Last Chance Rebel. Maisey Yates

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       CHAPTER THREE

      REBECCA WALKED OUT of her bedroom door and onto the deck, wrapping her fingers more tightly around her cup as she stared out at the lake. It was chilly this morning, mist hovering over the water and on her breath.

      She shifted her grip on her mug, grabbing hold of the edges of her blanket and wrapping it more tightly around her as she settled into the wicker chair she had placed in just the right spot so that she could watch the sun rising higher over the mountains, illuminating the low-hanging clouds and throwing gold dust onto the lake’s surface.

      She had a humble house, but there was nothing humble about the location. Nestled in the middle of the trees, way out of town, it was her own private sanctuary. She didn’t mind the rustic nature of the cabin, anyway. It was perfect for her. After working days in the store, it was important for her to have a retreat. And days off. She had finally graduated to where she could pay a couple of employees, and that meant two days off a week like a human person.

      Today, she fully intended to revel in the time off. She could take her kayak out on the lake. She preferred riding to paddling, but since the shop had left her so busy for the past few years, owning a horse had been impractical.

      Of course, for the past few years running a shop had not been compatible with having a life of any kind. But, things were getting better. She had leisure time today. And she felt leisurely.

      She inhaled deeply, feeling the need to soak her coffee in through every sense. The warmth of the cup on her hands, the smell and the strong, bitter taste that burned all the way down.

      The sound of an engine spoiled her solace. She leaned forward, pushing herself into a standing position and trumping down the side steps on her deck, rounding to the front of the house just in time to see a black truck barreling down her driveway.

      Usually when someone random drove down to her house, they were just looking for a place to turn around. The road up to the lake was narrow and windy, and if you happened to miss a turnoff, finding a way to make it right was often difficult.

      She felt compelled to stand there, and keep an eye on her unexpected guest.

      But, the truck didn’t turn around. Instead, it stopped. And the driver killed the engine before getting out and revealing a man she herself would like to kill.

      “What are you doing here?” she asked as Gage walked toward her. He was wearing the same thing he’d had on the last time she’d seen him. Cowboy hat, tight black T-shirt and snug, well-worn denim. Again, her eyes fell to the tattoo on his forearm.

      Then she forced herself to look at his face. It was grim. His mouth set into a firm line, his dark brows drawn tightly together.

      “I wanted to talk to you about the shop,” he said. “And to see about getting a welcome to the neighborhood.”

      “It’s not really a neighborhood, per se. Mostly, you’re in my driveway, and I need you to not be in it.”

      “I just bought the place across the lake.”

      Rebecca was certain she blacked out. Her rage was an epic creature, rising up from the depths inside of her and threatening to consume them both. “You what?”

      “It’s a coincidence that we’re so close to each other.”

      “Sure it is, Edward Cullen.”

      “What?”

      “If you start watching me when I sleep, I’m going to shut your dick in the open window.”

      “I have no interest in watching you sleep,” he said.

      “Then what is this? What is all of this? If you’re interested in using me to appease your conscience, then you’re shit out of luck. Because I’m not going to provide balm for your wounded soul. I’m not going to stand here and tell you that I forgave you years ago when I didn’t. And I’m not going to suddenly grant you absolution now.”

      He paused for a moment, looking past her, his eyes fixed on the lake. “That isn’t what I’m here for. I think you need a soul to be forgiven. I think you need a conscience in order to soothe it. I don’t have either. Not anymore. I’m here to make things right, though.”

      “You can’t. So, you might as well stop trying.” She crossed her arms, staring him down. She didn’t owe him anything. Not reassurance, not some kind of absolution. Because, whatever he said, he must be after that.

      “Let me finish what I started.”

      “No problem. Right after you return full range of motion to my arm. My scar tissue is a little bit thick...makes it difficult to straighten completely.”

      He didn’t flinch. And in that moment, she had to wonder if he was right. If he didn’t have a soul or conscience. But if that were the case, why was he back at all?

      Of course, if he had either of those things, why had it taken him seventeen years to come back?

      “You’re too proud to take help from me? Is that it?”

      “Yes. I am too proud. I’m too a lot of damn things, Gage West. Everybody has monsters in their closet when they’re little. You were mine. You are the reason I was in physical therapy. The reason I endured months of recovery. The reason that I had to have more than one surgery to try and restore the skin on parts of my body.”

      He tilted his head back, as though her words were physical blows. “I know.”

      “And it doesn’t matter,” she continued, her voice shaking, “that it was an accident. It was an accident that could have been prevented if you would have just used a measure of common sense. If you weren’t driving too fast. If you hadn’t been horsing around with your friends, or whatever you were doing. And maybe it’s something that all teenage boys do, but when you did it, you crashed into me. And congratulations, you got to walk away. You got to walk right out of town and never look back. But I had to stay. I had to live in this body, and exist in your consequences.”

      His eyes darkened, her words touching him for the first time. “You think I wasn’t affected? I changed my entire life because of that accident. You’re right. I was a spoiled, entitled, selfish ass who didn’t think of anyone but himself. I didn’t have respect for consequences. I didn’t think for one second what my behavior might do. I’ve spent every day since then thinking about it.” He looked down, brushing his fingertips over his forearm, over the dark band that was inked there. “This is a reminder.”