To Hope Again: A Sweet Romance (Forty and Free Book 3) Page 3

  The harder he stared at it, the more intense the anger within him grew. She’d promised him forever, and now he was alone. She’d wanted more than what he could offer, despite the dream home he bought for them and the double shifts he’d worked to be able to afford it. He wasn’t enough. He would never be enough.

  He stood up from the door and walked toward the photograph frame. As he did, he saw his own reflection in the glass—flushed cheeks, tightened lips, and dark furious eyes. When had that happened? When had he become the monster that she’d claimed he was? He felt his blood rush through his body as every heartbeat pushed him more and more into an enraged state.

  Now this woman from next door was trying to tell him when he could or couldn’t work. Now she was sticking her nose into his business as if she had some right to interfere with his isolation.

  There it was again—that darkness within him. He was sure that it hadn’t always been there, but now it seemed as if he could never escape it. It boiled to the point of spilling over.

  The heat of his rage blinded him and dictated what happened next.

  When the glass shattered, his heart lurched with a sense of relief. Now the destruction he felt inside had a voice—had an image. It was slivers all over the floor of a home that was meant to be his future. It was the last whole parts of him scattered into thousands of tiny pieces.

  For just an instant he felt relief—until he recognized that he was the only one left to clean up the mess. Nothing he could do would change the fact that he was all he had, and if he didn’t clean it up, the glass would become one more reminder of what had never had the chance to be.

  Reluctantly, he grabbed a broom and dustpan from the pile of things that needed to be put away. With slow, methodical strokes, he swept the glass into the dustpan. Once more he was left to wonder if maybe Kate had been right the entire time.

  Then he found himself thinking about his neighbor, Jillian, with the perky attitude and eyes the color of a perfect sky. He couldn’t overlook the fact that if Jillian hadn’t interrupted him, none of this would have happened. He would have been finished moving the boxes, rather than sweeping up evidence of his lack of control.

  “She’s not getting under my skin again. Nobody is going to tell me what to do.”

  Chapter 7

  As Jillian started to walk away from Mateo’s front door, she heard the distinct sound of glass shattering. Her heart dropped. Had he really just thrown the bottle of wine she’d given him? Was that the type of man he was?

  She was feeling unsettled as she hurried back to her house. She actually took the time to lock her door, which was not something she typically bothered with. Her heart raced as she rushed up the stairs to her bedroom. She felt a little foolish for being so frightened, but she wasn’t accustomed to such volatile behavior.

  She closed the door to her bedroom and tried to breathe. Every time her mind began to settle, thoughts overwhelmed her. She’d made her best effort to be kind to him. She brought him a gift to try to engage him in friendly conversation. Those things should have worked in her favor. Instead, he’d practically pushed her out the door.

  The anger that flowed through her was more intense than she could recall ever experiencing. This kind of emotion was unfamiliar to her. It left her in a panic to strike out.

  Why would he respond to her in that way? She’d done nothing to him. She’d been as courteous as she could, and yet, when she’d heard that glass shatter outside his door, she knew that he was furious with her. It struck her that he might be more than just a bad neighbor. He might actually be a very dangerous man. If that was the case, then she needed to be more careful.

  She sat down on the edge of her bed and tried to calm down. After a few breaths, the music started up again. She closed her eyes. This was it. This was the moment when she was going to lose all of her peace. He had no right to treat her this way—to invade her home and disrupt her peace.

  With her emotions all over the place, she knew she needed to hear from a voice of reason. She picked up her phone and dialed the number of her own life coach, Hannah.

  Within a few rings, Hannah answered the phone.

  “Morning, Jilly. How was your vacation?”

  “Hannah, I’m in a bad situation. I need you to get me through it.”

  “What’s wrong? You sound awful.”

  “I feel awful. I feel very, very angry.”

  “Uh-oh, what happened? A bad flight?”

  “No, the vacation was fine, being back home was fine—until I met the new neighbor. He has me so wound up that I can’t even breathe.”

  “Okay, calm down. Remember no one else can make you feel a certain way, no matter what the situation is. You have control over your emotions.”

  “I don’t feel in control at all right now. I feel like I want to punch something.”

  “Wow, this neighbor of yours really did a number on you. Why do you think that is?”

  “He’s playing his music and using his tools day and night. I have no time to meditate. I can’t maintain my peace if I can’t meditate.”

  “Now, you know that’s not true. Your peace is unshakable. It is a deep and solid basis for all your actions. So what is really happening here?”

  Jillian cringed and wondered if this might be how her clients felt when she talked to them. She was sure that Hannah couldn’t possibly understand what was happening to her.

  “I don’t know, I can’t even think straight with all the noise.”

  “Are you feeling trapped by it? Forced into a corner?”

  “Yes.” Jillian sighed. “Yes, I am. I feel very trapped.”

  “But you’re not, are you?”

  “I asked him nicely to let me work around his schedule and he was downright rude to me.”

  “But he doesn’t get to decide if you meditate or not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you’re not trapped. You’re not handcuffed to your house, or barred in, right?”

  “You’re right.” Her eyes widened. “You’re absolutely right. I just need to get somewhere quiet for a little while and regroup. Thank you so much, Hannah. I was about to either call the police or blast my own music in return.”

  “You know as well as I do that conflict is never solved by instigation, it’s solved by seeing past the anger and frustration to the core of the issue. You tried to be friendly and he obviously did not accept that, for whatever reason. Now you have to do what you have to do to keep your peace.”

  “At least for today this will work. Maybe I can figure out a longer-term solution once I have the freedom to think clearly. I’m going to head out. Thanks, Hannah.”

  “Jillian, wait—I wanted to ask you about your new client. The one from the website?”

  “Yes?”

  “I know the last time we talked you expressed some frustration about the way she’s given up on love. I took some time to think about it. I wonder if your feathers might be ruffled because of an issue of your own.”

  “What issue could I have with love? I’ve been in many healthy relationships.”

  “Yes, you have, but none of them have exactly satisfied you. Am I wrong?”

  “Well, no. I prefer to think that they served their purpose for a specific time in my life.”

  “And they did. But I wonder if perhaps this woman is bringing up your own fear about believing in romance.”

  “I don’t think I have any fears about that.” Jillian tried to keep an open mind, but the subject made her just as tense as Mateo had. She didn’t want to talk about it, which was a clear sign that there was some truth to Hannah’s words.

  “It’s just something to think about. Let me know if you want to talk about it. Good luck with the neighbor.”

  “Thanks.” Jillian hung up the phone and gathered a few items to take with her. There was a local park that she often went to when she wanted a change of scenery. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to hear Mateo’s music there.

  Cha
pter 8

  Mateo rode his wave of anger. It pushed him to get some cleaning done. He couldn’t think with all the clutter and reminders around him.

  Once he had a good amount gathered together, he decided to make a run down to the end of the long driveway. He wasn’t sure when the trash pick-up was, but he didn’t care. He wanted the junk gone.

  He backed his truck up to the house and began throwing garbage bags and boxes into the back of it. He was determined to get rid of anything that reminded him of his ex, no matter how valuable it might be. Even if he could potentially resell it to offset some of the costs of the renovations, he tossed it. There wasn’t much more he could do to get his fury to subside.

  Once he had a full load in the back of the truck, he drove it all the way down the driveway. He was ready to get rid of the hurt that had been hanging all over him. Maybe then he could actually calm down and be a little bit more reasonable.

  When he reached the end of the driveway, he realized that he’d forgotten the kitchen trash. He left the truck parked but still running so that he could hear the music on the radio. He jogged up the driveway to get the trash from the kitchen. He didn’t think about the fact that by leaving the truck parked there, he was blocking the driveway of both houses.

  He gathered the kitchen trash and a few other things from around the house. While he was there, his cell phone rang. It was a number that he didn’t recognize.

  “Hello?”

  “I can’t believe that you told your lawyer that you’re refusing to pay alimony. What do you think this is, Mateo? We didn’t sign a prenup.”

  Instantly anger flooded him. “You asked for the divorce, Kate. Why should I have to pay you anything?”

  “Maybe because I was married to you for long enough? I washed your clothes, I made you dinner. It’s not like that’s worth nothing.”

  “No, you’re right. It wasn’t worth nothing to me. I was very grateful for the effort you put in to keep our home clean and functioning. It never bothered me that you didn’t want to work, because you took care of everything at home. But that doesn’t entitle you to any money. You know I have this house to handle now. How am I supposed to do that if you’re cutting into what money I have?”

  “Sell the house.”

  “I can’t sell the house. Not in the shape it’s in now. Remember, we were supposed to be working on it together?” His voice wavered.

  “I remember that you bought that dump and acted like you won the lottery. That’s your mistake, and I’m not going to pay for it.”

  “Kate, I bought this house for you—for us. You knew that. You agreed to it. Did you know you were going to divorce me when you watched me sign the papers? Did you?” His voice rose.

  “I can see that I can’t talk to you. That temper of yours is exactly why you’re going to be hearing from my lawyer. Let’s see what the judge decides is fair.”

  “Kate.” He gritted his teeth. “You can’t take more from me. You’ve already taken everything.”

  “Obviously not.” She cleared her throat. “You’re taking this too personally. So it didn’t work out. We can move on. But you’re going to give me what I’m owed Mateo. I will never get the years invested in this marriage back.”

  “And I will?” He gripped the phone tightly. “I’m over forty now. I’m not going to have the family you promised me. I don’t have anything.”

  “You really think you should be around kids? With your anger problems? I don’t think so, Mateo. Trust me, I did you a favor. Anyway, like I said, you’ll be hearing from my lawyer. This can be simple or this can be complicated. You decide.”

  “Kate, it doesn’t have to be like this.”

  “You’re right, it doesn’t. If you’d just cooperate, all of this would be over.”

  “It is over. I’m not giving you any money, no matter what you think. You have no ground to stand on. I’m the one that took on all the debt of the marriage, and you have the apartment, which is already paid up for the year. You’re already living on my dime, Kate. How could you ask me for more?”

  “You believe what you want to believe, but you will be hearing from my lawyer.” She hung up the phone.

  His muscles ached with the amount of hatred that flowed through him. He wished he could take every nice thing he’d ever said to her back, including asking her to marry him. If he had the ability to rewind the past few years, he’d do it without hesitation, and he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

  He shoved his phone in his pocket. Just when he thought he couldn’t get any angrier, Kate’s call had sent him over the edge. He couldn’t see straight as he lugged the trash bag down toward the pile at the end of the driveway. If someone had told him that love could end up in the disaster that his marriage had become, he never would have looked in his ex’s direction.

  A few of his divorced friends said that they didn’t regret their marriage, that there were good memories that made it worth something.

  Mateo didn’t feel that way. Any perfect moment between him and Kate was soiled by the vicious way she’d ended things and continued to drag his emotions through a fierce battle. As a result, every time a memory surfaced, it was torture all over again.

  His friends assured him that the anger would fade, that his emotions would settle, but so far he didn’t see how that would ever be possible.

  Chapter 9

  After talking to Hannah, Jillian could breathe again. Her peace was shaky, but it was there.

  Hannah was right. If she wanted to meditate, she could find a quiet place to do it. There was no excuse not to find a way to do what she needed to do. Maybe she’d prefer to be in her peaceful home on the peaceful lake in her peaceful neighborhood, but that didn’t appear to be an option at the moment.

  As long as Mateo was there and in the mood to blast his music, Jillian wasn’t going to find her peace at home. A little time away would do her some good. She also hoped that she’d be able to come up with some ideas to solve the problem that seemed to exist between them. She didn’t know why Mateo had such an issue with her, but that wasn’t going to stop her from trying to fix it.

  She grabbed her purse and keys and stepped outside. Immediately she looked for any sign of Mateo. She didn’t see him, but she heard Mateo’s radio again—only this time it was coming from his truck. He was parked right at the end of their shared driveway.

  She lingered by her car for a few minutes, waiting for him to move his truck. When he didn’t, she got into her car and drove down to the end of the driveway. She pulled up near the truck and waited to see if he was going to move out of the way.

  After a few moments of waiting, she realized that Mateo wasn’t actually in the truck. Why had he left the truck running at the bottom of the driveway? It crossed her mind that he might be drunk.

  “What is going on here?” She parked her car and climbed out to investigate.

  When she walked over to the truck, she noticed the pile of trash in the back of it. One of the things in the pile was the large photograph frame that she’d seen when she’d brought over the bottle of wine. The glass was shattered. Maybe he hadn’t thrown the wine bottle after all, but he certainly had broken this.

  It occurred to her that she hadn’t even really considered what he might be dealing with—why he was angry. It was clear that something was causing him to be this way. Maybe underneath he was a different person—or maybe he wasn’t. Either way he clearly had some issues that he was dealing with.

  She walked back to her car with the intention of driving back up to the house. She would knock on his door and remind him that they shared a driveway. Just as she settled into the driver’s seat, she caught sight of Mateo on his way down the driveway. She took a breath and relaxed. She was sure that once he saw that his truck was blocking her car he’d move it out of the way.

  Instead, he dumped the trash bag he carried and then turned back to his truck to unload the remainder of the trash.

  Jillian had a lot of patience but she
thought it was unreasonable to not simply back up his truck to allow her past. It would take all of ten seconds. If it wasn’t for the wall that lined the drive she could have gone around him.

  She beeped her horn once. He didn’t even look in her direction. Never had she been treated with such blatant disrespect. Frustrated, she rolled down her window.

  “Mateo! You need to move your truck.”

  “In a minute,” he hollered back and again didn’t bother to look at her.

  Jillian was stunned that a person could be so uncooperative. She turned off her car and stared at him. It seemed to her that he was taking a long time to finish on purpose.

  “Mateo!” She shouted out the window. “I need to go. Move your truck.”

  “I’ll move it when I’m ready.” He shot her a look and then turned back to the trash.

  Jillian was at a loss. She wanted to be patient and calm, but the time for that had passed. Mateo was clearly not interested in being the slightest bit neighborly.

  “Last chance. Move your truck.” She beeped the horn.

  He shook his head and ignored her.

  As her peace disappeared, her anger returned. Not once in her life had she done anything rash or violent. In fact, even when she was angry she was considered to be one of the most rational minds in the room. When Mateo turned away from her again—with complete disregard—what started as a trickle of frustration became a flood of anger.

  She jumped out of her car. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized what she was going to do. He was not going to stop her from getting out of her own driveway.

  She climbed into the driver’s seat of his truck. There was no turning back now. She threw it into drive and surged up the driveway. The sudden movement caused some of the trash in the bed of the truck to spill out around Mateo. Her heart pounded hard as she looked in the rearview mirror. His shocked expression was only temporary, she knew. Soon it would be rage.