The Damaged Hearts Bargain (Tetherington Hearts #2)

Chapter Twenty Two

C al stopped at the cafe on her way back to the pub, hoping she might find Lucy there. But George was sweeping the floor all alone.

“Looking for Lucy?” he asked as she came in the door. “You’ve just missed her.”

“I thought I might catch her for lunch,” Cal said, feeling weird about being alone with George, unsure about what he knew, about what he thought about her.

George grinned. “She was here, but then she had to go home to pretty herself up and change her dress. I did ask her why she was changing just to go and pack dusty boxes, but she didn’t have an answer to that.”

Cal laughed. “Alright, alright. I’ll admit that I was on the way to the pub to change my shirt too, if that makes you feel any better?”

“It makes me far more suspicious,” George said, still smiling. “And how about a sandwich since you won’t be having lunch with your paramour?”

Cal looked over the sandwiches on display.

“I made them, so be careful what you say,” said George, standing the broom up and going behind the counter.

“I was only going to say that they look absolutely delicious,” said Cal, starting to like him more by the minute. “And I’ll take a ham and cheese.”

“Ah, one of my finest creations,” George said. He started pulling out a paper bag and getting tongs. “So, is this the part where I tell you that you’d better look after my friend or I’ll hunt you down in the night?”

Cal eyed him warily. “I don’t know, is it?” she asked, trying to sound neutral.

George winked at her. “Lucy’s a big girl and she’s a good judge of people. She had to be, living on the streets and all. If she thinks you’re alright, then you must be.”

There was a funny warm feeling in her stomach and Cal realized that she felt… good maybe? Something pleasant. Accepted. Or was it… was it safe? Lucy looked after her. The realization came in a rush.

From day one, Lucy had defended her, spoken up for her, had made her feel like she was important like she… wasn’t alone. It was an odd feeling. One that sat comfortably inside her, one she hadn’t felt for a long, long time.

Someone on her side. Someone who believed in her. Someone… someone who could be a partner. Cal swallowed. Who knew that it would make such a difference having someone believe in her?

“Cal? Cal?”

She shook her head and blinked, seeing George holding out a paper bag. “Yeah, sorry. How much do I owe you?”

“Three pounds even,” George said. “Um, none of my business, but are you alright? You look like you might have had a bit of a shock or something. Do you need to sit down? Oh, are you diabetic or something? Here, come on, have a seat.”

“No, no,” Cal said. “No, I’m fine.” She smiled, the smile feeling natural. “Actually, I’m really quite great now that I come to think of it.”

George stared at her then shrugged. “Well, alright, if you say so.”

“I’m, uh, going to eat this on the run, need to go and get my shirt changed,” she said, anxious suddenly to see Lucy, anxious to see if this comfortable feeling changed around her, if it went away, or if, just maybe, it expanded.

“Right,” said George. “Off you pop then. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

Cal smiled wider. “Right, yeah, probably. And if you see…” She was about to say Lucy, but then she laughed. “If you see my paramour, tell her I’ll be back at the house in half an hour.”

“Will do,” George said with a mock salute.

SHE PRACTICALLY RAN into the pub, half-eaten sandwich in hand, dodging around the corner, eager to make her way up to her room and change.

“You’re in a hurry,” Rosalee said from behind the bar.

Cal slowed her step. She had a feeling that Rosalee was thawing to her, and if she was, she didn’t want to do anything to freeze her again. Not that she was planning on sticking around, but it never hurt to be hated by one less person in the world.

“Just, um, came to get changed.”

Rosalee smirked. “Nothing to do with impressing a certain woman?”

“No, I just…” Cal looked down at her shirt which was clean but wrinkled after a morning of sorting through kitchen equipment. “I just needed a new shirt,” she said lamely.

“If you’d been here a couple of hours ago you could have had a bit of help changing that shirt,” said Rosalee, leaning back against the bar and folding her arms.

“Help?” Cal asked, confused.

Rosalee laughed. “I just mean that Lucy was in here earlier, that’s all.”

“Huh? Weird. She knew I was at the house.”

“Did I say she came in here looking for you?” said Rosalee, raising an eyebrow. “Though she was in here giving me the third degree about you.”

“The third degree about me? Why? What about me?” Cal could feel her mouth getting drier and she wasn’t sure why. The comfortable feeling in her stomach had gone.

“Why do you think?” Rosalee said. She rolled her eyes. “You’re known for exactly one thing around here, Cal. Did you think she wouldn’t find out about it? Wouldn’t be curious about it?”

“She’s… she’s asking questions about…” Cal gulped and couldn’t bring herself to say it.

Rosalee shrugged. “Wouldn’t you?”

So much for being believed. So much for being defended. Cal felt sick, so sick to her stomach that for an instant she thought she might throw up right there. She gritted her teeth. Maybe she’d been wrong about Rosalee thawing to her. “What did you tell her?”

Another shrug. “Nothing that wasn’t true.”

And maybe she’d been wrong about Lucy too.

Cold sweat was sticking her shirt to her back.

For what felt like a long time she couldn’t move, couldn’t force herself to live with a new reality, one in which Lucy didn’t believe her. One in which Lucy was asking questions, coming to her own conclusions.

“Cal? You alright?” Rosalee asked, leaning forward with a look of concern on her face.

Cal sucked in a breath. “Fine,” she managed. “Just fine.”

Legs wobbly she turned around.

“I thought you were going to change your shirt?” Rosalee said.

Cal didn’t bother to reply, walking out of the pub and away from Rosalee as fast as she could without running. She was halfway down the street before she realized that she was still holding half a sandwich. She tossed it into the nearest rubbish bin and blinked away something that might have been a tear.

Why was it, she thought, that no one, no one thought that she needed protecting? Looking after? Was it because of how she looked? Was it some weird masculine energy that meant other women thought she didn’t need to be cared for? To be taken into account?

Either way, one thing was clear to her. She could depend on no one other than herself. She should have known better, should have known that she shouldn’t let someone get so close, so quickly.

Which was all very well, but when she turned the corner of her street she saw a figure waiting on the doorstep of the house and her heart involuntarily started to beat harder.

Lucy.

Lucy standing in the sunlight, her skin gleaming and her hair blowing in the breeze, her thin cotton dress pressed against her body in a way that made Cal’s insides clench with longing. Until she remembered.

“What are you doing here?” she said, striding up to the door.

Lucy frowned. “I thought… Didn’t we say that I’d come over and help this afternoon?”

Cal wanted to yell, wanted to shout and scream and cry and tell Lucy how unfair it was that she couldn’t be trusted, that she couldn’t be loved and protected the way she deserved, the way everyone deserved.

But she just couldn’t do it.

“I think you’ve done enough,” was all she said. “And I’ve been to your wedding, so we’re even now. No need for anything else.” She brushed past Lucy to put her key in the door.

“Oh,” Lucy said. “Oh, um, okay, I suppose. I…” She paused. “I just thought.” There was a shaky deep breath. “I don’t know what I thought. Just…”

“Just nothing,” Cal said. She cleared her throat. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got things to do.”

“Right,” Lucy said taking a step away from the house.

Cal couldn’t quite let it happen that way. “I hope you got the information you needed from Rosalee,” she said.

“What?” Lucy asked turning back.

“You heard me. I hope you got answers to your questions.”

Lucy blanched like the words had physically hit her. “Is that what this is about?” she said. Now she stepped forward again, came closer until Cal could smell her perfume. “Cal, is that why you’re angry with me? For asking questions? ”

Cal blinked, the light strong and bright and hurting her eyes. “No,” she said. “I’m not upset about questions.”

“Then what is it?” asked Lucy, holding out her hands in a way that made Cal think she was going to touch her.

She blinked again and turned the key in the door. “Couldn’t you just have believed in me?” she said before pushing through the door and slamming it shut behind her.

The house was empty and echoing and silent until a hiccuping sob erupted from her throat.