Steal My Heart, Trevor (Best Friends To Forever Book 2) Read online

  Watching his mother crumple, Trevor struggled with regret. But he held firm. Tears were filling his mother's eyes. And he'd put them there. That made him feel terrible. Lifting his mug, he quickly took a sip, just to keep from apologizing.

  “It’s late.” Eager to leave this behind, he vaulted up. His mother had turned so pale. What if she had a stroke or something?

  “If that's the way you want it.” Chair scraping, she stood up, wavering unsteadily.

  Hands ready to catch her, he rushed around the table, knocking a chair over. She waved him away. “This situation is not the way I want things.” Couldn’t she see that? Maybe it was too late for her to change. “I hope we can work things out.”

  Without another word, his mother turned toward the hallway that led up to her suite.

  He should've called her back. Tried to explain things better. Be more understanding. Picking the chair up, he felt so darn tired. And tomorrow was Monday.

  ***

  Bryn was working on a bouquet for Glenda Weldon’s daughter, who’d just had a baby girl. Standing with the door to the display case open, she hummed as she mixed tea roses with sweet peas and baby’s breath. The work forced her to think of something besides last night. She took the bouquet to the work table.

  The shop didn't open until noon. The temperature had dropped a bit. Restless, she wandered to the door and stuck her head out to catch some fresh air. Then she propped it open since Jolly was coming.

  She’d hardly slept. About eight in the morning she’d texted Trevor, asking about Annabelle. Trevor told her Annabelle was fine. He’d call her later. You don’t have to do that, she texted back.

  I want to, he’d replied. She brushed her fingers over her lips and they plumped, remembering.

  Then her thoughts turned to Annabelle. The bee sting would have to happen in her yard. Maybe she could do some research on bees. She hated to use pesticides but there might be something less toxic to keep them away. Annabelle might not want to visit again. Returning to the work counter, she worked on Glenda’s flowers.

  Lost in her own thoughts, she turned when she heard footsteps behind her. “Good morning. We’re not really open yet.” Her smile faded.

  Mrs. Daniels stood in a pool of sunshine, clutching a patent leather purse. Mouth dry, Bryn swallowed. Glenda’s bouquet shook in her hands. Trevor’s mother was probably furious. Not only had Bryn invited Trevor over, her granddaughter had been stung at Bryn’s house.

  “If you're not too busy…” Cornelia Daniels took one step forward. That's when Bryn noticed she was wearing two different patent leather shoes, one with a bow and the other with a button.

  “Is anything wrong? Did Annabelle have any problems?” Maybe Trevor had sugar-coated things, not wanting her to worry.

  “No, she seemed fine when Trevor took the girls to school. They both wore those silly stickers.” Mrs. Daniels swiped at wispy hair that cried out for a comb. To say that Trevor's mother had bed head would be an understatement. “I wanted to thank you for helping my granddaughter last night.”

  “You're welcome.” That was about all she could manage. She’d driven all this way to say thank you?

  Slowly Mrs. Daniels came toward her with such a serious expression that Bryn’s pulse rocketed.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee?” By this time Bryn needed something herself. Something stronger than coffee.

  “That would be wonderful.”

  How amazing. “Why don’t we go in the back?” First, Bryn plopped the bouquet in the case. Then she locked the front door. She didn't want any customers wandering in. Not right now. Jolly would know what to do if he arrived. The racks were out there.

  Leading Trevor’s mother into the back room, she dreaded the conversation to come. Toughen up. Hearing Josie’s voice in her head, she steeled herself for a barrage of insults.

  “Why don't you have a seat?” Hands fumbling, Bryn started the coffee maker. How she wished the room looked better. Invoices and mailers were piled on a desk. Coffee cups were stacked in the sink, along with vases ready for rinsing out. Everything needed to be straightened. But how was she to know that Trevor's mother would show up?

  This time she wasn’t taking it. Not after last night. Her own feelings were clear. The snap of a purse made Bryn turn. Mrs. Daniels was blotting her eyes.

  Pretending she hadn’t noticed, Bryn turned back to the coffee maker. “Cream? Sugar?”

  “Yes, thank you kindly.” Although Mrs. Daniels looked a bit addled this morning, she would never forget her manners.

  “I'm sorry things are a little messy.” Bryn glanced down at the cracked linoleum floor, another thing on her list to be replaced.

  Glancing around, Cornelia Daniels seemed to be taking stock and this room wouldn’t measure up to her standards. That much Bryn knew. If she’d come to remind Bryn again how unsuitable she was, Bryn was ready. Coffee slopped over the side when she slid a mug toward Trevor’s mother. She wiped it up with a paper towel. Mrs. Daniels was studying the shelves and the curtains on the windows. “I grew up in a house with a kitchen like this.”

  “You did?” Somehow Bryn managed to set her own coffee down.

  “Yes, I did.” Her watery hazel eyes lifted to meet Bryn’s. “You see, my dear, we were dirt poor. I didn’t want that for my son.”

  Bryn was having trouble picturing this.

  Mrs. Daniels shook her head. “Sorry, that didn't come out the way I wanted. Your kitchen is fine. I kind of like it instead of the shiny new kitchens where you don’t know how to work everything. All I'm saying is that it took me years to become the person I am today. And I can't say that I enjoy that person very much. My son certainly does not.” Her voice dipped with sadness.

  Bryn decided to sit down before she fell over. She tried to picture Mrs. Daniels as a little girl in a kitchen like this. It was hard.

  A distant smiled played along Cornelia’s lips. “Me and my siblings. There were six of us. Daddy worked in one of the mines and my mother took up drinking. Who could blame her?” She took a sip of coffee.

  “I-I don't know what to say. Trevor never mentioned this.” Not when he was a boy and certainly not more recently.

  “That's because Trevor doesn't know. After I graduated from high school, I set out to make something of myself. So I moved to another town and went to secretarial school. That seemed to be the thing at the time. The rest of it? I learned by watching other people.”

  Bryn knew what that felt like. Hadn’t she done the same?

  Trevor’s mother wasn’t finished. “I had a notebook and carefully wrote things down at night. Of course I burned that book a long time ago. After I met Trevor's father, the notebook would have been too incriminating. The last thing I wanted was to have him know the truth.”

  This story was breaking Bryn’s heart. Parts of it felt painfully familiar. “You poor thing.”

  Mrs. Daniels was very pretty when she smiled. “Trevor's father was everything I never should have had. But he wanted me. Cornelia, not Cammie Sue.” Her chuckle was dry, the kind that could hurt your throat. “My life became a lie. I can see that today.”

  “I'm so sorry,” Bryn murmured softly. How painful. But if Mrs. Daniels wanted to talk, Bryn wanted to listen. After all, this was Trevor’s story too. The rigidity. The goals. Knowing all this would help her understand him.

  With a sigh of surrender, she glanced over at Bryn. “I know I've acted badly. When I first saw you as a little girl, I saw myself. And I had worked so hard to give my son a better life.” Shaking her head, she continued. “You might be that better life for Trevor. He seems to think so. I told him you’d gone away. So stupid. The words just came off the top of my head. Maybe getting that awful flu was my punishment.”

  They both smiled out of relief and exhaustion.

  “Can you ever forgive me?”

  The question caught Bryn off guard. This was the last thing she expected and it had cost Trevor’s mother dearly. “Well, yes. I guess.” Her
mind spun.

  “You guess?” Even under all the stress, the genteel southern accent softened her words and so did her confused smile.

  Getting up, Bryn came around the table. “That all depends. Can I give you a hug?” In that moment Trevor’s mom seemed as vulnerable as Annabelle or Daisy.

  Cornelia Daniels nodded. As Bryn bent to hug her, the older woman’s body felt stiff. The faint smell of lavender water tickled Bryn’s nose. More tissues were called for, and Bryn whisked a box from the counter.

  Settling into the chairs, the two women sipped coffee and talked about things that would stay in Bryn’s heart forever. She thought she heard Jolly drive up. He knew enough to slide the flowers onto the shelving out front.

  Time passed quickly. Checking her watch, Mrs. Daniels jumped up. “Oh, my. I have to get the girls at noon.” When she grabbed her handbag, her gaze dropped to her feet. “Will you just look at that? I don’t know that I’ve ever worn mismatched shoes before.” And they laughed.

  “I never noticed,” Bryn said, crossing her fingers behind her back. This morning had been full of surprises.

  They laughed again. Leading her through the shop, Bryn wished she had a notebook to jot down all the memories Mrs. Daniels had shared that day. But maybe notebooks were best forgotten. The important points stayed with you, kept there by love and attention.

  Stopping to admire a bouquet of snapdragons and pansies, Mrs. Daniels touched their velvety petals. “I’ve always liked flowers. But not the digging in the dirt.” With a slight shudder, she pulled her hand back. Bryn swallowed a chuckle.

  “Would you do me one favor?” Bryn asked as they said good-bye.

  “What might that be?” The reserved Cornelia was back in that sideways glance.

  “Share your story with Trevor. I think he’d like to hear it.”

  “Hmm. Maybe.” Lips pursed, she waved good-bye. After she had driven away in her Towncar, Bryn made some changes to Jolly’s arrangement. Maybe this time she’d try orange marigolds next to red salvia. The combination was different and even exotic.

  Chapter 17

  By the time Trevor arrived that evening, Bryn was a nervous wreck. She’d been pacing from the living room to her kitchen since reading his text. I’ll be stopping by as soon as I can get away. Seven or so?

  Fine. Sounds good. Had his mother spoken to him already? Bryn sure hoped so.

  She’d spent the day in a fog, Cornelia’s story running through her mind. The older woman’s embarrassment and her crumbling pride had touched her. Bryn didn’t know if she was ready to forgive her, but she was darn close.

  The bell rang. She ran a hand over her hair and threw open the door. “Hey stranger.”

  Head down, he came through. If ever there was a smile that said I Love You, this was it. But she had an active imagination.

  “Bryn.” The one word welcomed her. She cuddled against that muscled chest, loving the smell of his shirt, the strength of his body, his lips in her hair.

  The hug quickly became a kiss she’d remember forever. Desperation and need, mixed with wonder. But she wanted the words. And they had to be his.

  “No girls with you tonight?” she murmured when she came up for air.

  “Nope. No way.” His second kiss could have been embarrassing. She could just hear Daisy. Knotting her fingers in his hair, she drew him closer. “Want to talk?”

  She felt the rumble of his chuckle. “I want to do more than that, but sure.” Pulling back, he gave her a crooked smile that reminded her of grade school.

  “Come on.” She led him to the sofa.

  “Isn’t this where you offer me lemonade or sweet tea?” he teased, settling against a turtle cushion with Bryn right next to him.

  She hesitated. “Really? Sure, which one.” Bryn perched on the edge of the sofa, ready to spring up.

  “Kidding.” He tugged her back. “How was your day?”

  Bryn laughed. “Your mother might be able to answer that.”

  “She told me that she came and apologized.” His brows lifted. “Was it a good apology?”

  “The best. More than an apology, but I’ll leave that to her.”

  “We didn’t have time to talk. I was in a hurry to get over here.”

  That was fine. Cornelia probably wanted to choose her moment, after the girls were in bed.

  “Are you okay with everything?” Trevor tipped her chin up.

  “What do you mean?”

  “So now that you’re not seeing anyone and we’ve straightened things out with my mother, I guess we can...”

  “Date,” she supplied. “Dating sounds nice.”

  “Okay.” He drew a deep breath. “I’ll have to read up on what there is to do in this town.”

  “We have a movie theater, summer concerts, bingo...”

  “Bingo?” His brown eyes widened. “Now that’s the ticket.”

  “Yeah, right. I was kidding.” Her hand coasted over his chin, the stubble tickling her palm. “I’m sure we’ll find things to do.”

  “No doubt.” He hesitated. Probably searching for words so she waited. “This may sound stupid but I’d like to get to know you.”

  “What?” But she knew exactly what he meant. “You mean, the adult Trevor and Bryn, right? Is that it?” No way did she want to put words in his mouth.

  “Exactly. Yes.” And he nuzzled her nose with his. “You might be the one doing all the talking in this relationship.”

  “Relationship, huh?” She let the word settle. “Well, relationships have responsibilities, the way I see it.” Her eyes went to the kitchen and the green bucket. “I have a decision to make. I was hoping you’d help me.”

  He followed her eyes. “Is this about Sheldon?”

  “Yes. If there is a Sheldon.” Her voice wobbled.

  “Aw, Bryn. Come here.” His arms encircled her. She wasn’t alone. “Sometimes eggs don’t become viable turtles,” he said softly, putting down each word so carefully.

  “I know but...”

  “Are you ready to say good-bye?”

  “I guess so. But this is so hard.” The misery gnawing her stomach must have shown on her face.

  “Sweetheart, don’t. You’re killing me.”

  Sweetheart? She could get used to this.

  But first things first. Heaving herself up from the sofa, she held out a hand. “Come on. Let’s take a look.” Dragging her feet, she knew what she would find. That beautiful, delicate green shell the color of spring grass––sitting there in the sand.

  The setting sun fell through the kitchen window as they approached. But as they drew closer, she sensed a difference. Breath tight in her chest, she peeked. “I don’t believe it.”

  Looking over her shoulder, Trevor’s eyes widened. “Whoa, what’s this?”

  Sheldon was up on his hind legs, trying to scale the inner wall of the pail.

  “Will you just look at this?” Maybe miracles did happen. A little patience helped too. Picking up her tiny pal, Bryn wanted to cuddle him. She’d waited for this moment for weeks. “Look. He’s trying to get away from me.” His tiny claws pitted her hands as he surged forward, neck outstretched. Searching, he didn’t care if there was nothing to catch him. Sometimes she wished she had that kind of courage.

  “Maybe he’s ready to meet his brothers and sisters,” Trevor said, eyes on the active little guy. “Have any others hatched in the last couple days?”

  “Ye–es,” she said slowly, unable to meet his eyes.

  Trevor gently turned Bryn to face him, Sheldon between them. “But you don’t want to let him go. Is that it?”

  “Right.” She kept putting one hand below the other to catch Sheldon as he scrambled to be free. “He might be ready but I’m not.”

  Trevor burst out laughing. Sheldon quickly drew into his shell. “Terrapins are not know for cuddling.”

  She elbowed him. “Don’t call him that.”

  “What. Terrapin?”

  “Yes. It’s too impersonal.” Wrin
kling her nose, Bryn put Sheldon back in the bucket. His head was peeking out again.

  “Ready?” Trevor asked gently.

  “Oh, all right.” How could she hold Sheldon back? You can’t live your life with your head tucked in a shell.

  Careful not to jostle him, she lifted the bucket. They walked out into the fading sunlight. When they reached the turtle box, Trevor scooped up the other three hatchlings and added them to the pail. Sheldon had no problem climbing right over them.

  Together they walked to the marsh. Storm clouds hung low on the darkening horizon. The marsh had fallen incredibly still. Crouching, Bryn and Trevor took the babies out two at a time and set them on the edge of the green reeds. Stretching their legs, they went off, Sheldon included.

  A lump formed in her throat. She wanted to pull Sheldon back. “I didn’t even get to know him.”

  “Maybe he was listening to you all the time.” Trevor squeezed her hand as they watched the last two leave. “They’ll be all right. Well, some of them. According to statistics...”

  Softly she pressed one finger to his lips. “Enough. Stop with ‘They’ll be all right’.”

  Taking her hand, he heaved a sigh. “Am I a slow learner?”

  “No, but some tweaking would be nice. Want to sit in the glider?” She cast a glance at the sky. “Until the rain comes.”

  “Sure. Nothing I’d rather do.”

  Sliding onto the seat, she ran a hand over the weathered wood. “I should paint this before it rots.”

  “Need some help?”

  “If you can spare the time.” She moved over.

  “The girls can pitch in,” he said teasingly. The glider shook slightly when he climbed in next to her.

  “Now that’s a picture.” She imagined Daisy and Annabelle covered with paint, but enjoying the project.

  “Tired?” she asked after he set the glider in motion.

  “Exhausted. And the week’s just started.”

  “How is your mother?” Bryn almost hated to ask.

  “She’s different.” He hesitated. “I don’t know what you two talked about, but she came home a different person. We’ll see how long it lasts.”