and Mary. And a couple of sheep.”
“Exactly. Satan.”
Rolling her eyes, she reached for another ornament. She couldn’t help but smile over the sight of Cole grinning like a kid with candy as he played with the dog. He handed her the next ornament he’d hooked.
“Ms. Margaret’s going to have her hands full while we’re gone,” she said, turning back to the tree.
They were leaving the next afternoon for a two-week trip to Florida. It was a late graduation present for her, since her graduation had taken place mid-season. They were beginning the trip at Disney World and then finishing it with stops at a few beaches along the Gulf Coast. Everly hadn’t ever seen the ocean in person. She couldn’t wait to experience it all with Cole.
“Ms. Margaret and Lucifer here will get along just fine,” Cole said. “And since Jonette is now your grandpa’s dedicated nurse, you don’t have to worry about him, either.”
That was a tremendous relief. When she’d moved in with Cole a couple of months ago, she had asked her grandpa to move with her. He refused, insisting that she and Cole needed their space. Knowing she’d worry, Cole had offered Jonette enough money that she could transition her other patients to other nurses and focus all of her time on Jake. She’d opted to move into Everly’s old room. The arrangement seemed to be going well.
“We’re not naming our dog Lucifer,” she said as she hung the ornament.
“How about Piss-Pot? P.P. for short?”
“Creative. But no.”
Cole handed her another ornament. “What fun are you, Dr. Wallace?”
She grinned. “As my patients frequently tell me, I’m no fun at all.”
It felt good to say that. Her patients.
After the news story about Cole’s injury came out, his teammate, Randy Haviland, asked to meet with Everly. They’d talked about his recent Tommy John surgery. He’d read about Aiden’s experience and had connected with it, as he’d been suffering from depression and fear that he’d never pitch again.
She’d been working with him on rehab ever since. He’d be returning to the team in better shape than ever when he reported for spring training. Since Cole recently signed a new five-year contract himself, they’d be teammates for a while yet.
Although she worked part-time with Casey at the sports rehabilitation center, the bulk of her work was done in their home gym. Cole had added all of the special equipment she needed to work with her private patients. It had shocked her when he suggested opening their doors to her clientele, but since she only worked with a handful of well-paying athletes, it had proven less invasive than she’d imagined.
She reached for the next ornament he handed her. As she placed it on the tree, she said, “Are we nuts for hosting Christmas dinner this year?”
“Hell, yeah,” he said. “We’re traveling up until the week before the holiday, we still have tons of gifts to wrap, and we have to leave the day after Christmas to get to New York for all of the pre-New Year’s festivities. We’re certifiable.”
Their ad for the designer underwear had been such a hit in magazines that it was about to grace a billboard in Times Square. They were being paid to fly to New York for the big unveiling. The ad was meant to be seen by everyone attending the ball drop in Times Square on New Year’s Eve…and the millions of people viewing it on their televisions.
“Ugh. We really are nuts,” she said, taking the next ornament and searching for a branch. “My grandpa is going to see me in my underwear. He never misses the Times Square bash.”
“You’re assuming he’ll notice you. Keep in mind that you’re posed next to all of this hotness in that ad.” He gestured to himself before handing her the next ornament.
She laughed and shook her head at him. As she turned to the tree, she looked more closely at the ornament. It was a white frosted globe painted to look like a baseball.
“I don’t remember buying—” she started to say as the ornament twirled in her hand.
She lost her voice when she saw the other side. It read, For Everly. Looped to the top of the ornament was a sparkling diamond ring in a platinum setting.
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She stared at the gorgeous ring for a long moment. When she looked back at Cole, she realized he had risen so that he rested on one knee. He reached out and took her hand.
“Everly, will you marry me?” he asked.
Since her knees wouldn’t support her, she sank to the ground in front of him and threw her arms around him.
He laughed when she just clung to him. “Is that a yes?”
Tears of happiness filled her eyes. She leaned back to look at him.
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
Quirking an eyebrow, he dragged her to the ground in a pretend tackle and proceeded to take the ring off the ornament and put it on her left ring finger. She laughed like a loon, especially when the puppy saw that they were playing and decided to join in. Cole let out a yelp when the puppy sank his teeth into his arm.
Everly caught his gaze.
“Jaws,” they said at the same time…so naming the puppy.
She smiled when Cole got to his feet and pulled her up with him. He held her hand up so he could see the ring on her finger.
Tenderly brushing the back of her hand with his lips, he said, “I love you, Everly. Thank you for making me the happiest man alive.”
His words filled her with joy. “I love you, too, Cole. Thank you for this beautiful ring and the promise it represents. I can’t wait to share my future with you.”
As she met him for a kiss, she thought about her grandpa’s wish for her just the year before. He’d wanted her to experience and enjoy life. And now she was…with Cole Parker by her side.
A Note from the Author
Every day, lives are affected by depression. Having worked in the field of children’s mental health and having experienced the death of a sibling resulting from this illness, I encourage anyone suffering from depression or suicidal thoughts to seek help. There are resources available and people willing to help. Here are just a few:
- National Institute for Mental Health (NIMH): www.nimh.nih.gov
- National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-TALK (8255)
- www.StopBullying.gov
- American Foundation for Suicide Prevention: www.afsp.org
Turn the page for an exciting preview of Color Me Crazy by bestselling author Quinn Loftis.
Prologue
“I’m looking out from inside the chaos. It must be a one-way mirror because no one seems to be able to see back inside to where I am. The looks on their faces, the judgment in their eyes, tells me everything I need to know. The most frustrating part about the whole messed up situation is that even though I’m the one that they stare at in shock, I am just as shocked as they are. I know no more than they do of why I lose control. What they don’t know is that I am more scared of myself than they could ever be.” ~ Tally Baker
I walk into my second period history class. It takes every ounce of willpower that I have left to take my seat today. I need to be up moving around. I don’t need to be sitting still—I can’t sit still. I need to walk so that I can think. My mind darts from one thought to the next, never bothering to stop and complete any of them. Of course I didn’t do the
assigned reading last night. I can only hope that Mr. Dickinson will not call on me.
I can hear the whispers from the other students. I can feel their stares on the back of my neck and I just want to turn and scream at them. My foot is tapping restlessly; my hands are shaking like an addict desperate for a fix. I’m not an addict. I’m not going through any form of withdrawal. I’m broken. Something inside of me is defective and refuses to operate properly, like a busted radio that won’t tune into your favorite station.
Uttering a prayer of thanks I notice that I actually brought my history book as I pull it out of my backpack. I open it to a random page because I have no idea what unit we are on. I have no idea what the topic has been for the past couple of weeks actually. Would I like to know? Absolutely. I would love to do my homework like everyone else. I would love to pass a test once in a while. But broken people don’t do homework and broken people can’t pass tests. And as much as I would love to do those things, the shattered soul inside me brings me to a place where I don’t care. Getting from one second to the next is all I care about, it’s all I can think about. Just breathe Tally, in-out-in-out.
I don’t even realize that class has started until I hear my name. My jaw clenches as Mr. Dickinson’s nasally voice reaches my ears.
“Tally.”
I look up, briefly meeting his stare before my eyes dart away. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. Does he see the monster crawling under my skin, clawing to get out, to take over? If he does, he gives no indication of it.
“Would you care to summarize last night’s reading?” He gives me a knowing smirk; or maybe I just perceive it that way.
“I can’t,” I admit and my voice is dry and gravely, sounding more like a smoker of twenty years than that of a seventeen year old.
He adjusts his glasses on his long beaklike nose. His condescending smile reveals two rows of coffee-stained teeth. “You can’t, or you won’t?” He asks me.