The small cabin sat back among the redwoods, one light shining in the front window. The broken-down, rusted-out roadster was still cluttering the gravel driveway, and an old water-stained leather couch sat in the front yard adjacent to an old wheel rim that had been turned into a fire pit. It didn’t look like much had changed at the McCormick residence in the four years since he’d last visited.
He pulled up beside an old Ford Bronco and killed the engine. Just as he hopped down the cabin’s front door swung open, and Gia appeared on the porch wrapped in a blanket.
“Who’s there?” she called.
It was then he noticed she had a shotgun in her hand. He rolled his eyes, knowing the gun was likely empty and that she still hadn’t learned to shoot it. Still, he hadn’t seen her in four years, and anything was possible. “It’s me, Hunter.”
“Hunter? What are you doing here?” She stepped back into the house, holding the door open for him.
“I need to talk to you.” He bounded up the steps, surprised to find that the rotting stair risers had been replaced with solid wood. He glanced around and noted the entire porch had been redone.
“It’s kind of late, don’t you think?” She turned and disappeared back into the cabin.
He followed, ignoring her statement, and found himself in a clean and tidy cabin with a new sofa and matching club chairs. The old Formica dining room set was gone, replaced by a hardwood table and matching chairs. He blinked, taking it all in, and asked, “Where did all this come from?”
“We bought it.” She’d discarded the blanket and was leaning against the same old tiled counter, watching him through skeptical eyes.
The kitchen was the same with the exception of upgraded stainless steel appliances. “With what?”
“Mason got promoted at work.” She pulled a single cigarette out of her sweater pocket and rolled it between her fingertips without lighting it.
“At the logging company?” Hunter studied her, looking for the telltale signs of chemical dependence. But even though her eyes were tired, they were clear, and she certainly seemed coherent.
“Yes. He was made foreman.”
There wasn’t any pride in her announcement, just a statement of fact. And not for the first time, Hunter wondered if she felt anything at all for his uncle. “And you? Are you still making your… potions?”
She shook her head. “That’s over. I’ve been helping Kimmy cultivate the flowers in the greenhouse over at the nursery in town.”
“No side hustle?” he asked, still skeptical, even though the property looked better than he’d ever seen it. So did she for that matter. Despite the obvious fatigue around her eyes, she had a pink glow that wasn’t unlike Faith’s, and clear, bright blue eyes.
“No side hustle,” she said with a sigh. “Why does it matter to you? You made yourself really clear the last time we saw you that you weren’t interested in our life here.”
“Because, Gabrielle, you’re about to insert yourself into the life of someone I care about, and I’m not going to let you unless I know you’re clean.” He saw the surprise flash in her eyes the moment he said her real name and pressed on. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
She stared at her sock-clad feet. “I left that woman behind. It didn’t matter.”
“It sure the hell mattered. You stood there after Craig’s funeral, listening as I told Uncle Mason about the work I was doing for Faith Townsend, while I praised her sisters and her father for being the heart of Keating Hollow. And you said not one damned word about being her mother. Why?”
Gia bit down on her bottom lip, looking like an older replica of Faith, and shook her head. “I haven’t been her mother for over twenty years.”
“And yet you’ve contacted her and want to reclaim a place in her life,” he said dryly. “Why, Gia? Why now? Do you have any idea what you did to that family? What you did to your four daughters?”
“Of course, I know what I did!” She pushed off the counter and stalked toward him. “Do you think I don’t live every day with the guilt and pain of losing everything? I had a husband who adored me and four beautiful girls. And what did I end up with? This.” She waved a hand around at the small, shabby house. Despite the new furnishings, it was still rundown and in need of some serious repairs. “And a partner who never loved me. All he wanted were the potions I made. And then you came along, the sweetest little boy who’d lost his mom and dad, and I thought you were my chance to make it up to the universe, to take care of you, shower you with all the love I’d denied my daughters. But you…” She shook her head violently. “You didn’t want me. I didn’t deserve to stand in for your mother. I failed. Over and over again, I failed. Now I’m clean, and I want to try to start over. Is that too much to ask? Is it, Hunter?”
Emotion rolled through him, coiling like a snake in the pit of his stomach. He remembered the day he’d come to live with them. It was burned in his memory and always right there when he was reminded of that fateful day eighteen years ago. His uncle had picked him up from the sitter and brought him to this cabin. Back then, there’d only been one bed. Gia had thrown a sleeping bag on the leather couch in the living room—the same one that was now out in the front yard—and told him to keep quiet. She had a migraine.
She hadn’t said another word to him as she cooked up a potion in the kitchen. When it was done, she downed it and disappeared into the bedroom with his uncle. They didn’t emerge for three days. There’d been no food. No comfort. No answers.
He’d been nine years old, orphaned, and his new guardians were drug addicts. For nine years he watched them try to get clean, relapse, and try to get clean again. There were moments of comfort along the way, when Gia was soft-spoken and loving. She’d taught him to cook, helped him with homework, and welcomed Craig as part of the family. Then they’d be back on the potion, claiming they needed it to get well again. During those phases, he’d spent most of his time at Craig’s house. When he was home, he was left to deal with creditors, dealers, and the underbelly of society while his uncle and Gia passed time in oblivion.
“I don’t know what to say to any of that, Gia. It’s not like I didn’t give you a chance,” he said.
“Right. A chance,” she said flatly.
He didn’t challenge her. He’d been the grieving kid who needed adults to make him feel safe, but he’d never felt that, not even when they were trying to get clean. “So that’s what you’re hoping to get out of Faith?”
Her sharp bright eyes met his. “I’m not evil, Hunter.”
“I never said you were.”
“Yes, you did. You just didn’t say it out loud.” She put the cigarette to her lips, still unlit, and simulated taking a drag. “I’m going to go see my daughters. It’s part of my recovery. I’d appreciate it if you’d just butt out.”
“I don’t think I can,” he said. “Faith and I are… involved.”
She narrowed her eyes and glared at him in the way only a fiercely protective mother could. “You have responsibilities to that woman, Hunter. You can’t just abandon her and that child for Faith.”
It galled him that Gia knew anything about his situation with Vivian and Zoey. If it were up to him, they’d have been left in the dark. But after’s Craig’s accident, Mason and Gia had jumped in the Bronco out front and driven all the way to Vegas to say their goodbyes. Mason had been friends with Craig’s dad before his death, and he’d felt it was his duty to pay his respects. While they were there, Vivian told them her plans of moving up to Keating Hollow with Hunter, and it was obvious they’d gotten the wrong impression.
He wanted to turn around and storm out. Every instinct told him it was time to leave. But he couldn’t. There were still things to say. “My relationship with Vivian is none of your concern. I’m here because Faith needs to know the truth, and I want to make sure it comes from you.”
“Does she know I raised you?” Gia asked.
He snorted his derision. Raised him? She was delusional. He’d all but raised himself. If anyone deserved the credit, it was Craig’s mother, though she’d passed on when he was just fifteen. “No. I just found out tonight you are her mother. We haven’t talked yet. Are you going to tell her, or am I?”
“I’ll tell her,” she said. “My daughters deserve to hear the truth from me.”
He was momentarily speechless. Gia had never been one to take responsibility, instead preferring to blame everything on her ‘migraines’ or Mason or Hunter. Or anyone else within spitting distance for that matter. “When are you going to see her?”
“Sunday afternoon.” Her voice trembled a little, and it was hard to not feel at least a small amount of pity for her.
He had his date with Faith on Saturday. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get through the night without telling her he knew her mother, knew her better than Faith did. But he was willing to let Gia do this on her own terms, just as long as she was honest. “If you don’t tell her everything on Sunday, I will. Like I said, we’re… friends, and I won’t keep anything from her.”
She closed her eyes and nodded.
“Good.” He started for the door, but before he strode out, he turned back around and said, “I don’t appreciate being used, Gia. Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“What?” she asked as her head jerked up.
“Don’t think I don’t remember you asking me all those questions about Faith and her family. You should have told me then who you were. I’d have given you their numbers if you had.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” she said with utter confidence. “You care about her too much.”
“You have no idea how I feel about her.”
“No?” Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. “I think I do, otherwise you wouldn’t have driven all the way up here and landed on my doorstep at ten at night. You’re half in love with her already.”
He started to deny it but just clamped his mouth shut and left without saying a word. She was right. He was half in love with her and had been since before he’d left town that summer. He just hoped that whatever it was that was blooming between them would survive the storm that Gia was certain to bring when she blew into town.