Page 87 of Holding Ground

Jesus, if this is how I feel after my daughter loses at the town bake-off, how am I going to be when she starts playing sports?

I leave the café with the drink in hand and come to an abrupt stop when I see who’s waiting for me. It takes my brain a full three seconds to process what I’m seeing.

Because Kate Ellison does not belong in Echo Lake. She belongs in whatever city, whatever life she ran off to five years ago when she decided she no longer wanted to be a mother. As if that’s something you can decide not to do anymore.

My stomach bottoms out, and my chest gets so tight, I have to force air in and out of my lungs. A million thoughts seem to rush through my mind at the same time—what is she doing here, what does she want, has she already come into contact with Baylor and I don’t know about it, I have to protect Baylor, where does she get the fucking nerve to show her face here again.

Kate looks very much the same as she did when she left—sandy blond hair, green eyes, and petite.

We stand there on the sidewalk, fifteen feet apart, staring at each other.

Dottie is probably watching through the window. The Thermos Crew will definitely be watching from across the street. This is Echo Lake. Someone is always watching.

“What are you doing here, Kate?”

She flinches at the tone of my voice—cold, flat, devoid of feeling. If she thought she was going to get the Elliott she used to know, the one who was in love with her and only ever put her and our daughter first, she was mistaken.

“Can we talk?” she asks.

“We’re talking now.”

She takes a quick glance around. I don’t know what she sees, because I only have tunnel vision for this woman who now feels like a predator, here to threaten what I love the most.

“Can we talk somewhere that’s a little more private?”

I don’t want to go anywhere with her. I don’t want to entertain whatever she’s here to say. I don’t want to sit across from her and act like a reasonable adult when what I really want to do is tell her to hightail it straight out of town, back to wherever she came from.

But if she’s here, it’s for a reason. I need to know what that reason is, for the sake of my daughter.

“Meet me on the bench down by the lake near the marina in five minutes.”

She’ll know which one. We used to get ice cream in the summer sometimes and sit and look out over the water.

I don’t wait for her to respond. I just walk past her. When I do, the scent of her perfume reaches me, and I’m transported back five years. It’s the same perfume she always used to wear, and for some reason, that scent unearths all the memories and feelings from that time in my life. Instead of it being years since she abandoned our daughter, it feels more like days.

The anger, the devastation, the heartbreak—all of it is back on the surface.

I cross the street to get to my truck.

Once I’m inside, I set Baylor’s drink—our daughter’s drink—in the cup holder. I don’t know why, but the first thing I think when I look at that drink is that Kate couldn’t name Baylor’s favorite drink for a million dollars, but Emelia could.

My head drops to the steering wheel, and I draw in a few deep breaths, trying to tamp down some of the emotion that’s trying to rise up. I can’t go into this conversation with Kate on a wave of emotion. I need to be smart and practical for Baylor.

When I have myself under better control, I start the truck and turn it around to head to the lakefront. I park on the road, then walk to our meeting spot.

Kate’s already sitting on the bench when I get there. I don’t bother sitting.

“How long have you been in town?” I cross my arms. I’m not trying to appear intimidating, standing over her like this, but I have so much roiling energy rushing through my veins, I need to do something with my hands.

“Since yesterday. I’m staying in Harvest Cove.”

Harvest Cove is about forty-five minutes from here and on the ocean. She doesn’t have to voice the fact that she’s not staying in town because someone might have recognized her.

“Why didn’t you make yourself known yesterday? Or better yet, why didn’t you call and let me know you were coming?”

Her hands shake slightly in her lap, and she drops her gaze to look at them. “I was trying to figure out what to say.”

“You’ve had five years to figure it out.”