For the most part, Dakota liked the way she looked—no body issues for her like so many of her friends had. But she really wished she were just a few inches taller.
Then again, men liked to feel big and strong, and being petite only helped that illusion.
She headed to the door, added a bit of swing to her step, and swept into the cafe like she owned it.
From behind the counter, Rita Mae Prager, one of the actual owners, waved at her, her elderly face breaking into a smile. “Dakota Alvarez, as I live and breathe. How’s your brother, sugar?”
“Just fine, ma’am.” Marcus used to work for Rita Mae and her sister, Anna Mae. He helped at the cafe and at their bed and breakfast—Flower Hill—on the outskirts of town. He’d left town without even saying good-bye right after high school. Dakota had been pissed and hurt, and even though he’d later called to tell her that he’d left because of their dad, that didn’t make it better. She loved Marcus, sure. And she missed him desperately. But she never did understand the bullshit between him and their father. Daddy was the best, after all. There wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for Dakota, and it just pissed the hell out of her when her mom and brother and little sister got all weird around him.
But whatever. Other people’s problems were just that—other people’s.
Right now, she wanted a slice of chocolate pie and company, and so she slid into the booth across from Jeffry and aimed her best smile at him. “I was going to just settle for a cupcake at Marisol’s bakery, but this is better. I get Rita Mae’s pie and your company.”
“Hey, Dakota.”
She frowned. He sounded positively morose.
She tried again, making her smile brighter. “Of course, it’s hard to beat those gingerbread cupcakes. Have you had them? I wonder why Marisol closed up on a Saturday. That’s one of her busiest days.”
Jeffry stared at her like she was wearing bright purple eye shadow or something.
“What?” she demanded.
“You haven’t heard.”
“I—” She licked her lips, suddenly not sure that she wanted to hear. Jeffry wasn’t the kind of guy who walked around with a cloud over him. “What haven’t I heard?”
“There was an accident last night. During the storm. Ginny and Jacob—they were coming home from Austin for the summer, and—”
Dakota grabbed Jeffry’s wrist. “What? What happened? Is Jacob okay?”
“Ginny’s in the hospital. She’s messed up, but my aunt says she’s gonna be fine.”
“What about Jacob?” Dakota couldn’t keep the panic out of her voice, and the longer she looked at Jeffry, the more afraid she became.
“He’s dead, Dakota. Jacob’s dead.”
Dead.
She let go of Jeffry, yanking her hand back as if she’d been burned.
Dead.
He couldn’t be dead. He was hers, goddammit. Hers. Not fucking Ginny Moreno’s.
He was hers.
He was her way out.
And now he was dead and fucking Ginny was alive and Dakota would be trapped in Storm forever.
* * * *
Celeste had to keep moving.
She had a rag in her hand and the Murphy Oil Soap in the other, and she was going over every piece of wooden furniture in the living room and den. Because she couldn’t let things slide. Not now, when they could so easily get out of control.
And she couldn’t let her daughters, Lacey and Sara Jane, think that she wasn’t handling it. This horrible thing that she couldn’t even think about because it just hurt too much. Too damn much.
Goddamn this stupid china cabinet! Why had she let her mother talk her into buying it? The curving woodwork was like a magnet for dust, and no matter how much she tried she couldn’t get it clean even if she scrubbed and scrubbed and—
No.
She hurled the spray bottle of cleaner across the room, accidentally upsetting the little box of coasters on the coffee table. They tumbled off, clattering on the hardwood floor.
As if the noise was a stage cue, Celeste collapsed to the floor as well, her knees just giving out.
She buried her face in her hands and cringed as she heard Travis’s footsteps, then felt his hands on her shoulders.
She jerked away. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”
“Celeste, sweetheart, you’re not.” His voice was gentle—more gentle than she’d heard it in a very long time—and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, certain that she would start crying again. But no tears came. How could they when there were no tears left inside her?
“How are we going to tell them?” she asked as he pulled her up, then helped her to the couch. “Veronica’s mom is driving Lacey home right now—I told her we’ve had a family emergency. But she’s so young, Travis. Seventeen is just far too young to lose somebody so dear, and she loved Jacob so much. She—”
She had to swallow because her throat was thick with the grief.
“She’ll get through it,” he said. “It will be hard and it will be horrible, but you’re here for her.”
Celeste nodded. “And there’s the baby. Travis, it’s such a miracle.”
She still couldn’t wrap her head around it. She knew that Jacob was gone—that pain stabbed her in the heart each and every minute—but to know that there was another little life out there. Another little piece of him that she could hold and love and watch grow. A grandchild that she’d never expected, and certainly not like this.
She hoped it would be a boy. She hoped—
“She’ll let us see him, won’t she? Ginny?”
“Of course,” Travis said gently. “That’s why she told us.”
“But what if—” She cut herself off, not even sure of what scared her. Just knowing that she needed Ginny near. She needed the baby near.
A baby. Jacob’s baby.
Another thought slammed through her, and she frowned. “What about Lacey and Sara Jane? What if they don’t understand? What if they think that having Jacob’s baby around is too painful? What if—”
“Sweetheart, calm down. You’re overwrought.”
“Of course I’m overwrought,” she snapped. “My son is dead. Dammit.” She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to breathe in, breathe out. When she opened them and looked at Travis, he was looking back at her with concern, his posture strong, his eyes firm and loving. He was her strength right now, and she let that new, strange reality settle over her.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just—I just don’t want to have to tell the girls.”
“I know. Believe me, I know. But they have you to help them. And Celeste, you’re so good with the kids.”
She managed a wry smile. “Am I?” He used to tell her she focused too much on the kids. But how could she not? Family was what mattered after all, and wasn’t that what she’d been trying to do her whole life? Build a family?
She’d never understood his protests that she spent too much time working on the kids’ school projects with them, or being the room mother for each of their grades, or heading up the PTA. She always managed to get dinner on the table, didn’t she? Always made sure his clothes were washed and pressed and the house was clean and the kids’ lunches were packed every morning.
He used to complain that she did too much and they should spend more time going out. Taking walks. Driving the Hill Country. And sure those would be lovely things, but they’d started a family and had responsibilities. And how much more would he complain if he had to go run their pharmacy in a wrinkled shirt? Or if he got a call from one of the kids begging for lunch money because she’d slept in and not bothered making it?
Then he stopped complaining and she’d been relieved because that meant he understood. At least she’d hoped that he understood.
And now here he was telling her right out loud that she was good with the kids, and wasn’t that exactly what she’d been wanting to hear practically since Sara Jane was born? And it took a tragedy—it took Jacob dying—to make him say it. To
make him sit beside her the way he was now, just holding her.
“I don’t want to have to tell them,” she repeated as he pulled her close and she leaned against him.
“You don’t have to do it alone. I’ll be right there with you.”
She tilted her head up, seeing a side of her husband that she’d missed. She’d thought he’d lost the strength that had attracted her to him so many years ago. Now that she was seeing it again, she couldn’t help but wonder if it had been there all along and she’d just been too blind or too busy to see it.
“Sara Jane will seem to take it better than Lacey,” she said softly. “She always appears so level—she’s like you, Travis. She can hold it all in. But inside, she’s going to be all ripped up.”
“You called her?”
She nodded. “She’s in San Antonio. Went with that new music teacher for a drive in the country and then dinner on the river.” Sara Jane had just finished her first year as a special ed teacher at the elementary school, and Celeste was so proud of her daughter. “He’s bringing her right back. I didn’t tell her, either. Just that she had to come home. She’s disappointed—I think she likes him. What’s his name? Roger? Ryan? I’m not sure.”
“Hush, sweetheart. We’ll tell them when they get here. We’ll both tell them. Right now, you just rest. Are you cold?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.”
He got up, then tucked a blanket around her. With a sigh, she tilted her head up to look at him. “You’re taking care of me.”
“Of course I am.”
He said it as if it was the most normal thing in the world, but it wasn’t normal at all.
“I tried,” she said. “You know that I tried, right?”
“Tried what, sweetheart?”
“To keep us all together. To keep our family together.”
“Of course you did. You did a wonderful job.”
“I did everything I could.” Tears streamed down her face because she really had. And in one little twist of fate, the family she’d built had been broken forever.
Chapter Six
Mallory Alvarez heard the front door open and immediately pushed the button on the remote to mute the television. Her dad hated to have the television on when he came home from work. And as much as Mallory liked to go a little crazy sometimes, it was really crazy to piss off her dad.
“Mom? Mal?” Dakota’s voice filled the house—not surprising because Dakota was about as loud as it got. She’d moved into a tiny garage apartment just off the square two years ago when Mallory was fourteen, and the place had been way more quiet ever since.
That was just one of the reasons that Mallory had been happy to see her go. Another was the fact that Dakota was a spoiled princess who was always ragging on their mom and sucking up to their dad. And Mallory hated that shit. Of course, her older brother Marcus had gone first, and Mallory had truly been sad when he’d left. And now she was left alone in the house with her parents, and most of the time that really blew.
She shot Luis, her boyfriend, a defiant look, then pushed the button to unmute. After that, she slowly cranked the volume all the way up. As she’d hoped, Luis smiled—although only just a little. He’d had a horrible day, what with his sister being in the hospital and Jacob being dead.
Mallory hadn’t known Jacob very well, but she’d known Luis forever and had been in love with him for at least that long. He had the long, lean body of an athlete and curly dark hair that she used to imagine twirling around her fingers. Now she could do that whenever she wanted, because as of the spring dance—when she’d finally gotten up the nerve to ask him—they were officially a couple.
Today, his angular face looked tired and his hair hung just a little limp. She wasn’t surprised. Luis’s sister Ginny had been Jacob’s best friend, so of course Luis was shaken. He’d come over in a funk after going to the hospital, and they’d been self-medicating with really bad reality television and beer. Her mother, Joanne, would give her shit for the beer since they were both only sixteen, but the day called for it, so there you go.
“God, what the fuck?” Dakota shouted as she came into the living room. “I’ve been screaming at you to turn that down.”
Mallory cupped her hand to her ear. Dakota snarled, then grabbed the remote and turned the whole system off.
“Hey! We were watching that. Luis needs to de-stress. It’s been a shitty day.”
To Mallory’s surprise, Dakota actually teared up. Then Mallory felt pretty shitty herself because she’d been thinking about Luis, and not about Dakota. Because, honestly, when did she bother thinking about Dakota?
But today, she should have. Because even though Dakota never did much about it or said much about it, Mallory knew she’d had a crush on Jacob since, like, forever. And even though her sister was a huge bitch, Mallory would never wish this on her.
“You heard?” she asked gently.
Dakota opened her mouth, but no words came out. Instead, she swiped at her eyes and nodded.
“Oh, man.” Mallory leaped to her feet and threw her arms around her sister, who hugged her back tight, something she did less than never.
After a minute, Dakota pulled back then looked at Luis. “Ginny’s okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah. She’s—” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. But she scared the shit out of us. She’s okay, though.” He pulled Mallory over for a kiss on the cheek. “I’m gonna go. Marisol’s been sitting with her, but I should spell her, you know?”
“You okay to drive?” Mallory asked. “Want me to go with you?”
He shook his head. “Thanks. I’m good. Only drank half of one. Nothing much tastes good?”
He gave her another quick kiss, then headed out, leaving Mallory alone with her sister. “So what’s up? You hardly ever come by anymore.”
Dakota lifted a shoulder. “I wanted to see Daddy.”
“He’s at work.”
“Really? It’s almost six.”
“He took Mom to the hospital this morning. She hurt her wrist.”
Dakota rolled her eyes. “Thank God we didn’t inherit her clumsiness, right?”
Mallory just stared at her, wondering if her older sister could really be that stupid. “She’s not clumsy. He’s a drunk.”
“Pot calling the kettle,” Dakota said, pointing at the beers.
“He’s a mean drunk.”
Dakota lifted a hand. “We’re not even talking about this shit. Daddy works his ass off to take care of her, and we both know it. I figure if he wants to chill with a beer or two, what’s wrong with that?”
Mallory shrugged. It wasn’t the beer so much as what came with it. But she wasn’t going to get into that with her sister. God forbid you said anything bad about King Hector in front of Princess Dakota. And it wasn’t like Mallory knew what to say anyway. Every time she’d even hinted at it with her mother, Joanne just changed the subject. And surely if Hector was really being horrible, she’d do something to stop him, right?
But still…
That’s what it seemed like, and she didn’t know what to do, and she hated thinking that way. And the truth was that she’d been thinking that way for a while, but just hadn’t wanted to say it out loud. Mostly, she spent her time out of the house because it was easier to be gone. She could hang out behind the feed store and drink beer and be with her friends and it was easy. But she was starting to really worry about her mom.
At the end of the day, Mallory had learned only one good lesson from her parents—marriage was for suckers.
For about the millionth time, she wished Marcus was around. He’d know what she should do. Dakota wasn’t any help at all.
“So where’s Mom, then?” Dakota asked.
“Grocery store. Dad told her he’d be starving when he got home, what with putting in later hours.” Her mom should be asleep with all those pain meds in her. And Mallory had offered to go to the store for her. But Joanne Alvarez was proud, that much was for sure.
The pur
r of the ancient Oldsmobile’s engine caught both their attention, and they hurried to the screen door that opened off the kitchen. The floor sloped just a bit there—the house was old and Hector never seemed to get around to fixing it—and so Mallory felt even more off-kilter as she waited for Joanne to come inside.
She had a bag in her left hand, and Mallory saw her struggling to carry everything with her injured wrist. “Oh, shit,” Mallory said, then trotted outside to help her mom.
“Thanks, baby,” Joanne said. “Help me get dinner on?”
“Sure. You can sit at the table and I’ll do it.”
“No. Your dad likes the way I do it.”
“What are we having?”
“Tacos. Quick and easy.” Soon enough, she was in the kitchen and working on the meal. She dumped the ground beef into the cast iron skillet and started adding spices from the rack on the back of the stove. “Can you girls put away the rest? He’ll be home soon, and it took longer at the store than I’d thought.”
She didn’t meet Mallory’s eyes, and Mallory knew that the reason for the delay had been her wrist and not a flood of people at the local H-E-B.
Dakota looked up from where she was seated at the round Formica table. “Mom, I need some extra cash.”
Joanne frowned at her, and Dakota stood, suddenly interested in helping to put away the groceries. Mallory almost rolled her eyes at her sister’s transparency.
“You’re a bank teller, sweetheart. You make a decent wage.”
“Decent? I make a crappy hourly rate. And I have to cover my rent.”
Joanne tilted her head. “I’ve seen your paychecks, Dakota Alvarez. What are you doing with that money if it’s not going for rent?”
“Jesus, Mom, am I a naked, starving monk? I have to eat. I have to wear clothes. And, guess what, I like to go out and have some fun sometimes.”
Joanne pursed her lips together. Mallory turned away in case she laughed out loud.
“I don’t have any money. You know your father fills up the household account only on the first of the month.”
“Yeah, but you could lend me just a little bit of your money, right?”
“Dakota. I don’t have it.”
Dakota rolled her eyes. “You work at the florist. And, hey, you’re a Grossman, Mom. Give me a break. I mean, Grandma’s practically rolling in money.”