If Only (The Willowbrook Series Book 1) (3 page)

Chapter Three

They stared at each other like two angsty teenagers. Rhys kicked at the tire of the pickup truck before he turned his back on Asa and jammed the key in the door’s lock. In the truck, he started the engine, and not caring if gravel flew beneath the tires, he peeled out of town.

If he wasn’t driving, he’d close his eyes and try to forget the hurt and sadness on Asa’s face. Yet, every time he saw her whenever he visited Willowbrook, Rhys was reminded of the day she had accused him of being at fault for her father’s death.

In the rearview mirror, he watched her disappear into the café.
Willowbrook
. Shit, the last time he was here was three months ago. He’d stayed long enough to celebrate his grandmother’s seventy-first birthday but left town the following day for his home in San Diego, giving Jo the lame excuse he had more training to do.

It wasn’t the training that had him hightailing it home. No, he wanted to avoid running into Asa. Yet, his avoidance of her had cost him more time with his grandmother. Even now he felt bad for leaving so soon.

But back then, his grandmother was fine. Yeah, she had the occasional aches and pains in her joints. And yeah, she complained like hell about growing older, but her complaints were nothing new. Rhys had heard the same things for the last seven years, since he had come to live with her at the age of sixteen.

In front of him, the sky was various shades of gray, upping his concerns regarding the weather report. While he had sipped his beer in the bar, the television screen had held his interest as the weatherman highlighted the trajectory of movement from the south that would later translate into a huge dumping of white crap on Willowbrook.

Dammit! They had to be wrong. It couldn’t snow. He wanted the hell out of town, away from this boring shithole, and back to his crazy life in the warmth of southern Cali. Most of all, he wanted to keep on avoiding Asa Chanthavay for a final time.

It didn’t used to be like this. After he graduated from high school and left Willowbrook, they had remained friends. Their phone calls and texting occurred so often, it was as though they didn’t live in separate states. However a year ago, two significant events in their lives had fractured their friendship.

He told himself if Asa ever asked for his forgiveness for blaming him in her father’s death, he’d give it. But if he forgave her, he would feel obligated to explain why he had made the rude comment about her after they’d slept together at the damn party he hadn’t wanted to go to but did.

At that moment, with her happy in his arms, his love for her evident in the desperate kisses he’d dropped on her lips, Rhys was ready to give up his dreams for her—his Asa.

Scared shitless at the intensity of his emotions, and not ready to give up the dream of a Supercross championship, he had acted like a royal ass. After getting dressed and leaving her in the bedroom’s darkness, he had told one of the guys Asa was a mercy fuck. And worse, he’d said the crude words within hearing distance of the bedroom. Well, fuck him for being an ass.

Shoving his fingers in his hair, he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles whitened.
Forget that night, Miles
. The memory started to fade the more he concentrated, but soon their times together from their school years replaced that night.

He remembered the innocence in Asa’s eyes when she had told him she’d never been kissed. Deep in his chest, the sound of her laughter reverberated, kicking his heartbeat into a fast beat.

And forever embedded in his mind was the intelligence in her words as she tutored him through a year of math with patience.

In school, she had been the awkward and smart girl who didn’t seem to fit in with any crowd. Being the only Asian family in town hadn’t helped. At first, Rhys felt sorry for her, her loneliness reeling him in the first time they’d met. Yet through the years, her quiet understanding of whom he was and her calming influence kept him in contact with her.

Slumping, he loosened his grip on the steering wheel. Moisture fell from the sky in the form of mist, but it wasn’t snow. How long would she be at the café? With the threat of snow, he worried. She might be independent and smart enough to figure out what to do if her place lost power, but Asa was also stubborn.

Normally, he liked her stubbornness, using it to gain a smile and laughter from her, or a heavy whack on the shoulder when he went too far and annoyed her. But in this instance, her stubbornness gave him more reasons to worry. Knowing her, she probably thought it wouldn’t snow, going by the belief that even the experts were likely wrong.

Damn her! She never listened. It was just like that night, when he had told her he was going to kiss her, and she’d better leave the darkened bedroom fast otherwise they’d both be in deep shit for crossing the lines of their friendship.

Instead, she had stayed, fully aware of the consequences as she stood on her toes and kissed him. The sensation of her soft lips rubbing over his was different, almost new, though it hadn’t been his first kiss.

Yet it was his first time with
her
. When she opened her mouth, he couldn’t rein in his slipping restraint. He had wanted Asa too much, the emptiness inside him growing every time he had kept their contacts to a minimum during competitions, fearful their friendship would be a distraction.

After her father’s death and their fallout, her accusation had hurt and so he had avoided her, thinking time and distance would lessen the pain of her betrayal. But all it did was remind him of how much she meant to him. She was his friend, someone who understood his drive to win, and the only woman he loved.

And she being all that to him, he shouldn’t continue to be a jerk to her by pretending what he had said was never uttered. Yeah, it might be a year too late, and yeah, she might not ever ask for
his forgiveness
, but apologizing to her for his crass comment was the right thing to do. Maybe then, he could move on, and get over his feelings for her. Too bad he didn’t have the courage yet to approach her.

Sighing, he returned his focus to the weather. From what he remembered, Eve owned the café. If she was a good and concerned friend, she’d send Asa home early. Business wasn’t worth the risk of being trapped in a snowstorm, and business wasn’t worth dying for, unless it was his kind of moneymaker.

Yet, Rhys didn’t ride for the money or the exposure. He competed and risked his neck in honor of his dead mother’s memory, and now, his grandmother’s. They had believed in him while his drunken father had bitched over and over about how riding a dirt bike was a waste of time and of money they didn’t have.

Once his mother realized he was serious about competing, she backed him up one hundred and ten percent, convincing her mother, Jo, to pour her savings into Rhys’s training. By the time he was able to compete professionally, his parents had died in an accident, a one car rollover. Apparently, his father’s blood alcohol level was three times the legal limit.

His grandmother continued to pay for his training, taking out a second loan on her house after he had moved to Willowbrook to live with her. His parents had died with nothing to their names except debt.

For the past five years—with last year being the exception—he had placed second or third in the AMA Supercross Championship. With his six-figure points and purse earnings, Rhys had repaid his grandmother’s confidence in him by paying off her mortgage. Now, according to the will, Grandma Jo’s house belonged to him.

But he didn’t want the house. It was a wooden shell filled with belongings that no longer held any meaning for him. The memories he had growing up in that house, he kept close to his heart. That was enough for him.

Sell the house, and he would sever his ties to Willowbrook and Asa. Reasonable. Feasible. Too bad the economy was still in the tanks. It might be awhile before he had an interested buyer.

He drove until, two hours later, he reached the city of Ashton. It was a hell of a drive, but he trusted only one person to handle the sale of his grandmother’s place. Finding the building he searched for, Rhys parked in front of his friend’s real estate office, got out of the truck and took in the sights and sounds of a hopping strip mall.

The place hadn’t changed. A grocery store sat to his left while different businesses and restaurants surrounded it. The area was packed for a Tuesday afternoon. No doubt the impending storm had something to do with the rush.

Cupping his hands over his mouth, he pulled his shoulders in to keep warm, and watched as people walked out of the grocery store with bags of food and cords of wood in their carts. He’d better do the same. Just in case.

There was plenty of firewood in his grandmother’s shed—he had made sure of it three months ago—but he doubted she had much food in the house. No point in cooking for an army when there was only her, she’d say.

Shaking his head, he lowered his gaze and swallowed past the lump in his throat. He’d miss her. At the entrance to the real estate office, Rhys opened the door and walked inside.

The gal manning the front desk looked up then smiled at him. Flirtatious. Inviting.
Not interested
. As though she read his mind or saw something in his expression, her smile faltered. He fixed his sight at a spot over her shoulder. A glass wall behind the blonde’s desk gave Rhys a good view of his friend, Lucas. He sauntered to the door. The blonde opened her mouth. Rhys shook his head.

“Lucas and I go way back. He’ll understand.”

She nodded and bit down on the corner of her lip, the gesture causing him to pause in front of the door. Asa used to do that. When a math problem stumped her, or she had a hard time explaining a concept to him, she’d chew on her bottom lip.
Just like that
.

He mentally shook away the memory of Asa’s lips—soft, sweet, full. The door swung inward, yanking him out of his thoughts.

“Hey, man, nice to see you again.” Grinning, Lucas pulled him in for a manly shoulder bump before he smacked Rhys’s upper arm. “Sorry about your grandmother.”

A serious expression replaced Lucas’s smile, and Rhys acknowledged his sympathy with a slight nod before he took a seat across from Lucas.

“So . . .” Rhys said.

“So, what?” Lucas shuffled papers on the desk until there was an organized heap at the corner.

“How’s it going with Eve?”

“The same,” Lucas muttered. “I chase her tail, and she continues to run far and fast. Hell, one guy’s not enough for her. That’s what she keeps telling me. But...” He trailed off, the look on his face an indication he was through talking about Eve. “I take it you’re here because you want to sell your grandma’s place?”

Grabbing a pen from Lucas’s stash, Rhys clicked and unclicked it. “Yeah. I know it’s a buyer’s market, but what other option do I have besides renting it?” He set the pen down. “I don’t need the hassle right now with competitions starting in two months. And I doubt a property manager will want to manage a small two bedroom, one bath house on two acres.”

“From what I remember, her house is paid off, right?” Rhys nodded.

“Why don’t you wait? Give it a few weeks until your head is clear. In the meantime, you can man up, speak to Asa, and see if she’ll keep an eye on the place for you.”

“You’re challenging me to disturb the peace?” It was different coming from a guy who disliked confrontation.

“What peace? There’s been nothing but bad blood between you two for the past year, and that accident was to blame. Grow some balls and talk to her about it.”

“I will, but not about the accident. We all know—” He shoved back his chair, stood, and paced. “Shit, the whole town knows I wasn’t at fault.”

Leaning against his chair, Lucas hooked his hands behind his head appearing all casual when Rhys knew chaos simmered beneath the calm.

“She was in shock. Her father had died. You were there, a familiar face, an easy target for her pain. Make things right between the two of you.”

Rhys stopped and balled his fists at his sides. He didn’t come here to speak of Asa.

Lucas unhooked his hands and stood. “Look, from what I remember of our talks about your father and my stepdad, they were very much alike in one
particular
area. They taught us that showing our emotions was weak, and we fell damn hard for their lessons.”

As Lucas raked his fingers through his hair, his jaw clenched. Was his friend remembering darker times?

“Good for you, you didn’t get a slap to the face every time you slipped like I did,” Lucas continued. “You might not readily show your emotions, but as a friend, I can tell you miss Asa. Otherwise, why would you ask me if Eve had anything to say about her?”

Coming from around the desk, he crossed the carpet and opened the office door. “Rhys, if you don’t tell her now how you feel about her, some other guy is gonna come along and take your spot in her heart. Then you’ll be left with the what-ifs. Talk to her, and afterwards, if you think the two of you can’t make it work, at least you know you gave it a go.”

What Lucas suggested was easier said than done. Love was for the weak, meant specifically for women to express, and for manly men to keep well hidden, according to Rhys’s jerk of a father.

“It’s been a year, Lucas. And she hates my guts.”

“Time is no excuse.” Lucas pushed him out of the building’s door. “And she’s always liked your guts,” he said laughing. “Get going. A storm’s coming. Again, I’m sorry for your loss. If you need anything, you have my number.”

“Thanks, I think, for everything,” he said, shaking Lucas’s hand.

“Payback for all those years you helped me. If I didn’t have you or your grandmother, my ass would be in jail right now.”

Rhys believed him. Beneath the concern, and his professional demeanor, Lucas had a rough edge, branded on him from the daily beatings he’d suffer at the hands of his stepfather and the constant bullying from his stepbrothers.

Yet, he hadn’t let his lot in life prevent him from doing good. In high school, the teachers liked him for his affinity to help the underdogs. If a kid was being bullied or made to feel left out, Lucas was the first to speak up on that kid’s behalf.