“You know,” she said as she focused on trimming. “He came in here a few weeks ago. Early one morning, before I opened, demanding a haircut and a beard trim.”
I frowned, confused about where she was going. “Okay.”
“He told me that he could no longer hang out with me because the love of his life had returned to town and he was going to do everything he could to win her back.” She cocked a brow. “Sound familiar?”
My cheeks heated, but I was speechless.
“Listen, I pride myself on not being a gossip, but I own a salon, so it kind of comes with the territory. I know he’s wild about you. He’s sweet and intense and incredibly loyal.”
She kept chatting as she expertly cut my hair, seemingly unbothered by my inability to respond.
Finally, after replaying the timeline in my head, I found my voice. “I didn’t realize he told you that.”
“I respect how he did it. Straightforward. He didn’t ghost me or lead me on. Not that I’m capable of being led on.” She twisted her wedding band on her finger. “But Gus is a good friend. And if you hurt him—”
“I’m not sure there’s any way we won’t both end up hurt,” I said, giving in to the honesty she inspired. “But there’s a lot of history there.”
She nodded. “I get it. But as someone who lost the love of her life forever, let me give you a little advice—don’t give him up too easily.”
I was stalling. It wasn’t hard to do when the Caffeinated Moose was just down the street from the salon. I enjoyed an iced latte and a molasses cookie, then scrolled on my phone while I worked up the courage.
It was almost five, so there was a good chance I’d catch him on his way home.
Finally, I steeled myself and headed for my car. I prided myself on confronting issues head-on, but the thought of staring down my dad and learning the truth scared the shit out of me. Almost as much as my growing feelings for Gus.
My father still lived in the home I’d grown up in. A boxy colonial he’d kept well maintained. The blue paint was fresh and the landscaping was pristine. My mother’s roses were perfectly pruned and blooming beautifully. I expected nothing less. My dad always had liked to keep up appearances.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d set foot in this house, but it was now or never. I’d been my mother’s daughter, and my father had spent my childhood working nonstop. When she got sick, I stepped in, caring for her and my siblings, cooking and doing laundry and signing permission slips.
During that time, he all but disappeared. He worked long hours and then spent every night by my mother’s side. He was there for her. But to us kids, he was a ghost.
When I worked up the nerve to get out of the car and ring the doorbell, the man who answered the door was older than I remembered, his blond hair faded to mostly white. As a child, I’d seen him as this larger-than-life character. Now he seemed almost frail in his neatly pressed polo shirt and khakis.
“Chloe,” he said, his voice warm but a little wary. “I’m so glad you finally stopped by.”
He ushered me into the living room. It was still painted a cheery yellow, which my mother had loved, and the family photos lined up on the mantel were perfectly dusted. Heart aching, I walked over to them, running my fingers along the frames. In the middle was my parents’ wedding portrait. My mother looked so young and beautiful, and my father so strapping and handsome. I lingered, wishing she were here right now. If only I could hear her laugh, tell her about my morning sickness, and ask her how she took care of us all while making it look so effortless.
My father appeared at my side and surveyed the photos. An assortment of happy family memories perfectly preserved. Graduations, birthdays, and family trips told an incomplete story.
“I miss her every day,” he said softly.
I closed my eyes, fighting back the tears. This was a wound that would never close. “Me too.”
“Come chat with me. I want to hear all about what you’ve been up to.”
After he’d poured us each a glass of iced tea, we settled in the living room and chatted about timber. Pricing, supply chain, equipment, the shortage of skilled labor, the usual.
After we ran out of common topics, I put down my glass and folded my hands. My heart was racing, and I was drenched in sweat. I wanted to leave the house, leave these memories, rather than initiate a conversation that would confirm my worst fears.
But I owed it to myself to find the truth.
“Dad, I need to ask you a few questions. About my divorce.”
His lips turned down in a confused frown. “That was ages ago. What does it matter?”
Pulling my shoulders back, I steeled myself. “It actually means a lot to me.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “And I want the truth.” Shifting to the edge of the couch, I ignored the blood whooshing in my ears and forced the words out. “Did you coordinate with Mitch Hebert to make Gus and I get divorced? Did you lie to me and tell me he traded me for land? Did you hide his messages, calls, and letters from me?”
Sitting back, his face suddenly gaunt, my father ran his hands through his thinning hair. “I can’t remember it all,” he said. “But it was such a difficult time.”
“It was awful for all of us,” I said, my patience thinning. “Particularly me, since I lost my mom and then my husband back to back.”
“When your mother died, I just lost it,” he said, his voice choked. “I had four kids to raise and no idea how to do it. I tried to do right by you.”
My heart sank. I was pretty confident that was an admission.
“You pushed me away,” I gritted out, my already cracked heart splintering further. “You cut off most of my contact with my family and friends and manipulated me into divorcing the man I loved.”
His face fell. Gus was right. There was so much more to this story than I’d ever known.
“Because you were destined for more than this place,” he argued. “More than this life. Mitch Hebert is a liar and a criminal. He may be behind bars now, but even back then, he wasn’t trustworthy.”
“But Gus is not his father.”
His face was red now, and anger radiated from him. “How was I supposed to know that? He was a kid. You were a kid. I had to honor your mother’s wishes. You were so smart and so accomplished. It broke my heart watching how hard you pushed yourself to take care of your mother and your siblings. You cared so much for her every day up until her death.”
“And you punished me for it.”
