| |
Michelle Bright had never loved a man as much as she loved Garret Smith. It was because of this humiliating love that she found herself hiding from him in his parents’ home during their annual fall barbecue. Her own dear parents had guilted her into coming, not understanding that the last time Michelle had faced Garret was at their high school graduation celebration five years ago. The same night Michelle had attempted to profess her love to him. And the very same night he later hooked back up with his ex-girlfriend.
“It would be rude not to show up,” she huffed, mimicking her mother’s high-pitched demands that morning. “The Smiths have been family friends since you were a baby. We can’t disappoint them. They throw this party every Thanksgiving.”
With a toss of her long dark blonde hair, she made a face. She never could tell her mother no. Even as an adult. It was frankly pathetic.
Her fingers lingered on the brass doorknob to the bathroom. She’d asked to use it the moment they arrived, determined to bolt herself inside for the next two hours until running into Garret was no longer a threat. But as she paused in the darkened hallway of the Smith home, her thoughts turned to the old study she remembered playing in as a kid.
Garret and his older brother, Joey, would dare her to go in, insisting that it was haunted by the souls of dead Civil War soldiers. It had seemed terrifying at the time, but now at the age of twenty-three, the idea was laughable. It would certainly make a better hiding spot than the bathroom. She had to revisit this room and see it through her adult eyes. And maybe at the same time, she could finally put to rest the ghosts that haunted her heart.
She tiptoed over the old oak floorboards, feeling at once ridiculous and stealthy. Everyone else was enjoying the warm November afternoon. There was no one inside the cool, Victorian-style home to stop her. They were all munching on Kansas-style barbecue, drinking chilled sweet tea, and talking about the recent rains.
These kinds of events never changed. Even though Michelle had been gone for five long years attending Brown University in Rhode Island, she could still predict moment-by-moment what would happen at these get-togethers. Small towns never changed. Especially the small town of Blessings, Kansas.
The study was just ahead, at the end of the hallway. She pushed the door open a foot and winced when it let out a moaning creak. Slipping inside, she shut it firmly behind her and gasped at what she saw. The room wasn’t anything like she remembered. No ghosts or dark shadows. Unlike in most modern homes, the Smith’s study was more like a grand library than a stuffy office.
The room traversed the whole side of the house. Shelves upon shelves jutted from the walls and were stacked to the brim with old leather-bound books and manuscripts. Her child self obviously hadn’t appreciated the grandeur of such a room. Immediately, she found herself running her fingers along the spines, her wide blue eyes taking in the golden embossed titles.
“Civil War ghosts or not, I officially love this room,” she announced, her eyes trailing up the honey gold wood trim and ornate ceiling. They didn’t build houses like this anymore.
A massive mahogany roll-top desk stood just to her left with a cracked dark red leather rolling chair. She plucked the first book that looked interesting from a shelf and settled into the chair, quite ready to immerse herself in it until everyone at the party made their way to the town carnival and forgot about her.
She was halfway through the first chapter when a large, dark figure suddenly appeared from behind one of the bookshelves. The movement caught the corner of her eye and she shrieked loudly, slamming her book closed and chucking it toward the ghostly figure with impressive force. The book met its mark and drew a loud swear from its target, who began to rub the side of his head.
It took her a second to realize the visitor wasn’t a ghost—it was a man. A large man with an oval shaped face, chiseled jaw, heavy brow, and short cropped brown hair. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. He wore dark-washed denim and a thin unzipped grey jacket that bulged at his muscular biceps. It was obvious from a mere glance that the guy was in good shape. He could’ve easily bench pressed her, had he tried. Not that Michelle often went around asking men to bench press her. But still, the guy was fit. However, the most striking thing about him was his golden amber eyes as they stared accusingly at her.
“You scared me!” She grasped the desk in front of her with white knuckles. Her heart was still beating away like a stampede of cattle. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” He spoke in a deep bass, punctuating the question with a surly shake of his head. “This is my house. And you nearly took my head off.”
“Your house?”
“My house,” he repeated, his brow raising in a challenge. “Are you serious, Michelle? Do you really not recognize me?”
There was something strangely familiar about him. It took a minute for her brain to put two and two together, but when she did, she felt all her blood pool in her cheeks. Joey Smith was home. Garret’s older brother. She’d been so freaked out, she’d hardly recognized him.
“Joey? Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry I hit you.”
He smirked and picked up the book she’d thrown off the floor. “Actually, I go by Joseph now. And that would’ve been a whole lot easier to forgive if you hadn’t just chucked Anna Karenina at my face. You had to pick the heaviest book in the library, didn’t you?”
She folded her lips in and tried not to grimace. It had been a long time since she’d seen Joseph Smith. He was taller now. Broader, too. And he carried himself with the confidence of a man. “It looked interesting. I’ve read War and Peace, but haven’t had a chance to dive into that one.”
He moved to place it carefully back on the shelf where it belonged. “You’ve read War and Peace?”
Now that her heart rate was returning to normal, she could pick out some similarities to the little boy who had liked to tease her by tugging on her pigtails and stuffing handfuls of dandelions in her lunch box. Joseph had been two years ahead of them in school and left to join the military soon after he graduated. As far as she knew, he’d been in several overseas deployments. Their church had frequently prayed for his safe return. It had been years since she’d laid eyes on him, let alone spoken to him.
“Don’t sound so surprised. Some of us women do like to read.”
“Hey, I wasn’t judging.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I will readily admit to the fact that you were always the smartest one of us.”
She pressed her lips together, trying her best to hide her smile. There weren’t a lot of things that Michelle felt validated about, but her intelligence was one. She’d gone to Brown on a scholarship, spent four years up to her neck in homework, and was about to graduate with a degree in Education Studies.
It almost made up for feeling like the ugly duckling during most of her high school experience. A mouthful of braces, frizzy hair, and a poor knowledge of how to work an eyeliner pencil had been a tragic combination. Things were better now. Her teeth straight and white. Her long hair smoothed with some expensive product from her hair salon. She’d also eased up on the eyeliner and learned how less was more when it came to makeup.
“Why aren’t you out enjoying your family’s barbecue?” The chair squeaked as she pushed it back and stood to face him. “Shouldn’t you be dominating cornhole or something?”
His gaze fell heavy on her face, making her shift uncomfortably. “I’m not in the mood for cornhole.”
“Ladder golf?”
“Too boring.”
“Horse shoes?”
“Last time I played that, I nearly took out my eighty-year-old great uncle.” He quirked an eyebrow at her and rubbed the side of his head again. “But you should really think about taking it up. You’ve got great aim. I think you even cracked my skull. I swear I’m bleeding.”
“No, you’re not.” She crossed the room and pulled his hand from his hair. Squinting at the spot he’d been rubbing, she wrinkled her nose and then shook her head. “No blood. You’ll live.”
“Are you sure, doc?” The corners of his eyes crinkled with humor. She was standing close enough to see the little rings of yellow around the irises of his eyes and inhale the scent of his manly cologne. Despite the closeness, he took a small step toward her, the space between them nearly gone. “Because a trip to the emergency room might be just what we need to get us both out of this party. You’re obviously in need of a good excuse, too.”
Indignation filled her head and she glared up at him. He was too perceptive for his own good. And way too close. “What makes you think I want out of this party?”
“Anyone hiding in a study during a barbecue is the definition of avoidance. The only question is: why?”
“Maybe I’m also not in the mood for cornhole?”
“Nobody sane ever is.”
The way the left side of his mouth twitched in a barely contained grin was infectious. Michelle caught herself mirroring his smile, the sour mood she’d found herself in only minutes ago quickly retreating. Maybe this Thanksgiving at home wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“It’s good to see you again, Michelle. Really good.” Joseph cleared his throat and looked down at his hands. There was a long pause before he met her gaze again, his jaw muscles twitching. “I’m not sure if you knew this, but—”
“Come on, Joey,” a muffled voice called from the hallway. “Adam wants to start a game of flag football and I need my wide receiver. No more hiding!”
The door behind them sprung open and Michelle spun around to see Garret Smith barging into the room. He still looked much the way he had five years ago, with shaggy dirty-blond hair that fell into his brown eyes, a thin athletic figure, and a boyish grin. The only difference was the layer of scruff on his chin that had grown in thicker since high school. The very sight of him made her throat tighten.
He took one look at the two of them and his eyes widened. “What’s going on here?”
Michelle realized she was still standing awfully close to Joseph. She took a giant step back, hitting the back of her head on another shelf. With a muffled cry, she rubbed the spot and blinked back the unbidden tears that sprang to her eyes. Garret was still looking at her, as if waiting for an answer. She opened her mouth to speak, but found her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and her cheeks blazing hot.
Her gaze turned quickly to Joseph, her expression pleading for help. He was also watching her, his head cocked to the side as if he were trying to figure out a puzzle. Tiny lines appeared between his brows and his frown deepened. With a sharp nod of his head, he turned to face his brother.
“Hey, Garret, you remember Michelle, right?”
Garret’s head tilted to one side, confusion flashing in his brown eyes. “Michelle?”
“Michelle Bright.” Joseph’s voice lowered with annoyance. “Stan and Shirley’s daughter? She graduated with your class. Went to Brown.”
Garret’s eyes finally lit up with recognition. He turned toward her and raked her up and down with an appreciative gaze. “Woah, Michelle? I hardly recognized you. You’ve changed.”
For the better, she hoped. Still, her ability to speak around him hadn’t changed much. All she could do was squeak out an unintelligible answer. Her mind was too busy racing, wondering just how much he remembered about the last time they’d spoken. The night she’d spilled her heart out to him about how much he meant to her. The words still haunted her.
“Come on down when you’re ready, Joey,” Garret said, turning to his brother again. With his attention diverted, Michelle felt like she could finally breathe again. “We need to kick some grass on the field this year. Now that you’re home, we can’t lose. Don’t let me down. You can’t stay inside forever, bro.”
“Be there in a minute,” Joseph said, not all together very convincingly. “Go ahead and I’ll catch up.”
Still, that seemed to pacify Garret. He shot a quick goodbye to Michelle and then ran back out of the room. As soon as he was gone, she sunk into the bookshelf, pressing a hand to her chest.
Her reaction had been more than disappointing. Somewhere deep inside, she had hoped she possessed some kind of super strength of character. The kind that would allow her to hold her own when Garret came into the room. Instead, she’d wilted like a flower in the August heat. Pathetic.
“Well, that was interesting.” Joseph shot her an amused look.
“What do you mean?”
She smoothed a hand over her hair, feeling the tender spot where she’d bruised herself. Hiding was obviously too hazardous. Already, two of them had head injuries.
“I mean, it’s pretty clear to anyone with a pair of eyes.” He crossed his arms tightly across his chest and grimaced. “You’ve still got a thing for Garret.”
Michelle stammered a reply, her heart racing. She’d vowed to never tell anyone her secret, let alone Garret Smith’s older brother. But now the truth was out.
She’d never felt so sick...
––––––––
