Broken Hart (A Cross Creek Small Town Novel #1) - Kelly Collins Page 0,3
steer the conversation in a direction that wasn’t Kandra. “It’s two years tomorrow.” I didn’t need to remind him, because he already knew.
He lifted his head. “You visit him?”
It was what I did. I sat down every year next to his granite headstone and talked to my dad.
“I should have known.” Ethan sounded disappointed. “You know, you can talk to us.”
We’d been over this before. “I know. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to suffer alone.” The raw note in his voice said he was grieving too. Because I was the oldest and had more years with dad, I think I took it the hardest.
This time of the year was difficult for all of us, and we dealt with it in our own private ways.
I withdrew, Ethan pretended nothing happened, Bayden grew sullen, and Quinn … well, I had no idea how he handled things because nothing ever seemed to faze him. Though I knew it had devastated him, he seemed to have bounced back rather nicely.
“Thanks.” I didn’t know what else to say.
He seemed to sober up as he watched Bayden talk to Angie. “Two years,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to me.
Time marched on as if our entire world hadn’t been shaken to the core by the loss. Only two people had ever broken me; one couldn’t help it, and the other was pulling beers at the taps. Seeing Kandra was an aftershock I didn’t need today.
Chapter Two
Kandra
There’s a saying that a person should never cross the same bridge twice, but what if the only open bridge leads to Cross Creek and the only job I can find lands me in Roy’s?
Stinging bile backed up in my throat, singeing my tonsils, and my chest burned like I’d taken a shot of molten lava. Leaning a hip against the bar, I sucked in a deep breath as the wave of nausea eased and then reared back up with a vengeance. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as a case of nerves hit me hard.
I’d already broken one glass, but thankfully Roy was a kind man who encouragingly told me to try again.
I was determined to make the best of my new start in my old hometown.
“Table three needs a beer and a white wine.” Roy hurried off, and I turned to stare at the liquor wall. I glanced over my shoulder at table three and instantly recognized Norman and Ethel. A smile crossed my lips. Knowing the old couple since birth, I guessed Ethel would want something fresh and fruity, while Norman probably wanted something bitter to match his disposition. He was always a prickly one. Quickly filling the glasses and moving carefully so I didn’t break something else, I carried them to the table.
Ethel’s sparkling eyes lit up when she saw me. “Is that little Kandra Sullivan?”
I smiled and placed their drinks in front of them. “Not so little anymore.”
Norman snorted. “The girl’s all grown up, Ethel.”
“She’s still a baby to me.” Ethel’s kind tone and warm smile made me feel welcomed home. She stood up and tugged me to her ample bosom for a warm hug. “How is your mother?”
“She’s good.” It was merely a conversation starter since Ethel had seen more of my mother in the last decade than I had. Ten years … had it really been that long?
“Better now that her baby is home, I’m sure.” Ethel gave me another squeeze, then sat back down. “Sit with us.” She patted the worn seat beside her, but I shook my head. Scanning for Roy, I spotted him wink and then smile at me.
“I’m supposed to be working.” I laid my index finger over my lips and made a shh sound. “Don’t tell my boss I’m over here talking to the cutest couple in the place.”
“Oh, you’re so sweet!” Ethel laughed as Norman guzzled his beer.
“You know, in my day, we’d drink these in the boat while fishing in Aspen Cove.” His gaze misted over.
Ethel touched his hand. “You can go fishing if you want, dear.” Her sweet voice moved through me like warm syrup.
He eyed her with a confused look on his face. “Why the hell would I want to do that? It’s cold out there on the water, and the damn fish don’t bite no more. I went for the beer, anyway.”
I giggled because I hadn’t realized how much I missed the people in this town, even the crotchety ones. Time had a way of softening the hard edges of life.