Wishes At First Light

CHAPTER TWO

CLAYTON TRAVERS STOOD in front of her, like a vision conjured out of a dream.

Seeing him hit her, whoomp, a thump to her chest, robbing her of air for a split second. Over the years his long, lanky body had filled out into a man’s lean frame, his shoulders wider than she remembered. Brown hair tinged with gold grazed the collar of his dark leather motorcycle jacket. Worn-in jeans suited him well, as did the scuffed boots. But it was his face that intrigued her most, his deep brown gaze roaming over her with interest that warmed her even in the crisp bite of a November wind.

With his high cheekbones and a cleft chin, he had become an extremely attractive man. The furtive look in his eyes that she remembered from his teens had been replaced with an easy confidence. A half smile curved his full, sensual lips.

And just like that, the attractiveness worked on her with a strange alchemy that drew her even as it chilled her again. Her feelings for him had grown oddly complicated over time.

“Clay,” she said semi-awkwardly. She might have hugged him if there hadn’t been a wooden porch rail between them. And, on second thought, that probably wasn’t the appropriate greeting for an old high school friend who’d been the recipient of her earliest flirting attempts. She wasn’t some starry-eyed teen anymore. “It’s great to see you again after all these years.”

Actually, it was sort of terrifying given the role he’d played in her past. A role he was completely oblivious to.

But she’d wanted to face him and here he stood.

“Good to see you, too. Time has been...really nice to you, Gabriella.”

Before she could recover from that latest whoomp to her lungs, he continued, “Are you meeting anyone for breakfast?” He nodded toward the Owl’s Roost. A couple of guys in bright orange vests lumbered past, to-go cups in their hands as they emerged from the diner.

“No. I’m staying at the motel next door and was lured by the scent of coffee and bacon. The in-room coffeepot left something to be desired.” She stuffed her fists deeper into the pockets of her hoodie, trying to separate the past from the present and focus on the moment. “Are you, uh, free to join me?”

No time like the present to get over the butterflies with him. She’d be leaving Heartache as soon as Jeremy Covington was in jail and she had the chance to check on Mia Benson.

“Sounds like my lucky day.” His grin was completely disarming. “Let’s get inside where it’s warm.”

Half an hour later they sat across from one another at a big wooden booth in one of Heartache’s best-known eating establishments. The owner, Rodney, was on the town council, and he and his wife had been running the place for as long as she could remember. There was a comfort in that, a place with some happy memories for her since her parents had taken her here a few times to celebrate birthdays in the good years before her father went to prison.

Still, it felt incredibly strange to sit across from Clayton. His guitar occupied the seat beside him in the booth, the instrument easily identifiable in the black nylon case.

She ordered a vegetable scramble and coffee while he got the “Big Buck” platter with some of everything on it. His appetite hadn’t changed. He’d always been a bottomless pit at mealtime. Familiarity felt good in the middle of so much change in him.

“I thought you were lured here by the scent of bacon?” he said when the red-headed waitress departed with their menus.

“I’m actually a vegetarian. Just because I don’t eat bacon doesn’t mean I can’t love the smell. I think it’s universally the most missed food of the vegetarian world.”

The waitress returned with two mugs and a coffee carafe, pouring them each a cup before hustling off to the next table. The place was busy with most of the tables filled and a half dozen uniformed wait staff serving the crowd. With a backwoods theme heavy on pine logs and willow branches in the decor, the restaurant hadn’t changed since the last time she’d been here, right down to Rodney and his wife holding court at a table near the kitchen with some other local old-timers including Mrs. Spencer and Harlan Brady. The two looked to be an item now, judging by the way he kissed her ringed fingers and whispered in her ear.

So sweet. Mrs. Spencer had been a widow for a long time even when Gabriella left town.

“In that case—” Clayton raised his coffee mug and clinked it to hers on the table “—cheers to your restraint.”

“Cheers.” Picking up her own cup, she saluted him briefly before taking a sip. The strong java soothed her nerves for a moment and gave her an excuse to plot a course of action with him. How much should she say over breakfast? She sure as heck couldn’t blurt out her past in the middle of Heartache’s most popular breakfast joint.

First, she’d do some fact-gathering. Get to know what he’d been up to these last years. Then maybe she could ask to see him another time. Privately.

Even thinking about it made her jittery all over again. Hot and cold. She swallowed hard and took another long swig of her coffee.

“So I just left your brother’s house.” He eased back from the table to sprawl one arm along the back of the booth. “I was staying with him to keep an eye on his fiancée after she was threatened, but it seems like Sam has nailed down where the threats were coming from.”

The mention of the threats made her struggle not to wince from the old guilt about not coming forward. But she needed to repeat the mantra from the counselor she’d seen. It wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t responsible for the actions of others.

Easier chanted than believed.

At least she wasn’t caught flat-footed by what Clay had said. Gabriella had spoken to her friend Amy Finley, who’d given her the heads-up that Clayton was in town, sparking last night’s bad dream. She hadn’t spoken to her brother much since his fiancée’s frightening ordeal with Covington, but it didn’t surprise her that Zach had hired someone to help protect the woman he loved.

“That was good of you. I haven’t called Zach yet to let him know I’m back in town. I just got in yesterday.” She had been on a speaking tour these last two weeks and had taken a last-minute engagement in Nashville prior to her trip to Heartache, putting her in town a bit earlier than she’d anticipated since she’d decided it wasn’t worth flying back home first.

And while she should have known, at least in a peripheral way, that Clayton might end up in Heartache for the Hastings’ family foster reunion, she hadn’t really expected he would show up until Amy had told her the news. For one thing, he had always looked forward to putting distance between himself and his birth father, who lived just outside Heartache. He’d made it clear he was never setting foot in this town after graduation. Besides, she’d probably only added to his reasons to dislike Heartache when she’d left without saying goodbye. Then again, maybe it was silly of her to think that her leaving town abruptly might have affected him one way or another.

“Did you come for the Covington trial?” he asked, his jacket drifting open to show off the gray tee underneath it and more muscles she didn’t remember.

The trial? Tough to chant the mantra with so many dark shadows lurking around every corner here. Her counselor had also told her if the mantra didn’t work, find a positive distraction. Lucky for her, she had one right across the booth.

If she’d just met him today for the first time, she would have never gotten up the nerve to flirt with him. He’d turned out far too handsome. She’d been a lot braver as a teen before her world fell apart.

“Yes,” she answered tightly, uncertain how much he knew about what happened to her. “I’m not sure what you’ve heard about that night I left town. But if you’ve been staying with Zach...” She let the words hang, hoping he’d fill in the blanks.

It would be strange having the whole town know her long-kept secrets. Once her testimony against Jeremy Covington was made public during the trial, the truth about her past would be common knowledge.

“Your brother told me you’d been cyber stalked and ran into trouble at the quarry with a masked man.” His jaw flexed. “Sam roughed up the guy he now knows must have been Covington and you left Heartache with Sam and your brother to prevent Sam from being brought up on charges since he’d had run-ins with the law in his past.” He summarized it neatly, his eyes steady on hers and giving her no reason to believe he knew more than he was telling.

Or that he thought badly of her for running away without telling anyone. Later in life, she’d learned some of her mother’s family thought she and Zach were highly ungrateful children for leaving their mother in “her time of need” after their father went to jail. What her mother wanted had been the last thing on her mind at the time. Gabriella had done all she could do to keep herself together. Two weeks after that attack, she’d overdosed and was lucky to be alive.

“Right.” Gabriella leaned back from the table as their food arrived, the plates still steaming as the waitress set them down on the plank table. “My brother came back to town a couple of years ago to find some closure. Since we didn’t report the guy to the cops at the time, we’d always worried what if it wasn’t an isolated incident. Turns out, it wasn’t. And now they’ve finally caught Jeremy Covington.”

“A former town council member and a prominent local business owner.” Clayton shook his head as he tossed some pepper on his eggs. “I couldn’t believe the story when I read it in the Memphis newspaper. I didn’t find out until I spoke to Zach that you’d been a victim, too.” He set the shaker down and reached across the table to cover her hand with his. “I’m so damn sorry, Gabby.”

The contact was brief, but the sympathy in his gaze lingered. And even after all this time, she welcomed that. Appreciated his words.

“Thank you.” She cleared her throat and willed away the sudden emotion. “I’ve done a lot of healing since then with the help of a good counselor, but I’ve been back here a few times and it is always a mixed blessing for me.”

“I’ve never been a fan of this town myself. But I hear you’ve got a home out on the West Coast.” He speared a forkful of pancake and focused on his food, a kindness that helped her get her emotions back under control.

She took a bite of her veggie scramble and tried not to think about all she wasn’t saying. All the ways Clayton figured into that life-changing night that sent her running in the first place.

“It’s a town home in San Jose with a rooftop garden that lets me pretend I still have a yard and can grow things.” Her mind drifted home while he shoveled through his breakfast. She loved that garden, opening it up to the town home association residents as a community garden. Some of her neighbors had started plots of their own. “I also created a website for cyber stalking victims that helps disseminate information about the different laws in various states to help people protect themselves.”

She needed a real job soon. Her website was not-for-profit, along with all the work she did for the organization she ran under her legally changed name. Her California friends all knew her as Ellie to protect her identity. She did some freelance work for her brother’s digital security company, administrative duties that didn’t have anything to do with the coursework she’d done in psychology at online universities over the years. The freelancing paid the bills, but it had always been temporary until her life was more settled. Now with her stalker in jail, she needed to consider her next steps.

“There aren’t many people who could take a frightening experience like that and turn it into something that helps others. Good for you for creating something positive out of what you went through.” He nodded at the uniformed policeman who walked by their table. The officer must work with Sam given the Sheriff’s Department patch on his sleeve. “I hope you aren’t stuck in a motel on the edge of town because I was staying at your brother’s place.”

“Absolutely not.” She shook her head, remembering how easy it had always been to talk to Clayton. Some of the nervousness in her stomach had eased, allowing her to eat most of her breakfast. “He knew I was going to take a motel room since I thought I might need a private place to retreat at the end of the day as I sit in on the Covington trial.” She hesitated. “Zach has gotten used to being protective of me, which is nice, of course. But sometimes I need to deal with things on my own terms.”

Realizing all they’d done since they sat down was talk about her, she felt her cheeks grow warm. She wasn’t good with men or social chitchat.

“Well I hope you won’t feel too crowded if I take a room at your motel.” Clayton waved over the waitress to top off their coffee mugs and thanked her.

“You’ll be staying at the same motel as me?” She tensed, knowing she’d be getting even less sleep if that was true.

She really did need to find a time to speak to him privately. See if she could put those bad dreams to rest by sharing the story with Clayton, who had figured in that night so prominently for her, even if he was completely unaware.

“I was on my way to book a room since my work for Zach is done. I’m staying in town for the Hasting family reunion on Saturday and after that—” he tossed his napkin on the table and shoved aside his plate “—I’ll be heading back to Memphis.”

“Oh.” Not sure what else to say, she gulped the fresh coffee, sizzling off a few taste buds in the process. Ow.

“Would you rather I stay somewhere else besides the motel? Is that too close for comfort?” he asked, raising a dark eyebrow.

Was it just her overactive imagination, or was there a wealth of innuendo in those words? Their flirtatious online chats came to mind. How many of them had Clayton actually authored? She knew for sure he hadn’t been the one to send her those last messages. Jeremy Covington had impersonated Clay online, deceiving Gabriella into meeting him out at that quarry.

She remembered Covington vaguely from her teenage years. His wife taught at the high school and he’d been an assistant coach on the school’s football team. Since she’d learned that he was her attacker, she remembered that in his work with the football team, he would have seen her and Clayton together when they met after school near the bleachers. The football players often practiced on that field at the same time. Covington must have known enough about the fledgling relationship to impersonate Clay.

“No. Of course not.” She wished she could hide behind her cup. She had no idea how to read him and suddenly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. How many times had she confused his words with her attacker’s in her dreams? “Just surprised you aren’t staying at the Heartache B & B,” she finished lamely.

“Really?” He tossed bills on the table before she could fish her credit card out of her wallet. “Time hasn’t changed me all that much, Gabby. I’m still not a center-of-town kind of guy. And outside of the B & B there aren’t many habitable choices. Which is how we’re ending up neighbors of sorts.”

For a moment the shared smile brought her a small amount of comfort. A reprieve from memories that time had filtered, altered and amplified.

“It’s been a long time since we knew each other.” She set her credit card next to his cash, needing to pay her own way. “The years have changed me, as I’m sure they have you.”

Her independence had been hard-won.

“You’re right about that. Up until last week I thought you ran away with Sam that night.” He let the waitress take both forms of payment, putting her more at ease. “Did you know that was the word on the Crestwood High School grapevine at the time?”

“School was the last thing on my mind,” she told him honestly, flinching when a table full of deep-voiced men broke out into laughter.

Heartache made her jumpy. Or maybe it was the upcoming trial. She really needed to see that bastard Covington in jail and move forward with her life.

“Hell.” He hung his head for a second before giving her an embarrassed grimace. “That was an idiotic thing for me to say, and totally unnecessary.”

“No. It’s a credit to my brother that he kept the whole story about what happened on lockdown like I asked him to. For a long time, you thought I ran away to live the party life or join the circus or...have a wild affair with Sam. I can’t resent that when that’s exactly what I wanted people to think. I was too much of a kid to realize who I might hurt by hiding the truth.”

The waitress returned with Clayton’s change and Gabriella’s receipt, but he didn’t move to take it. He frowned at Gabriella.

“You had to do what was best for yourself, Gabby.” He sounded fierce on her behalf. Indignant.

“I know.” She took her time stuffing her credit card and her receipt in her purse. “But it’s strange having the truth circulating now after all this time. I have shared what happened with my support group in San Jose, but people in Heartache are only just starting to hear the truth. I’ve been back twice since it happened, and it’s certainly nothing I ever shared.”

He leaned forward, one muscular arm braced on the table. “They’ll all find out once you testify against Covington, though, right?”

“I submitted a written statement, but I don’t know how important it will be in the big scheme of things. I haven’t been called to testify yet since they have far more damning testimony than mine. Most of it in the form of his computer records.” Gabriella had been shocked to learn that Jeremy Covington’s wife had turned over all the computers she had access to in their home to the prosecution, but apparently the woman had had enough of his cheating and crimes. “Still, I sent a personal letter to the judge. I want to share my story.”

“You said Covington was cyber stalking.” Clayton nodded thoughtfully. “Was he watching your movements online?”

The question cut right to the heart of what made it so damn difficult to sit across the table from Clayton.

Her throat dried up. Cold clamminess broke out over her skin in a panic that had everything to do with her dream world and nothing to do with the handsome and decent man across from her.

“I—” She was at a loss for what to say. “Actually, Clay, do you mind if we catch up another time?” Her heart beat faster. She stood to leave before thinking how rude that would appear. “I’m sorry. I just remembered I was supposed to meet my friend Amy this morning. I don’t know where my head is today.”

“Let me walk you out—” He was already reaching for his guitar.

But Gabriella didn’t hear the rest. She’d fallen into dream mode—that place where the past and her fears mingled, growing larger than life—and she needed a breath of fresh air. She hadn’t experienced a panic attack like this in years. Shoving her way through the entrance to the Owl’s Roost, she nearly ran into a big, burly man carrying a toddler into the restaurant.

“Sorry,” she apologized, never slowing down.

The cold wind blasted over her face, tugging strands of her hair across her cheek and drying some of the dampness from her skin.

Pausing at the porch rail, she took big, gasping breaths of air into her lungs.

She would plan a private time to speak to Clayton Travers again. She hadn’t been emotionally prepared to see him this morning, and it was so early in the day she still had one foot in her unsettling dreams from the night before. But she was in Heartache to put the past to rest for good. She would see Jeremy Covington go to jail. And she’d share with Clay the truth about the conversations she’d thought she had with him over that summer. There was a chance she’d only been talking to him half the time she thought she had been messaging with him.

True, it all happened a long time ago. But she owed it to herself to find out how much of that online relationship Clay had participated in over those weeks she’d been falling for him—and how much of that time she’d been talking to Jeremy Covington. It was just one more step in the healing, and not anything to do with the fact that Clayton Travers still made her heart skip a beat.

* * *

IT HAD BEEN a long time since a woman had run from him.

Ten years, in fact. And the last perpetrator was the same as today’s—one Gabriella Chance.

Walking more sedately out of the Owl’s Roost, Clayton knew he was attracting stares. The people in the booths nearby were probably wondering what piece of crap man would send a woman sprinting for the door by herself. More than a little on edge by the time he made it through the exit, he was surprised to see Gabriella still on the front porch.

Her back to him, she gripped the rail so hard it made her shoulders and arms rigid. The late-autumn wind tossed a few strands of dark blond hair, her loose pants fluttering against her legs. As he neared, he could see she took deep breaths that lifted her whole chest, exhaling through her mouth like she was doing yoga breathing.