The Damaged Hearts Bargain (Tetherington Hearts #2)

Chapter Fourteen

W ell, shit. Cal rubbed her face with her hands and looked at the open wardrobe. “Screwed that up, didn’t I?” she said to no one in particular.

She could see her mum’s face now, the calm blue eyes, the kind smile, could hear what she’d say. “If it wasn’t meant to be, it wasn’t meant to be,” she’d say. “And if it was, well, then it’ll all come right in the end.”

She rubbed her face again. Lucy had been right, crying had been cathartic. Opening the wardrobe door and smelling that scent, the smell of home, of mum, of safety for so long. It had overcome her and then without even trying, the tears had just come.

Not that she was forgiving anything. No, the tears were for the before-times. The times when things had been if not perfect at least happy.

Her mum would have liked Lucy. Her mum liked anyone who stood up for the underdog, anyone with a voice that needed to be heard. She’d have welcomed her, plied her with biscuits. The fact that Lucy was a woman would have made no difference to her mum at all. It never had.

Cal had never come out. She’d never had to. She’d never been in anything to come out of. The way she was was just… the way she was. And her mother had never asked for anything different, never commented on her dating choices or her crushes, had ob ediently purchased Disney princess sticker books because of Cal’s latest crush on whichever princess it was.

Cal snorted. Her mother had been a wing-man, even when she was little. There were worse ways of growing up. Infinitely worse ways.

She blew out a breath, fully aware of the fact that she was trying very hard to forget about what had just happened. Which was hard because the kiss had been… lovely. All sparkly and bright, all breathy and brushing, the right pressure, the right movements, just a beautiful diamond of a kiss.

Of course, the fact that it was with Lucy was sort of a problem. The fact that Lucy had now fled was more of a problem. Cal didn’t hurt people, that wasn’t her way. And Lucy was hurting now because Cal had reacted badly.

She sighed, got up and closed the wardrobe. “Bye,” she said, then she snorted a laugh. “Talking to you like you’re inside a damn wardrobe, what am I like?”

She picked up the two abandoned cups of tea and took them back downstairs, taking the time to rinse them out and leave them on the draining board before locking the house up and setting off down the pavement.

If she walked long enough she’d find Lucy, she was sure of it. In fact, she was already pretty certain of where she’d find her. The same place she’d go in Lucy’s situation. What she wasn’t sure of was what exactly she was going to say when she found her.

She strolled down the street and then turned onto the promenade, the wind stirring her hair as the sun beat down on her skin. It was another hot day and the sea was calm, blue and white, licking at the shore.

Sure enough, she soon spotted a figure on the sand, dark hair blowing in the breeze, shoes dangling from one hand.

The beach called to people. Or maybe the sea did, Cal wasn’t sure. But there was something about it that lured you in when you were feeling sad or confused. She’d spent many an evening sitting in the sand .

She leaned on the balustrade and took a deep breath of salty air.

Why couldn’t she kiss sweet Lucy?

Lucy was a part of town, that much was obvious. She had been rescued here, loved it here, had friends here. She was also very much looking for something serious and Cal very much was not. There was something else though, some niggling feeling that left Cal guilty and sweaty at the thought.

The thought that at some point, someone would tell Lucy what had happened. And then Lucy would feel betrayed and used and Cal just couldn’t have that.

So there really was only one solution, wasn’t there?

If Lucy was going to find out the truth at some point, it might as well be now. And it might as well come from Cal herself.

Cal straightened up, kicked off her sneakers and tied the laces together, draping them around her neck as she rolled up the cuffs of her jeans and then walked down the stairs to the sand.

“Funny, isn’t it?” she said, when she reached Lucy.

“What?”

“The way the sea always looks different and yet the same. It always worried me as a kid. We’d go somewhere and see the sea there and I was always worried that when I came back home there wouldn’t be any sea here, that it had all somehow gone away to a new place.”

Lucy smiled a little. “That’s sweet.”

“But it’s always right here where it’s always been. Right here where I know every rock, every grain of sand. Or I did.” Cal breathed. “Not sure I do anymore. It’s been a long time.” She looked over at Lucy. “Sit with me?”

Lucy hesitated for a second then nodded and they both sat on the sand.

“I didn’t react well,” Cal said immediately. “And I’m sorry for that. I could have… been clearer maybe.”

“I don’t really understand,” Lucy said. “It was just a kiss and we’re obviously attracted to each other. Or I think we are. I mean, I am. ”

“I’m attracted,” Cal said carefully. Christ, it was now or never. “Listen, I need to tell you something.”

“Anything you like.”

The sea beat on against the sand, rushing and hissing in and out and Cal collected her thoughts before she began.

“I don’t know if it’s still a thing,” she said finally. “But when I was a kid, Tetherington had a women’s club. Mostly it was an excuse to go down the pub and gossip, I think. But they did good things too, volunteered, helped out around town, that sort of thing.”

“It still exists,” said Lucy. “But it’s not a women’s club anymore, more of an anyone club. George is in it, he always dresses up as Santa for Christmas. Even though Billy, his husband, tells him he looks more like an elf.”

“Well, Christmas is kind of important to this story,” Cal said. “The women’s club had a Christmas fund. It was like a way of saving. Every month the women could put in a bit of money and over the year it saved up into enough to buy Christmas presents. It stopped you frittering away your money on things you didn’t need. And, I suspect, in some cases stopped your husband taking the bit you’d saved to put on the horses or use in the pub.”

“Seems like a good idea, I suppose.”

“Maybe,” Cal said. “But a bank account would be safer. It was a holdover, from back in the times when women couldn’t have their own bank accounts. A tradition by the time I was a kid more than a necessity I think.”

She looked out again at the sea and couldn’t think of another way of putting it. So in the end she just said it.

“The town thinks I stole it. The Christmas fund, that is.”

“Oh.”

Cal looked across at Lucy who was watching her.

“What?” Lucy asked, eyes narrowing against the sun. “You told me you weren’t a thief when I asked you, so until I have evidence to the contrary, you’re not a thief.” She paused thoughtfully. “Why’d they think you stole it?”

“My mum was the treasurer of the women’s club,” Cal said .

“Which doesn’t explain much. Why did they think you stole it?” Lucy asked again.

Cal sighed and squeezed her eyes tight shut so maybe the words would seem less real and more like a dream. “Because Doris Renton caught me sneaking into the club rooms to put the money back.”

When she opened her eyes again, Lucy was, quite unbelievably, still there. “Huh. Seems quite damning,” she said.

“You’re telling me,” said Cal. “But I didn’t steal it.”

“You were putting it back but you didn’t steal it?” It didn’t sound like an accusation, not like all the other times Cal had heard the exact same sentence.

All the same, there were parts of this story that she wasn’t going to tell, parts too painful, too private, parts that didn’t affect the outcome in her opinion, but that she couldn’t say out loud. “I found it,” was all she said.

“Right,” said Lucy. “Seems to me like you were the hero in that story rather than the villain then.”

“Yeah, probably didn’t make things better by running away immediately after and never returning,” said Cal.

“Probably not.” Lucy shrugged. “You’re back now though.”

“Which is probably why I didn’t react well when you kissed me,” Cal said. “I’m back but not for long. I don’t plan on staying. And you, well, you’re looking for something more permanent than someone who’s going to love you and leave you.”

“Fair enough,” Lucy said.

Cal laughed. “What? That’s it?”

“Yes,” said Lucy. “You’ve said your piece, it makes sense, I’m not in the habit of making people do things that they don’t want to do or that will make them uncomfortable.”

“Right,” Cal said, not at all sure why this had all ended so… so well.

“Bit of a bastard though,” Lucy went on. “I quite like you.”

Cal smirked. “You’re not so bad yourself. Well, when you’re not attempting a citizen’s arrest on me.”

Lucy stood up and offered her hand. Cal took it and let herself be pulled to her feet, her head just reaching Lucy’s shoulder.

“We’ve got a choice,” Lucy said. “We can go back and finish packing your mum’s bedroom, or we can go for a pint. What’s it to be?”

Cal looked at her merry eyes, her sharp cheekbones, the small scar on her chin, the way her hair waved around her face, and suddenly knew that Lucy was someone very, very special. Disturbingly special. And someone not to be hurt under any circumstances.

“Why not both?” she said, far more calmly than she felt. “We’ll do some packing and then we’ll retire to the pub and I’ll buy you dinner.”

“You don’t owe me dinner,” said Lucy.

“You’re helping me out.”

“Ah yes, but you’re my wedding date, don’t forget.”