CHAPTER FIVE

Carly

Men aren’t on my radar. Or, rather, they haven’t been for several years. As hard as I try to escape it, I can’t not see Vince in every man I meet.

My world imploded. I am broken in every possible way. It could have ruined me. I haven’t let it. It’s amazing what I have been able to overcome, and if it weren’t for being a mom, I probably wouldn’t have been successful. It took a lot for me to be able to get past the loss of a future I mapped out in my head.

But despite all that, James somehow broke through the barrier. I’m not blind. I saw the perfectly beautiful man with his tattooed sleeve, short dark hair, and strikingly blue eyes. I noticed how much he cared for his niece. My ovaries aren’t broken — seeing him love and protect a child made them go kaboom. But being a single mom for all these years, becoming a single mom the way I did, well, that made me a little shy of ever allowing my heart to love someone again. Heck, it made me shy of ever considering my heart for another man again.

I never expected James. I never thought that seeing him for such a short amount of time would elicit the feelings in me that he did. My body was alive once again for those few brief moments. When our eyes connected, my heart stuttered, my breath caught in my throat. It felt like all those romance novels I became addicted to, which made me feel a little silly. In the real world, people’s hearts don’t stutter just from someone’s look.

It’s been just a few weeks since I first laid eyes on James. For a tiny brief moment, I allowed myself to imagine my world differently. I allowed myself to think there was a possibility of something different. But that was only setting me up for heartbreak. He doesn’t even live around here, and that’s part of the reason I knew I had to walk away quickly. In fact, I know so little about James Cole that it’s crazy to even have these feelings for him. But the fact that he doesn’t live around here is so minor compared to the real reason I walked away.

But tell that to my body. When I lie in bed at night, I see his easy smile. My mind replays every incredible bit of interaction with Harper when he was at school visiting her. And, from what I heard, the way he reacted and took charge when she broke her arm? Not a woman on this planet would have been immune to that.

It’s the day after Thanksgiving, and while most people are out shopping to find some deals on cheap sheets and TVs that their family can’t live without, Jack and I are at the gym punching stuff, as he calls it.

We rarely miss a day, but lately I’ve been needing it more than typical. And it’s all because of Vince. Because he’s taken one more thing from me.

I have sweat dripping down my temple, and I’m pretty positive I can smell myself, but I feel amazing. Ever since Jack asked me to start boxing, to learn self-defense, I can’t get enough. Every day I walk into the gym, I get stronger, both physically and mentally. Three years later, I still feel my confidence boost just from knowing I can defend myself.

The first few times I came here, I pictured Vince’s face, heard his mocking voice. I hit harder. Kicked higher.

“You’re such a worthless slut.” Right punch.

“Did you even put makeup on today? You really need it.” Knee kick.

“No one else could ever love you.” Right cross.

“The only thing you’re good for is taking care of this house, and look at it. You can’t even do that right.” Jab. Cross. Left uppercut.

“All I do is work. The least you could do is provide a hot meal for me when I get home.” Left punch. Right cross.

“What did I ever see in you? You may want to be careful. There’s other women who know how to please me. You can’t even do that anymore, especially after having Jack.” Knee kick. Left cross. Jab. Right uppercut. Jab.

“Have you ever heard of a gym?”

Screw. Him.

When the memories of his hate-filled words began to fade, the vision of when he turned from simply emotionally abusing me to the first — and last — time he physically abused me, and I gained more strength. Gained more power, force. After I got out of the house with Jack, and we were in a safe place, my mind started to wander through our years together. I started doing some investigating and realized that my suspicions of him for years had been true. I confronted him about cheating on me when I asked for a divorce, and not surprisingly, he made me feel like it was my fault. Made me feel like I drove him to it. Like he had no other choice but to screw another woman. Have a relationship with her and abandon his wife and only child. It took me far too long to realize it wasn’t my fault.

I became used to his words but still never expected his abuse to turn physical. The moment he touched me in a manner that was anything but loving, I knew we would never recover. I knew in that moment that it was either him or me. That I could choose to let him win, let him take over my life even more than he already had. Or I could be fierce. I could be strong. I could show my son what a good man looked like, and that his father wasn’t it. I could show him the way to treat people. I could recover from divorce. What I couldn’t recover from was allowing my son to think it was okay to sling venom-filled words (and fists) at someone… anyone. Male or female. No one deserved that.

A few months after we settled into Liberty, a position came open at one of the elementary schools to substitute for one of the first-grade teachers who had to go on maternity leave. I was able to sub for her, which turned into a full-time position when she decided to stay home with her baby.

I changed my and Jack’s last name to Hanson, my great grandmother’s maiden name, and built a new life for ourselves. We were hidden. Vince knew he had no choice but to give me the divorce and let me walk away with Jack, or he’d be going to jail. The one and only time I met with him after I left with Jack, I showed him pictures that Jack made me take. I showed him the letter that Jack wrote him, detailing out exactly what he saw. I sat in the Starbucks of the town I once considered my home, staring at what I once thought was my forever and felt physically sick.

How I stayed married to that vile human being for as many years as I did is beyond my understanding. At first, he tried to throw a fit. A fit only worthy of Vince Taylor. Who could ever dare leave him? He was God’s gift to women, after all. But when I showed him the pictures I had printed, having copies of them hidden in a safe deposit box, and he read the letter, he knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on. He signed the papers, albeit angrily, but he signed them.

Of course, that didn’t mean he would let me leave without a few lovely parting words.

“I see you really let yourself go.”

I stare blankly at him. I have gained almost fifteen pounds and felt healthier and happier than I had since before I got pregnant with Jack. No more runs, which I always hated. No more denying myself a cookie if I wanted one.

When I don’t reply, he sneers in my direction, “How did I ever let you trap me into marriage?”

“You mean when you got down on one knee and begged me to be your wife?”

He narrows his eyes at me as I stand to leave. I reach down to get my purse and move to get away from him once and for all, but he apparently has other plans, grabbing my arm, squeezing tightly. “Where’s my son?” he asks.

“You don’t deserve to know,” I bite out angrily, trying to wrench my arm free of his hold, but he only grips harder.

“He’s my son,” he narrows his eyes at me, venom lacing his voice.

“That’s where you’re wrong. You see, if you had read that letter, Jack plainly said you were no longer to consider him your son.”

“So, you’re brainwashing him now? He’s my blood. He’ll always be a Taylor,” he says with such a sickeningly sweet voice that I had to swallow down the vomit threatening to rise in my throat.

“You’re sick, Vince.”

“And you’re crazy if you think I’ll let you walk away.”

“Too late.”

He yanks on my arm and pulls me closer. The combination of his breath hot in my ear, tight grip on my arm, and the sound of his menacing voice causes me to whimper. “This isn’t over, Carly. You’ll never be free of me.”

Those last six words I heard him say to me have woken me up at night in cold sweats. They’ve been the words that spurred my nightmares. But they’ve always been the words that have driven me to fight. For Jack. For myself.

When I returned to Liberty, Jack asked me to start boxing with him. He was thirteen years old and could see it. I think he needed it for himself as much as me. I left him with my next-door neighbor, Donna, who saw something in me that she had seen in herself once upon a time. She took us in, made us her family. And she is the only person aside from Jack who knows what happened. To everyone else, Vince walked away and started a new family. It wasn’t that I was trying to hide the truth to cover for him so much as I didn’t want people to talk. I didn’t want any chance that word could get out to who I really am, only for him to find us.

The first day I walked into the gym I was beyond nervous. The thought of going to a place where men were learning how to hit, my son included, petrified me. I was so afraid that I would have flashbacks. But Jack was by my side the entire time. He said we needed to learn how to defend ourselves. I saw two men in a bout and almost immediately started having a panic attack. I quickly made my way toward the door, but Jack ran after me and stopped me. With tears in his eyes and his hands on my upper arms, the words that came out of his mouth helped me to finally understand why this was so important to him.

“We can’t leave now, Mom.”

“I can’t be here. I don’t want you learning to hit someone.” I point to the two men who were still going at it.

“I can’t not learn to, Mom.”

“What do you mean?”

His eyes are pleading as his voice cracks. “Mom. I’ll never forget what it looked like seeing Vince hit you. I’ll never forget how helpless I felt in that too.”

“Jack…”

“No, Mom.” His voice is now strong, as though he had dug deep for all the strength he needed to fight for what he wanted. He stands up straight, to his full height which is a few inches taller than I. “I will never again feel helpless. If I have to defend someone — you, me, whoever it may be — I’m going to be prepared. And so are you. You’re doing this, Mom. I hear you having nightmares in the night. I know you’re still scared of that piece of crap. Vince will not hurt you ever again.”

I startle when I hear the voice of someone I don’t recognize say my son’s name. I look up to see a man standing not too far from us. His presence is commanding, and his eyes are fierce. His shiny jet black hair is tied back from his face and his bulky frame makes me intimidated but his gray eyes soften, and his kind voice gives me a sense of calm.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“My name is Tate. I’m the owner of the gym.”

“Nice to meet you.” I give him a small smile.

He looks between Jack and me. He reaches up, the muscles in his arm bulging, and pushes back the few strands of hair from his forehead that had fallen.

The simple movement catches my eye, causing me to nervously wring my hands together.

“Listen. I don’t fully know your story, but I know enough. I also know why you and your son are here. Will you let me help you?” he asks. When I don’t respond immediately, he continues. “Jack came to me, with Donna. He feels like you both need this. He wants to protect you, teach you how to protect yourself. I won’t ask questions, and if at any time either of you feel uncomfortable, you just say the word. But I’m here. For you. For Jack. I’d be honored to give you that peace.”

I look at Jack, and he nods his head slowly, showing me this is what he wants… needs.

I take a deep breath and rub my lips together. “Mom?” Jack says nervously. “Please.”

Slowly I extend my hand to the burly man. “I’m Carly. Carly Hanson.”

“Tate Owens.”

“Tate. If you have the time, Jack and I would be honored for you to train us.”

“My pleasure.” He flashes a small smile and nods his head.

Three years ago, we were introduced. Three years he’s trained us. He’s stood by Jack while he fell apart after a particularly brutal workout. He’s held me while I cried when the memories assaulted me. He never probed. Never asked questions. He let us use him as a trainer, a counselor, a support system, and most of all a friend. We’ve watched him get married, visited his wife in the hospital when she gave birth to twin baby boys. He’s become a brother, and I couldn’t be more grateful because this man… he taught me what it means to fight. Fight for my life and choose a new path. A path where I wasn’t walking around scared.

But still, some days the memories don’t seem to want to stay hidden. The memories of his hands on me are nothing compared to the memory of his parting words the day I walked away with signed divorce papers. The fear of him finding us, of him finding Jack and coming for us, is what drives me to be better every day.

I wipe the sweat from my brow and thank Tate for another good session. He didn’t have to come in today, but he told me he noticed that I needed extra time recently.

“I’ll be right back, alright, Jack!?” I yell across the mostly empty gym.

Jack nods in my direction as he continues his work on the speed bag in front of him, his favorite.

I duck into the ladies’ locker room and use the restroom. I usually just shower at home but now take the time to towel my body off and apply a layer of deodorant, because… well, I need it. My face is still red from my workout, and my hair has definitely seen better days. I take my it out of my ponytail, finger-comb through it, and pull it back up. Jack and I will head straight home from here, so it’s not like I really have to worry about who I’m impressing anyway.

As soon as I step out of the locker room, I have a strong desire to turn around and walk right back in.

Captain James Cole stands right next to Jack, both laughing at something.

This isn’t happening.

This can’t be happening.

Jack notices me first, his eyes finding mine, and his mouth quirks up in a side grin. And, of course, James spots me immediately. No chance of sneaking out of here and hoping Jack would find me waiting for him in the car. He turns his head and… welp, he’s even better looking than I remember. And I have a very vivid memory of James. Dammit.

“Hey! Fancy seeing you here!” he says happily as I make my way over to them.

“Uh, yeah.” I dare not look over at him.

“Mom just finished kicking Tate’s butt over there,” Jack says, eyes twinkling as he takes in how weird I’m being.

“Is that right?” Humor dances in James’s eyes until he sees Tate standing close.

“Well, I don’t think…”

“Oh, she kicked my ass alright. She definitely wasn’t feeling the tryptophan from Thanksgiving turkey,” Tate says, putting his hand on my shoulder. He looks down at me and squeezes my shoulder once; his eyes narrow in my direction, obviously sensing my unease.

But it’s not James who makes me feel uneasy. It’s how much he makes me feel. When I’m around him, I immediately feel the need to want more, and that makes me nervous. I shouldn’t want more from any man.

I look over at James, and he’s staring at Tate’s hand on my shoulder. His eyes shift between my face, Tate, and back again. I glance at Tate who’s staring James down; the protective nature to his stance is looking more like boyfriend than trainer/friend.

“James, how are you?” I ask, hoping to ease the tension.

He blinks once and then faces me. “Good. I’m good. You?”

“I’m good.”

“Good.”

“Well, we’re all good here. That’s a good thing, right, Tate? You good?” my smartass son says.

Tate barks out a laugh. “I’m good, kid.”

“Good,” Jack says, smiling like a loon.

I clear my throat and bite the corner of my lip, rolling my eyes. So glad that bad habit is back. “So, what brings you here?” I ask stupidly. Why else would he be here in workout gear but to work out?

He pats his flat stomach and then looks around the room. “Looking for a new gym.”

I cock my head to the side and scrunch my eyebrows. “Here? In Liberty? But— It’s here. In Liberty.” Seriously. I should be nominated for a Nobel Prize for my speaking abilities around him. I even pointed to the ground to get my point across, feels like the first time I met him in my classroom all over again.

“Yes. That’s definitely a plus. Being as I live here again.” He winks.

“You live… I’m sorry. What? Where?”

“You’re looking at the new owner of Tony’s Diner.”

“Ew, why?” I say with, no doubt, a look of disgust on my face.

Oh, holy Hannah, save me from my idiotic mouth.

He laughs loudly and doesn’t even flinch at my words. “Well, I don’t plan on it staying Tony’s Diner. I bought it to give it a makeover, change it up. I’ll be renovating it and plan to reopen next year some time.”

“So, you live here? Now?”

“Yes. Well, I’m staying with Tess and Barrett at the moment but am looking at houses, already put mine on the market.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“Uh, I take it you two know each other?” Tate says, interrupting our intelligent conversation.

“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry! Tate, this is James. James, this is Tate, my trainer.”

“Your trainer?”

“Yeah, I’ve been training Carly here for about three years now.”

“No shit?” James says oddly.

“No shit,” I reply.

Jack bursts out laughing. I don’t curse around him often, so when I do, he finds it the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

“Well, this place just became that much more appealing.”

“You box? MMA?” Jack asks.

“I do both, but mostly just boxing now,” he says, turning his focus and attention toward Jack. “I started about ten years ago as a way to stay in shape. I don’t do it professionally or anything like that.”

“Cool,” Jack says. “I can’t believe you bought Tony’s? Is it a disaster?”

“Well, it’s not in great shape, that’s for sure. But I plan to gut it and turn it around and run it.”

“You gonna cook yourself?”

“Yup. Well, at least in the beginning. For the past twenty years, I’ve only dabbled in cooking, helping out at a friend’s restaurant when he needed it. But it’s been my dream to own my own restaurant for as long as I can remember.”

“And Tony’s is the winner, huh?” Tate asks, laughing.

“Well, let’s just say there were other things that drew me to move back to Liberty,” he says, glancing sideways at me.

I swallow and look away, butterflies running amuck in my stomach.

“Can I stop by some time?” Jack asks him.

“You interested in the restaurant business?”

“I am, actually. I haven’t really told anyone but Mom this, but I really want to be a chef. I just don’t know what it looks like yet.”

“Yeah? That’s awesome, kid!” James says, putting out his fist in Jack’s direction.

“I hope so,” he says.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I don’t know, Mom. Becoming a chef isn’t necessarily the manliest of careers.” He looks at James and mutters, “Sorry, no offense.”

“None taken. I know what you meant. And don’t worry about what anyone thinks. You do what makes you happy. I’d be glad to show you around, and then you can decide for yourself whether it’s something you want to pursue.”

“Cool,” Jack murmurs. “Five more minutes, Mom, okay? Then we can leave?”

“No problem, bud.” He walks back toward the speed bag and picks up where he left off, striking the bag with fast repetitions and incredible accuracy.

“He’s good,” James says, watching him.

“He is. He’s worked really hard to get where he is.” I had forgotten Tate was still standing here.

“It shows.”

“I’ll see you next week, okay, Carly?”

“Sounds good. Thanks for coming in today. Tell Claire thanks, also, for sharing you on your day off. I hope it wasn’t a problem.”

“Not a problem at all. I have no doubt she and the boys are taking a nap as we speak.”

“Good day for that,” I say, looking out at the gray skies.

“Seems to be. Might do the same when I get home. James, stop in next week. We’ll get you set up.”

“Thanks, man. Have a good weekend.”

“You too, and looking forward to having another restaurant in town. Maybe one we don’t feel the need to sanitize the tables before sitting down.”

“Ha! I’ll do my best.”

“Good deal. See you later.”

“See ya,” I put in.

As soon as he’s out of the building, James turns to me. “So, Tate?”

“Yes. Tate is on his way home to his wife and twin baby boys as we speak,” I tell him with my eyebrows raised.

“Hey, I didn’t mean anything.” He raises his hands innocently.

“Right. It looked like you were about two seconds away from ripping his arm off.”

“And why would I want to do that?” he asks, a sly grin growing on his too-gorgeous face.

“Oh, I guess, maybe not. I don’t…”

“You’re right, Carly. I did.”

“Oh. But, why?” I ask breathlessly.

“Because his hand was on your shoulder. And I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since I met you in Harper’s classroom. And the night of the football game when I asked if I could walk you to your car I had totally chickened out because what I really wanted to ask was if you would go out sometime. But then you ran, and I never got the chance to.”

I cross my arms over my chest and raise my chin. “I did not run.”

“Yeah, you did. And it’s okay. It really is. But now I’m here. I’m back, and I’m not going anywhere, and I’d really, really like the chance to get to know you better.”

“You would?”

“I would.”

“But… why?”

“Why?”

“Yeah. Why? I mean, I’m nothing…”

“You’re everything.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“And yet I already know that you’re everything.”

Swoon.

I’m staring into his eyes and see nothing but honesty, kindness and gentleness. I want to say yes to him so badly, but I don’t know if I can.

“James,” I start, but he puts a hand up to stop me.

“Carly, you don’t have to say anything. Not yet anyway. I get that you have a past. I do too. In fact, mine burned me pretty badly. But you’re the first person who… I don’t know… made me feel less burned. That sounds dumb, right?”

“No, it doesn’t. I get it. I do, but,” I stall.

“Uh-oh. I don’t like that but.”

“I’m not saying no, James. It’s just that you’re right. I do have a past. And that past is not pretty. I don’t know if I’m ready yet, or if I’ll ever be, to be honest.”

“I can handle that.”

“You can?”

“Of course. Carly, I’m not going to lie and tell you that I’m not attracted to you because, holy hell, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he tells me with a giant grin, apparently completely unashamed of giving me the compliment that makes me blush. “But, I really just want the chance to get to know you. If it turns into something beyond friendship? That’s even better.”

“So you’re…”

“Okay with taking it as slowly as you need, okay with keeping it strictly in the friend-zone. I promise, no pressure.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive. I am new to town, you know. I could really use a new friend.”

“You’re hardly new, James. You grew up here, didn’t you?”

“That still doesn’t mean that I don’t need a new friend.”

My shoulders relax, and my smile feels genuine. “That sounds… perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m glad that’s settled.” Jack chuckles.

“Jack!” I say, my eyes going wide.

“What? He’s a nice guy, Mom. I told you that already. Let’s go grab something to eat. I’m starving.”

Sixteen-year-old boys, ladies and gentlemen. Blunt and to the point.

“At home. I look like crap, kiddo.”

“What did I tell you? Beautiful. Even after kicking Tate’s ass in the ring.” James winks at me.

“See? It’s settled. Let’s go grab a pizza or something. You up for that, James?”

“Oh, James probably doesn’t…”

“James does. Besides, I seem to recall telling Jack I would talk to him about the whole chef-thing, right, kid?”

“That’s right. See Mom? It all works out.” Traitor.

And that’s how I find myself sitting at the tiny little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant one town over that neither Jack or I had ever heard about, but James knows the owner. And as we talk, laugh, and feast over cheesy garlic-bread knots with fresh marinara, a thin-crust, brick-oven pizza with house-made sausage, roasted red peppers, and fresh mozzarella, and house salads, I find that I can do slow. I also find that James Cole is a man that maybe I don’t want to do slow with, or keep in the friend-zone. Because, moment by moment he is seeping further into places that I’ve kept blocked off for a long while now and for the life of me, I can’t seem to care.