Promises Under the Peach Tree (Harlequin Superromance) by Joanne Rock
Authors: Joanne Rock
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clogged Ally’s throat, the hurt in her chest spreading with every unanswered ring. Right until Gram’s voice message came on. “Sorry I can’t take your call right now...”
Frustration boiled over and a cry bubbled up her throat as she shoved her phone back in her purse. That sob unleashed more sobs. And more. So many that Ally couldn’t keep them quiet. They raked up her chest in wrenching heaves, leaving a trail of fire inside her.
How could this happen? She’d worked so hard to get good grades, to be a good student, a good daughter and granddaughter, a good freaking everything. What for? No one noticed or cared. She’d busted her ass in high school only to have her parents’ marriage turn to shit, her house become a war zone, her weekend nights spent rattling through the cold silences of the living room or else locked in her bedroom with the stereo cranked so she didn’t have to hear them fighting.
Through it all, she at least had the thought of Ethan. He’d been a friend if not a boyfriend. Now, she didn’t even have that. Because a “friend” wouldn’t flirt with her and then ask out another girl.
Especially not Rachel Freaking Wagoner, who bought her blond by the half gallon and whose parents gave her a Lexus before she’d even graduated.
“Ally?” The sound of her name penetrated the raw sobs as they echoed around the gray tile.
Ally tried to stop long enough to listen.
“Is everything all right, hon?” Trish’s voice came through the door. “Want me to call your mom to give you a ride home?”
A ride home?
Had she been in the bathroom that long? Or had the sound of her crying slipped out into the break room?
Ally turned on a water faucet to mask any noise she was making.
“I’ll be fine. Thanks.” The last thing she needed was her mother showing up here. Her mother who was too perfect to ever say she was stressed. Who took so much pride in her ability to do it all that she expected everyone else to be able to do the same.
“Can I come in, honey?” Trish asked. “You sound awfully sad.”
The worry in Trish’s voice became more obvious. For that matter, Ally was pretty sure she heard other voices in the background, too. Were they all talking about her? About how she was a total loser hiding out in the bathroom while the one person she cared about slipped away for good?
She dug her nails into her forearms. Except this time, they were sticky. Like she’d stuck her arms in a vat of thick hair chemicals. What the hell?
Looking down, she saw bright red covered both arms.
Blood.
She was bleeding—hard—from the scratches she’d already made on her arms. Scratches she’d never be able to hide under her friendship bracelets. There were even a few drops on the floor.
Nausea gripped her stomach. This was bad. Really, really bad. She’d lost more than Ethan. She’d lost control.
“Ally, I’m going to unlock the door, okay?” Trish’s voice came again.
It was only a matter of time before her coworkers in the salon found out what a colossal loser she was. Soon, her mother would know, too. But right now, the sadness leaking out of her in blood and tears, Ally felt more relief than shame. At least now she wouldn’t have to worry about being good.
* * *
T HE F INLEY NAME cast a big shadow in this town. Literally.
Nina arrived at Finley Building Supply shortly before noon with a basket of cupcakes and parked under the cooling shelter of the sign overhead bearing the family name. Tough not to think about Mack when she saw reminders of him everywhere. His father had opened this store as a young man and grew the business himself along with a construction company, handing it over to his oldest son when Scott and Bethany married. The structure had been expanded multiple times until the original storefront was now just office space for the big, warehouselike building that welcomed shoppers today.
Locking the truck, Nina hefted the basket of treats and headed toward the main
Frustration boiled over and a cry bubbled up her throat as she shoved her phone back in her purse. That sob unleashed more sobs. And more. So many that Ally couldn’t keep them quiet. They raked up her chest in wrenching heaves, leaving a trail of fire inside her.
How could this happen? She’d worked so hard to get good grades, to be a good student, a good daughter and granddaughter, a good freaking everything. What for? No one noticed or cared. She’d busted her ass in high school only to have her parents’ marriage turn to shit, her house become a war zone, her weekend nights spent rattling through the cold silences of the living room or else locked in her bedroom with the stereo cranked so she didn’t have to hear them fighting.
Through it all, she at least had the thought of Ethan. He’d been a friend if not a boyfriend. Now, she didn’t even have that. Because a “friend” wouldn’t flirt with her and then ask out another girl.
Especially not Rachel Freaking Wagoner, who bought her blond by the half gallon and whose parents gave her a Lexus before she’d even graduated.
“Ally?” The sound of her name penetrated the raw sobs as they echoed around the gray tile.
Ally tried to stop long enough to listen.
“Is everything all right, hon?” Trish’s voice came through the door. “Want me to call your mom to give you a ride home?”
A ride home?
Had she been in the bathroom that long? Or had the sound of her crying slipped out into the break room?
Ally turned on a water faucet to mask any noise she was making.
“I’ll be fine. Thanks.” The last thing she needed was her mother showing up here. Her mother who was too perfect to ever say she was stressed. Who took so much pride in her ability to do it all that she expected everyone else to be able to do the same.
“Can I come in, honey?” Trish asked. “You sound awfully sad.”
The worry in Trish’s voice became more obvious. For that matter, Ally was pretty sure she heard other voices in the background, too. Were they all talking about her? About how she was a total loser hiding out in the bathroom while the one person she cared about slipped away for good?
She dug her nails into her forearms. Except this time, they were sticky. Like she’d stuck her arms in a vat of thick hair chemicals. What the hell?
Looking down, she saw bright red covered both arms.
Blood.
She was bleeding—hard—from the scratches she’d already made on her arms. Scratches she’d never be able to hide under her friendship bracelets. There were even a few drops on the floor.
Nausea gripped her stomach. This was bad. Really, really bad. She’d lost more than Ethan. She’d lost control.
“Ally, I’m going to unlock the door, okay?” Trish’s voice came again.
It was only a matter of time before her coworkers in the salon found out what a colossal loser she was. Soon, her mother would know, too. But right now, the sadness leaking out of her in blood and tears, Ally felt more relief than shame. At least now she wouldn’t have to worry about being good.
* * *
T HE F INLEY NAME cast a big shadow in this town. Literally.
Nina arrived at Finley Building Supply shortly before noon with a basket of cupcakes and parked under the cooling shelter of the sign overhead bearing the family name. Tough not to think about Mack when she saw reminders of him everywhere. His father had opened this store as a young man and grew the business himself along with a construction company, handing it over to his oldest son when Scott and Bethany married. The structure had been expanded multiple times until the original storefront was now just office space for the big, warehouselike building that welcomed shoppers today.
Locking the truck, Nina hefted the basket of treats and headed toward the main
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