Bent Not Broken (A Cedar Creek #1) (5 page)

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. Light 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.

You are what you make yourself to be
.

I had a decision to make. Keep living this half-life, content, but lonely, keep everything locked up inside, knowing that eventually it might win the fight and eat me alive, but hoping it wouldn’t. Or, open up and talk to Macy about my past, be honest and let her help me deal with it as much as I am capable of and hope that that would free some of the old me.

I had a decision to make. So I made it.

No matter how much it scared me, I was going to tell Macy everything. Then I was going to explain to her about Cal and why I couldn’t go there with him. That was a step I wasn’t ready for, wasn’t sure I would ever be ready for. I would open up to my best friend, but opening up to a man, to Cal, was a completely different story. It wouldn’t be easy and it scared the shit out of me, but making that decision funnily enough also gave me some sense of relief.

I would also take Betty’s advice and try to turn on the light. Consciously leaving my armor at home made me nervous, but according to her I wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding behind my mask anyway.

I would try my best.

I had to come out of hiding and finally be myself again as much as I was capable of.

Pearl Jam had stopped playing a while ago. The water had run cold and I was a prune. Time to get out of the bathtub. One last beer on my front porch that overlooked the town and I would go to bed.

Good plan.

Great night.

Got my head together. Now it was time to let go and think about nothing, while watching the lights of Cedar Creek sparkle in the night, and find some peace.

Little did I know that when I got out to my porch to do exactly that, a few hundred meters away someone was watching me doing exactly that, quietly contemplating what to do about me.

Cal

Cal was watching Ivey sitting on her front porch staring out at the town, sipping her beer. She shouldn’t be sitting outside in the dark all the way up here by herself. She didn’t even have a dog that would warn her if danger was close. Wasn’t she scared? She definitely needed someone to take care of her.

Someone good.

Someone strong.

Someone loyal.

Someone without baggage.

He had thought that was not him. But after laying out Ivey, Betty had continued with him.

He had seen her around town.

Oh, had he ever.

He had heard the men talk about her. At the bar, in the locker room of his local gym.
Greatest ass in town
,
sweetest woman they had ever met, and those legs…

He had heard it all. And he agreed with all of it.

But every man in town got shot down. Everyone knew that she didn’t shit where she slept. Smart move. He lived by the same principle. Shocking that their paths had never crossed outside of town.

Cal had tried to avoid her when she moved to town nine years ago, to ignore her, to ignore her pull.

But he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Not after she had touched his chest when she ran into him at her bookstore and he had felt like he had been shocked.

Not after she had stared up at him, mouth hanging open, eyes wide, looking adorable.

Not after he had seen how she was with Tommy.

Not after he had looked into her crying eyes, wide with wonder, after Betty had laid it out for her, stirring feelings of possession and protectiveness in him.

And definitely not after she had shown him she could serve attitude. The sassy kind, the good kind, the kind that makes a man’s dick go hard instantly.

No, he couldn’t resist her pull any longer.

Which meant that he was done.

Done with other women.

Done with settling for less when he knew what he wanted and who he wanted it with.

Done with trying to avoid her.

It also meant that she was done, although she didn’t know it yet.

Done with her male acquaintances one or two towns over.

Done with trying to cover up her reactions to him.

Done with hiding.

He was going to make her feel safe enough to let out her true self. Tommy would help him. He was a good kid and he had a good read on people. He liked Ivey a lot and had told his dad he should ask her out on a date. So Tommy would be more than happy to help his old man.

Cal was going to be the man Betty said he was. The kind of man who Ivey needed beside her. And Ivey was definitely the woman he wanted beside him. And not just for a fling. He wanted her. He had wanted her since he had first laid eyes on her nine years ago.

Now he was going to claim her.

He knew he had to go slow, but couldn’t give her a chance to run either. She was jumpy as hell and would shut him down faster than he could blink if he let her. So he had to do this smart and play the intense attraction he knew she had towards him, but also knew she didn’t know what to do about, to his advantage.

Surprise her. Keep her on her toes and then strike.

Starting tomorrow.

Chapter Four

Pain

Ivey

Pain comes in so many different ways, can mean so many different things.

When you’re six years old and realize that your father prefers watching football over coming to your school science fair.

When you’re seven years old and you see your father hit your mother across the face so hard she falls to the floor.

When you’re eight years old and he does the same to you.

When you’re ten years old and you hear your father raping your mother after a violent fight. When after, you hear your mother crying in the bathroom, threatening to kill herself and your father doing nothing about it. When you go to comfort her the next day, to do something, anything to make her feel better, and she doesn’t respond, just looks at you with dead eyes without really seeing you. When you realize she is too far gone, that her pain is so all consuming and absolute that she has checked out, and it scared the shit out of you.

When you find out your high school boyfriend has been cheating on you and really only ever asked you out as part of a bet and the whole school is laughing in your face about your stupidity.

When you get a phone call in the middle of the night letting you know that the only person that has ever loved you is dead.

When you’re lying on your kitchen floor with blood between your legs knowing the life you created is bleeding out of you.

All these things describe pain.

Pain so deep it eats away at you.

Until there is nothing left.

Chapter Five

The Truth

Ivey

The next morning I felt a big blob of anticipation and dread in my stomach, knowing I had made up my mind last night and now I had to follow through with it.

Macy came into the store every Saturday—and days between but always on Saturday. If I was busy, she helped me out in the store stocking or shelving books, working the cash register, whatever I needed done. If I wasn’t busy, she kept me company and we had a nice chat and a coffee that she usually got for us before coming in.

Today she was coming in early to help me open. She was getting bigger and bigger and we didn’t know how much longer she would be able to help me out, so she said she wanted to come in earlier than usual to make the most of it.

I had unlocked the front door and had switched on all the lights when she came in with coffee for the both of us.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she sang when she saw me.

“Hey, Mace,” I returned and tried to smile a genuine smile. I must have not succeeded in doing that, because Macy’s smile dropped and she walked over to me, eyes concerned and assessing.

“What’s wrong?” she inquired when she got close.

“Nothing’s wrong. Well, I don’t think it is. But something is going on and I need to talk to someone about it. You are the only person I really trust, so I would like that to be you.” My voice was low and a little hesitant. I was wringing my hands and couldn’t quite make eye contact with her. Putting myself out there was new for me.

I shouldn’t have been nervous.

Macy read my body language, then wrapped me in her arms and gave me a hug. My arms went around her, and I took a deep breath to steady my nerves.

“Of course you can talk to me. Anything you need,” she assured me quietly.

“Thanks, Mace,” I whispered in her ear.

I took another deep breath to prepare myself, then let go of her and looked into her eyes. Then I gave it to her.

“I need to tell someone, Mace. It’s eating me up. I don’t know how much longer I can hold it together,” I got out in a raspy whisper. Macy took my hand and squeezed it gently, giving me courage.

“Ivey…” she whispered back. Her eyes had gone misty. I could tell she knew that it was hard for me to share and she felt for me. I powered on. “My story isn’t pretty. It’s dark and painful. I realized last night that I have to start letting it go, before it eats me alive. Can you help with that?” God, this opening-up business was hard.

“Yes, of course, Ivey. I’ll do whatever you need me to do,” she whispered on another squeeze.

“Okay,” my eyes had gone misty as well, and I wiped the tears away before they could fall. I took another deep breath and let it out slowly. It was all or nothing. “Can I come over for dinner tonight, and we’ll talk when the kids are in bed?” I asked her, my voice becoming more steady.

“Of course. I’ll make your favourite and stop to get some liquid courage before I go home. Larry can go and watch a game in the basement after he put the kids to bed, and then we can talk.”