Chapter Eleven

Vienna

I’d only been back in Garrison for a little more than a week, and I hadn’t seen Garrett for a few days before leaving New York to come home, but somehow he looked older since then.

And a whole lot more menacing.

He was his usual well-put-together self, with his khakis and button-down sweater, but he’d obviously been running his hands through his hair—something he always did when he was anxious—because it wasn’t gelled in place like he usually wore it.

I watched him climb out of the car, his hand on the door as he stared back into the headlights that were still on despite having turned my car off.

“Stay in the car,” I demanded, not looking at Cohen. I doubted he’d listen for long, but at least I made the effort to keep this situation—and him—contained.

With a deep breath in, I let it out as slowly as I could manage, attempting to calm myself. I had so many questions, and knew more than Garrett realized, but I had to keep my head. Then, I pushed my own door open and got out before Cohen could protest.

“What are you doing here?” I asked Garrett. Rain was just beginning to fall in sporadic drops. “You’re supposed to be in New York.”

“Hi, Vienna. Nice to see you, too.” His tone was clipped. “You obviously need me here,” he added, and I could see him struggling to keep his eyes from trailing over to the passenger side of my car. “So, I came.”

I did the math in my head. He must have already been here in town, or on his way, when I spoke to him earlier. “Garrett, we’ve been through this—”

“Yeah, we have,” he snapped, and this time his finger jutted out toward Cohen. “And you know exactly how this ends.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” I swallowed bile, hurt more by the fact that he was standing there in front of me, still continuing his charade after all these years. “I might know how it ended ten years ago, Garrett, but do me a favor, okay?”

“And what’s that?” he growled, obviously fed up.

“How about you tell me how it began?” I asked evenly. “The ending isn’t nearly as important to me anymore.”

Even with only the harsh headlights to illuminate his features, I saw him blanch, and hesitation veiled his eyes. “I don’t know what—”

“How much was it worth?”

“What?”

“Tell me how much my happiness was worth!” I screamed at him. “You paid Jenny Arnett to make out with Cohen, who was inebriated out of his mind. And don’t you dare tell me you didn’t!”

No words came from Garrett’s mouth, but I saw his throat move. Whatever he’d thought he’d find when he got to Garrison, it wasn’t this.

The passenger door slammed beside me, and I turned to see Cohen standing on the other side of the car, his movements slow and steady. He’d heard my outburst, and the only thing standing between him and the man who’d ruined us was the hood of a car.

“Don’t move, Cohen,” I warned him. “I mean it.” I didn’t want an all-out brawl right here in the driveway, and frankly, there were still answers I wanted.

“I made a mistake, Vienna,” Garrett was saying, and the whine in his voice was now more obvious, pleading with me to understand. “You didn’t see how he really was—”

“How he really was?” I exclaimed, my eyes wide. “Or how you really were? Because, call me crazy, but you’re the one who set it all up, Garrett. You’re the one who made him look like some kind of monster to me. You’re the one who made sure my heart got broken in the goddamn process! And, for what? Just so you could pick up the pieces?”

“I wanted you to see how good you and I were together,” he stammered. “And you couldn’t see anything except him!” His arm came out again, straightening as he pointed accusingly at Cohen. “Everything was about Cohen fucking Bradley, Vi! Everything! I was going to lose you to him, and you didn’t even realize it!”

Tears stung my eyes. I didn’t even know what to think, or say. Garrett felt he’d been justified in his actions, and all I wanted to do was claw his eyes out for ever believing he could stake claim to me like that and ruin our lives in the process. “You’ve got to be kidding me with this,” I choked out, bringing my hands up to my forehead to press my palms into my eyes.

Garrett took a few steps forward to close the gap between us, but as he did, Cohen rounded the car and was by my side in a heartbeat, holding his hand out to halt him from touching me.

It was on the tip of my tongue to push them both away from me and tell them to stop being such ridiculous cavemen, but Cohen spoke first.

“Tell me what happened, Garrett,” he stated, his complete focus on the shorter man before him. “There’s more to it, and I think I know what it is, but I want to hear it from your mouth.”

He sounded so calm, it chilled me.

Garrett was silent, looking more unsure of himself than I’d ever seen him.

“Garrett!” Cohen barked again, and his arm never came down from in front of me, essentially blocking Garrett from getting any closer. “Tell me what you did,” he repeated. “Hell, tell Vienna. You at least owe her that much.”

Garrett looked suddenly indignant that Cohen would even suggest he might owe me something, but his synapses were firing quickly enough that he realized he was out of options. He could play stupid, or even sugar-coat the truth, but it wouldn’t help.

“Tell me,” I pleaded with him, suddenly desperate for the real, honest truth to just be laid out between us. “Just say it, Garrett.”

“Yeah, fine, I paid off Jenny Arnett to fool around with you. That chick would do anything for a buck. I knew Vienna was going to meet you—”

“Before that,” Cohen interjected. “Start with the fucking beer you gave me.”

If it could, Garrett’s icy glare would have cut through Cohen in an instant.

His confession, spoken so nonchalantly, sliced into my resolve, and I found myself taking a step forward. Cohen’s hand pressed gently but firmly into my stomach, holding me back. His touch was enough to make me glance over at him.

Not yet, he seemed to say.

Garrett cleared his throat. I turned back to him, watching his hand go through his hair absently, and I pressed my lips into a hard line, preparing myself.

“The beer,” he said with a slight nod. “Yeah, I gave you a couple. Hell, I gave some other guys a couple, too—”

“What was in mine?” Cohen bit out.

You could have knocked me over with a feather. I don’t know why it’d never occurred to me that there’d been more than alcohol running rampantly through Cohen’s veins that night—maybe because, until this point, I never, ever would have thought Garrett possible of such a thing—but now that the question had passed Cohen’s lips, it all seemed so clear.

Garrett didn’t know where to look, and I wondered whether he was searching for an escape route, or someone to save him. Maybe both.

The rain had turned from barely a drizzle to a soft rhythmic patter of drops, but my heart pounded louder than those raindrops as they hit the roof and hood of the car. The silence that ensued spoke volumes, and I could feel hot tears mix with the raindrops as they slid down my cheeks.

“You drugged him,” I whispered to Garrett. “You son of a bitch.”

Garrett’s eyes widened at the curse word on my lips—I wasn’t sure he’d ever heard such a thing come from my mouth before—but his shoulders slumped slightly in defeat. “I’m not proud of it, Vi. I swear to God, I only—”

Cohen dove for Garrett, catching him by the shoulder just as his fist made contact with his left cheekbone. “Ten fucking years!” he hollered, pushing him up against the Corolla. “I lost ten years with her, just because you couldn’t deal with the fact that she didn’t want you!”

A strangled shriek of shock erupted in my throat, my hands clamping over my mouth to hold it in. “Cohen! Cohen, stop!”

I heard, rather than saw, another punch land somewhere on Garrett’s upper body, but my view was obstructed by Cohen’s back. “Cohen!”

“You fucking roofied me!” He was gritting out words between clenched teeth, each word coming out in time with the next toss of his fist. “Dragged me into my goddamn car…you knew Vi would find me there. You fucking knew…”

“Cohen!” I screamed at him, getting a firm grip on his arm as he pulled it back to hit him again. “Cohen, I said stop it! Please!”

Garrett’s lip was bleeding profusely, a trail of blood and raindrops spilling off his chin. At my protests, both men stopped mid movement, their eyes fixed on me, wide and wild.

I choked back the sob I could feel at the base of my throat, letting my hands run up Cohen’s arm and closing my fingers around his fist. “Stop,” I said more solidly. “He’s not worth it.”

Cohen’s arm came down as I gently pushed him away from Garrett, who was already stepping away from us, putting as much distance between himself and us as he could. He let me push him in the direction of the house, though his eyes never left the man who stood cowering near his rental car.

“She’s right, you know,” he said, his chest still heaving with adrenaline and exertion. “You’re not worth it.” Cohen spoken venomously, with more white hot rage in his eyes than I’d ever seen before. “You set this all up, in a nice and neat little package. Hell, you even got away with it for ten fucking years. But, you know what, Garrett?” He growled out the man’s name like it was distasteful. “You still couldn’t keep us apart. You can’t make someone love you.”

“Obviously,” Garrett snapped wryly. I knew he was referring to me, and the fact that, though we’d tried, our relationship had been lukewarm at best. I couldn’t make myself want him like I’d wanted Cohen, and that truth stood between us like a pillar. “But I can’t make myself stop loving you, either.”

His eyes were locked on me with each word he spoke.

“You and I,” I choked out, unable to get a full breath of air in, “We’ve always had a different kind of love for each other, Garrett. You know that.” I didn’t know how else to explain it, but it was the truth, from the bottom of my heart. And maybe if I’d said it bluntly so many years ago, things would be different now. “But I don’t love you the way I love Cohen. You knew that back then, and you know it now.”

“We could’ve had a great life together, Vi,” Garrett said, his words garbled by his bottom lip that was already starting to swell. “But you just couldn’t get past him.”

“And you thought making him look like a cheating bastard was the way to make me do that?” It was my turn to be fed up. There’d been too much time lost, and too much pain caused.

A hollow, angry smirk crossed his face, and I could feel Cohen tense again beneath my touch, my hands still holding him in place.

“You just had to come back to Garrison, huh?” Garrett chuckled darkly. “Don’t tell me you didn’t come back here to look for him, Vi. It’s been what, a week? And here you are, all googly-eyed over him already. You did it on purpose.”

Cohen took a step forward, but I pushed hard on his chest, forcing him back toward the house. I, however, closed the gap between Garrett and I, holding his gaze with my own. “I won’t defend myself to you, Garrett. We can’t help who we love…and who we don’t.” I blinked. “Take that how you like.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Garrett seethed. “Choosing him…again.”

“The sooner you realize I will choose Cohen Bradley every time, the better off we’ll all be,” I said in a steady voice, surprising myself. “Go back to New York, Garrett. Whatever your reasons were for coming here, they were misguided. Just like your reasons for what you did ten years ago.”

“You’re kicking me out of my own hometown?” He laughed at me. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, Vi.”

I laughed with him, albeit mockingly. “Don’t call me Vi,” I snapped suddenly. “I believe I once told someone that it was a nickname reserved for those who didn’t break my heart. You did,” I assured him. “You might think you loved me, but you didn’t. You don’t. This whole mess is because of your pride, and your jealousy. Not because you love me.”

Garrett stared at me incredulously. He couldn’t understand, even now, why I was dismissing him. The only thing he could comprehend was that it was happening because of Cohen, and that was all he seemed to care about.

That was when I realized that maybe I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t get past Cohen Bradley, either.

“You’re right,” he whispered, his eyes cold. “Maybe this just wasn’t worth it.”

I’d have taken it as an apology of sorts if he hadn’t said it with such a defiant, icy stare. What he really meant was that I wasn’t worth it, but be damned if he would say that in front of Cohen and brave the chance of being punched again.

I refused to show that his comment hurt. “Cohen,” I called out, my gaze never leaving Garrett’s. “Please move my car so Garrett can back his own out of the driveway. He was just leaving.”

I saw Cohen move by me in my peripheral vision, and I could feel the weight of his watchfulness, even as the car began to move.

“You know what?” Garrett’s hand was already on the handle of his driver’s door. “Maybe you two deserve each other.”

If he expected me to hear cruelty and rudeness in his words, he was once again mistaken. It was the first time I’d agreed with Garrett Hunter in a long time. “You’re damn right, we do.”