Page 47 of All Because of You

“Argh!” He smacked the dashboard. The pulse of resulting pain radiated through his palm and up his arm. Evan pulled onto a shoulder of the road and leaned his head against his window. His vehicle was perched on a precipice looking out over the sea. Above him, the moon peeked from behind a handful of clouds, shining its light here and there, unpredictable.

Where was Evan going? He was on the road, aimless. Lost.

But Madison, she’d been the one to help him find his way, to remind him that he didn’t have to be anyone but Evan Walsh to garner her affection. He had to get back to her. Had to do whatever it took to show her how much he cared about her, how much he needed her.

How much he’d always needed her, even back in high school when he’d written her those stupid letters.

He whipped his truck around and drove as quickly as he dared, not stopping until he got to her house. After knocking for what seemed like ages, he headed for the store. Again, no one answered his persistent knocks. Evan lifted his phone to his ear and called her phone, but it went straight to voicemail.

Maybe Ashley knew where she was. He dialed, jumping into the conversation before Ashley could finish her greeting. “Hey, is Madison with you?”

A pause. “Evan?”

“Yeah. Is Madison there? I really need to talk to her.”

“No.” Another hesitation. “She’s gone, Evan. She went back to Los Angeles.”

No way. She wouldn’t have just left. Her store was still here. Her house.Hewas still here.

But clearly, she’d written him out of her life. Just like in high school, she’d assumed the worst about him and left. Only this time, she’d been right.

It was time to accept the truth. Maybe the worstwasthe truth.

If a good woman like Madison didn’t believe Evan Walsh was worth sticking around for, then—despite all his good intentions—maybe he really wasn’t.

Chapter 14

“Thanks for coming in today, Madison.” The woman pushed her tortoise-shell glasses up the bridge of her nose. “It was a pleasure to meet you. If I have my way, you’ll be getting a job offer by the end of business tomorrow.”

The news should have made her happy, so Madison forced a cheerful tone. “Thank you so much.” Madison held out her hand, and Darshell shook it. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

They stood and exited Darshell’s small office, emerging into the main part of the massive bookstore close to downtown Los Angeles. Floor-to-ceiling shelves with the hottest new books surrounded her, and the bright lighting accentuated their colorful covers. Her pre-interview sweep of the place had revealed plush leather brown and red chairs tucked away in all the cozy corners, encouraging shoppers to escape into a world of wonder right here. It was most definitely Madison’s kind of place.

But while the smells—fresh paper and ink, mingled with the hint of coffee in the air—were familiar, this place still didn’t strike a chord of longing in her.

Not like the current pangs directing her back to Walker Beach.

But that wasn’t an option, not if she didn’t have the hardware store. Yeah, she could fight for it. But a sense of barrenness had settled in her heart from all the striving, all the wishing. All the disappointment. So she’d put a Closed sign on the door and hightailed it out of town the morning after she’d heard from the landlord.

The morning after Evan had broken her heart. Again.

“Feel free to hang out here, get a feel for the store,” Darshell said. “Tony at the coffee shop can give you a free latte on the house, if that’s your thing. Or tea. Or a muffin. Whatever. Just let him know to use the comp code.”

“That’s so generous.” Madison’s stomach rumbled at the suggestion, and her hands flew to her midsection, a blush attacking her cheeks.

Darshell smiled and headed back into her office.

For several minutes, Madison wandered the store. The display up front reminded her that Valentine’s Day was on Monday. Inwardly, she groaned. She and Evan had made plans to celebrate together after his council meeting. He’d promised to take care of everything.

And now, she’d be here, in Los Angeles, alone in the tiny apartment of an acquaintance who was currently out of town and had agreed to sublet to Madison if she would be staying.

Alone was hermodus operandi. It had served her well for many years, and she just needed to remember that when her heart yearned for Walker Beach.

For Evan.

“Stop it.”

At her whispered self-rebuke, an employee with a man bun glanced up from his re-shelving work and lifted a pierced eyebrow in her direction.

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