Broken Beginnings: A High Heat Small Town Romance Suspense (Citrus Cove Book 1)

I MANAGED to sneak upstairs without Honey noticing. I shut the bathroom door behind me and breathed out. It was small and clean, the shower curtain patterned with magnolias and the walls painted baby pink. I’d picked up some of my skincare products earlier this week at an outlet, and the bottles lined the small sink top, the familiarity of them grounding me.

Citrus Cove would never be home to me. I didn’t know what I was thinking, going over to get drinks with people I barely knew.

What the fuck just happened?

Fucking Cameron Harlow, that was what.

I shucked off my dress angrily and sat on the toilet seat, fighting tears as I looked down at my ankles. I’d never been one to blanch at the sight of blood, but I’d nearly lost it. The entire time that Cameron put these on, I’d been spiraling.

Well, until he pissed me off.

For once, I was glad that I hated him so damn much. It was the distraction I’d needed to stop thinking about the blood. The murder. The woman I’d held as she died.

My body shivered. I closed my eyes, trying to think about anything else. Somehow, I ended up thinking about the first time Cameron was ever mean to me.

“Everyone welcome Haley Bently. She’s our new student.”

Mrs. Abbott had a Southern drawl to her words as she announced my presence. I stood in front of the small class, thinking about how my old school had been so much bigger.

I didn’t understand why Mom said we had to stay with my grandma. She’d kissed us goodbye a couple of days ago, and every time I’d tried to call her, she hadn’t picked up.

“Go ahead and take your seat, Haley,” Mrs. Abbott said, giving me a gentle push.

I walked down between the seats, picking a chair in front of an older boy. This school was small enough that some classes had multiple grades in it. I blushed as he stared at me, his eyes reminding me of bluebonnets. He had dark hair and tan skin.

I settled into my seat, swallowing hard. I hated that I’d to come to a new school, but at least there were some cute guys.

The teacher started going on about homework and lessons. This was our history class, and they were in the middle of Texas history. I listened to her as I pulled out my notebook.

I had to make good grades so I could go to college and get out of this place. I wanted to make Mom proud.

I felt something hit the back of my head and frowned, reaching around to pat my curls. I couldn’t feel anything, so I turned, seeing the boy grinning ear to ear.

I frowned and then turned back, refocusing on Mrs. Abbott.

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This time, I reached back and felt something sticky. I squeaked as I pulled my hand away.

Gum.

No. No, no, no. If something sticky got in my hair, it would take days to get out.

I turned in my seat. “What the hell?” I asked.

He raised a brow, letting out a soft giggle as he slid his pack of gum under his binder.

“Haley, is there something wrong?”

“If you tell on me, you’re dead,” he whispered.

“This isn’t kindergarten,” I snapped, turning back in my seat. “He just put gum in my hair.”

The class erupted into giggles. Heat flamed in my cheeks, my heart pounding.

“You’re dead,” he whispered. “No one will be your friend now.”

He’d been right. Finding friends had been harder than ever for me after that. And getting that fucking gum out of my hair had been a nightmare. Sarah had to cut it out, leaving my hair uneven for a few months until it grew back out.

I breathed in. Breathed out.

What a shithead.

I’d stopped shaking. I leaned back, looking up at the ceiling.

After tonight, I felt like the new girl all over again. But at least I wasn’t thinking about the killer anymore.

IT’D BEEN three days since I’d gone to Citrus Cove Wine & Ciders and a week and a half since I’d rolled back into the sleepy Texas town. The glass cuts were mostly healed, and I was settling in a bit more.

I still hadn’t heard from Sarah.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

I looked up from the coffee pot as Honey came into the kitchen. She was already dressed, her perfume disrupting the heavenly scent of burned coffee beans.

“Going somewhere?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. Pour me a cup. I have to go up to the DMV and prove I can still drive. It’s ridiculous.”

I fought off a laugh. “Are you taking your pickup?”

“Of course. What else would I drive? I ain’t walking.”

I poured her a cup of coffee and handed it to her, smiling. “Are you sure that thing still works?”

“Better than that pretty car you got,” she teased.

It was pretty. My Corvette was one of my favorite adult purchases I’d made.

I took a sip of coffee as she settled down at the kitchen table, holding her mug like it was a lifeline. She looked tired.

“Are you okay?” I asked, frowning.

“Your sister called,” she said, her voice tight. “The boys are coming over this afternoon.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not. I love them. They’re a bit rowdy, but they keep me spry.”

“Then what is it?”

She was quiet. I could see her weighing what to say and what not to say.

“She and David are having marital problems.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Marital problems” was a broad statement. “What kind of marital problems?”

“I’ve been asked not to say.” Her lips tightened, her eyes burning with what could only be read as anger. There was a lot more simmering under the surface. “He’s a son of a bitch,” she finally murmured, soft and full of rage. She took a long sip of coffee, looking out the window. She reached out, fussing with the sheer white curtain.

“Is she okay?” My heart fluttered. We might be estranged, but I still loved her. Missed her. And wished that we hadn’t grown so far apart. But we lived different lives. “I’ll watch the boys if you’d like. They’re my nephews.”

“Sweetie, they don’t know you.”

My heart clenched. She wasn’t wrong. If I had any regrets over how I’d lived my life the last decade, it was that I’d missed out on a relationship with my nephews. I still wanted to be the best aunt they could possibly have. But, that wouldn’t happen unless I started to get to know them both.

“You know I don’t mean that in a mean way. But those boys just know your name.”

“We’ve talked on the phone a couple times.”

“When they were five. They’re ten now.”

We were both silent. I turned and poured myself more coffee, blinking back tears. Guilt welled up from all the wounds I thought twelve years had stitched up. But stitches could tear, and being here was doing just that.

I went to the kitchen table and sat across from her, reaching for her hand. I squeezed it the way she’d squeezed mine many times before.

“I’ve been gone,” I said. “I know I’ve been gone. And I know I’ve missed holidays. I know that I just left.”

“I don’t understand why you did.” She wouldn’t look me in the eye, her gaze fixated on the window.

“I had to,” I whispered. “I had to get out for myself. I needed to get out in the world, to find myself. I felt trapped here. There are parts of me that never fit into a place like this, and leaving was the only way I could save myself.”

“I know,” she said. “And I’m proud of you and all your success. You’ve traveled the world. You broke the mold of our family. Went to college and got a good job. You’ve done it all on your own. Never asked for a dime.”

“I have done it.” I swallowed hard. “You did everything you could for me. Don’t think I don’t remember how much you worked. Three jobs to get us by. When mom died, she left a lot of financial burdens behind. You got through that, kept this house, and raised your granddaughters while grieving her. Any strength I have is because I’ve learned from the best.”

She nodded, her shoulders deflating. “I tried to do my best by you two. Lord knows I did something wrong with your mom. I wasn’t there for her when she needed me. Sometimes, I worry that I messed up with you. That I kept you tied down, put too much pressure on you. I worry about Sarah.” Her voice broke, and she drew in a breath, looking back at me. “I love you. More than I have words for. And I know you’ll fly away again, but I’m happy you’re home. If even only for a short time.”

“I’m happy I’m home too,” I whispered. “This was the only place I could go.”

“You’re always welcome,” she said, grabbing my hand in return and squeezing. “Always. No matter what you do or how you and Sarah fight, you’re always welcome in my home.”

“Thank you,” I murmured. I drew back, wiping my eyes before tears could fall. We both collected ourselves. “So. How can I help with the boys?”

“Well. You can be here when they come over. We’ll order some pizza and see what happens.”

“Sounds good,” I said.

A knock echoed through the house, followed by the doorbell. I started to stand up, but she waved her hand, popping out of her seat before I could.

“I got it,” she said.

I settled back in, humming to myself as she opened the front door. I heard her laugh, the voice of a man’s soft baritone following.

Within a couple of minutes, she came back holding a gift bag from Saks Fifth Avenue, her eyes glittering with mischief. “You didn’t tell me you and Cam were going.”

“Going?” I echoed, scowling. “Going to hell?”

“No,” she cackled, setting the bag on the table. “Said you came over to his winery Friday night. So that’s where you were, hmm?”

I recognized the interrogation. She slid the bag toward me, clearly wanting me to open it. “A gift for you. He said it’s his ‘truce offering.’ If that’s from Saks Fifth Avenue, then it sounds like you got yourself a boyfriend.”

She wiggled her brows at me, and I shook my head. “Don’t go getting any ideas. I’m sure he just reused the bag.” I hadn’t told her about what happened Friday night and wasn’t planning on it.

I stared at the bag for a moment, cursing under my breath. I stood and pulled out the tissue paper jutting from the top, drawing out a note.

Second dress I’ve ruined. I’m sorry for both. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but hopefully this can be the start.

– Cam

Holy fuck. I looked into the bag and just blinked.

This motherfucker.

He hadn’t reused the bag.

I reached in and pulled out a cherry-red dress that was the same color as my other, except the material was a lot softer. I immediately reached for the price tag, but he’d ripped it off.

Bastard.

I let the fabric unfurl and sucked in a breath. It was perfect. Perfect size, perfect cut. A V-neck in the front and the back, and it had pockets.

He’d bought me a dress with pockets.

Honey was already digging back into the bag. She let out a low chuckle. “There’s another.”

Fucking bastard.

I cursed again, and she raised a brow. “Haley Marie.”

“I’m grown,” I protested. I was seething.

“Yes, and still a lady in my house.”

My eyes almost rolled, but I knew better than that. Instead, I draped the red dress over the back of the chair and pulled out the other, highly aware of the way she hawk-eyed me.

A soft gasp left me. The dress was the same deep blue as the one from all those years ago, but a lot nicer. I held it up, admiring the eyelet pattern and the sweetheart neckline. I would look damn good in this. It was casual but stunning and exactly the kind of dress I would have picked up.

Honey peeked around, giving me the knowing look. “He’s got taste. I’ve always liked him. You know he and Colton cut those big branches and saved the roof on this house, for free?”

No, I didn’t know that. Because I didn’t live here in a small town where people just helped each other. And I didn’t keep up with my family.

“What time are the boys coming over?” I asked absentmindedly.

“Around five. I got my appointment.”

“Right. I’ll be home by then,” I said, shoving both dresses back in the bag.

“You better be nice to him,” she scolded.

“I’ll be sweeter than a peach.”