Sinner (Shelter Harbor #1)(174)

I ran away from something I never thought my heart would feel again.

From all our talk of boundaries, and “just casual”, and rules, I know now that we were both just kidding ourselves because we were too scared to see what was in front of our faces.

Because after a week back here, away from him? I know one thing I did run away from.

I ran away from love.

And I could really go for that eleven a.m. whiskey right about now.

“Listen,” Archie clasps his hands and leans forward on the desk, his eyes full of emotion. “I’m real sorry about what happened up there, Serena.” He sighs. “London told me, about Sam I mean.”

I nod, looking down at the edge of his desk. “Surprise, huh?” I mumble glumly.

“Well I just thought you should know it’s all bullshit.”

I glance up at Archie, a serious look on his face. “All of it. Billy was one of the best men I ever knew, and damn near the best father, second to me of course.”

I grin, shaking my head as he winks.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what any of that shit they dug up says, darlin’. The man we both knew and loved? The man who raised you all by himself into a hell of whipsmart, confident, poised young woman?” He points a finger at me across the desk. “That man was your father. Period. End of discussion.”

I nod, my eyes dropping to the floor.

“He was proud of you, you know. And he’d be damn proud of the woman you’ve become.” He stands. “Love matters more than blood, Serena; know that. And shit, I don’t know Sam Horn, but I did know Billy Roth. And I don’t give a crap about whatever the genetic tests and papers say, you are exactly like the man who raised you, and nothing like the coward that walked away. I can say that without a single doubt.”

“Thanks, Archie,” I say softly as he comes around to lean against the front of his desk.

“You know what my biggest regret is?”

I look up at him mournfully, shaking my head.

“That I didn’t have a son. ‘Cause man I’d have loved puttin’ the two of you together so I could have a second daughter just like you.”

The sob wrenches from my throat as I stand and throw my arms around him, hugging him fiercely.

“You’re my family no matter what, Archie.”

We rock like that for a minute or two before I finally pull away and wipe the sappy tears from my eyes.

“So you want the job or what?”

I laugh, giggling as I wipe the tears and nod. “Yes. Please.”

“Thank Christ. That kid at your desk right now is worse at email than I am, and that’s seriously saying somethin’.”

I grin as he smiles at me.

“Welcome back, Serena.”





Chapter Forty-One





Serena




The smells of the farmer’s market waft over me - sweet corn, veggies so fresh the dirt’s still caked on them, the donut truck with the freshly made pastries cooling and dripping glaze in the window. The chicken farmers hawking eggs, with a few of their brood pecking at the dirt around their stall. The fancy, hipster, house-roasted, pour-over local coffee company brewing mouthwatering aromas across the market.

Yeah, this I missed.

This is familiar.

I know I haven’t been gone long - not in the scheme of the bigger picture of things. But it feels like it’s been forever. Forever, where I lost myself somewhere up in Denver.

Forever, when I lost myself in the last man I should have.

That’s over now.

I say it to myself for the thousandth time - the hundred-thousandth time, really - since I got into that cab back in Denver the night I left. But it has to be over, because here I am, back in my old life. My old job, my old friends, my old apartment, my old car.

This is where I belong, I guess. If I didn’t, something would have worked out in Denver.

It did.

I close my eyes and take a breath, shaking that thought from my head.

No, it didn’t. If it’d worked out, I’d still be there.

With him.

I swing by the donut shop first, frowning at the insane line and taking it as a sign as I detour for the tomato lady. She recognizes me, at least in a cursory way, smiling as I fill a bag with fresh vine-ripened beauties. Maybe I’ll make gazpacho for my dinner with London and Holden tonight.

I make the rounds, filling the canvas shoulder bag I brought with vegetables, and cheese, and freshly baked bread, until I find myself at another stall, frozen in front of the display of avocados.

And all of a sudden, the temporary feeling of being okay - the illusion that I’m fine - drops silently to grass at my feet.

I’m not okay, and this isn’t fine.

I ran when I should have stayed and fought. I got scared when I should have been brave, and I blinded myself when I should have just opened my eyes and seen what was in front of my face.