Breaking Travis (The West Series Book 5) (16 page)

H
olly didn’t want Travis to know that she was totally excited about painting. In a few weeks she’d be painting her place and be completely overwhelmed by it, but for now, she wanted nothing more than to cover inch by inch of the mint green walls with the soft white.

She’d knocked on the back door just before sunrise, her hair tied up in a purple handkerchief. Her faded jeans and white paint shirt were soft and comfortable along with her old sneakers. She had even brought a soda and snacks for later, since she doubted she’d want to stop working for a while.

When Travis opened the back door, her smile faltered a little. “Are you okay?” She stepped in, worried.

“Yeah,” he stepped back. “Why?”

She chuckled. “Because you’re standing at a funny angle.”

“I am?” He looked down and then back up at her.

“Did you sleep on the couch?” She glanced over and saw his makeshift bed on the old sofa.

“Yeah, I moved everything out upstairs.”

She shook her head. “Your back must be killing you.” She took his shoulders and turned him around. “Possibly the worst thing you could do for your back is sleep on that old thing,” she said as she started moving her hands over his back. She knew which pressure points to push, which muscles to rub. It wasn’t hard to know; after all, his whole left side was a big knot. After a few minutes, she saw his left shoulder lift and his back straighten.

“There.” She rubbed his shoulders one last time. “Now you look less like the hunchback of Notre Dame.”

He laughed and turned. “Thanks, I think.” He rolled his shoulders and neck. She heard a few vertebrae pop back into place. “Wow, I’ve got to learn that trick.” He rolled his shoulders again.

“Now you’re ready to work.” She smiled and picked up her bag from where she’d dropped it by the door. “I’ll just get to work then.” She turned to go.

“Holly?” She stopped in the hallway and turned. “Thanks.”

She smiled. “No problem.”

She spent a few minutes laying out the tarps across the stairs and the hardwood floor in the main entryway. When she moved the large ladder onto it, she stood back and thought about where to start.

The whole entryway to the house was green. There were two large main doors, which she’d never really used since she’d moved into the apartment. She didn’t think the doors had been opened in years. Deciding to start on that wall, she opened the first five-gallon pail of paint and used the large stir sticks to mix the color. She tested it on the wall and decided that it would take two coats to completely cover the green.

By lunchtime she had most of the lower walls covered. Travis had walked by several times, carrying large boxes up the stairs. On multiple occasions, she’d helped him carry something up or had just gotten out of his way.

She’d heard him switch on a radio earlier and had enjoyed the old country that flooded the house. She had even sung along on a few of her favorite songs. She took a break and sat on the bottom stair and ate her peanut butter and jelly sandwich and bag of chips for lunch.

After lunch, she opened the front doors to help air out the paint smell and speed up the drying. She started climbing the tall ladder and hauling a small bucket up with her to start on the top half of the area. She painted in long strips with the roller, and then she would move over to the next section and climb the ladder again. It took longer to paint the top half of the entry this way. It was well after dark before she climbed down the ladder for the last time that day. She stood back and looked at her work.

With the second coat of paint she was going to apply tomorrow, the place would look great. Already it looked more modern and newer.

“Looks great from here,” Travis said from the top of the stairs.

She nodded and smiled up at him. “With a second coat tomorrow, you’ll have a new home.”

He laughed. “At least one that is a lot less green and pink.”

She laughed. “How far did you get upstairs?”

“Come on up and see for yourself.”

She climbed the stairs and followed him into the bathroom.

Not only had he gotten the new vanity, sink, and toilet in, but he’d started painting over the pink walls.

“I think these walls will need three coats,” he said behind her.

“Hmmm.” She nodded. “The pink is a lot darker than the green.” She walked around and tested the sink. “Did you have to watch videos to learn how to do this?”

He shook his head no. “I helped my dad install the ones in my apartment. He paid to have most of it done, but said I had to learn a few things and showed me how to do all the plumbing.”

She smiled. “I always liked your dad. He was the only real father figure I had after my dad died.”

“It’s funny, after talking to everyone in town, I realize how many lives he touched. I never knew.”

“He was the mayor for as long as anyone can remember. He was at every major event.” She leaned against the vanity and crossed her arms over her chest as he stood in the doorway. “I can remember him being at every one of my birthday parties.” She laughed. “He was even the clown one year when my mother couldn’t afford to hire someone to entertain the kids.”

“Really?” He shook his head. “I guess I never really appreciated how much he was involved.”

She nodded and stood up. “I wish you could have been at his funeral and services. The whole town showed up. So many people had wonderful things to say about him.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry.” She wiped more away and started to walk out of the restroom.

“Holly.” He stopped her by putting his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry about everything.” He shook his head.

“What?” She waited and watched him struggle with words.

“About Vegas, about all your stuff.” He closed his eyes and dropped his hands from her shoulders.

“Travis, you had nothing to do with either event.”

He started to shake his head, and she stopped him by placing her hand on his face. She knew she was splattered with paint but didn’t care. “Travis, there is only so much one person can blame themselves.”

A burst of laughter escaped his lips. “I’m not the only one who blames me.” He took a few steps out of the small room and then turned and looked at her again. “What do you think that was all about?” He threw his hands towards the back wall. “The mess in your apartment. That was a warning. To me!” His voice rose.

She frowned at him. “I don’t understand.”

He ran his hands through his hair and then dropped his arms to his side. “Savannah. She stopped by again the other night. She demanded that I step up and tell the town that I’m the father.” He shook his head and closed his eyes.

Holly laughed. “I had a run in with her yesterday, before I went riding.”

His eyes flew open, and anger burned in them. “Are you okay?” He looked over her.

She laughed. “I know how to handle myself. Remember, I’m the one that broke her nose a few months ago.”

He nodded and she saw him relax a little.

“She said a lot of things.” She shook her head and stepped out into the hallway. “She kept trying to convince me that you were the father. She…” She looked down at her hands and scraped the dry paint off the back of her thumb.

“What?” He stepped towards her and put his fingers under her chin, nudging it up until she looked at him.

“She told me you’d tire of me soon enough.” She shook her head until his fingers dropped from her skin.

“She lied.” Her eyes flew back to his, waiting. “I don’t think I could tire of you.” He closed his eyes and stepped back. “That’s the problem.” When he looked at her again, she searched his eyes. “I can’t do this. I don’t want to.” He turned and took a few steps until she stopped him with a hand on his.

“Travis, there’s nothing you can do to make this go away. Not now.”

He laughed. “I just need to be myself and you’ll see for yourself soon enough.” He jerked his arm free of hers and took off.

She stood in the hallway and watched him go down the stairs and out the front door. She stood there for a few moments before she walked back downstairs and started cleaning up the paint brushes in the laundry room sink. When she’d closed everything up again for the night, she walked back to her apartment and took the hottest shower her skin would tolerate.

Her eyes and nose were red when she looked at herself in the mirror. She combed her long hair and thought about everything he’d said. How would she convince him that he was no longer the troublemaker he used to be? If he didn’t believe it, then she’d just have to show him.

When she finally lay down, she dreamed of Travis holding her. Of how good it would feel to have his hands on her again.

Travis walked to the end of the block and when he still felt bad, he continued to walk farther. Even when the streetlights stopped, he walked and walked.

Why couldn’t Holly—and the whole town of Fairplay, for that matter—let him be? He hadn’t planned on coming back, hadn’t planned on staying.

Something inside of him told him to run from the town and in the last few years, he’d learned to listen to his inner voice. He’d spent years ignoring it and look at where that had gotten him.

He thought of his mother and his stomach turned. Did she even have a little voice inside? He hadn’t talked to her or seen her since that night four years ago when the sheriff had cuffed her and put her into the back of his car. She’d screamed her confession loud enough for him to hear it as he’d watched.

He looked around and realized he’d walked to the new park. The new playground stood in the bright lights for the safety of any kids or teenagers who wanted to hang out after dark. He walked over and sat on the swing, pushing it a little as he remembered his mother. Did she know that his dad had died? He was sure someone would have told her at the facility she was in. She’d been moved to a state run place less than an hour away. He must have driven by the place a thousand times when he’d gone into Houston to party.

She’d gotten off easy for what she’d done. Guilty of attempted murder and all she’d received was twenty years in a psych ward. He leaned his head on the cool chain and wished more than anything that his father was there to guide him.

His dad had always known what to do. He opened his eyes and looked around the park. Maybe this was his father’s way of telling him what to do with his future.

He loved designing and overseeing construction. All he would need was another year or two at school and he could earn his degree. Maybe he’d find someplace to start a business then. Maybe he’d build and design new homes. He liked knowing that families would enjoy the spaces he created.

He stood up from the swing and looked around the dark park and smiled. He’d include parks and old theaters in his work list. He’d enjoyed seeing the old place come together and couldn’t wait until all the work was finished, making the theater what it used to be. No, better than it used to be.

He started walking back to his house and this time as he went, he noticed the homes and business he passed as he went. Some of them had been updated, others were in dire need of repair or replacement. He knew that some of the towns people had abandoned their homes after the tornado. Some had chosen to take the insurance money and leave, and others had stuck it out and fixed what they could, when they could.

There was still a lot of work to be done in Fairplay, and he knew his father would have wanted the town to be returned to its former glory. He could do it. Maybe he’d stick around here and finish what his father had started.

He turned onto his street and saw the light in the apartment above the garage. Maybe he could be good enough for Holly.

He was just outside his house when he heard the vehicle turn down the quiet road. He turned and saw Billy’s truck. When it turned into his driveway, he sighed.

“Hey, Travis.” Billy was alone this time and Travis watched as he stepped out of the truck. He could tell that his friend was wasted and probably a little high.

“Hi, Billy. Should you be driving?” He held his friend upright so he wouldn’t fall face first into the cement.