P.S. Goodbye, page 2
“I get up at a quarter to five to run.” Grant didn’t mention that he ran at that time because he needed out. He needed to see the open sky, and the old two-by-three-foot bedroom window wasn’t enough after a long night.
“Four-forty-five?” Nate stared at him a moment. “So you ran five miles, showered, and—let me guess—made your bed before I got my lazy butt up?”
“Ten miles—but basically.” Grant poured his friend a mug of coffee and handed it to him. “I guess civilian life is going to take some getting used to.”
Nate added half-and-half to his coffee and reached for a spoon. “So, are you going to tell me why you’re really here?”
Grant claimed a chair at the mahogany table. What was there to say? He’d been asking the same thing since he’d taken the exit that led to Heritage. For now, he’d stick with the facts. “Permanent limited vision in my shooting eye and reduced grip strength in my primary shooting hand, which, in the Army, is a one-way ticket out—at least from field duty. Compliments of the shrapnel.” He waved his hand at the scar on his face.
“You told me about all of that over a month ago. What happened that landed you here?” Nate leaned against the doorframe and sipped his coffee in the silence.
What was there to say? Grant had always had a plan. A purpose. A direction. A place to belong where guys relied on him and he had guys to rely on. Now he had nothing. Just like after his dad died.
He’d found himself at Nate’s door then too—well, Nate’s parents’ door. Grant had spent that summer struggling not to self-destruct before his senior year and take Nate down with him. He’d only half succeeded. But now Pastor Nate seemed to have life all together, and Grant had nothing. Everything had been taken from him, and no one seemed to get that.
Grant’s hand tightened on the mug. He should’ve known Nate would push. “You could say the engagement was a shock.”
“Engagement? Who’s engaged?” Nate joined him at the table.
Grant tapped the side of his mug. Was it the engagement that had sent him here? Partly. At least it was something he could put words to. “Jason and Emily.”
Nate’s mouth dropped open. “Your Emily?”
Grant cringed. “She hasn’t been my Emily for almost two years. Even then we had so many breakups in between that my mom once asked if I could get a magnet like they have for the dishwasher to flip. But instead of saying Clean or Dirty, it would say Dating or Broken Up. We probably would’ve married if I’d ever agreed to leave the Army.”
“But you’re out now.”
“And she’s marrying my brother.” Grant rubbed the growing throb in his temple. “It’s fine, really.”
“If it were fine you wouldn’t be here. You’re always welcome—you know that. But face it, you show up at my door when your life implodes. So either this engagement isn’t fine. Or there’s something you aren’t telling me.”
There’s nothing else he could tell him. That was the problem. He couldn’t find the words for how he’d felt from the moment he’d woken up in that hospital. He just needed . . . space to breathe.
“Do you still love her?”
Love her? Right, Emily. He could talk about Emily.
Grant shifted in his chair and let his head fall back. “No. Honest. It’s just . . . he’s my brother. How could he do this? How could he . . . do everything he did?”
“Jason has no concept of brotherhood—never did. Think about it. You often referred to the guys in the Army as your brothers. A brother is a guy who’d give his life for you. A brother wouldn’t steal your girl while you were off serving your country. He may be your stepbrother legally, but a real brother is proven by action.”
He was right. Nate was more of a brother to Grant than Jason had ever been. Maybe that was why he was here—why he always came to find Nate.
Nate stood and pulled out a carton of eggs from the fridge. “Hungry?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
Nate kept his back to him as he cracked the eggs and whisked them in a frying pan.
Some of the tension eased from Grant as he pushed away from the table and crossed the kitchen. He pulled the orange juice from the fridge and grabbed two glasses. This had been their routine that summer—6:00 a.m. run followed by a power breakfast of eggs and juice. Only then, they’d both been up running, lifting, pushing to be ready for their senior year on the football team. Then they’d ended up throwing away the last season in the name of teenage angst and debauchery.
“What’s next for you?” Nate splashed some milk on the eggs and kept whisking.
The gray walls around Grant pressed in closer. Maybe he needed another run. “I don’t know. My whole life I’ve had someone telling me what’s next. First my dad. Then the Army. The only year I called the shots—well, you know how that went.”
“Yeah, let’s try and stay out of jail this time.” Nate’s chuckle filled the air. “Have you prayed about it?”
It took all Grant had to keep from laughing out loud. He’d believed God was leading him once upon a time—like he’d believed in Santa Claus. But the past year had helped him grow up. After all, nothing said reality like an IED. But what else would he expect from Pastor Nate?
Grant stepped toward the window. The church sat across the street, straight out of a storybook with its white siding, bell tower, and steeple. A woman walking by with her dog paused to greet a man walking the opposite direction. Heritage definitely ran at a slower pace, and that slower pace just might be what he needed. “Maybe I’ll look for a job around here.”
“You can help me haul boxes.”
Grant moved to the counter and topped off his coffee. “I was thinking of an actual job. I have a computer science degree from West Point. That should be good for something.”
Nate stared at him, brow pinched. “You really think you could be happy driving a desk?”
“I was always good at math and computers. Other than that, I’ve got nowhere to start.” Grant nodded toward the pan. “Trying to burn the eggs?”
Nate stirred the eggs, then reached for the salt. “If that’s what you think you want, you should check at the WIFI on Teft Road. I heard they’re looking for help with their website.”
“Is that a computer store? That’d be perfect.” Grant pulled a bottle of Tabasco sauce from the cupboard and handed it to Nate.
Nate stared at it, then rolled his eyes and added it to the eggs. “Not a computer store. It stands for Where I Find It. Caroline and Leah’s grandpa thought it was catchy sixty years ago when he first opened the store filled with a hodgepodge of items.”
“Well, that’s not confusing.”
“Most of the patrons are locals and think nothing of it.” Nate turned off the burner and reached for two plates.
“And isn’t their grandfather your grandfather?”
“I wish. Mr. Foley was awesome. But no. Their mom was a Foley. Their deadbeat dad is my mom’s brother. Anyway, Caroline mentioned they need to hire someone to help with updating their system and maybe even taking the store online. Computers aren’t their strong suit.” Nate grabbed a notepad from a drawer and drew a rough map of Heritage, adding a star over one building. “I’m not sure it’s full time, but it’d be a place to start.”
“Caroline? Work with me?” Grant picked up the scribbled map.
“You guys are friends.”
“Is that why she couldn’t get out of here fast enough when she saw me?” Grant opened a drawer but found potholders instead of forks.
“Maybe she still blames you for turning innocent me into a hellion.”
“You and I both know that wasn’t exactly how it went down.” He yanked another drawer open. Nope.
“True, but she sure did give you an earful.” Nate laughed as he settled into one of the chairs at the table. “My cousin has never been shy about saying what she thinks.”
One of the qualities Grant had found compelling about Caroline. She gave him honesty when everyone else seemed to only tell him what he wanted to hear. However, he’d always had one big problem with Caroline—she’d been too young.
“Judging by last night’s disappearing act, I don’t think working for her would go well.” He pulled on the final drawer. Bingo.
“She sure did make a beeline for the door.” Nate took one of the forks Grant held out. “Maybe you scared her off with that ugly mug of yours.”
“I’m still better looking than you.” He didn’t care if people hated his scar. He could take any emotion people threw at him but pity. People’s pity made his skin feel too small and gave him a sudden need to go for another run. He’d put in a lot of miles lately.
Crazy thing was, Caroline had taken full notice of his scar, but there’d been no head tilt, no sad eyes, and definitely no pity in her green eyes. She’d stood there in her just-snug-enough-to-be-distracting jeans and pale pink sweater. The way her cheeks warmed to the color of her sweater when she’d seen him made him wonder who Mason was and why Nate didn’t feel the guy deserved her.
Grant took a mouthful of eggs then reached for more Tabasco.
“They need help and you need a job. I think you’re both adult enough to get beyond the past.” Nate stabbed his fork into his eggs. “After all, she said your smile was—what was that again—pretty?”
“Heart-stopping.” Grant pointed at his friend. “That was before she saw the scar.”
Grant’s phone vibrated. He pulled it out and tapped the screen. “Hey, Mom.”
“You’re up. Good. How are you? Did you take your medicine today?”
He’d turned twenty-eight last month, yet his mother still had the knack for making him feel twelve. “Yes, of course . . .”
“When are you coming home? I scheduled an appointment for you with Dr. Andrews for next week.”
“I don’t want to see Dr. Andrews. I told you that. I’m not suffering from PTSD. No flashbacks, no sweats. Loud noises don’t even make me jump. I’m good.” Grant gripped the phone tighter. She was concerned because she loved him. He needed to focus on that. But sometimes her love was like a smothering hug. “I’m going to stay awhile.”
“Oh.” It was only one word, but she could say a whole lot with that syllable. “Is this because of the engagement?”
“No.” At least it wasn’t because he had feelings for Emily. In fact, when he took a good look, maybe he hadn’t loved her—not enough, anyway. But that didn’t make it okay that his brother stole her while Grant was deployed. Like Nate said, Jason had no concept of brotherhood.
“For how long?”
He couldn’t mistake the hurt in her voice. His mother always stood by him, but right now he needed some breathing room.
“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Listen, I gotta go.”
“What about the appointment?” His mother’s impatience had returned.
“Cancel it. I’m fine. I’ve got everything under control.”
He did. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.
He ended the call and set the phone on the table, daring to meet Nate’s eyes.
His friend didn’t speak. Just stared at him. Stared at him like he had ten years ago when he’d walked in on Grant smoking in the barn.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m fine.”
“Really?”
“You tell me. You’re here with your perfect new pastor’s life. I’m back at the beginning with nothing. Only this time I didn’t just lose my dad—I lost who I am. Without the Army, I’m nothing.”
“First of all, if you think trying to pastor a small-town church with your mistakes on display for everyone to see is perfect,”—he held out his arm and pointed to one of his five tattoos—“you’re wrong. Second, you’ve got more and are more than you realize.”
Did he? Was he? Because right now it sure didn’t feel like it.
Working Saturdays should be outlawed—at least for anyone who’d gotten dumped the night before. Caroline filled up her mug with a little liquid motivation and carried it back to her office. If only she could erase the last twenty-four hours—or at the very least the memory of them. If Mason’s words hadn’t been humiliating enough, there had been Grant.
Her heart sank all over again with the memory.
She hadn’t seen the guy for—what, five years?
She’d often imagined what it would be like if she ever ran into Grant. Only in her fantasy, Grant had gone fat and bald but she looked fabulous.
Nope.
Grant had aged well and looked . . . amazing.
And so much for her looking fabulous. Her wet curls had dripped water down her cheeks as black marks smudged her face. She really needed to invest in waterproof mascara. But with any luck, it’d be another five years before she saw him again. Surely he’d be fat and bald next time.
Caroline pulled the large envelope from the stack of mail on her desk, tore it open, and stared at the certificate with her name spelled out in a flowing black script. The ink was barely dry and she was ready to throw it in the trash. She needed to face facts—no one in the small town of Heritage wanted a life coach, certified or not. Her whole future had been planned around moving to Grand Rapids with Mason.
No Mason. No Grand Rapids. No future.
Caroline slid the certificate back into the envelope and dropped it back on the stack. If she moved to Grand Rapids now, it’d look like she was chasing him. And if she were honest with herself, she preferred the rhythm of a small town over the city. She’d been going to move there for one person—Mason.
How had her three-year plan fallen apart without her even seeing it coming?
Some life coach she’d be. At this rate, she’d be shelving random household items until she died.
Caroline marched out of her office, picked up the box of yarn that belonged in aisle three, and scanned the inventory of bins on the way. They were low on night-lights.
“Why don’t you go do more work in the office? I’ve got this.” Leah reached for the box. When Caroline didn’t pass over the yarn, Leah lifted an eyebrow before turning back to the counter.
Caroline started shoving the yarn into the bin. “I’m fine. Really.”
According to genetics, they were identical twins, but since Leah wore her auburn hair in chin-length curls with a few blue highlights, no one ever confused them.
Caroline needed more control than curly hair could offer, which was why she painstakingly straightened her long hair every morning. And although she admired her sister’s sense of style and ability to create the most unique outfits, Caroline preferred muted colors and shopping in the L.L.Bean catalog.
But somehow Leah made her patchwork skirt work with the retro Partridge Family T-shirt today. Every time Caroline tried to branch out with her hair or clothes, she felt like a clown.
The bell above the door rang, and Caroline ducked back behind the shelves. She wasn’t feeling very “customer-service-like” today.
“It’s just us.” Her good friend Hannah Thornton’s voice was followed by the crinkling of a paper bag.
“How is she?” Olivia’s voice chimed in next.
“Grumpy. Moody. All the typical post-breakup words.” Leah’s voice carried through the room.
Caroline shoved the last of the yarn into the bin before she joined them at the register and claimed the last available stool. “I’m fine. Besides, we didn’t break up. We’re taking a step back to reevaluate.”
Because Mason would eventually see this as a mistake. He had to.
“Right.” Hannah shot a look at Leah before turning back to Caroline and holding up a white paper bag. “I have pastries from Donny’s.”
Hannah spread out several napkins on the counter and pulled out a scone, two muffins, and two donuts from the bag. “Pick your poison. The scone and one of the muffins are pumpkin spice. I talked Aunt Lucy into making them again since we’re now past Labor Day weekend. It might be good for tourism.”
“Tourism?” Leah lifted an eyebrow at Hannah. “When was the last time you saw an out-of-towner in Heritage?”
Did a visiting war hero count? Maybe Caroline wouldn’t mention running into Grant. She snatched the scone before Leah could. If ever she needed comfort food, it was today. “So much for my low-sugar resolution.”
Hannah pushed her long brown hair behind her shoulders and picked up a muffin. “Good. It was a terrible resolution. Besides, enjoy the scone. It’s not every day you get—”
“I was not dumped. We’re—”
“Reevaluating,” the three girls said at the same time.
“Well, who knows, maybe next week when I see him, he’ll have changed his mind.”
Hannah choked on her muffin as her hazel eyes widened. “Why, do you have a date with him next week?”
“I don’t, but I think I left my grandma’s necklace at his apartment when I watched a movie there last week. So, I thought it would be a good reason to stop by and then we could talk while I was there.” Warmth crawled up Caroline’s neck. “Besides, it’s wise to remove yourself from a situation before making a big decision. I already know he’s a perfect match for me, and if he needs a bit of time before he makes that decision, then I need to respect that.”
The three stared at her before Leah spoke up. “You really want to marry Mason Peterson?”
“We’re perfect for each other.” Caroline brushed a few stray crumbs off her lap. “He’s kind, respectful of authority—”
“If you start quoting that stupid list again, I may throw the rest of this donut at you.” Leah held up the pastry as if taking aim.
Lists were smart. But Caroline wasn’t going to get into this debate again with Leah today. “I got my life coaching certificate in the mail.”
Leah leaned on the counter, her blue nails tapping out a rhythm. “When? Why am I just hearing about this?”
“Relax, it came today.” Caroline dusted the crumbs from her hands. “But a lot of good it will do me.”
“You just need exposure, and clients will pour in.” Olivia’s pale blue eyes lit up as she tossed her blonde beach curls behind her shoulder. She picked up one of the donuts and broke off a small piece. “I can see it now. Once word gets out, there’ll be a waiting list of people wanting to meet with you.”
