Chapter One
Ever since she was seventeen, Keira Knudsen's internal compass needle had failed to point north. For a high school geography teacher and avid traveler, this little fact was inconvenient at best and infuriating at worst. Today, it was the latter.
"Keira, will you marry me?"
The collective gasp from the crowd whooshed like a breeze rushing up from a canyon floor. One girl let out an "aww." Another squealed. Then it was quiet, save the classical melody wafting from the stringed quartet she'd seen near the pines moments ago.
What was meant to be a simple-and private-dinner had turned into a surprise gathering in the park, where she'd been paraded past half the West Yellowstone, Montana, townsfolk and beneath the picnic shelter. Now this.
Keira glanced down into the deep-brown eyes of the man kneeling before her.
John. Kind, responsible, and loving John. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to cry. That's what the girls in movies do. Clap a hand over their mouths, while their eyes fill with tears. But Keira hadn't cried since she was seven years old. Smiles were only slightly less rare.
John. Everything you need in a husband.
Rather than freeing her voice to exclaim yes, her father's words seemed to wrap around her throat, strangling every sound.
A murmuring cut through Canon in D. Her lungs captured the breath that had eluded her for at least thirty seconds. A bead of sweat dripped down her chest, darkening her dress. If only John had asked her in private.
The glow from the Edison lights strung overhead nearly blinded her. Only by squinting could she see the crowd around them, frozen. Her parents were closest. Her father met her eyes and nodded once, hard and stern. As always, her mother stood by his side, the light long since faded from her eyes.
Then she saw him. Smack-dab in the front row. Robbie Matthews wore blue jeans and a plaid shirt. His head bowed low, so only the top of his backward baseball cap showed. But it was him all right.
Keira's knees threatened to buckle. She placed one hand on John's shoulder to steady herself and wrapped her other arm around her stomach.
Against his chest, Robbie held his sleeping daughter. What was he doing here? He'd never have come if he'd known this would be a proposal. Probably wouldn't have come if he knew this had anything to do with her at all. Sharing a small town wasn't easy, but they'd mostly managed to avoid each other, thanks to Keira's reclusive life. Only three run-ins in five years. Three painful run-ins that had stirred up memories she'd gone to great lengths to smother.
Slowly, he lifted his face. From this distance, she couldn't read those sea-greens of his. Last summer at the Madison River Trout Festival, they'd brimmed with hurt and glinted with anger, as if he had any right to play the victim. Robbie shifted his weight forward, and the butterflies in Keira's stomach may as well have burst through her skin. But then he turned his back on her and parted the crowd, the red curls of his daughter's hair bouncing with each step. Soon, the darkness swallowed him. The only evidence of his presence was the scrape of that old, rusted compass needle across Keira's scarred heart as it followed him into the night.
Robbie Matthews leaned into the fridge, but the cold air couldnÕt touch the heat he felt in his face and neck. Even undoing another two buttons of his shirt wasnÕt enough. ItÕs your fault, bud. You had your chance, and you blew it.
He perused the shelves for the strongest drink he had. After all, what's a pity party without something hard and cold to pour down a throat? Hmm. Milk, apple juice, or soda? He grabbed the neck of the green two-liter, then spun the top until it clattered onto the wood floor. He sucked down a gulp like a real man. After the 7UP slid past the walnut-sized lump in his throat, he poured the rest down the drain. It was cold but flat as stagnant water. He'd gotten it for Anabelle's upset tummy. When was that? Two weeks ago?
He grabbed a glass and poured himself some milk, then heaped a spoonful of Anabelle's chocolate powder in. Oh, why not? It'd been a long day. He added another and stirred it until it was the color of Keira's hair. Not all of her hair. Just the locks hidden from the sun that spilled from the nape of her neck, down over her shoulders. Unlike the dyed-blond waves on top, the darker, natural ones beneath had always felt like silk. Not that he'd been anywhere near those locks for years. And he'd certainly not had permission to run his fingers through them.
He yanked off his baseball cap and pitched it across the room, knocking Anabelle's pink hair ribbon organizer onto the floor.
"Great." He set the glass on the coffee table and bent down to pick up the twelve dozen or so rainbow hair ties, sparkly pink nail polish, and Princess Patty Cake eye shadow. Flipping open the lid of the organizer, he caught his reflection in the mirror. When had he gotten so old and weathered?
You are every bit Young Redford. She'd said it a lot in their five years together. And she always kissed him afterward. He looked like Old Redford now, though. Way older than his twenty-seven years. Who did she tell John he looked like? One of those Ken dolls of his sister's that he used to torture? And not the cool Ken dolls, but the ones that looked like they would hang a new-car-scented air freshener in their minivan, all while wearing a pastel tie and Dockers that were two inches too short.
Gravel shuffled beneath shoes on the driveway in front of his cabin, and he froze. Quick, light footsteps climbed the steps, followed by a soft rap on the door.
Robbie jumped up, leaped over the glittery mess of elastics, and yanked open the door without taking a single breath.
Not Keira. Instead, he was met with a mane of wild red hair and a pair of green eyes that matched his own. With all her weight on the heels of her boots, all it would take was a finger poke and his sister, Ryann, would topple backward.
"Hey, Ryann."
"You okay?"
Well, I accidentally crashed my ex-girlfriend's proposal. How do you think I'm doing? What a fool he was, giving in to his curiosity to join the gathering crowd in the park. So what if he recognized half the cars? He hadn't been invited. After the movie let out, he should've taken Anabelle straight home.
"Right as the river." Robbie quirked his smile, to which Ryann rolled her eyes in true big-sister fashion. Who was he kidding? She knew him too well.
Ryann stared hard at him now. "She said no, Robbie. She turned John's proposal down."
Something sparked within his chest. No? After dating the guy for . . . what? Two years? She said no? Ryann had to be wrong. Theirs was a teasing relationship, even now as adults, but she wouldn't pull this trick.
"She said no. Right there in front of everyone." A hint of hope flashed in her eyes. "I mean, she did it with grace. Lifted him off his knee and whispered in his ear for the longest, most uncomfortable minute in Montana history. Then he turned to us all and thanked us for coming."
Well, that's good, I guess. John Garfield was a nice guy. Principal at the local high school where Keira taught geography. Robbie had never heard an ugly word about him. And from what he'd seen around town, he'd treated Keira like a precious jewel. Almost as good as Robbie had. Which made this turn of events even more surprising. She had no reason to say no.
Unless . . .
"I'm here to babysit. But you may want to button your shirt a bit, Hasselhoff, and maybe wipe off that purple eye shadow."
Robbie jerked a hand to his eyelid. He thought he'd washed off all that gunk Anabelle put on him long before he'd left the house earlier.
"Kidding. But seriously, button the shirt. That's gross."
Any other time he'd love to banter with his sis, but his head felt like a moose had climbed in and made a den. "Whoa, back up. Why are you going to babysit again?"
"So that you can go get Keira. Don't act like you haven't been praying about this ever since you first heard about them dating."
Robbie blocked her entry. "Nah. I think I'll turn in." He tugged at his collar. "Too tired to even button my shirt. Good night." He eased the door closed on his sister's confused face.
No, Keira wouldn't be looking for him. Not after what he'd done to her. He wasn't exactly keen on another go-round with her, either. He'd like to keep his heart in one piece for the time being, even if it had other ideas.
Oh, Keira. If only missing you was the worst of my concerns . . .
He returned to the kitchen counter, where the long business envelope stared at him. Vivian hadn't even had the nerve to use a return address or write her name. But the handwriting was a dead ringer for the signature on Anabelle's birth certificate. As he lifted it closer to the light, the pink ink glittered. Anabelle Matthews c/o Robbie Matthews. Care of. Two words had never been truer. Robbie sucked in a shaky breath. What could she possibly have to say? He knifed through the envelope's seal. A sheet of puppy stickers slid out and landed on the Formica. No note. No I'm sorry.
He should be happy. After nearly four years with no contact, this was something. And a little girl needed her mother. Even a mother like Vivian.
Still, he couldn't shake the feeling slithering inside him. For Anabelle's sake, he needed to be smart. And that certainly wasn't his strongest trait.
Ping.
Robbie slid his phone out of his back pocket. A notification read: Kat Wanderfull posted a pic. Clicking on the box, the Momentso app opened. The square photograph showed a midnight-blue sky dotted with hundreds of stars, some brighter than others.
The caption read:
Just me and a trillion stars #infinite #Prov356 #lonelinessisntforthefaintofheart
Robbie typed out a comment as MRCustom. A generic name, sure. But he'd only joined the app to get ideas on custom home projects from fellow builders. Plus, he'd never intended to use it for actual conversations. If he had, he might've come up with a better profile picture than a stack of river stones.
MRCustom: Who better to trust with your heart than the Creator of those stars?
Kat Wanderfull: @MRCustom, I can always count on you to say the right thing at the right time.
Robbie stared at her comment and the empty box below it, begging for a reply.
"Daddy?" Above him, Anabelle, in her pink nightgown, clung to the railing of the spiral staircase. Her lip quivered, and tears glistened on her flushed cheeks. "I had a bad dream."
Robbie raced up the steps. When he reached Anabelle, he swaddled her in his arms. Her shuddering breaths soaked through his flannel shirt. "You're safe, Kitty Kat. Daddy's here." And he always would be.
Chapter Two
Ladies, let's keep the whispering to a minimum." Keira focused on the big clock on the wall. The school day was nearly over. Then she'd be free. For a couple days, at least.
On Friday afternoons, electricity always hummed beneath Keira's skin. With only two weeks before the end of the school year, that hum buzzed at a higher frequency and included an occasional shock with each thought of her upcoming summer. Wide-open spaces, fresh air, sunshine, and a whole lot of solitude were precisely what she craved.
Especially after this week. She didn't need to ask what the girls were whispering about. The geography teacher turned down the principal's proposal in front of the whole town? Gossip galore.
So far the rumors weren't even original but stolen from some classic teen movies. That she'd only dated him on a bet. That he'd paid her to date him to make him more popular with the students. But her personal favorite? That she was the result of a weird science experiment where Principal Garfield brought a Barbie doll to life.
The truth was way more interesting. Of course, her students would never know it. No one would.
"Ms. Knudsen, they're talking about the way that construction worker looks in jeans. It's offensive to hear girls talking about men in such vulgar ways. May I go see the counselor?" Gabe asked from the back row.
Keira placed a hand on her hip and rocked to the side. "Gabe, you have four minutes until the final bell. Ladies, please remember the school code about respect for others."
Peyton squared her shoulders to her classmate. "You're jealous because no one is talking about the way you look in jeans."
"Just 'cause you haven't said anything doesn't mean you haven't noticed, princess." Gabe leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head.
Peyton waved him off. "Ms. Knudsen, didn't you, like, almost marry the guy doing the teachers' lounge remodel? Robbie Matthews?"
Keira's throat seized. She turned away from the other gaped-mouth students. Even a swig from her water bottle didn't help. In fact, she nearly choked on it. "Last time I checked, this was Geography class. Not Ancient History."
The classroom's stale warmth was nearly intolerable. Keira lifted her ponytail off her neck. She should have brought the box fan from her apartment to combat this old building's terrible air circulation. Yes, that was the problem. Poor circulation. Not what's-his-face. "Just a reminder that your Wonders of the World paper is due next Friday. Any questions on the rubric?"
Minutes later, when the bell rang, Keira was right on her students' heels out the door. All that stood between her and the open road was grabbing some photocopies for Monday's class. She paused outside the office door.
John's voice carried through the open doorway. He was talking to Sheila, the administrative assistant, about prom details for tomorrow night. Keira and John were supposed to attend together as chaperones before he went and ruined it all by proposing.
She scurried past the doorway. The copy room linked to both the office and the teachers' lounge. Rather than John's moping puppy-dog eyes, she'd risk glares from her fellow teachers, most of whom clearly took his side and questioned her sanity. Could she blame them? John Garfield was a sweetheart, and he deserved to be with someone who thought of him when the nights turned cold.
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