18
Cayla was sobbing so hard, it was a miracle she made it up the mountain. When she saw the outside lights weren’t on, she almost collapsed into a puddle of defeated misery. But it looked like there were lights inside, so she stumbled out of her car and to the front door. Misty had to be home. If she wasn’t… well, Cayla hadn’t thought that far ahead.
The light on the front porch came on and the door swung open. Denver Hershel, Misty’s fiancé, took one look at the tears streaming down Cayla’s face and lost at least two shades of color from his own. With clear I-don’t-know-what-to-do-with-female-tears panic in his eyes, he shouted, “Misty!”
A few moments later, Misty’s head appeared past Denver’s shoulder. “Oh dear God.” She hurried outside, wrapping her arms around Cayla in a tight hug.
At the kind touch, Cayla lost hold of whatever scraps of control she’d had and the sobbing cranked up again, uncontrollable. Misty just held on, not offering reassurances or platitudes. Eventually, she steered Cayla into the house, nudging her toward the living room and down onto the sofa without letting go.
“Do you want some tea? Something stronger?”
Because she couldn’t speak, Cayla just shook her head. When a bottle of water appeared in her line of vision a minute later, she glanced up at a grim-faced Denver. Taking the bottle, she sniffled, “Thanks.”
With shaking hands, she opened the water and drank, the cold liquid soothing her burning throat.
“What happened? Is it Arthur?”
“Yes. No. I… don’t know.” Her thoughts were too scattered, her mind shying away from the truth of what she’d heard. She drank more water and tried to pull herself together enough to explain herself.
“Arthur is suing for full custody of Maddie.”
“Oh, shit. That’s what you were afraid of, right?”
“As it turns out, that’s the least of it. Things have gotten… bad.” She laid it out as best she could. “On the way home,I tried to apologize and talk to Holt about the fight, but he wouldn’t even look at me. He dropped me off at the house and said he’d be working late. I stewed about it for a while and eventually called my mom to come stay with Maddie so I could go up and talk to him. I wanted to clear the air because I can’t stand where we are right now.”
Her throat threatened to close up again as fresh tears welled. “And when I got there, Arthur was there, and Holt was making a deal with him to divorce me for money.”
Misty’s jaw dropped. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You heard me.”
“That can’t possibly be right. I know your marriage started under unconventional circumstances, but I just can’t fathom him doing something like that.”
“Neither could I.” Not in her wildest nightmares. “But I heard it with my own two ears. I walked in on this conversation, and Holt turned around and looked at me, and he didn’t say a word.” Not one word. Not one blink or change in expression to indicate regret or guilt or secret assurances that it wasn’t really what it looked like.
“Okay, that’s bad,” Misty conceded. “But it doesn’t make any sense. Why would Holt do that?”
It didn’t make sense. It didn’t at all match up with the man she thought she knew. But she didn’t know how else to explain what she’d seen and heard. “I mean, Arthur’s done everything he can to ruin us. To ruin all three of them. He wants to save his business, I guess. I wondered what it was going to take for him to regret marrying me. Where his line would be. I guess now I know.” And she’d probably been the one to push him over it when she’d lost faith in him. In them.
Misty took her hand and squeezed in sympathy.
Someone pounded on the front door.
“Holt.” It had to be. Who else would be knocking hard enough to sound like the big bad wolf?
Denver rose to his full height, crossing big, tattooed arms. “Do you want me to get rid of him?”
He was a sizable guy. Nearly Holt’s height and close to his weight. But Holt had considerably more training and Cayla had no idea what his mental state was. Before she could answer, Misty spoke up. “He tracked you down for a reason. Maybe give him a chance to offer some kind of explanation? Then, if you want us to throw him out, we can throw him out.”
Desperate for any scrap of possibility that this was all some horrific mistake, Cayla nodded. “Okay.”
Denver answered the door.
“Where is she?” There wasn’t a trace of calm in Holt’s tone.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but you’ll hold your shit together or you won’t be coming into my house,” Denver informed him.
“Fine. Let me see her. Please.” This last was gritted out.
Denver stepped back. As soon as he was through the door, Holt made a beeline for the living room. This wasn’t the cold, distant soldier she’d seen for the past couple of days. Wasn’t the expressionless pod person who’d stood in the bakery kitchen and looked through her. Outright panic was written across his features. It was so unexpected, so unlike him, Cayla almost asked him what was wrong.
At the sight of her, he loosed a ragged breath, visibly relaxing. “Thank God, you’re okay.”
The absurdity of the statement cut through the devastation and had her sputtering in disbelief. “Okay? Really?”
He held up his hands, palms out. “Not what I meant. I just—Look, I know what you walked in on looked bad. But it wasn’t what you think.”
It was exactly what she’d wanted him to say. Combined with the uncharacteristic show of vulnerability, a fragile ember of hope began to glow. She’d been wrong before. She’d misjudged situations with him before. Maybe, somehow, some way, there was a viable reason for his actions. Cayla wanted to believe there was because she wasn’t ready for their marriage to be over.
Misty rose. “We’re just gonna give you two some privacy.” Grabbing Denver by the arm, she towed him from the room.
Not wanting to face whatever was coming sitting down, Cayla shoved up from the sofa. “And what is it you think I think?”
“That I betrayed you. That I meant anything I said to him.” Holt took a step closer. “I didn’t. The whole thing was a sting operation.”
Whatever she’d expected him to say, it hadn’t been that. “It was what?”