“The stars are aligned; it’s time to make a move.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Steve.”
“Don’t mention it. Either way, you’re coming up for Christmas with Evie and Ridley, right?”
“Right.”
“You bringing Jillian?”
“No.”
“Ah, that’s a shame. Des and I really liked her.”
Me too.
“Listen,” he said. “I gotta go. Lots of postblizzard things to do.”
“Don’t leave me hanging too long.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Bye.” Steve hung up.
“Crossroads,” Ridley said as Tuck handed the phone back to him.
“Yeah.” He felt stunned, overwhelmed. One minute he was talking to Ridley about moving out and just giving Jillian the lake
house, and then suddenly there was this opportunity to move back to Manhattan and start his old life all over again.
“Inevitable and necessary,” Ridley said cryptically.
“Huh?”
“It’s part of the vision quest.”
“What is?”
“The crossroads. Which way are you going to go? Who are you going to be? The decision is now, my friend.”
“I’m not ready.”
“Doesn’t matter. The universe is ready for you to commit. One path or the other. New York or Salvation. Hold on to the past
or embrace the future. The choice is yours.”
Tuck sank down in the kitchen chair, his head spinning.
Just as quickly as he’d turn cosmic, Ridley was back to his practical, laid-back self. He walked to the coat rack, took down
his parka, and shrugged into it. “I’m going out to chop firewood. You coming or are you getting your period?”
“Asshole.” Tuck grinned.
Ridley cheerfully flipped him the bird and headed out the back door.
Tuck realized that he had firewood of his own that needed chopping. He trooped out the back door behind Ridley and snapped
his skis back on, his thoughts on Jillian. He had an option now. A place to go if he left Salvation. But what was he going
to do about his feelings for Jillian?
She was so different from Aimee. The two women were night and day and not just in their appearance.
Aimee had loved cooking and sewing and housekeeping. A homebody. An earth mother. She didn’t have strong opinions except in
regard to her father and his infidelity that had wrecked their family, and she rarely offered her advice or input. Decision
making put her in a dither.
It used to drive him crazy when he’d ask her where she wanted to go for dinner and she’d shrug and say, “Wherever you want
to go.” It was as if she was defined only by him and his work. When they were married, he’d thought it was great. Thinking
back, it felt one-sided. He’d been in charge of their marriage, and Aimee had been along for the ride. Look up
agreeable
in the dictionary and the description fit Aimee to a T.
Jillian had no interest in domestic chores. She did what had to be done in the housekeeping realm, but that was it. She had
a dazzling, brilliant mind, and she wasn’t afraid to use it. She had so many opinions she could open an Opinions R’ Us franchise.
Jillian would never allow herself to be defined by any man, and he admired the hell out of her for having her own life, her
own will. If he was told to pick one word to describe her, he couldn’t do it, although
gumption
would be on the list, along with
strong, argumentative, bold,
and
sexy
.
Aimee had never ruffled his feathers. Jillian stimulated him in a hundred different ways. Some good, some irritating, none
of them boring.
But was he ready for anything more than friendship and sex? Could he really put his heart on the line again? He was terrified
that he could not.
And that was the deal. Jillian deserved someone who could give her his full love. Without reservation or hesitation. The fact
he was hesitating said it all.
It was time to let go and walk away.
Manhattan was calling.
T
wo days after the town dug out from the storm, Jillian came in the back door from work, set her briefcase on the kitchen table,
and doffed her knit cap and gloves. “Hey, Tuck,” she called out. “You’ll never guess what happened today …”
Her words trailed off as she caught sight of him standing in the doorway, two big leather suitcases gripped in his hands.
“Tuck?” she asked tentatively. At the same time, it felt as if someone had smacked her in the back of the head with a two-by-four.
“What’s up?”
But she didn’t have to ask. The look on his face, the set to his shoulders, she just
knew.
“I’m moving out, Jillian.” He set down the suitcases.
“Oh,” she whispered, and felt something inside of her slide sideways. Things had been odd between them the past few days,
but she’d put that down to the awkwardness of what had happened during the snowstorm. They still hadn’t talked about it. She
thought at some point they’d discuss it, define the new direction of their relationship. She’d been stepping back, giving
him time. But clearly, there would be no talking. Tuck was moving out.
Her first impulse was to plead with him not to go, to ask what she’d done wrong, to promise to change. But, of course, she
did not do any of those things. She was the Ice Queen, the bulldog, the tough competent lawyer who never showed her tender
side. She didn’t whimper. She didn’t beg. She wouldn’t change simply to please a man.
Jillian pressed her lips together and took the hit. “I see.”
They stared at each other.
“Where are you going?” she finally asked, her chest tightening. She was having trouble catching her breath.
“I have a place to stay in Manhattan.”
“Manhattan?” She tried to keep her voice controlled. Not only was he moving out, but he was also moving away. She wouldn’t
see him again.
“You were right all along.”
She moistened her lips with her tongue. Her throat felt parched. “I was?”
“I’ve been hiding out. It’s time to start living again. I have a job making music boxes like the one I made for Evie.”
“Oh,” she repeated, and then said inanely, “It is a beautiful music box.”
He shifted, his gaze never leaving her face, but he said nothing.
“Um, what about the lake house?”
“The deed’s never going to turn up. Obviously Sutter lost it. Besides, Blake wanted you to have the house. I was being stubborn
insisting on staying here. I realize that now. The place is yours, Jillian.” His eyes clouded. “I … I want you to have it.”
“Tuck …” She stopped, swallowed, tasted salt. “I’m the one who’s been stubborn. This is your home; you lived here with your
wife. I’m the interloper. The outsider. I should be the one to leave.”
He shook his head. “You need this place, Jillian. It’s given you a new start. Soon you’ll take the bar exam, and I know you’ll
pass it. Then you’ll eventually take over Sutter’s law practice. Me?” He shrugged. “This house, the past, has been holding
me back, keeping me from moving on with my life, and I wasn’t able to see that until you showed up.”
Sorrow jolted her straight to her soul. He was telling her that she’d given him the strength to leave. It served her right
for daring to hope.
She’d known better. People always betrayed you or left you. Her mother had dumped her on her father’s doorstep and run away.
Then her father had died, leaving her to a bitter woman who resented having to raise her husband’s illegitimate daughter.
And, of course, there was Alex Fredericks, who’d betrayed her as well. Even her best friends had moved on with their lives,
leaving her behind.
“I’m catching an early morning flight to New York.”
“What’s the rush?” she asked, cringing inwardly, terrified he could hear the sadness in her voice. Purposefully she shrugged,
acting as if she didn’t care. “I mean, it’s trivia night at the Rusty Nail. We’re supposed to play against Lexi and Jefferson,
remember?”
“If I don’t make it to New York by tomorrow, the woman’s going to sublet her place to someone else. She’s leaving for Europe
and has to have the place rented before she takes off.”
She hitched in a breath. “So this is good-bye?”
He nodded. “I just took Mutt out for a walk. He loves the snow.”
“That he does.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Mutt’s another reason for you to keep the lake house.” His eyes were all over her face, and she realized she hadn’t broken
his gaze either.
“So you already said good-bye to Mutt?”
“Yeah.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Brought him a juicy soup bone from the Bluebird. He’s in the living room in front of the
fire gnawing it up.” His smile was slight.
“Thanks,” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say.
Finally, Tuck tore his gaze from hers and bent to pick up his suitcases, then paused. “For what it’s worth?”
“Yes?” Her heart quickened. What was he going to say?
“The town pool betting on when you’d leave?”
“Yes?”
“I had today’s date in the pot. Ironic, huh?”
“There goes your ten bucks.” She struggled hard to keep her face neutral. She wasn’t about to let him know how much she was
hurting.
A horn honked outside.
“That’s Ridley. He’s driving me to the airport in Denver.”
She nodded.
“Take care of yourself, Jillian.” He looked wistful, but she refused to let it get to her.
“You too, Tuck.”
“We still friends, Sally?”
“Friends,” she echoed, but she knew it was a lie. They could never go back to being just friends.
Tuck stepped toward her and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. A nice kiss. A friendly kiss. She wanted to slug him for it.
“Take care of yourself.” Then without another word, he turned and walked out the door.
Jillian let him go. What else could she do? She stumbled to the living room and plunked down on the couch. The room was cold,
but she was too depressed to get up and poke the embers, to add wood to the fire. Mutt, sensing her mood, came over and stuck
his head in her lap. She reached out to scratch his ears. He whined his sympathy and she just broke.
The woman who never cried sat on the couch, thick tears rolling down her cheeks. She’d never had a feeling like this. Her
friends had told her it was a good feeling, a wonderful feeling, but to Jillian it was pure torture.
She’d been denying it, avoiding it, pretending they were just friends, but after last night, she knew she was lying to herself.
She was stone cold in love with Tuck Manning, and he wasn’t able to love her back.
T
WO WEEKS AFTER
T
UCK MOVED
to Manhattan, Jillian sat on a barstool at the Bluebird, elbows on the counter, her chin propped morosely in her palms, trying
her best not to think about how empty her life was now that he’d gone or how much she missed him. But it was particularly
difficult when she kept picturing him totally naked, stretched out on the bed, head propped in his hand and him winking provocatively
at her.
Why couldn’t she get that damned man out of her head?
She clenched her teeth and pushed the cold scrambled eggs she’d ordered but didn’t possess the enthusiasm to eat around on
her plate. The Bluebird was decorated for Christmas, tree in the corner, lights strung around the room, pine boughs and holly
and mistletoe above the door.
Hands down, Tuck was the best lover she’d ever had, bar none. She doubted there was a better lover on the planet. At least
for her. It seemed he’d known without her having to tell him exactly what she needed and when she needed it. Until the unpleasant
part where he’d abandoned her in the middle.
And even as they were digging out of the snow and purposefully not discussing how they were feeling, Jillian had quelled an
overwhelming urge to throw herself into his arms and tell him she wanted so much more than either sex or friendship.
She wanted the kind of love he’d had with Aimee. And then he’d just packed up and moved to New York without any notice after
they’d made love. Every time she thought about it, she got a painful catch in the dead center of her chest.
“You can’t ever replace Aimee in his eyes,” she muttered under her breath. “There’s no point in trying.”
So many people had abandoned her in one way or another. She’d learned that she could not depend on anyone. There was no guide,
no teacher, no authority that could save her. There was only herself.
She’d spent her life holding her feelings in reserve, afraid to trust, terrified that she’d be abandoned again if she dared
to give away her heart. She realized now that she’d displaced her emotions into her career. She’d used her loyalty to law
as a way to avoid false starts and stops in her personal life.
But when she lost Blake and quit her job, she found something else. Salvation. That’s what she had to remember. The lake house,
the town, the people. She’d survive without Tuck.
Now if only she could stop thinking about him.
Snap out of it. Focus on something else. Think about studying for the bar.
But the test seemed so far away. The lonely winter loomed long.
Evie came over. “Mind if I sit down?”
“Not at all.”
Evie came around from the other side of the counter and plunked down on the barstool next to her. “Eggs that bad?”
Jillian shook her head. “It’s not the food. It’s me.”
“I’m sorry about Tuck moving to Manhattan. I miss him too. I thought you guys were working on something.”
She shrugged. “Hey, it wasn’t meant to be.”
Evie patted her hand.
“How are you and Ridley doing?” Jillian asked, eager to get the subject off her and Tuck. “Any news on the baby front?”
To her alarm, Evie’s eyes misted with tears.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
Evie clenched her jaw. “I’ve been putting on a brave face, but”—she swallowed—“during the storm, I went and did this vision
quest thing, and I got a bad omen. Ridley says it’s a good omen, but I don’t believe him. I think he was just trying to placate
me.”
“Vision quest? What are you talking about?”
Evie explained what a vision quest was and detailed what she’d seen.