The Damaged Hearts Bargain (Tetherington Hearts #2)

Chapter Three

T he problem with coming home was that it wasn’t home. It was just a place. Or at least that was what Cal was trying to tell herself as she roared into town on her motorbike.

The problem with lying to yourself is that it’s very, very hard to believe the one person who actually knows everything about you.

“Just a place, huh?” she muttered to herself. The house on the corner of the street had once upon a time belonged to Cal’s doctor, and more importantly Sadie, his daughter, with long dark hair and deep gray eyes and a smile that had made Cal want to move mountains.

“Just a place,” she said to herself again. Except the little school with the new playground equipment had been where she learned to read, and where, more to the point, she’d kissed her first girl. Not Sadie, unfortunately.

“For fuck’s sake.” She swerved the big bike around a turn and narrowed her eyes. Thank god she was wearing a helmet. At least no one was going to throw rotten fruit at her if they couldn’t recognize her.

Maybe it would be different if she’d been one of those ugly ducklings. The kind that develops into the gorgeous swan with the long legs and perfect hair and the kind of curves that make men drool .

Sadly, Cal was of the opinion that she’d stayed firmly in duckling stage. Still just as chubby, just as rough around the edges as she’d always been. Though, to be fair, she was more accepting of herself now than she had been when she’d lived here.

She leaned into herself now, shaving the sides of her hair, buying men’s shirts because they were more comfortable, not caring if there was oil under her fingernails. All things that would have driven her mother crazy.

Not that it took much to do that.

One more turning and she was back in the little street she’d grown up on. The street that, oddly, she’d never imagined life without until that night she’d been seventeen. It wasn’t like she’d grown up wanting to escape town. She hadn’t really considered other options existed until she’d felt that she’d had no choice.

See? She had changed. Now she’d seen places she’d never even dreamed of.

Places she might not have seen if she hadn’t been forced out.

So something good could come of things if she looked hard enough.

She drew the bike up on the other side of the street and turned to look at the house.

It hadn’t changed a bit, but then, houses didn’t really, did they? They couldn’t get smart haircuts and new clothes, the bones were always there, always the same.

Except there was no mum to open the door now.

Cal wrapped her hands tight around the bike grips.

It didn’t bother her.

Shouldn’t bother her.

They’d had no contact for so long, and had been too different long before then.

So it shouldn’t matter, should it? Her mother hadn’t existed in her world for a long, long time.

Besides which, this wasn’t her mother’s house anymore, was it? It was hers. And she had every right to stride in through the door like she owned the place because she did, in fact, own the place.

She flipped the visor of her helmet up, stared at the cracked blue front door. Then flipped the visor straight back down again, revved her engine and screeched out of the parking spot, driving faster than she should down the road.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t going to go back. It was just… Fuck it. Lying to herself wasn’t doing her any favors. She sighed into her helmet and watched the mist clear away from the visor. She wasn’t ready. That simple.

She would go back, she had to go back, but right now, right now all she wanted was a good meal, a drink, and a quiet place to think about all the things she should have done but didn’t, or shouldn’t have done but did, and the time to beat herself up over all of them.

The bike crunched over the gravel of the pub car park as she pulled into a space.

“BE WITH YOU in a minute, love,” said Rosalee, her hair as bright gold as always, piled even higher on top of her head than Cal remembered it. She was counting change into the till and didn’t look up until a second later.

When she did, her face changed, her smile freezing until Cal’s gut clenched.

“Afternoon, Rosalee.”

“Well, bit of a surprise seeing you here. Turning up like a bad penny, I suppose.” Rosalee sniffed. “Not sure you’ve got much business around these parts.”

Christ. No sign of forgive and forget then. Cal took a breath. She hadn’t exactly expected to be welcomed with open arms or anything, but maybe she’d forgotten just how unforgiving people could be. “My mum passed,” she said mildly.

“Yeah, a good three months ago now,” said Rosalee, eyes narrowing. “Didn’t see you at the funeral.”

“I wasn’t there,” said Cal, making sure to stay calm, to keep her voice neutral. She didn’t want to fight. “I was abroad.”

“Oh? Abroad, was it? Alright for some, I suppose.”

Cal cleared her throat. “Have you still got rooms to rent for the night?”

For a second, she thought Rosalee might lie. But then the woman gave a sharp nod.

“And… can I rent one?”

Rosalee raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got an entire house, haven’t you? We all know that Pam left you everything. Not sure why, but there’s no accounting for taste, I suppose. Not sure what you’d be wanting with a room over a pub when you’ve got a whole house to take advantage of.”

There were customers at the other side of the bar, Cal could hear glasses clinking and the soft murmur of chatter. But there was no one close enough to see, to hear, what she said next. Because the only excuse she had here was the truth and she didn’t want to spend all afternoon dancing around that with Rosalee of all people.

“A house full of my mum,” she said, the words raw and simple.

For a moment or two, Rosalee just stared at her, then, finally, slowly, she nodded just once. Her eyes might have softened a touch, it was hard to tell. “You can have room two. Top of the stairs on the right.”

Cal picked up her bag.

“But we’ll be having payment upfront, thank you very much, given who we’re dealing with,” Rosalee added.

Cal closed her eyes for a second, then opened them, pulled out her wallet and slid out her credit card.

“Cash only,” Rosalee said.

Another sigh and Cal pulled out two notes and handed them over.

“I’ll just get your change.”

The place smelled the same, looked the same, and Cal was left wondering if anything had changed at all. If maybe Tetherington had been stuck in some sort of time loop going back and forth through the days but not really moving at all .

It wouldn’t surprise her. Nor, she thought, would it concern her. She was here to pack up the house, get it sold on, and then move on with her life. It wasn’t like she was staying.

“Your change,” Rosalee said, but she didn’t hold out the handful of coins.

“What?” asked Cal.

“Mind yourself,” Rosalee said.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Rosalee leaned in, her voice almost a hiss. “It’s supposed to mean that we’ve all got your number, Callan Roberts. You watch yourself and behave properly. You’re no child anymore, you start your old tricks again and there’ll be consequences this time.”

The words stung as hard as they would have done fifteen years ago. Which surprised Cal on the whole, because she rather thought that she’d become stronger, thicker skinned over the years. She’d actually thought that she didn’t really care what people thought of her anymore.

“I’m just here to take care of the house,” she said, not letting the feelings show in her voice. “That’s all, Rosalee. I’ll be leaving before you know it.”

“See that you do,” snapped Rosalee.

“What’s all this then? Trying to talk us out of customers?” said a cheery voice. A tall, pot-bellied man rounded the bar. “Jim, publican,” he said, holding his hand out to Cal.

“Cal, not publican,” Cal said, shaking his hand.

“Not telling guests to leave, are you, Ros?”

Cal almost let things play out, but then she figured she was in enough bad books as it was. “No, she wasn’t,” she said. “Rosalee and I are old… acquaintances.” She’d almost said friends.

“Good to hear, good to hear,” boomed Jim. “Anything I can get for you?”

Cal shook her head. “I’ll just be going up to my room.”

“Well, do say if you need anything.”

She picked up her bag and started up the stairs. She hadn’t gone far when she heard Ros’s voice telling Jim that he had no idea who he’d been talking to and that if he hadn’t heard the gossip then he was in for a shock.

Of course, the pub had been run by an older couple back then, the Lorimers, probably long retired. So Jim was new in town.

“It can’t be that bad,” Jim was saying.

“You haven’t heard the whole story,” said Rosalee.

Cal took a breath then turned to continue up the stairs. She didn’t need to hear the whole story. She’d lived it. Not that she expected Rosalee’s version to be anywhere close to the truth, but still, she knew the bare bones of it and didn’t want to hear it again.

She’d never wanted to think of it again.

Yet here she was, back in town. She supposed she’d better get used to people talking behind her back, or even in front of her face. She was a big girl now. She could take it. But she was more resolved than ever to get out of town just as soon as she could.

There was only so long you could be hated for before it all started to sound true.