“You were seven, Travis,” she said gently.
“I didn’t want to share my dad. He was the only parent that felt stable, the one who didn’t confuse me. I didn’t want to be second best,” I murmured. Even before my mother had given me those words, I’d felt it. I’d known my father’s heart was split between the two of us. And why should it be? He was my dad. I’d only learned the truth later. “I was mean to Archer. I tripped him and he scraped his knee. My father knelt down and took my shoulders in his hands and gave me this hard, little shake.” I sat up and mimicked the action, replacing my hands on the blanket behind me. “He looked so damned disappointed. And he asked what’s wrong with you? I still find myself asking that question sometimes, only there’s no answer. Just that same feeling. The feeling of being a disappointment.”
The next day he’d left me without a goodbye. He’d left me and taken Archer with him, the son he really wanted. Left me behind. Forever.
“Oh, Travis,” she said softly, “he didn’t mean it. He said it in anger and frustration. Believe me, I get fed up with those wild children of mine a hundred times a day.” But the way she was looking at them run circles around their father, such open adoration in her eyes, told me everything I needed to know about what kind of mother she was.
“I know,” I said, because I did. On some level, I knew that. But I’d still acted on that feeling far too often over the years. Why? Had I let the lingering fear of not being good enough in the eyes of the one person who really mattered to me rule my behavior?
The couple Archer was talking to turned to each other momentarily and I watched as Archer glanced somewhat longingly to the place Bree and I were sitting. The place devoid of people, except those he felt comfortable with and perhaps that even meant me. The expression was fleeting, his smile returning as the couple’s attention focused back on him, but it suddenly hit me. Archer’s life wasn’t perfect. Sure he’d gained confidence and social skills over the eight years since he’d inherited the town. He had a family now, friends, a full life. But surely he also still carried the part of himself that had once lived as a complete loner, and perhaps he even missed some aspects of that life.
Weren’t all of us a compilation of the versions of ourselves we’d once been? Maybe if we were lucky—and insightful—we learned how to extract the good and leave the bad behind, the parts that hadn’t worked for us and instead brought nothing but pain.
Maybe.
And maybe the things Bree and Archer signed to each other in the quiet of night weren’t just words of love and tenderness but fears and insecurities and whatever their worries might be.
Bree and I were both silent for a few minutes as we thought our own thoughts, the whirring sound of the fan and the low din of the crowd beyond creating a peaceful white noise.
“What happened with Phoebe?” Bree asked finally. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
A small group of people moved from the place they’d been standing and I caught sight of Haven, her laugh ringing out as she listened to something Burt was saying. I felt a smile tilt my lips and a zip of electricity moved from my chest to my midsection and back again.
“She cheated on me. I walked in on it.”
Bree let out a small gasp. “Walked in on…you mean—”
“Oh yes. The thing you think I mean is exactly what I mean.”
She grimaced. “Oh my God. Travis.” She massaged her temple as though the image had literally brought her pain. My heart gave a small kick. I’d brought her pain once upon a time. Some would say that to witness mine might feel like poetic justice to Bree Hale. Some might be right. “I’m so sorry that happened to you,” she said.
I looked at her, noting the pure sincerity on her face. “I know you are.” Our eyes met and an understanding passed between us. “And I’m grateful.” I took a deep breath, looking away and ending the moment, my eyes finding Haven again. “But on the bright side, better to know now than at a point when breaking up involved lawyers and the division of assets.” Or in my case, property, as it was the only net worth of any real significance that I had.
“You don’t seem overly upset about it,” she noted. “Were you really considering marrying her?”
Her question caused me a moment of pause. Because honestly, I wasn’t that upset about it anymore. And it suddenly struck me that my distress had been more about my own pride than about the loss of Phoebe in my life. I’d wanted revenge because I’d felt humiliated and spurned. Second best. Again. And if I was really being honest with myself because, why not—an old dog could learn new tricks—there was this ray of relief that I hadn’t really looked at since that day. But that was a lot to convey and something I’d have to pick apart and think about later, and so I answered Bree simply with, “I don’t know.” I gave her a glance. “You didn’t like her.”
“No, no. I liked her fine.”
Fine. She’d liked her fine. A ringing endorsement from the woman I’d once heard describe Norm’s maple cayenne bacon as “that which has the power to cast out evil from all the world for all eternity.” My lips tipped in amusement.
“Of course, I can’t say I like her much now, considering what she did to you.”
“So you like her less than fine now.”
“Much less.”
I watched the crowd again as Haven laughed, a few escaped curls bouncing and catching the light, making her hair gleam mahogany.
“What about the girl you’re here with?” Bree asked. “Haven. She seems very sweet. The boys are in love.”
I looked away from Haven, back to Bree. “We’re just friends. I’m taking a hiatus from women right now.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Bree murmured. “Rebound relationships never work out.”
“Plus, she’s a vegetarian plant lady,” I hissed, low and ominously under my breath, glancing around covertly to make sure no one else had heard.
“I’m sorry, did I hear you right? She’s a communist spy?”
“Basically.”
Bree laughed.
“She’s only twenty-three.”
“That’s how old I was when I moved to Pelion,” she mused dreamily. And fell in love with Archer, and he with me went unspoken.
“Her brother’s the one who cheated with Phoebe.”
Bree’s head whipped my way. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Wow. That’s…complicated?”
“Revenge always is.” I shot her a cunning smile, more for effect than because I’d given much thought to my plans of vengeance.
“Revenge?” She lifted a brow. “Travis Hale, that sounds very melodramatic.”
I huffed out an amused chuckle. That’s the same word Haven had used. I supposed it did sort of conjure up visions of a sword-wielding Count of Monte Cristo descending in a hot-air balloon.
Still…the vision wasn’t completely unwelcome. “He humiliated me. Don’t you think I have the right to get even?”
Bree sighed. “Maybe with Phoebe.” But her tone conveyed she wasn’t even convinced of that. “But Haven’s brother didn’t make any promises to you; therefore, he didn’t break any promises to you. And in any case, all that revenge stuff? That sounds like the old Travis.”