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“Like I said, rehashing the past won’t change anything,” I growl, shooting Cal a warning look.
“No. It won’t.” Cal twirls his beer bottle absently between his fingers. “Have you considered that things worked out how they were supposed to?”
“You mean you with a trashed leg and me being arrested?” I ask bitterly.
“You weren’t the one drunk driving. That was the other guy. And my leg healed,” I point out.
“At the cost of your career,” I rasp.
“My career is doing great, thanks.”
My laugh is brittle. “Right. You were the high school football superstar, good enough to ‘go pro’ according to all the talent scouts and colleges that came knocking. That night, your leg was smashed along with all your hopes and dreams.”
“Pro football was what my parents wanted for me, remember?” he asks, his voice heavy with self-contempt. “I’m far happier training athletes than I ever was playing.”
I know he’s not lying. He has a sports and exercise science degree and loves his job as a sports coach.
Cal huffs out a breath. “I should’ve said something back then. I never should’ve let you take the blame for—”
I hold up a hand to stall him. “It was for the best. I was leaving anyway, going off to college and planning never to return to this ass-backward town.”
Cal studies me for a long moment before speaking again. “What happened that night? With you and Gem?”
I study my empty bottle. “Nothing.” I lift my eyes to his. “But not because I didn’t want it to. She came to me that night with a going away to college present for me—a selection of art supplies to give me a head start before school. She told me she loved me and tried to kiss me. I pushed her away and told her I couldn’t …”
I pause and clear my throat as the memories crowd me. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I didn’t want to be the cause of the pain in her eyes … but I couldn’t cross that line with her. I wasn’t worthy. I wasn’t anybody special. Your parents would never accept me, and”—I smile ruefully—“you would’ve had every right to kill me. I couldn’t be with her, not then, maybe not ever.”
“Fuck, we need another beer for this shit,” Cal says roughly.
He disappears to the bar, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Seems I wasn’t as successful at keeping my feelings hidden from Cal as I believed.
I took the easy option, I realize now. I left town believing I was doing the right thing for Gem and for me, but I was running from my fear of being abandoned, forgotten, and unworthy of love. And one thing I’ve learned in the time I’ve been away is that you can’t run from yourself.
I guess the silver lining is that Cal is happy. Ironically, the accident freed him from his parents’ expectations and led him down a different path to his new, successful life as a coach.
Callum returns and settles back in the booth opposite me.
“Why the fuck are we rehashing this now?” I ask bluntly as he hands me another beer.
“Because there’s a reason you’re back here. And I don’t mean the job,” Cal continues before I can speak. “If you were waiting for my blessing when it comes to Gem, you’ve got it. Not that you ever needed it. You’ve always been good enough for my sister.”
My throat tightens at my friend’s words.
Cal raises his bottle. “You’re a stubborn fucker, but it’s time to stop wallowing and show my sister what she’s missing.”
Chapter 5
Gemma
“What doyou mean my spot is taken?” I gape at Veronica, the organizer of Crystal Peak’s Annual Winter Art Festival.
“I’m sorry, Gemma,” Veronica says, wringing her hands, “but it seems there’s been a misunderstanding or miscommunication. The booth space you were meant to have was already taken. I never got word that you’d accepted the slot, so …” She lets her words trail off with an apologetic shrug and hurries away before I have a complete meltdown.
Great. Here I am, loaded down with all my gear, and my plans to make a big splash and get the word out about the grand opening of Heart of Gold in two weeks are up in smoke. I could cry, but what can I do?
I glance around the vast hall packed with every kind of art and craft you could imagine. Quilting, baking, fashion design, calligraphy—you name it, and it’s here. And every booth is taken.
Swallowing down the tears, I haul my things back to my car in the parking lot. I’m packing my stuff when a familiar voice calls my name.
