Page 55 of New Hope, Old Grudges

She was planning a visit to New Hope in the new year. She’d spoken to me about scouting apartments too.

Everything moved at hyper speed, and I had a whole lot to talk to Brody about. On Christmas Eve of all days. The busiest day at my mother’s store, in our household, and I was guessing for the sheriff of New Hope. I probably should’ve waited until after Christmas, at least. But I didn’t do secrets.

Hence our coffee date. Though all of the news seemed a little heavy to share over java with tourists crowding us.

I hadn’t been taking notice of the throngs, a mix of locals in their sensible winter gear and skiers and tourists in expensive, impractical clothes.

But one stood out among the rest. Because he came forward and grabbed my arm to pull me out of my seat and then his manicured hands settled on my hips. He was wearing a branded puffer vest with a cashmere sweater underneath. Slacks and loafers, of all things. In the middle of winter. In Colorado.

“Geoff?” I squinted to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. But sure enough, here was Geoff, hair coiffed, tan fake, teeth faker here in the flesh. I looked to the entrance. Brody would be here any minute. He was never late. Turned up where and when he said he would. Geoff was late to every date and event we ever had.

“Wills,” he drawled, touching my hips. “I’m so glad I found you.”

I frowned at his touch, at his expensive aftershave, which he wore way too much of. “I wasn’t lost,” I snapped, not pulling myself out of his grip because I was still too shocked to see him standing here. “You were, though. Along with all of my money, my business, my reputation.”

There it was. My anger. Slow to build but building it was.

I’d buried it away, this fury. I’d disguised it as shame, I’d transformed it into self-hatred and blame. Blame for myself. As if loving and trusting someone were something to be ashamed of.

“How did you find me?” I demanded, considering throwing the hot coffee in his face. How tempting it was.

“Your brand’s social media. It tagged the location, and I remember you saying you were from a small town in Colorado, so I figured this was it. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Hefiguredthis was the town I was from. He couldn’t even remember my hometown. I’d told him about it numerous times.

“Willow, you need to help me,” he pleaded, his hold on my hips firmer.

I shook my head. “What I need to do is inform the government of your whereabouts so they can arrest you.” I tried to step out of his grip, but he held fast.

I frowned. “Let me go, you’re hurting me.”

His eyes, I now noticed, were bloodshot and manic. “No, Willow, I need you—"

“You need to get your fucking hands off her right fucking now.”

The voice boomed through the crowded coffee shop, and it felt like all the patrons looked in the direction of its owner.

Brody.

Of course.

Right on time.

His gaze was murderous, zeroed in on Geoff’s hands on my hips.

Geoff, obviously still having some survival instinct left, immediately let me go. His eyes darted around the café, as if he were looking for an escape, but Brody was between him and the exit, and the line out the door made it impossible for him to push through.

Brody stepped forward. Though I knew it was physically impossible, it seemed like the room shook with the weight of his steps. His fury.

Geoff shrank back, making as if he were going to hide behind me, use me as a shield.

That figured.

Brody grabbed him by the scruff of his fancy vest, yanking him up to the toes of his loafers like he weighed nothing.

The size difference between them was immense. Geoff was slight, trim and manicured. Brody was towering, grizzly and muscled.

“I’m guessing you’re the piece of shit who ruined my woman’s life,” Brody gritted out, shaking Geoff roughly. “I’ve been imagining what I’d do to you if I got my hands on you.”

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