fool, but I’ve been watching that man for two years now. He’s never publicly laid claim to anyone else since I’ve known him. He is head over heels, Jess.”
“Well”—Jess sighed as she watched the guys finish their dance and head laughing toward the bar—“that makes two of us.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Jess pursed her lips, taking a sip of champagne and trying not to think about the possibility of Cole leaving Whisper Creek. “I don’t know what it is right now.”
Kyla angled her body toward Jess. “I know we said we weren’t going to talk about this today, but how can we not, really? Those letters must be at the top of your mind right now, whether you want them to be or not.”
“Yeah.” Jess nodded, crossing her arms. “I wish they weren’t, but it’s kind of hard to let go of a threat like that.”
“I can’t believe your mother’s contesting the will. After all she did? She’s completely nuts.”
“No, nuts is one thing she’s not. Mean as a weasel, but she’s frighteningly sane about it.”
“Does she have any legal grounds at all, do you think? Could she really lay claim to your grandfather’s money?”
Jess shrugged. “People contest wills all the time, Kyla. I have no idea what makes a will stick or not. I have no idea whether Grampy set things up so that the money’s safely mine. No idea if he even knew how, you know?”
She took another drink. “But it’s really not about the money—not as much as it is about the rest of it. For thirteen years I got away. I worked my butt off to shake off that whole trailer park, that whole town, my pathetic excuse for a family…and in one fell swoop, I feel like I’m right back in Smugglers’ Gully.”
“You’re not.”
“I know. But in my head I am.” Jess bit her lip. “I don’t think I can explain it.”
Kyla sat back, her pose matching Jess’s. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. The thought of going back there makes me sick to my stomach, but I’m afraid I might have to.”
“You’re not going to pay them off, are you? Please tell me you’re not going to give those women your money.”
“It’s not that easy a decision. You have no idea what they could do.”
“Is Billy really that powerful? Really? After all this time?”
Jess shivered, her stomach doing mad leaps. “I don’t want to find out. I’m less afraid of them turning me in to the police than I am of them putting Billy on my trail.”
Kyla sipped her water. “Have you ever thought maybe it’d be different to see Smugglers’ Gully as an adult? Maybe less scary to go back now?”
“No. There’s just so much—hurt back there. I don’t know if I could go there and then get back out without drowning, you know?”
“You’re stronger than you think, Jess. Think about the strength it took to get out of there in the first place. Good God, you showed up at a shelter with nothing. Nothing.” Kyla’s eyes glistened. “Except scars. And look what you did with your life!”
Jess nodded. If only Kyla knew the whole story, she’d know exactly why Jess couldn’t go back. She’d know why walking into Breezy Meadow would put her right back in the hell she’d tried to leave behind. She’d know that if Billy found out she was around, he’d do his best to silence her, even thirteen years after that hellish last night.
Jess’s eyes sought out Cole over on the far end of the room, and as she watched him joking around with the other guys, watched him sling an arm over some cousin from Idaho, watched him laugh at something the bartender said, she just wanted to cross that floor, nestle against his chest, and disappear into him.
She wanted to laugh with him, dance with him, be part of this Whisper Creek family as more than a two-week visitor. She wanted to look around this room and know the people. She wanted to head into Ma’s kitchen and open the fridge as if she had a right to. She wanted to head to the stable, saddle up Sky Dancer, and ride off anytime she wanted to.
God.
She wanted this life. She wanted it so much that it actually hurt.
Kyla leaned into her. “Tell him, Jess. Just tell him. Tell him tonight so it doesn’t keep eating you from the inside out.”
“If I tell him, it’ll change everything. It will. It can’t not.