Bent Not Broken (A Cedar Creek #1) Page 3

  Apart from books, I also sold quirky little things that I saw in catalogues and knickknack stores that I thought would be fun. Like light-up pencils, kick ass notebooks, jaw breakers, cute little erasers shaped like animals or utensils or food, and bouncy balls. In my opinion every store should sell bouncy balls. They were fun.

  There were comfy chairs and floor pillows all over the place inviting people to pick out a book and stay awhile. It was probably counterproductive to let people read the books in the store for a longer period of time, but I didn’t care. And not surprisingly, more often than not, people told me that that was why they loved coming into my store so much. They didn’t feel pressured into buying a book. They could take their time to read the first few chapters to see if they liked it. Try before you buy. My business motto. It made people leave my store on a high and they always came back for more.

  That day when I opened up the store for business, my mind was on what Betty had said to me.

  Was she right?

  Was the picture I had of myself so wrong? The picture of me not being close to anyone but Macy, of being friendly but distant, reserved?

  Yes, I knew that I wasn’t the ice-cold bitch who had cut Grant loose last night. Or hardly ever. Only when I felt vulnerable would I pull her out. She was my armor. I needed her to protect myself sometimes. Protect myself from opening up and letting things in and getting hurt in the end, be it emotionally or physically. I wouldn't be able to survive anything like what had happened to me again. That’s why I created the Icy Bitch, as I called her. She had helped me out a lot, especially in the first few months after I left Boston. I depended on her to safe me. I couldn't lose her. Not ever.

  But what Betty said stuck with me and I couldn’t force it out of my mind.

  Now, someone must have done something to you to make you feel like you’re not good enough. You think there is no way to fix what’s been broken. But as far as I’m concerned you are not broken. You are a little bent out of shape, but not broken.

  She was right. I thought I had been broken. Not only in half, but in a million little pieces that I still, after nine years, hadn’t been able to locate and glue back together. I was working on it and I was making progress, but I was starting to believe that I would never be able to find all the pieces I had lost. Now I had rough edges where pieces were missing, rough edges that I thought could never be smooth again.

  But if I believed what Betty said, then that wasn’t true. According to her, I didn’t have any rough edges. I was warm and caring and loyal, and people wanted to be my friends because of that.

  Was that true? I’d have to think about that and watch how people reacted to me, open my eyes and really look at my friends.

  I couldn’t get over how beautiful Betty’s words had been.

  I can see right through that mask you think you’re always wearing, right through that wall you think is impenetrable. Right through to the real you and let me tell you, when you are not paying attention to trying to protect yourself and you let out the real you her light is shining so bright it hurts my eyes.

  Those words gave me the shivers. I thought I’d had a strong hold on being friendly, but distant, on not letting anyone see me, see my soft spot, see how vulnerable I really was. They were turning me into a blubbering mess at the same time they scared the living bejeezus out of me and I couldn't afford that right now. I had a job to do.

  So I filed them all away for the moment to deal with later. Much later. When I had time for a relaxing bath and was by myself and safe in my house.

  The rest of the day went on without any more incidents. Tommy didn't come into the store, which meant I was safe from Cal and feeling embarrassed about him seeing me cry this morning. Two embarrassing encounters in two days were all I could handle.

  Thursday was quiet as well. When I went to Betty and Pete’s the next morning, it was business as usual. I had been nervous and hesitant to go back, worried she would say something that would push me further, but I think she knew that I needed some time. Or maybe she had said all she had to say and had moved on. I got warm smiles and knowing looks from the proprietors, but that was it. No heart felt confessions, nothing that would put me off balance. Betty knew that I’d had enough for now. But I knew she wouldn’t hesitate to give me more if she felt the need to do so.

  Tommy came into Serendipity and continued reading his fantasy book in the back corner of my store. Luckily, I was busy reviewing a book with a customer when Cal came in to pick him up. He gave me a chin lift as hello and inquiry about his son’s whereabouts at the same time, so I pointed him in the right direction.

  Phew!

  Safe.

  Or so I had thought.

  When both Tommy and Cal came out of the fantasy aisle and walked to my counter looking at me, grinning, I had to swallow hard and clench my teeth so my jaw wouldn't drop.

  Gawd!

  Why did he have to be so hot!

  You’d think that my embarrassment would staunch my inexplicable carnal attraction to him, but no such luck. It was almost worse than before.

  Walking towards me in his confident stride, wearing his jeans really, really well as far as I could tell, his eyes on me, grinning, I swear my belly did a double flip and I shivered.

  Oh shit! Would he be able to tell?

  I looked from him to his son and could see that in the near future Tommy Bennett would have the pick of the litter just like his father. He looked and moved just like his dad, which did not bode well for the female population of Cedar Creek Junior High and High School.

  They had arrived at my counter.

  I stared and waited.

  Both Bennett man and Bennett boy were staring back at me, grinning hugely.

  “What?” I asked stupidly and a little rudely.

  “Yeah, what?” Cindy, the woman I was reviewing the book she had read last with, asked impatiently. We were getting to the good stuff and she didn’t like to be interrupted.

  Tommy slid something towards me on the counter. When I saw what it was I couldn’t help but start grinning as well. I held out my hand to him, palm up.

  “Hand it over, honey,” I said conspiratorially, which he did immediately.

  Ah, an obvious, but nevertheless good choice.

  Looked like he was done with The Hobbit and moving on to Lord of the Rings.

  “Nice,” I murmured, still looking down at the book, “This will keep you busy for a while, big man.”

  I moved the book to its safe spot under my counter and looked up again. Tommy slid my bribe coffee closer to me, and I picked it up and took a whiff.

  Ah! The smell of the heavens.

  Both Bennetts chuckled and Cindy started giggling. My eyes shot up and I saw that all three of them had their amused eyes on me.

  “What?” I again asked stupidly.

  “Smell of the heavens. You’re funny. And a dork,” Tommy said, his eyes dancing.

  “I am not a dork! I just really like coffee,” I snapped at him in an attempt to cover up my embarrassment—and yes, dorkiness—at having spoken aloud without noticing. Why could I not stop making a fool of myself in front of this man?

  “No kidding,” I heard Cal say in his deep voice, which had a sexy undertone.

  Instant shudder.

  Dang it!

  “As I mentioned before, I also like home-made cookies. And chocolate. Not the dark stuff,” I kept snapping, trying to save face by giving attitude, “Maybe you should write that down.”

  “So noted,” Cal said with his amused eyes still on me.

  “Anything else I can help you with? No? Maybe you should let me get back to my review partner then. It’s rude to keep people waiting. See you later!” I was ignoring the fact that, as the owner of the store, it was even more impolite to talk to customers the way I was.

  I turned back to Cindy, whose eyes were also dancing and on me. My eyes grew wide, giving her the “Shut up!” look women had perfected since the dawn of time.

 
Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Cal and Tommy turn around and walk towards the doors.

  “Told you. Cute,” I heard Tommy say to his dad.

  My eyes rolled up seeking patience.

  “Yep,” Cal answered his son.

  Seriously!

  When they had left the store and were out of earshot, I didn’t just use my eyes to tell Cindy to shut up. Thankfully, she let it go and we finished our chat.

  Now was now.

  Finally.

  Friday night.

  The store opened late on Saturdays and Sundays, which meant I could sleep in, which meant I could have more than just one beer, enjoy my hot bubble bath, and try to wrap my head around everything that had happened this week.

  When I took a bath I always had music playing. Depending on my mood this could range from Classic Rock to Heavy Metal. Today it was the latest kick ass Pearl Jam album. Since it came out a last year I listened to it on a regular basis. Sirens could compete with Black as the most romantic rock song of all times. But then, anything Eddie Vedder sang was great. His rough, but soft rock ’n roll voice could almost make me believe that true love really did exist. Not in the rainbow-glitter-unicorn-and-lollipop-way but in a way that was true and real.

  So here I was, lying in my bathtub, my last Sex Bomb bath bomb fizzing around me—yes, they made bath bombs that are called Sex Bomb—, trying to get my head together.

  Grant hadn’t called, which was good, but still, it made me feel a little empty inside. But there was nothing I could do about that. I was not good for him. It wasn't like I had deep feelings for him and was too scared to admit them. I wasn't in love with him, and I never would be. I liked him. He was a good guy and great in bed, but that was it. I would miss our time together, but not having him didn't make my heart hurt. At all. So that was good. That was dealt with, now move on to the next item on today’s agenda.

  Cal Bennett and my reaction to him. What the hell was going on with me? I had never in my thirty-two years had a reaction like that to a man. Sure, he was hot. Hotter than hell, actually. And he was good with Tommy. He was a great dad. Was that grounds for my attraction to him? I had no idea, since again, I’d never had these kinds of feelings before, so I couldn't know what caused them. I had heard about them, read about them, but always thought they were made up by brilliant authors who knew what it took to sell lots of books. Now what? Who could I talk to about this?

  Macy was my best friend. She had been almost from my first day here in Cedar Creek when I met her at the town fair. I had still been raw back then so shortly after I had lost everything, but I hadn’t been able to resist her bubbly and over the top personality. It swept me right off my feet. I had never met anyone like her, so confident and sure of herself and her man, I was stunned.

  But could I talk to her about this?

  I guessed I could try. She knew it was hard for me to really open up even to her and she respected that. In the beginning, she had asked about my life, but when I hadn’t given her any details, she had understood and backed off. But she always made sure I knew that no matter what, I could always count on her. I also knew that I had to eventually open up to her. That I needed to give her my complete trust. If I wanted to be her best friend, I needed to tell her everything I had lived through. She deserved to know. I knew it would break her heart, but she had made it more than clear that she would always have my back. I knew I wasn’t quite ready yet, but I also knew I needed to prepare myself for that conversation, steel myself against memories and emotions I had locked away, so they wouldn’t overwhelm me. Maybe if I wasn’t blindsided and accessed them on my terms, I could talk about it without losing it.

  But first I had to talk to Macy about Cal. But being that Macy was a romantic and happily married with three adorable children and one on the way and she loved me, she would want that kind of bliss for me. She would probably tell me that Cal and I were destined to be together, that we were a match made in heaven and would make beautiful babies. But a life like that was never going to be mine. I had given up that dream a long time ago. And once I told her about my past, she would understand why I couldn’t go there, why I needed the safety of distance. Why I couldn’t put myself out there. Why I was so scared.

  Just thinking about telling her my secrets made my stomach seize in dark anticipation. Okay, calm down. It will all be okay. Macy was Macy. Everyone loved her, everyone trusted her. She made people laugh even when they had nothing to laugh about. She was the nicest person and best mother I had ever met. It would be okay. She would understand. Then she would support me. If I couldn’t talk to her about this, then who could I talk to? Sure, I had other friends in town, but nobody else I was that close to. If my grandmother was still alive, she would be the one I’d talk to. There had never been any secrets between us. She had always known about everything that went on in my life and had always tried to support me as best as she could. I missed her. I really, really missed her.

  I felt a lonely tear running down my cheek as I was thinking about my nana. She was the one good person in my family, the only one that had ever tried to protect me, and ultimately the one that made it possible for me to escape my life that had been hell since I could remember. I would be forever grateful to her, even if it took her dying for me to have this chance.

  My nana.

  So sweet, so special.

  She would have clapped and yelled, “That’s right! That’s my girl! You tell her!” had she heard what Betty had said that day in the coffee shop about my light shining so bright it hurt her eyes. She had always tried to convince me that I was special, that I was nothing like my parents, that all I had to do was believe in myself, in my “innate goodness” as she called it, and leave all the darkness behind, but I had never been able to do that.

  “You are not what you are born into, sweetheart. You are what you make yourself to be. Your parents are fools, so wrapped up in their own heads and unhappy with their lives that they are blinded by bitterness and resentment. They resent the goodness and pure heart they see in you, driven by envy, trying to put you down, because they know that you are better than them.”

  I hadn’t been able to see a way out of it. I thought I had been born into it and that was how life worked. When you’re a child, you have no frame of reference, no way of knowing that the life you live is not normal, that the way your parents treat you is not the way it’s supposed to be. So I couldn’t believe what my grandma had said to me, didn’t understand it. I tried later, when I left home and started a new life at college, but that turned out to be a disaster as well. Some part of me, a big part to be honest, still believed that my parents treated me the way they did because I didn’t deserve better. Which was yet another reason why I couldn’t give in to my attraction to Cal. I was dark. My parents made me that way. Cal didn’t need to deal with my baggage. He deserved better than that. Better than me.

  Betty was special, too. I could tell. Always had a warm smile for everyone. Everyone she liked, that was. Thank goodness she liked me. Otherwise, it could be scary and daunting getting my daily coffee fix from her. If she didn’t like you or thought you had done something stupid or mean, she would tell you straight up. Just like she said to me I say it like it is and you take it. That was pure Betty. If she saw something, she called you out on it. And that was that. Everyone in town held her in high respect, though. When Betty got serious, people listened. So I guessed I should listen as well. Maybe she laid it on a bit thick, but I should at least try to believe in the gist of it.

  I knew I was a good person. I strived to do good things and find something to be happy about every day. Try to bring a smile to people’s faces, make them chuckle or giggle. That was me. A little bit of a goof and sometimes a total dork, making people burst out laughing without even trying to. I was okay with that. It made me happy when I could make people laugh, even at my own cost. I had no problem with that. So maybe, just maybe, there was a little bit of light in me that people wanted to be around. I wanted that. L
ight was a good thing to have. And maybe, just maybe, there was enough light in me to fight back the shadows and darkness, with a little bit of help. But was it time? Was I ready? Would I be able to handle talking about it? I had shoved everything so far back in my mind for so long that opening that box scared the living bejeezus out of me. Just thinking about it now made my stomach feel like lead, and I had to close my eyes and take some deep breaths. But for how long could I keep going like this? How much longer until those memories would fight their way out and knock me out in the process? I had felt them lingering lately, more so than usual. Little memory flashes of my former life appearing out of left field, surprising me. Nothing too dark yet, but that would happen eventually, I knew.

  Then there was wanting more out of life. Yes, I was happy and content. Most of the time, at least. But I had to admit to myself that I was also lonely. Very lonely. I was living a half-life, because I wouldn’t let myself open up, wouldn’t let anyone in enough to hurt me. The thought of getting hurt scared me enough that letting anyone come close wasn’t an option. If I was completely honest with myself, when Grant had told me he loved me and wanted more, a part of me had rejoiced, had felt happy and warm, but my panic had overshadowed all that, had made me ignore those feelings. Like I said, I had picked Grant because I knew there would never be a chance of falling in love with him. And I wasn’t in love with him. That wasn’t a lie. Still, hearing another person say they loved me did penetrate on some level and made me wish I could be different, made me long for a connection with a man that went deeper than just satisfying a physical need. You are what you make yourself to be. My nana’s words sounded again in my ears. I missed me. Missed that part of me that wasn’t always guarded, that loved meeting new people, that laughed all the time, that could be almost carefree. The girl I had been when I had left home, finally free to be myself. Before he had shattered me. I missed her. After, I had always told myself that she had been too naive, too trusting. That’s why bad things had happened to her, because she hadn’t been cautious enough, hadn’t questioned anything, had taken everything at face value. Stupid. So I had built walls around her, walls so high even I couldn’t climb them, had locked her away like Rapunzel, never to be a part of my life again. But she was still there. Still a part of me, locked up deep inside me. And she was looking for a way out.