Page 17 of Gravity of Love
He flipped on his side and glared down at her. She stood with her front paws on the edge of the bed, tail wagging a mile a minute, eyes fixed on him with a look that said,you know how this ends.
“You can’t sleep in my bed,” he stated sternly. “I made you a bed.”
She responded by stretching her front paws higher, nearly making it up onto the mattress, her tail a blur of excitedanticipation. It wasn’t the tail, the paws, or even the whining that got him though. It was the eyes. Those huge brown eyes. He’d always been a sucker for big brown eyes.
“Fine.” He relented with a heavy sigh. “One night. That’s it.”
Reaching down, he scooped her up and set her gently on the other side of the bed. She immediately stood and walked the few steps to him, went directly to the crook of his armpit, circled three times, then curled into a ball and pressed herself against his side, head resting on his chest. Her entire body let out a long sigh and then went completely limp, like she was settling into the first real comfort she’d had in weeks. Which, it may have been.
“It’s just one night. Tomorrow, we’re going to figure out where you belong.”
His fingers found her head, as if they had a mind of their own, and stroked her, brushing down her silky ears. “This is not how I imagined having a redhead in my bed again.”
She responded with a gentle, sleepy snort, smacked her lips a little, then closed her eyes.
He lay there for a long time, hand resting on her head, listening to her breathing. It was a companionable silence, the kind that made his chest warm with a weird, unexpected gratitude. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this—just the simple closeness of another living thing.
She didn’t stir, just snuggled closer, her small body radiating warmth and trust.
Liam closed his eyes and drifted off, the scent of dog and mountain air mingling in his head, the ache in his chest eased for the first time in weeks, or maybe months, or maybe years.
6
A yawn claimedFrankie as she wiped the sleep out of her eyes and made her way to the Om Sweet Om yoga studio for an early morning advanced old-school hip-hop yoga class. It was ironic that the residue collected near her tear ducts was referred to as ‘sleep’ when she’d barely had any. In an attempt to wake herself up, she inhaled the crisp, cool mountain air. Fresh notes of earthy pine mixed with baked bread, vanilla, and maple as a man wearing a t-shirt with Hope Falls Fire Department written on the back and the Station 8 logo on the arm entered Sweet Tooth Bakery. Her deep cleansing breath had zero impact on her alertness but succeeded in making her stomach growl. When she glanced at the cinnamon rolls the size of her head, dripping with glaze, in the window display, her mouth instantly watered like a burst pipe. As tempting as it was to pop in and grab one, she didn’t think downward dog, crow, camel, or scorpion pose would be fun with a belly full of dough, butter, and sugar.
Summoning discipline, which she knew future Frankie would thank her for, she kept walking past the sinfully delicious temptation. Frankie yawned for the tenth time in as many minutes and seriously considered turning around and crawlingback into bed. If she thought she had even a chance at sleep, she would do just that.
Since she did not possess psychic abilities, she had no way of knowing she’d spend the night before the class she’d booked online the week she arrived lying wide awake in her bed obsessing over her ex-fiancé’s brother. She’d nearly canceled the class, but she promised Yaya she’d drive her back to the hospital today, and that meant she’d be spending visiting hours camped out in the jeep because there wasno wayshe was going to risk running into “Dr. Davies” again, not until she had answers. So, if she didn’t want to end up with a sore back, neck, and hips, this class was not optional.
Hours of online sleuthing had proven fruitless. She still had no answers as to why Liam Sterling was now Liam Davies or why he was working at Pine Ridge General Hospital. Yaya was none the wiser to Liam’s reappearance: that was one thing Frankie was certain about. When she came out to the car, three hours after they arrived, the only thing she spoke about on the drive home was Arthur. If she recognized Liam, Frankie would have been the first person Yaya would tell. The woman lived for gossip and scandal, and Liam cutting off his dad and brother and then, for all intents and purposes, disappearing was both. Every few months, Yaya would bring Liam up and ask if there were any ‘updates.’ The answer had always been the same: no.
It had taken every ounce of self-control Frankie possessed not to call up a friend who did private detective work, someone she’d used in a professional capacity for clients at Tristan’s firm, to find out what Liam’s story was, but she stopped herself. That would be an invasion of his privacy. He clearly didn’t want anyone to know where he was or what he was doing. As much as it was killing her, she had to respect that.
But why? What had happened to make Liam cut them off? Why did he barely talk to anyone from his past? And why didhe have to look so damn sexy? That last question was not truly relevant, nor was it something a P.I. would be able to dig up answers for, and yet, it was the one question that kept pushing its way to the front of the line.
With two blocks left to go, Frankie tried to shake off the anxiety she was feeling and get into her Zen Zone by taking in and appreciating her surroundings. It was a technique she’d learned in the one year she’d taken psych in college. It was supposed to ground her and bring her into the present moment.
There was a storybook magic to Main Street. Downtown Hope Falls was the kind of place that made tourists get their phones out and take a hundred pictures before they even made it out of their cars. Every shop had its own personality and identity. Two Scoops ice cream parlor with its striped awnings and two giant cones painted on the display windows advertising “buy one scoop, get the second free.” It had been family owned and operated for over fifty years. Hope Falls General Store, formerly Hope Falls Trading Post, held the distinction of being the first establishment in the town. Every time Frankie walked by, since she was a little girl, she saw a collie sleeping in the sun that was shining down from the skylight in the roof. The Secret Garden Flower Shop looked like a set from a Hallmark movie. Jackie, the owner, had an entire closet full of leather and rode a Harley on her days off. At the far end of the road, the Sierra Nevada’s rose up—a vibrant display of greens, oranges, yellows and reds against the blue and white powdery sky. It made the whole town feel like it was in a snow globe, safe from the rest of the world.
Frankie rolled her shoulders as she neared Om Sweet Om, mentally preparing herself to be a human origami for the next hour. Back home Frankie did yoga several times a week, but she hadn’t been to a class since arriving. She was excited to get evena small sense of normalcy back. She hoped that for the next hour she could shut her brain off, it needed to take a break.
On the sidewalk in front of the studio was an A-frame chalkboard that read, “Yoga is cheaper than therapy (but we recommend both).”Amen, she thought to herself. The glass storefront was fogged from the heat and sweat of the sunrise class, condensation beading and dripping down the windowpane like slow tears, the sign of any good studio. Inside were rows of fellow yogis stretching limbs, chatting, or sitting on their mats, phones in hand, scrolling, waiting for the next session to begin.
The door was heavy as she pulled it open. That, or she’d gotten very weak over the past twenty-four days she’d been in California. A wall of warm, eucalyptus-tinged air washed over her as she stepped inside. She had to blink to recalibrate. The space gave her an immediate sense of calm, which she was sure was done by design. Soft sage green walls gave the space a clean, cozy, and welcoming first impression. A tall potted fiddle-leaf fig was positioned in the corner beside the check-in counter next to a bamboo bench in the waiting area. The studio itself was filled with students facing a wall of mirrors opposite large windows overlooking the river that flowed through Hope Falls, adjacent to Main Street. The back wall was lined with white oak cubbies, and in the corner sat an oversized wicker basket with coiled yoga mats in it. Succulents, along with a variety of candles and incense, were positioned strategically around the room, all competing to be the dominant aroma as smooth R&B music played at a low volume through the speakers.
Frankie scanned the barcode on her phone to check-in, following the instructions she’d read when she booked the class. She dug in her tote for a water bottle as she walked along the back row of the class and stashed her phone and bag in the nearest empty cubby. A quick survey of the room revealed onlyone spot open to lay her mat. It was next to a woman with glossy brown hair wearing a hat, whose profile triggered something like déjà vu in Frankie’s brain.
Hats were not typical yoga attire, so she wondered if she might be famous. Hope Falls was known as the “Hollywood of the Sierra Nevada.” Besides Karina Black, an international pop multi-Grammy winner, including Best New Artist and Best Album, who was born and raised there, film star Kyle Austen Reed, whose name was on the shortlist to play the next Bond, and Academy Award winner Shayne Fox, who also won a Golden Globe and Independent Spirit Award for Best Actress for her portrayal of Marilyn Monroe, also resided in Hope Falls.
The woman was mid-shoulder roll as Frankie settled onto her mat, and their eyes met briefly. She noticed that the woman’s eyes were red and swollen, it was obvious she’d been crying.
“Do you need a?—”
“Hi everyone, welcome to Om Sweet Om.” Tiana glided to the front of the room.
Frankie was mid-tissue-offer when the class started. She knew if she continued speaking, it might draw attention, which was probably the last thing this woman wanted. So, she dropped it and turned her attention to Tiana, the owner of the studio she’d met at a book club she’d attended.
Tiana was the kind of beautiful that made you want to call your dermatologist and start investing in better serums. Everything about her was graceful and fluid—her arms, her long curly hair, the way her voice flowed through the room. She was the sort of person who meditated for fun instead of necessity. She reminded Frankie of Zoë Kravitz in both appearance and energy, she was just effortlessly cool, stunningly gorgeous, and sexy without trying or probably even knowing.
