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“Seems a bit crazy to go out in the dark like this,” I say, just to break the silence.
“Nah. I know this lake like the back of my hand. Probably even better.” He unties the leash from his ankle, stands and tugs the paddleboard along the water to the end of the deck, then jumps to the ground between our houses and pulls it to shore. “You’re welcome to use any of this if you want to go out,” he says as he stacks it with the other canoes. “Enjoy it while the weather lasts.”
“I bet you keep going until the lake is frozen over.”
He laughs. “Nothing clears my head like being on the water.” He comes over to me again and in the faint moonlight drops of sweat run down his temple. “Healthy dinner, I see.” He eyes my now-empty chip bag.
As if he would or should care. “Rough day at the office.”
“Uh-huh. Listen—” He rakes his hands through his sweaty hair and then indicates his outfit. “Can you give me ten? This isn’t exactly comfortable once I’m off the water.”
I rake his body down with my gaze. I’d love to see what he looks like without that wetsuit, and I doubt he’s wearing much else underneath all that neoprene. “I’ve got time.”
Hunter strides off, tall and sure, and I watch as he disappears into his house through those impressive glass doors. Only now do I make the connection with the wealth that must be involved with owning a house like that and Hunter. I get up and go into my own humble cottage and find an extra wineglass and another bag of chips. In for a penny, in for a pound, my mom used to say.
With a house like that, he can buy the freaking farm if he wants it so much.
Sure as hellfire he’s back in ten minutes, showered and smelling so delicious as he pulls another deck chair up close next to mine.
He slips a blanket onto my lap. “Just in case.”
Always so freaking thoughtful. “Thanks.” I spread the blanket over my legs, and it immediately captures my body heat. I watch as he settles next to me, then hold out his glass of red. “Here.”
“Thank you.” He in turn holds out his healthy snack to me. Hummus and some cut-up raw veggies, clearly pre-prepared and on hand to squash any unhealthy craving. Ugh.
“I’ll pass.” Or maybe not. I take a carrot stick and dip it into the hummus.
He smiles, his face soft and close in the moonlight. “About this afternoon—”
“And trying to guilt me into not selling the farm? It worked if you were wondering.” I see no reason why we need to skirt the issue here as I crunch into the carrot.
“Nobody is trying to guilt you into anything, Beth. Everything came out wrong. I mean, lasagna?”
I harrumph but it holds more smile than anything else. “That was mean. To remind me of ground meat.”
“I’m sorry. We didn’t know you were going to be there. Uncle Bill couldn’t stop talking about your arrival all the way back to Brodie Farm. I can tell you that by now the whole of Ashleigh Lake knows you’re here, so don’t try and stake it out alone here, hiding.”
Hiding? “I’m not hiding.” But I was planning to. “Coming here was a mistake.”
“Don’t say that. I, for one, am glad you’re here. I’m sure other friends would love to reconnect with you. Few people have left Ashleigh Lake.”
Because none of them were forced to do so like me. Under a swarm of scandal, still stinging after all these years. Why is it that Lady Collingwood’s venom still burns, poisoning my veins? That day we were tossed out, Lady Collingwood literally threw our stuff out of the cottage’s front door. Your mom is nothing but a whore. Her words still ring in my ears. But she had more, aimed at me.
And you, with Hunter Logan, common slut that you are just like your mom, reveling in your whorish ways. The whole town talks about how you whore around. You’ll never be good enough for him. Never. White trash hussy!
Kyle stood by and watched the whole thing unfold with wide eyes, blazing red cheeks and hands fisted, but frozen in shock just like me. Helpless.
A pick-up pulled up. Lady Collingwood had orchestrated the whole thing. Our simple belongings were loaded, and we were on our way before I could even register what it meant. Every time I glanced to the back seat, Kyle sat there, stoically quiet but tears stained his cheeks. He understood what had happened way before I did. It was summer vacation and it only hit me hours into our road trip west to ask Mom what the hell was going on.
We had a falling out. We can’t go back.
That’s all I ever got out of her, and now, with Mom and her secrets long gone, I can’t even ask her if she loved him, old Collingwood—my dad. Who knew what happened in that love triangle, but at least Old Collingwood had so much remorse that he left Mom the farm. Indirectly he’d left it to us—his children he’d never acknowledged as his own or showed any love beyond allowing us to live in a run-down cottage on his farm.
“Beth?” Hunter’s voice pulls me back to the present and I close my eyes.
Never good enough. Never worthy. That’s been proven three times over. A memory that had haunted me for years became clear once Mom had passed. The memory of a man walking out on us when I was just three years old. I stood screaming at the door, devastated that he was leaving—again. That was my earliest and only memory of my dad. I never linked the dots to the father who’d abandoned us to the farmer who owned our cottage outside of Ashleigh Lake. And then I hadn’t been good enough for Hunter to come to me all those years ago. I thought I could overcome my past by getting married to Brad, but I just dumbly tried to prove that I was good enough for somebody. Anybody.
My throat swells. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” I whisper, my voice breaking. This is the last thing I need. Drunken doldrums with Hunter of all people, here on Ashleigh Lake, where sixteen-year-old gossip can still be unearthed like new-season potatoes and boiled and rehashed afresh. I bet everything from that day—everything about us—is already doing the rounds.
