*She wasn’t picking up.
At first Quinn thought Charity might just be busy with one of her projects, but as the evening went on and she failed to respond to his calls, or his texts asking her to check in, his unease grew. This silence wasn’t like her. Was she okay? Had something happened? Immediately, he thought of Greg and his worry intensified.
He didn’t like thinking about what took place on his ranch twenty-one years ago, but of course the violence had affected him. It was why he had a sophisticated security system for the house. The house wasn’t as isolated as the Douglas ranch had been, but there weren’t any close neighbors. No one to keep track of coming and goings.
Every ten to fifteen minutes he’d glance at his phone to see if a text came in from her. Finally he couldn’t handle it anymore. He went to Rory and told him he had to run home to check on something, but he should be back right away. Rory wasn’t worried. Quinn lived close. Pulling up to his house, Quinn spotted an unfamiliar car in his driveway. He also noticed that Charity’s Subaru was gone.
A big burgundy hard-sided suitcase stood on the front porch near the door. Quinn recognized the suitcase. Alice had an entire set of luggage like this one. He knew, because he’d bought the set for her last Christmas.
The fight or flight anxiety began to ease, replaced by dread. Quinn was beginning to get a clear idea of what happened, and it wasn’t good.
He let himself into the house and spotted the other matching suitcase in the hall. He glanced around, looking for Alice and Rusty.
He found Alice in the kitchen, opening a bottle of wine. She’d located two glasses from one of the cabinets and flashed him a smile. “Hey, handsome, I wondered when you’d get here.”
“I’m not staying,” he said. “I’ve got to get back to the Gallaghers.” He frowned as she filled the glasses, thinking the house didn’t feel right. Everything was too quiet. “Where did you get the wine from?”
“I brought it from home. Your favorite winery,” she said, turning the bottle to show off the label.
He glanced around again, and then realized why everything felt off. “Where’s Rusty?”
“Rusty?”
“My dog.”
“Why would you get a dog? You’re coming back home soon.” Her lips pursed. “And if you really, really want a dog, we’re going to get a puppy that we pick out together.”
Quinn couldn’t even answer that, unable to string together sentences that would be polite. He whistled, and then called Rusty’s name.
Alice handed him a wineglass. “He’s in the laundry room,” she said. “He was scratching at the front door and it was annoying.”
Quinn set the glass down on the counter harder than he intended. “I don’t know what you’re doing here,” he said tersely, “but you can’t stay.” And then he headed for the laundry room to let Rusty out.
Alice followed him slowly, wineglass in hand. “It’s almost eight. The nearest town is thirty minutes away. Where do you expect me to go at this time of night?”
“To the nearest town and it’s not thirty minutes. It’s only twenty minutes to Marietta, and twenty-five to the Graff Hotel which should have plenty of room for you this time of year,” he answered, opening the door. The laundry room was dark. He flipped on the light and Rusty immediately came to him, and pushed his head into Quinn’s hand. Poor dog.
And then he thought of Charity and his chest grew tighter, and harder, and he could only imagine what she was feeling right now. He turned around and faced Alice. “Why are you here?”
“I brought out the things you wanted,” she answered, her tone excessively reasonable.
This was how she liked to play ball. She would act like she was the calm, rational one and he was impractical and unrealistic.
He ground his teeth together, battling to control his anger. “What did you say to Charity?”
“I wondered what her name was.”
“Alice?”
Her slender shoulder lifted and fell. “Nothing bad and nothing that wasn’t true.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I love you. And I thought it important she knew.”
He swore silently, aware that Alice had just turned his relationship with Charity inside out because confidence wasn’t Charity’s strong suit. Greg had done a number on her self-esteem and Alice’s appearance had to have rattled Charity.
He needed to see her. He needed to do damage control, fast. “I have to go,” he said. “And so do you. I’ll put your suitcases back in your car and you can check in at the Graff, or whatever Marietta hotel you choose, but I strongly encourage you to be on a flight tomorrow because I won’t be seeing you tomorrow, or any other time in the future.”
“There’s no reason to kick me out, Quinn. This house is huge. There are plenty of bedrooms—”
“No.”
“I’m not asking to share a bed with you, baby. I just think it’s silly to send me all that way back to that strange little town—”
“Alice, stop. You’re not endearing yourself to me. In fact, every word you say just makes everything worse. So you need to go now before I say things I’ll regret.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re manipulative and spoiled and selfish.” He paused, lifted a brow. “Should I go on?”
“That was harsh,” she whispered.
“I warned you.”
“You promised we’d always be friends.”
“Friends respect each other.” He walked down the hall toward the spacious entry. “Which suitcase has my things in it?”
“The one outside,” she said, voice low.
He brought the case in, opened it, and pulled out everything that looked like it belonged to him, and then closed the case, and set it on its wheels next to the other one. “Ready?” he said, curtly.
“No.” And then she saw his expression and sighed. “Yes. But, Quinn, please don’t be so mad at me. I’m doing what I can to protect us.”
“But there is no us,” he said firmly. “There hasn’t been an us for years.”
“We only broke up in July.”
“I hadn’t been happy for a long time.”
She knocked away a tear with her knuckled fist. “Are you happy now?”
“I am. I love her, Alice.”
“But you’ve only just returned to Montana.”
“I know, but she’s the one I’ve been waiting for.”
*
Charity sat on her bed and played the voice mail messages Quinn had left for her.
“I went to the house to check on you and discovered Alice there and you gone. It’s not what you think. I do not want her here. She’s no longer at my house. Please call me back.”
And then, “Charity, why won’t you respond? I know you’re upset but let me explain. We’re supposed to be friends. Friends hear each other out.”
And then the last, “Charity, it’s almost nine, I’m wrapping up here at the Gallaghers and on my way to Marietta. I’ll be at your house in twenty-five minutes.”
He’d left that last message over an hour ago, and she’d waited for him to come, but he hadn’t. She’d fixed her hair and changed her clothes and put on fresh makeup so he wouldn’t know she’d been crying, and then he’d been a no show.
This was exactly why she hadn’t wanted to fall in love. She hadn’t wanted to be hurt and disappointed again. Growing up, her life had been filled with hurt and disappointment. She was tired of being less than, tired of emotions that left her feeling broken.
Fighting back fresh tears, Charity changed into her pajamas and prepared for bed. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep though. She couldn’t remember when she last felt so miserable.
The last few weeks had been amazing and she’d felt so much hope and happiness. And fun. With Quinn she’d had fun. And he’d been a friend. They’d talked about so many things and she’d come to trust him. Which was why she’d dared to hope. And dream.
Her phone rang twenty minutes later. She let it ring another time before picking it up off her bedside table.
Quinn.
A lump filled her throat as she looked at his name on her phone.
For a split second she considered not answering and then realized she was too exhausted to play games. If it was going to end, then let it end cleanly right now. She couldn’t do the back and forth. She couldn’t handle another Greg situation.
“Hello?” she answered, her voice still rough from her earlier tears.
“Charity, Noel is missing,” Quinn said bluntly. “That’s why I’m not there. I’ve been out driving Highway 89 and all the back roads, looking for him. I’d hoped to have found him by now, as I didn’t want to worry you, but since I haven’t, I needed to tell you. I don’t know how he got out of the house, and I’m sorry—”
“I’m going to go look, too,” she said, jumping out bed. “I’ll start driving around Marietta.”
“I’m on my way to Marietta now. Why don’t I just pick you up? I should be at your house soon.”
“I’ll be ready,” she said simply, pulling warm clothes on instead.
They drove for an hour, up and down Main Street, up and down Church, up and down Bramble, up and down every single side street. Nothing. No sign of a big red dog, or any dog, anywhere.
It was after midnight when Quinn drove Charity back home. They’d refrained from discussing anything personal while searching for Rusty, but now that Quinn was pulling down her street, Charity summoned the courage to broach the other issue very much on her mind. “Alice,” she said quietly.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when she arrived,” he said.
“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” she answered, trying very hard to keep her emotions under control, “because it doesn’t change the facts.”
“And just what are those facts?”
“She claims she’s your girlfriend—”
“She’s not.”
“She says she is.”
“She’s wrong and she deliberately mislead you,” he retorted grimly, pulling up in front of her house and shifting into park. “Don’t believe anything she told you.”
Wasn’t that what Greg had said, too? For her not to believe the gossip? For her to listen to him? And yet Greg had played her, and played her…
Was Quinn just another Greg?
Charity closed her eyes and held her breath as she pressed her fingers to her brow bone. Her head thumped. Her heart hurt. She was devastated they hadn’t found Noel and still shaken from her encounter with Alice and confused by everything happening with Quinn. “I don’t want to do this with you right now,” she whispered. “I’m so tired I can’t think straight.”
“Look at me, Charity,” he said urgently. “There is nothing between Alice and me. I give you my word. I swear—”
“But she’s here. And she seems pretty certain you two are still a couple, or about to be a couple again.”
“She’s having a hard time accepting that we’re over.”
Charity blinked hard, trying to hold back the tears. “Or maybe you’re not really over. Maybe you’re still with her, or meant to be with—”
“No.”
“I wish I could believe you,” she said tightly, the air trapped in her lungs. She hadn’t wanted to cry in front of Alice, and now she didn’t want to cry in front of Quinn. She had to cling to a shred of self-respect. “I want to believe you, but my head is mocking my heart, telling me to wise up and see what’s really going on.”
“Nothing is going on. Charity, I’ve never lied to you. I’ve always been truthful.”
“Well, with the exception of you being Douglas Quincy.”
“You’re not innocent there either. You pretended to be Tricia Thorpe, but I’ve never held that against you.”
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer.
From the corner of her eye, she saw him flex a gloved hand against the steering wheel. “I never kept Alice a secret,” he said in a low voice. “From the beginning I told you about her, and shared how it was a relationship that didn’t work. Everything I said was true—”
“Then why is she here?” The words burst out, sharp and loud. “Why is she staying at your place?”
“She’s not. I’ve kicked her out. Sent her away.”
“Where did she go?”
“I don’t know. I suggested the Graff, but she might have decided to keep driving on to Bozeman.”
“If she’s at the Graff I might have the chance to see her tomorrow. That would be fun.”
“Now you’re just being sarcastic.” But his tone was mild and he seemed to be fighting a smile.
“Of course you think this is funny. But you should have seen her, swanning around your house, telling me how much she loved you and how she seemed to be the only one who truly understood you.”
“If I thought she understood me, we’d be together, but we’re not. We haven’t been together, in any size, shape or form since July fifth.”
“And yet she’s here. She said you needed your sports memorabilia and you asked her to fly them out.”
“I asked her to mail them.”
“Maybe it’s time you introduced her to the US Postal Service.” Charity sat for a moment, trying to organize her chaotic feelings, but her head wasn’t working. Her thoughts were wild and this conversation was just going in circles.
Was it only two days ago that they’d skated at Miracle Lake? Was it just two days ago that she’d confessed her true feelings? If only she could take that afternoon back. If only she could somehow protect her heart.
Quinn wasn’t safe.
Quinn was just more instability and heartache.
“I need to get to bed,” she said, reaching for the truck’s door handle. “Please let me know if Rusty Noel is there when you get home, or if he shows up later. I don’t care what time it is.”
“I promise,” Quinn answered, opening his truck door to come around and open hers. He gave her a hand, assisting her out. He walked with her to the front door. “Charity, things are going to be okay.”
She wished she could be so sure. She dug her key out of her purse and gave him a troubled look as she unlocked the front door. “Good night, Quinn.”
He kissed the top of her head. If he felt her stiffen and pull away, he gave no indication. “Good night, Charity.”
*
Quinn drove back to Paradise Valley feeling worse than he had in a very long time.
Things had been going well, so well, until tonight.
He’d felt good being back in Montana. He’d felt happy… contented… at peace.
He’d felt at home.
Charity was the one who’d made him feel at home, too. She made everything feel right.
She was the missing piece. He wanted her in his life, and he still firmly believed she was meant to be in his life, and yet it was a shock to realize how fragile her trust in him was, and how quickly Alice had damaged Charity’s sense of self.
Charity was the one he wanted. In her eyes, he could see the life he wanted… he could see the future he wanted. But she had to want it, too.
She had to trust him, and she had to have more faith in herself. He knew her childhood had left her scarred and scared, but at some point, you had to let the past go, or it would haunt you forever.
Could she do that?
Could she learn to believe in him….and them?
Their relationship wouldn’t survive if they both didn’t fight for it. One person couldn’t do all the heavy lifting. There had to be some kind of glue to keep them together when hard times came, because hard times would come. Hopefully, he’d never have to live through another tragedy. Hopefully, he’d never lose to violence anyone else he loved, but faith was still required, for situations large and small. Faith in God, faith in others, and faith in one’s self.
Quinn didn’t care that Charity didn’t like sports or follow baseball, but he cared very much about her opinion of him. He’d devoted his life to his sport, and to working with youth, and trying to use his platform to help others. He was a strong person, and he lived life with conviction, but every now and then he needed support. He could use Charity’s support now.
It was a long night, and Quinn slept badly. He tossed and turned and then left bed at four thirty to make coffee and watch the news.
It was just six when his phone rang, with an early call from Sawyer.
“Sorry for the crack of dawn call, but I figured you’d be worried. Your dog is here,” Sawyer said. “We woke up to find him asleep in the barn. Not sure how he found a way in, but Jenna discovered him curled up on a wool blanket by the cash register.”
Quinn exhaled with relief. “Thank goodness. I’ll call Charity and let her know. We drove around until midnight looking for him.”
“I’m not sure why he came here, unless he was looking for you, and thought you might be here.”
“I should have brought him back with me last night, after I went over to my house. An ex-girlfriend had stopped by. She wasn’t very nice to him. Rusty Noel must’ve been spooked.”
“Rusty Noel?”
“His name is Rusty, but Charity still thinks of him as Noel, so Rusty Noel it is.”
“You do know that sounds like Rusty Nail, don’t you?”
Quinn laughed, and then his laugh faded. “Hey, do you think your man Rob can handle opening this morning without me? I’d like to come get the dog and take him to Charity. I’m sure Sam won’t mind if the dog camps out by her desk today, and I know she’d be thrilled to have him.”
“No problem at all. I’m already more mobile than I was. I was thinking I’d try to get out there today and lend a hand. I can’t show trees but I could work the cash register. So no rush. Take your time.”
*
Neither Sam nor Greg was at the office when Charity arrived the next morning. Charity was glad.
As she made a pot of coffee, she blinked hard, her eyes gritty. She’d cried more than she’d slept last night, and this morning after she’d showered, she’d applied ice packs to her eyes to reduce the puffiness.
She’d cried over Alice’s appearance at Quinn’s house. She’d cried with worry over Noel being missing. She’d cried because she was worn out and filled with insecurity, and now that her insecurities had been set loose, they were tearing her apart.
She’d never felt good enough and all it took was one look at poised, polished Alice Sterling to realize Charity had never been Quinn’s type. He was a city guy. He wanted a poised, confident, sophisticated woman. Charity wasn’t that woman.
Heartsick, she carried her cup of coffee to her desk and sat down, turning on her computer, and checking her email. She couldn’t focus on the emails, though. Her thoughts jumped wildly from Noel to Alice to Quinn and then back to Alice, who was most likely enjoying a latte at the Graff right now.
Just picturing Alice at the Graff made Charity want to throw up.
Charity was staring out into the front window, lost in a fog of misery, when she spotted a very familiar man outside, walking a very familiar dog.
Quinn. Noel.
Noel.
She jumped to her feet and rushed toward the front door even as the door opened and Quinn brought the retriever inside. Noel’s tail thumped as Charity gave him a big hug. His coat was cold but he looked well and happy.
“Where did you find him?” Charity asked, glancing up at Quinn.
“He’d gone to the Gallaghers last night. Sawyer and Jenna found him this morning.”
“I’m so glad he’s safe. I’ve been so worried. Maybe I can stop crying now.” Her voice cracked and just like that, tears filled her eyes again.
“How about he stays with you today? I’ll head down to the Mercantile and get him a dog bed and he can lay next to your desk.”
“I’d have to ask Sam,” she said.
“I’ve already called him. He doesn’t have a problem with it.”
Her throat squeezed closed and her heart knotted and she wished they could go back to Sunday where she’d felt so happy, and safe, with him. “In that case, great.”
“While I’m out, can I get you a mocha from Java Café? Maybe one of their delicious breakfast sandwiches?” he asked.
She shook her head, tears stinging her eyes and sat back down at her desk. “I’m good. Just the bed for Noel. Thank you.”
“Charity,” he said quietly, “you’re getting yourself worked up over nothing.”
Her shoulders rose and fell. “But it’s not nothing, not to me.”
“Alice isn’t a threat.”
“You say that, but she’s still very much in the picture.” She finally forced herself to look up at him and meet his gaze. “I don’t trust her. And maybe because of that, I can’t trust you.”
“Ouch,” he murmured.
She saw him flinch and it just made her feel worse. She wasn’t even sure who she was angry at anymore, only that what had seemed so good now seemed like an illusion. “She’s not my girlfriend, Quinn,” she said fiercely. “She’s yours, and she’s here, in my town, telling me how she’s the only one that knows you and understands you and that basically, at the end of this, she’s going to be the last woman standing.”
“Only if you let her be.”
“What does that mean?”
“Don’t let her win.”
“Maybe if I was a sports fan your sports analogy would make more sense.”
He lifted a brow, and he didn’t look impressed. “Let me lay it out for you then,” he said, his deep voice impatient. “I’m a professional athlete. I play baseball. My world is a tough world, and it’s competitive. My job performance is written up nightly in the paper. My team gets discussed in detail on national TV. If I have a good night, it’s talked about. If I have a bad night, it’s talked about. To make it more complicated, there are women out there who are groupies, and overzealous fans. These women throw themselves at the players. They exist on the fringes of all professional sports, and they’re desperate to snare a player of their own. They want to be part of the action, and the money, and the lifestyle, and they go to great lengths to get attention.”
“Are you saying Alice is one of them?”
“No, but she knew about them, and we could talk about the distractions out there, and that’s what I want us to be able to do. We should be able to talk about our feelings without worrying that someone is going to fall apart or run away, and I know you’re afraid of change, but I’m not going to hurt you, or lie to you. You are too important to me.”
“It takes time to build trust.”
“But it’s also hard to trust others if you can’t trust yourself.” He gave her a long look. “Or love yourself.”
She flinched. “That’s rough. I didn’t expect that from you.”
“We’re friends. We’re supposed to tell each other the truth.”
“Then let me tell you a truth—I’m not tough like you. I will never be as tough as you.”
“No, maybe not, but that doesn’t mean you can’t toughen up, because I think you should. You let losers and schmucks bruise you, and you doubt the people you should trust.”
She jerked her chin up and stared at him, quietly furious with him for reading her so well. He wasn’t saying anything new. She’d heard all this—and more—from Amanda and Jenny.
“Growing a thicker skin will only help protect your heart,” he added. “It won’t change who you are. But it will help you survive in this world of ours.”
“Maybe I don’t like your baseball world anymore.”
“Sweetheart, everything I’m talking about has taken place here in Montana. You’re being hurt by idiots in this town. You’re struggling to survive in sweet, little Marietta.”
She lifted her chin even higher. “I don’t think we’re friends at all.”
Quinn gave his head a faint shake, his expression rueful. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. We’re friends. We’re more than friends. You’re my girl. You’re someone I love. And I still love you, even though you’re seriously ticked off with me.”
“I don’t think I want to be on your team anymore.”
“Tough. You don’t get to just quit like that.”
Charity didn’t answer, she couldn’t, and after a long, tense, miserable minute, Quinn walked out.