P.S. Goodbye Read online

  P.S. Goodbye

  Restoring Heritage Prequel Novella

  Tari Faris

  Tari Faris

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  What Happens Next?

  A sneak peek of You Belong with Me

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  To my favorite veteran, my dad.

  * * *

  You always encouraged me

  to reach for the stars and

  made me believe I could reach them.

  * * *

  I love you!

  Chapter 1

  Failing to plan was the same as planning to fail, and Caroline Williams refused to be a failure—even a failure at having the perfect engagement. She glanced at her phone then, put it in her pocket. Fifteen minutes late. At this rate, they’d miss the sunset over Lake Michigan.

  He’d probably hit traffic. Maybe she shouldn’t have insisted they meet on the beach, but it was the four-year anniversary of their first date—which had been right here. There wasn’t a better place to get engaged—or a better day for it to happen.

  The small waves trimmed in gold from the setting sun began to build and swell farther up the beach. The heavy clouds in the distance lined with orange and pink telegrammed the approaching September storm. Ludington, Michigan, was magical at sunset, and she wasn’t the only one to think so. Other couples strolled the beach, hands clasped, fingers entwined. Love was in the air.

  All she needed to make this perfect was Mason. He was probably picking up the ring. They had picked it out together over a month ago, but Mason always put things off until the last minute. Not his best quality but since he got an A in every other area of her list, he was perfect. Or practically.

  Caroline slipped off her sandals and let the sand slide between her toes. What was taking him so long? A mist floated down from gray clouds above. It wasn’t so much that she’d cancel her plans—just enough to add frizz to her carefully straightened hair. So, it was almost perfect. Most of the people on the beach began gathering their belongings and rushing to their cars. But they weren’t waiting for the perfect moment.

  “Caroline.” Mason waved as he hurried toward her across the sand. His blond hair flopped in his eyes as he ran, but at least he hadn’t worn that ridiculous man bun today. He greeted her with a quick hug and dropped a kiss on her cheek. His full—if not a bit overwhelming—scent of aftershave surrounded her. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “It’s fine. Plenty of time.” She angled so he was standing uphill slightly. They were almost the same height, and his shoulders lined up with hers within an inch. She’d always thought she wanted a man who made her feel small. But she’d been wrong. He was her match. She just didn’t want to feel bigger than him right now.

  He cleared his throat and shoved his right hand into his pocket. She’d hoped for a bit more prelude, but he was right—if they wanted to catch the sunset—the time for a proposal was now.

  He scanned the shore. “Want to walk?”

  “What?” Caroline glanced toward the water and then back at him. “The sun will be fully set in a few minutes.”

  “Right.” With one hand still in his pocket, he used his free hand to brush his shaggy blond hair from his forehead. His brown eyes flicked from her, to the sand, and back to her. “Caroline.”

  This was it.

  “I think we should see other people.”

  “Excuse me—what?”

  Mason fidgeted with the collar of his designer jacket. “I don’t think this is working.”

  “You’re . . . breaking up with me? Here? Now?” Sure, she raised her voice in public, but—really? “After four years? On our anniversary?”

  Mason glanced around and smiled at a couple walking by before shoving his other hand into his pocket and focusing back on her. “Why do you want to marry me?”

  “Where’s this coming from?” Her voice cracked.

  He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “Just answer the question.”

  “It’s the plan!” Caroline folded her arms in front of her chest and held them tight. “The plan we’ve had for three years. We graduated from college. You finished grad school. You spent a year in China. And now you have your dream job in Grand Rapids. It’s time.”

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for marriage.” He shrugged and kicked the sand with the toe of his shoe. “I thought I would be. But there’s still so much I want to do.”

  She stared at him, trying to comprehend his words. “We can do things together.”

  “Do you even love me? Did you even miss me while I was in China?” His eyebrows wrinkled his forehead as if to punctuate his words.

  “Of course I love you. And you love me.” Didn’t he?

  “I do.” He turned away, then focused back on her. “But not enough. I mean, I missed my dog as much as I missed you. Something is wrong with that.”

  Did he just compare his love for her to that of his labradoodle? He’d lost his mind.

  Caroline was a problem solver and she could solve this . . . this confusion. “Okay, okay. I understand you aren’t ready for marriage—cold feet or whatever—but it doesn’t mean we have to break up. Why don’t we head over to your apartment? I think I left my grandmother’s necklace there, anyway. We can talk this through calmly. Make a pro-con list.”

  “This isn’t going to change with a list.” He lowered his voice and took another step toward her. “I don’t yearn for you and you don’t yearn for me. Maybe we did at one point. But now? We’re together because it’s comfortable—it’s the plan.”

  She bit her lip to keep from screaming. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth as her hands shook with adrenaline.

  Caroline glanced at the crowd they’d gathered. She was better than this. She was a life coach. She’d helped a friend through a breakup recently, and there were rules.

  Rule number one—No begging.

  She snatched the bracelet he’d given her from her wrist and held it out. “Consider us broken up.”

  He lifted the bracelet from her hand. “This is the right decision and you know it. At least you should.”

  Caroline slipped her shoes back on and marched through the sand, leaving him alone on the beach. He didn’t call her back. He didn’t even protest.

  The mist grew to a steady rain, and Caroline rushed toward her Ford Focus. Yanking open the door, she got in and slammed it. They didn’t yearn for each other? What did that even mean? Yearning for someone sounded . . . torturous. Why would she want someone to have that kind of power over her? She’d seen how that power had destroyed her mom. She’d never let that be her.

  No, a lasting marriage was built on compatibility and determination. She’d made The List to make sure they were compatible, and they’d both been determined to make it work. Until today, that was.

  Music came to life with her engine, and an unwelcome twang filled the air. Country music. Mason’s CD.

  Rule number two—No reminiscing.

  She ejected the CD and flung it to the back seat. Too bad if it got a few scratches before she returned it. If she returned it.

  She flipped the radio on. “It Must Have Been Love” filled the car. She jabbed the power button with her finger. Music was overrated.

  The rain pelted her windshield in a heavy torrent that blurred her vision even with the wipers on high. Twenty miles after merging onto US-31 South, Caroline passed the weathe
red wooden sign that welcomed her home to Heritage.

  Now what?

  She couldn’t go to the farmhouse. Her twin sister, Leah, was out tonight, so it’d be Caroline and a bedroom cluttered with photos of Mason.

  No thank you.

  Rule number three—No wallowing.

  She couldn’t avoid her house forever, but tonight, she needed to clear her head. She needed someplace easy and safe, with someone who didn’t know that tonight should have been her engagement. Her friends would commiserate and feed her ice cream, but they’d also want to talk about it. Right now, she wanted simple.

  Her cousin Nate had just moved to Heritage fresh out of seminary to be the new pastor. And since the guy had lived in town less than a week, she’d bet he didn’t have Friday night plans. She’d probably find him watching baseball on his big screen, unpacking, or preparing for Sunday.

  She took the Heritage exit and made her way to her cousin’s two-story Victorian and parked in the driveway. The parsonage was a bit large for a bachelor, but maybe it’d get her cousin starting to think about a family. Almost every window in the place was lit up. Did the guy not know how to turn a light off?

  The echo of the rain on her roof declared that it was still mid-downpour and waiting it out might take awhile.

  Whipping her door open, Caroline dashed toward the house. She jumped over a puddle at the bottom of the porch, raced up the three steps, and offered a courteous two knocks before opening the door. “Hello?”

  An announcer prattling on about curve balls from one of the other rooms was the only response. Predictable.

  After shaking off the rain, she shed her coat and sandals in the mudroom. The previous pastor’s wife had an amazing sense of style, and Caroline had no desire to spot the dark wood floors. Her reflection in the window of the door testified to the damage the rain had done on her hair. She wiped the wet mop off her forehead, as well as the black smudges from under her eyes.

  Her long auburn hair had started to form little ringlets by her face, and it’d only be a matter of moments before she’d be in full Raggedy Ann mode. At least it was only Nate. She stepped around an unopened moving box and opened the fridge as her stomach growled. The church had a steady stream of casseroles arriving all week.

  “Stealing my food?”

  Caroline bumped her head on the freezer door. “Ouch.”

  “Didn’t mean to startle you.” Nate leaned against the counter, crossing one foot over the other. His dark hair flopped into his eyes. The guy needed a haircut and a shave.

  “I’m not stealing your food. I’m sharing it.” Caroline rubbed at the small bump on the top of her head. “Have you eaten yet?”

  “No.” Nate’s gaze traveled from her dripping hair to her bare toes. “What happened to you? I thought you had a date.”

  Caroline pulled out a pan of lasagna from the fridge, slid it into the oven, and turned the temperature to three-fifty. “The rain happened. As far as the date—I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “He bailed on you again?” He pointed to the oven. “Aren’t you supposed to preheat that or something?”

  “It’s a glass pan. Better to let it heat up with the oven.” She shot a glare at her cousin. “As far as the date, I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Nate pushed away from the counter and took a seat at the table. “You need to wake up and realize you can do better than Mason Peterson.”

  Caroline pulled out two glasses molded like old-fashioned Coke bottles from the cupboard. “Mason just got a job as the worship leader at his church. He wants to be a Bible translator for Wycliffe. Mason is—”

  “All about Mason.” Nate locked eyes with her. “You deserve better.”

  “The only guy I’ve ever liked that you didn’t hate was Grant Quinn, and that was because he was your best friend. Or maybe it was because I was all of thirteen at the time and you knew I didn’t stand a chance.”

  “He was eighteen. Your crush was more amusing than anything. When you wrote his name on your shoes . . .” Nate’s laughter filled the room. “That was—”

  “Humiliating is the word you’re looking for.” She set the glasses on the table with a thud. “Give me a break. It was my first crush.”

  Grant Quinn. The name still stirred a mountain of unwelcome feelings. What Nate didn’t know was that the summer she’d been eighteen and Grant had been home on leave from the Army, they’d reconnected at a party in Canton. They had stayed up all night talking by the bonfire on the beach of a small private lake. Just talking, but still . . . the memory caused her heart to do that stupid hop thing.

  It hadn’t been just his looks either, which had caused many girls to whiplash over the years. He had this calm confidence about him, and he’d looked at her in a way that had made her feel . . . seen. That even though everything else in her life had been crumbling around her in those days, she wasn’t alone.

  She’d told him she’d write, which she did. He promised to write back. Which he didn’t.

  Nate had mentioned in passing a few months later that Grant had gotten back together with his high school sweetheart. That was the day she’d learned that feelings couldn’t be trusted. Lists and plans could.

  An expression she couldn’t decipher filled Nate’s face. “Speaking of Grant—”

  “He’s still single. You told me. Not going to happen. I don’t care if my twenty-three to his twenty-eight makes sense now. Growing up has taught me that Grant isn’t the type of guy I’d marry.”

  The type of guy who had made her feel too much, want too much. And in the end made her hurt too much. Why would anyone want to yearn for someone else? Yearning only led to heartbreak.

  There was no way she’d walk that road again. Besides, Rule number four—No rebounding.

  “Caroline—”

  “It’s true.” Caroline opened the fridge again, grabbed the milk carton, and searched for the expiration date. With Nate living as a bachelor, it was worth checking. “It takes more than piercing turquoise eyes and a heart-stopping smile to make—”

  “Caroline!”

  “What?” Caroline turned toward Nate and froze.

  Grant stood in the doorway behind Nate. His hands shoved deep in his pockets only emphasized the width of his shoulders. The blond hair that he’d worn military short now dusted the top of his collar and curled at his ears. Not to mention the scruff. The man needed a shave, and though she wasn’t usually one for facial hair, scruffy looked good on him. Really good. There was a new red scar that lined his left cheek and wrapped over his eye, but instead of stealing his all-American boy look, it added a roughness that made Caroline’s insides go on alert.

  His blue-green eyes focused on her in that familiar, comforting way that warmed her to the core and set every nerve on edge at the same time. A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.

  “Hey, Caroline.”

  Oh. My.

  Talk about not going according to the plan.

  Chapter 2

  For the first time in his life, Grant had no one giving him orders, but it didn’t feel as good as he had imagined it would. Grant read the words one more time before he placed his discharge papers back into his duffel bag and zipped it up. Then he shoved the bag under the edge of the bed, pulled the blankets tight, and smoothed out every last wrinkle. Not that Nate would care, but old habits died hard.

  Grant pulled the tongues of his running shoes back and lined them up next to the door. With any luck they’d be dry by tomorrow’s run. The thick dew had soaked them this morning. But that’s what he got for running before the sun was up. Why he had thought he could outrun Caroline’s words from last night was beyond him.

  Growing up has taught me that Grant isn’t the type of guy I’d marry.

  Ouch. First Emily and now this. His ego was taking a beating these days.

  Eavesdropping wasn’t his style, but their voices had carried through the house. He’d tried to make an appearance before anything too personal had
been shared. However, he hadn’t expected this Caroline Williams—all grown up. Grown up rather nicely, at that.

  He’d wanted to find out more about this new Caroline, but before he could think beyond a quick hello, she’d mumbled something about plans and shot out the door.

  Grant grabbed the brown bottle off his dresser and dropped three pills into his hand. At least he was down to only this. He reached for his water and swallowed his required meds before picking up his phone to scan the news. Still no updates on the terrorist attack in London last week.

  Nothing reported anyway. Not long ago, he would’ve been in on every detail. He dropped his phone back on the dresser and paused at his reflection in the mirror. The redness in the scar had gone down, but there was still no missing the jagged line that wrapped around his left eye. He didn’t mind any of his scars—just all that they’d cost him.

  Grant clenched his fist, and pain traveled through his wrist up to his elbow. As if he needed another reminder of why he sat here and not fighting terrorists with the rest of his team.

  No. Not his team. He didn’t have a team anymore.

  He made his way to the kitchen and started the coffee, letting the familiar aroma ease his mind. A new day smelled like freshly brewed coffee whether he was deployed or home. Anything familiar at this point eased the nagging tension that kept him in knots.

  A door creaked down the hall just before Nate appeared around the corner, his dark hair sticking out at odd angles. He blinked at Grant.

  “Sorry, did I wake you?” Grant filled a mug with coffee. “Want some?”

  Nate nodded before staring outside. “It’s not even six-thirty. Trouble sleeping, or are you always up this early?”