The One Real Thing
Page 21
Bailey’s mouth parted in surprise. “Sarah Randall,” she said breathlessly.
At the sound of her name, that now familiar ache in my chest hitched. “You know the story?”
“Everyone knows the story.” Bailey’s green eyes darkened with sadness. “She and George were sweethearts. They fell in love on the boardwalk when they were sophomores in high school. Everyone thought they’d get married. But the summer they graduated from high school Sarah married—”
“A man named Ron.”
Bailey raised an eyebrow. “Ron Peters. How . . . ?”
“It’s in her letters to George.”
I could see the blaze of curiosity in Bailey’s eyes, but she continued recounting their history for me. “No one knew what made Sarah marry him. Most people suspected he had something on her, but she wouldn’t say what. George was devastated. He started sleeping around and he knocked up Sarah’s best friend, Annabelle. He married her. And then a few years later Sarah Randall shot Ron in the chest and she went to prison. And she died there.”
My eyes stung with unshed tears.
Bailey reached for my hand. “You okay?”
I tried to smile reassuringly. “Sarah died of cancer. Before she could mail these letters to George. Letters that explained everything. She had a reason for what she did, Bailey.”
She squeezed my hand. “That’s so sad. Is that why you came here?”
I shrugged. “My vacation with my best friend got canceled . . . Sarah and George were on my mind so I decided to come here instead.”
Bailey considered me. “You came to Hartwell to give George Sarah’s letters?”
“Yes.”
“I knew I freaking liked you.”
I gave a huff of surprised laughter. “Thanks. I like you, too.”
“Of course you do; I’m hilarious,” she teased.
I laughed.
But Bailey sobered. “You know Sarah was Cooper’s mom’s cousin?”
I tensed. “Really?”
“His mom, Laura, passed almost ten years back, but she and Sarah were really close before Sarah went to prison. Coop was close to his mom and he knew how much what Sarah did broke Laura’s heart. Maybe it would be nice for him to know the truth.”
Uncertainty moved through me. “I don’t know. Those letters were only meant for George’s eyes.”
“You don’t have to give Coop the letters, but Sarah was his family. If there was a genuine reason for what she did, he deserves to know.”
SEVEN
Cooper
Cooper had to admit to himself he’d been hoping the doc would come to his bar the night before. She’d made him impatient to see her again and he’d been counting on her feeling the same way.
Shit.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Old Archie said as Cooper sighed.
He glanced down his bar. The place was filled with locals. In a week or two it would be packed with locals and tourists once the high season hit. Sitting in the same stool he sat in every night, Old Archie smirked at him over the rim of his beer glass.
“They’re not that interesting.”
“Right.” Old Archie narrowed his eyes. “Hear your ex has been bothering you.”
Cooper hadn’t heard anything from Dana since he’d cut her down in front of Iris. Hopefully that meant she’d finally gotten the message.
Truth was he was too young when he married Dana. The sex had been fantastic. Looking back, the sad realization he came to was that there was more lust in their marriage than love. Cooper had thought it love at the time, but now he couldn’t remember a moment when they ever talked about anything real. He didn’t think much of it back then, but now he knew that wasn’t right.
Sure, he’d made Dana laugh, and he’d gotten a kick out of making her laugh, but that wasn’t enough.
She’d been so goddamn beautiful when they first met—the kind of beautiful that would have opened up doors for her if she’d been smart enough to look for the doors in the first place. But Dana liked being a big fish in a small pond. Cooper knew she was vain. He’d always known it, but he’d been so caught up in her beauty he’d decided to call it confidence and find it sexy.
He’d been an asshole kid.
And they’d both paid the price for their stupidity. With not much between them but lust, the marriage had fallen apart. Dana had betrayed him, and that betrayal burned so much Cooper wasn’t sure he ever wanted to get involved in another serious relationship.
Yet . . . he wasn’t that dumb-ass kid anymore.
He knew something special when he saw it.
And he knew not to ignore that tingle on the back of his neck.
Cooper couldn’t put his finger on exactly what made Jessica Huntington different from any other woman he’d dated. She was sexy, true. She was incredibly smart—had to be if she was a doctor.
Maybe that was it, he thought.
Maybe it was the doctor thing. It said a lot about her. All good. Other than the obvious, it said she was probably an independent woman, and Cooper had never dated a woman like that before.
After his dad left, Cooper had become the man of the house. He was twelve years old. He’d looked after his mom and sister. Then when he met Dana she was looking for him to look after her, too. And Cooper hadn’t minded that. At least, he hadn’t thought he did. However, looking back on it, he saw Dana had been more like a kid than a wife. She didn’t want the responsibility of making important decisions to do with their finances, their home, their cars, their bills. Nothing.
At the sound of her name, that now familiar ache in my chest hitched. “You know the story?”
“Everyone knows the story.” Bailey’s green eyes darkened with sadness. “She and George were sweethearts. They fell in love on the boardwalk when they were sophomores in high school. Everyone thought they’d get married. But the summer they graduated from high school Sarah married—”
“A man named Ron.”
Bailey raised an eyebrow. “Ron Peters. How . . . ?”
“It’s in her letters to George.”
I could see the blaze of curiosity in Bailey’s eyes, but she continued recounting their history for me. “No one knew what made Sarah marry him. Most people suspected he had something on her, but she wouldn’t say what. George was devastated. He started sleeping around and he knocked up Sarah’s best friend, Annabelle. He married her. And then a few years later Sarah Randall shot Ron in the chest and she went to prison. And she died there.”
My eyes stung with unshed tears.
Bailey reached for my hand. “You okay?”
I tried to smile reassuringly. “Sarah died of cancer. Before she could mail these letters to George. Letters that explained everything. She had a reason for what she did, Bailey.”
She squeezed my hand. “That’s so sad. Is that why you came here?”
I shrugged. “My vacation with my best friend got canceled . . . Sarah and George were on my mind so I decided to come here instead.”
Bailey considered me. “You came to Hartwell to give George Sarah’s letters?”
“Yes.”
“I knew I freaking liked you.”
I gave a huff of surprised laughter. “Thanks. I like you, too.”
“Of course you do; I’m hilarious,” she teased.
I laughed.
But Bailey sobered. “You know Sarah was Cooper’s mom’s cousin?”
I tensed. “Really?”
“His mom, Laura, passed almost ten years back, but she and Sarah were really close before Sarah went to prison. Coop was close to his mom and he knew how much what Sarah did broke Laura’s heart. Maybe it would be nice for him to know the truth.”
Uncertainty moved through me. “I don’t know. Those letters were only meant for George’s eyes.”
“You don’t have to give Coop the letters, but Sarah was his family. If there was a genuine reason for what she did, he deserves to know.”
SEVEN
Cooper
Cooper had to admit to himself he’d been hoping the doc would come to his bar the night before. She’d made him impatient to see her again and he’d been counting on her feeling the same way.
Shit.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Old Archie said as Cooper sighed.
He glanced down his bar. The place was filled with locals. In a week or two it would be packed with locals and tourists once the high season hit. Sitting in the same stool he sat in every night, Old Archie smirked at him over the rim of his beer glass.
“They’re not that interesting.”
“Right.” Old Archie narrowed his eyes. “Hear your ex has been bothering you.”
Cooper hadn’t heard anything from Dana since he’d cut her down in front of Iris. Hopefully that meant she’d finally gotten the message.
Truth was he was too young when he married Dana. The sex had been fantastic. Looking back, the sad realization he came to was that there was more lust in their marriage than love. Cooper had thought it love at the time, but now he couldn’t remember a moment when they ever talked about anything real. He didn’t think much of it back then, but now he knew that wasn’t right.
Sure, he’d made Dana laugh, and he’d gotten a kick out of making her laugh, but that wasn’t enough.
She’d been so goddamn beautiful when they first met—the kind of beautiful that would have opened up doors for her if she’d been smart enough to look for the doors in the first place. But Dana liked being a big fish in a small pond. Cooper knew she was vain. He’d always known it, but he’d been so caught up in her beauty he’d decided to call it confidence and find it sexy.
He’d been an asshole kid.
And they’d both paid the price for their stupidity. With not much between them but lust, the marriage had fallen apart. Dana had betrayed him, and that betrayal burned so much Cooper wasn’t sure he ever wanted to get involved in another serious relationship.
Yet . . . he wasn’t that dumb-ass kid anymore.
He knew something special when he saw it.
And he knew not to ignore that tingle on the back of his neck.
Cooper couldn’t put his finger on exactly what made Jessica Huntington different from any other woman he’d dated. She was sexy, true. She was incredibly smart—had to be if she was a doctor.
Maybe that was it, he thought.
Maybe it was the doctor thing. It said a lot about her. All good. Other than the obvious, it said she was probably an independent woman, and Cooper had never dated a woman like that before.
After his dad left, Cooper had become the man of the house. He was twelve years old. He’d looked after his mom and sister. Then when he met Dana she was looking for him to look after her, too. And Cooper hadn’t minded that. At least, he hadn’t thought he did. However, looking back on it, he saw Dana had been more like a kid than a wife. She didn’t want the responsibility of making important decisions to do with their finances, their home, their cars, their bills. Nothing.
