Hold On To Me (Welcome To Redemption) Read online

  Hold On To Me

  by

  Stacey Joy Netzel

  Hold On To Me

  Welcome to Redemption Series, Book 8:

  After escaping an abusive ex-husband, Jenny Clark focuses on making ends meet from one day to the next. Then she meets her new apartment building manager, and the passion in his kisses dare her to believe she could have a second chance at love.

  At a crossroads in his life, Grant Walker returns from New York to manage his apartment building in Redemption. He didn’t expect to meet the woman of his dreams and find everything he never knew he wanted in small town Wisconsin.

  But someone doesn’t want either of them to be happy, and even as menacing acts of vandalism pull Jenny and Grant closer together, a harbored secret could destroy all hope of their happily ever after.

  Dedication

  ~~~

  To Virginia and Mary Jo,

  Amazing, wonderful women who surpassed friendship to become family.

  I am thankful to have you both in my life.

  Chapter 1

  Jenny Adams—soon to be Clark again—closed the door on her second floor apartment and tucked her keys into the pocket of her spring windbreaker. Only four more days to the best day of her life.

  “Good morning, Jenny.”

  She turned around to see Nadine Hansen walking down the hall toward her. Dressed in a gray business suit with a snow-white ruffled blouse, she was obviously headed to her realty office on Salvation Avenue. As the owner, she worked hard, and Jenny often saw her going in early, striding confidently in her high-heels. Today was no exception. Despite it being the Friday before Memorial Day, she wore a pair of black, calf-high, leather boots with at least three-inch heels.

  “Morning,” Jenny replied, doing her best not to think about how dowdy she felt next to the always fashionable business woman. Hair the color of a muddy-river and pulled up into a ponytail would never compare to the woman’s sleek blond chignon. Then again, she was just a waitress at a small town coffee shop. She didn’t compare in more ways than her hair.

  To cover her inferiority complex, she quipped, “Off to work we go. Though six a.m. is early—even for you.”

  “The price we pay for being women of the modern world.” Nadine’s warm smile eased Jenny’s feelings of inadequacy. “I’ve got a boatload of paperwork to do and a program to put together for a conference I’m presenting at a week from Monday. Plus, I’m out of coffee, so I’m treating myself to one of Carrie’s to-die-for brews.”

  Jenny fell into step alongside her sophisticated neighbor as they descended the stairs. “You should pick up a pound of Carrie’s Redemption Temptation.”

  “She sells the beans now?”

  “Whole or ground.”

  “Awesome. Can I give you a ride?”

  She shook her head. “Thanks, but I have to stop at Frank’s before I head to the coffee shop. My closet door came off the track, and I’d really like to have it fixed by tonight if possible.”

  “Isn’t Frank on vacation?”

  “He was due back Wednesday.”

  “Oh, then you should be fine. Have a good day.” Nadine gave a little finger wave on her way out.

  “You, too.”

  Jenny watched her leave before turning down the hall that led to the building manager’s apartment on the first floor. Frank had taken her under his wing since her first day at Wayside Apartments. He checked on her at least once a week, when they shared coffee and indulged their unspoken competition of one-upping each other in the dessert department. Sunday morning she was going to knock his socks off.

  A small grin tugged at the corners of her mouth as she knocked on his door now. On the six days a week she worked, she often caught his wave through a set of sliding patio doors off his kitchen, and they’d both talked about being early risers, so this morning she wasn’t too concerned about the early hour.

  A full minute passed before she knocked again, but he still didn’t answer. Sighing her disappointment, she figured maybe he’d extended his vacation, and turned to leave.

  The sound of the door opening behind her halted her steps. She turned back, only to freeze as she stared at the unfamiliar stranger frowning back at her. Much younger than Frank’s mid-sixties, this guy had tousled, dark brown hair and wore an open shirt and pair of jeans. Bare feet.

  “What?” he demanded.

  Jenny jerked her gaze up. By the gravelly tone of his voice, she surmised she’d woken him up. Oops.

  “Um...”

  He braced one hand against the door frame and the other gripped the door.

  She took a step back and shifted from one foot to the other, hugging her canvas bag in front of her as she glanced past his lean body into the spacious two-bedroom apartment. No Frank in sight. Returning her attention to the guy who was in sight, she noticed his jeans were zipped but not buttoned and quickly skimmed her gaze over his bare chest to his narrowed brown eyes.

  “Is Frank here?”

  The man’s mouth tightened, and he gave an abrupt shake of his head.

  “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  Annoyance flashed across his stubble-shadowed face, reminding her for a brief moment of Roy. She fought the urge to retreat another step, away from the man and the emotion.

  “Frank’s in the hospital in New York.”

  “Hospital?”

  “He had a heart attack a few days ago.”

  Jenny’s eyes widened and thoughts of her soon to be ex-husband were swept aside by worry for her friend. “Oh my God, is he okay?”

  This time, she received a curt nod. “Soon as he recovers from his triple bypass.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “That’s good to hear. That he’s okay, I mean, not the bypass,” she quickly clarified.

  The man didn’t even crack a smile as he squinted at his watch. “Listen, people don’t usually knock on my door so fricken’ early, and my flight got in really late last night, so what do you want?”

  After a second of hesitation, she asked, “Are you Frank’s fill-in?”

  “Replacement.”

  “Replace—” Dismay sent her stomach plummeting. “He’s not coming back?”

  “Nope.”

  “Oh.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Well...”

  Jenny let the sentence fade to silence when she realized she didn’t want a complete stranger in her apartment. Even if he was the new building manager, she didn’t know him. He wasn’t grandfatherly and unthreatening like Frank. And he was being really rude. Pretty much an ass, if you asked her. Maybe Matt wouldn’t mind—

  “Well what?”

  The impatience in the man’s voice cinched it. “N-nothing. Sorry I bothered you.”

  She backed a few more steps and turned to leave. The door clicked shut behind her, and relief made her knees wobble, which made her fingers curl into fists as she came to a stop. At some point, she was going to have to quit being afraid of every shadow and stand up for herself. She glanced over her shoulder at the apartment with a thought of knocking again to confront the half-dressed man behind that door.

  Tomorrow.

  Completely annoyed with herself, but unable to completely vanquish her apprehension, Jenny hurried from the building and began the long walk to work. She sure hoped Frank was okay. Somehow she’d have to get the name of the hospital and address so she could send him a card. And some cupcakes—specially made to be heart healthy. That’d put a smile on his weathered face.

  She’d received a welcome packet when she first moved in. There had to be a contact number for the building owner, who hopefully would know how to reach Frank. And when she called,
she could also verify if the new guy was legit.

  A mile later, shoulders hunched against the wind, Jenny thought of Nadine’s offer for a ride. How nice it would’ve been to not have to walk the mile and a half this chilly spring morning, and then spend the entire morning and afternoon on her feet. And she still wouldn’t have her door fixed when she got home, darn it. With the photographs she sold at Coffee to Chai For down to two, she needed the makeshift darkroom so she could develop more prints tonight.

  She tucked her chin into the collar of her coat and trudged on. Sore feet were nothing new to her. They were certainly better than what she’d been used to prior to working for Carrie Lowell and Matt Jacobs. Besides, she didn’t know Nadine very well, and it might have been an awkward ride. Many people in Redemption had no problem discussing the weather with Jenny when she delivered coffee, soups or sandwiches to their tables, but no one other than Frank had extended any true overtures of friendship since she left Roy almost ten months ago.

  No—more like since I’d married him almost five years ago.

  She didn’t count Carrie and Matt as friends so much as bosses. Charlie Russell had seemed to make attempts to include her in his circle of friends, but beyond being grateful for his EMT expertise last summer when she’d finally gathered the courage to dial those three little numbers after Roy had beaten her unconscious, she had her own reasons for keeping distant from the Russells.

  People didn’t understand why she hadn’t pressed charges after that week-long stint in the hospital. Three broken ribs, internal bleeding, two black eyes, countless bruises, and a fractured wrist. She read the question in their eyes whenever she accidentally caught a gaze. They knew Roy was a mean sonofabitch—heck, everyone knew that now. But what they didn’t know was just how evil he could be. How he’d threatened to torture her if she told a single person the pain and suffering he’d already inflicted.

  When he first started using her as a punching bag about six months into their marriage, she wondered what had happened to the handsome charmer with a hint of bad boy she’d fallen in love with. All alone, too young, and very naive when they’d first started dating, the glimpses of violence he’d displayed had been sexy and exciting. She’d read his aggressive possession as love, instead of a dangerous sickness.

  As the abuse progressed, she was conditioned to question what she did wrong. And back then, she’d truly believed it was her fault. She’d tiptoe around, and just when she thought things were going well, that she’d figured out how to please him and not be so disappointing, he’d come home and flip out over something as simple as the flowers she’d bought to display on the dining room table.

  “Those are the wrong color. Don’t you see they don’t match anything in this house? How stupid do you have to be that you can’t pick out flowers? The smell is giving me a headache. Don’t waste my money anymore.”

  Jenny shivered from the chill Roy’s past echoing words evoked, and hugged her coat closer to her body. Wishing she could stop the memories, she waited for a car to pass before crossing the street to stride past D.P. Tire and Auto. Didn’t matter how fast she walked, the thoughts kept coming.

  That last time her husband laid his hands on her had left her expecting to never open her eyes again. She’d even wished for death as the darkness overtook her. But coming to on the floor, face first in her own blood, every raspy breath sending stabbing jolts through her entire body, she’d clung to that life-affirming pain and made a decision.

  She was going to fight to get her life back.

  Somewhere between dialing 911 and waking in the hospital, she vaguely remembered Charlie’s voice. Someone had told her later that after he put her in the ambulance, he’d gone back inside and given Roy a taste of his own medicine. God, she’d have paid to see that. Just knowing he’d gone though a fraction of what he’d put her through gave her the strength to bargain for her freedom.

  And bargain she did. At his father’s car dealership—a public setting with witnesses—she’d stood up to the bastard for the first time in five years. Powering though her inside fear, she told him if he left her alone, let her move out and file for an uncontested divorce, she wouldn’t press charges and wouldn’t ask for a single dime.

  Then she held her breath as she waited for his answer, hoping she wouldn’t have to use her ace in the hole. The one piece of evidence she’d kept secret for four years and which would be the death of her if he ever found out it was in her possession.

  Thankfully, the previous public humiliation from Charlie and the other salesmen on the floor watching through the glass windows of Roy’s office were enough of a deterrent to his temper, and he’d reluctantly agreed to her deal. But not before she saw the flash of pure rage in his ice-blue eyes. An alarming reminder her bargaining chip may still be needed in the future.

  That one look set her back, until the counselor at the women’s shelter helped rekindle her resolve. She’d gotten a job, saved for her current apartment, and started taking pictures again once Roy wasn’t telling her she was stupid and useless. Photography hid nothing. Film revealed the simple truth of the subject in her lens, and best of all, the pictures didn’t judge.

  A couple months after Jenny had begun working at Coffee To Chai For, she’d accidentally left her wallet on the back counter at work, and Carrie had stopped by to drop it off on her way to visit her sister. Through the open door, her boss had spotted a couple of landscapes hung up to dry. After voicing admiration, she’d encouraged Jenny to hang a couple in the shop to see if anyone was interested. Carrie’s appreciation of her art gave a needed boost of courage to revive a long lost dream of possibly turning her passion into a career.

  The first day the photographs had been displayed, she’d been shocked to sell two to Allie Daniels, a local dog sitter. And another sold the next day. Since then, she’d been averaging about ten sales a month and was somewhat surprised to find herself itching to get new work done. Try some new settings and filters, maybe some double exposures. Her confidence had grown, but not enough to reveal they were her work to anyone other than Carrie and Matt.

  Allie was opening up a new online crafts gallery website and had repeatedly begged for the photographer’s name. She’d come close to revealing her secret, but every time she thought about opening her mouth, Roy’s voice entered her mind, telling her she was no good and would never go anywhere in life.

  “Without me, you’d be nothing but a slut, and even that you’re no good at.”

  Even now, his words made her sick to her stomach. But she was working on that reaction. And come Tuesday, the divorce would be final, and she’d forever be free of Roy Adams. She’d take back her life—and her name—in the same amount of time it’d taken to sign it away on her wedding day.

  Four more days to her own personal Independence Day.

  With renewed determination, Jenny hurried along the sidewalk toward the coffee shop. Just before she reached the door, something in her peripheral vision caught her attention. A glance confirmed a midnight blue Dodge Charger, its driver staring straight at her from across the street.

  As the bell above the door jangled with her entrance, her shoulders shook from an involuntary shudder that had nothing to do with the spring chill.

  Chapter 2

  Thirty minutes after he’d closed the door on the timid little mouse who’d interrupted his sleep, Grant Walker groaned, punched a throw pillow, and got up from the couch to make a pot of coffee. Fricken’-A, who knocks on someone’s door at six a.m.?

  In the past forty-eight hours, between his delayed flight and being up with his uncle the previous evening, he’d managed a whopping three hours of sleep. Right now, he’d swear he had a gallon of sand under his eyelids.

  A shower revived him as the coffee brewed, and once the caffeine kicked in, guilt told him he’d been a real crabass earlier. Morning person he was not, but taking over as building manager, he was going to have to suck it up if something had to be done early. Hopefully, whatever the girl ha
d needed could wait until he figured out which apartment she lived in. At least, he assumed she lived here if she’d come around to see his Uncle Frank at the crack of dawn.

  He spent the morning and into the afternoon packing up his uncle’s things in boxes he found in a storage room down the hall. Instead of throwing away the boxes people tossed after they’d unpacked, Uncle Frank had saved them for the next person moving out. Too bad it was his stuff being moved now.

  About two o’clock, Grant texted an old friend who still lived in the area.

  Moved back to town—will the old ball and chain let you out for a beer?

  He added a to let him know the ‘ball and chain’ comment was a joke. When the reply text confirmed a meeting time of seven at Rowdy’s bar, the growling in Grant’s stomach convinced him he didn’t want to wait that long. Uncle Frank’s refrigerator held nothing appealing, so he threw on a jacket and headed out to find something to eat.

  Driving through town in the daylight, he saw it wasn’t as dumpy as he remembered. Either the residents had done some major sprucing up, or his grown-up eyes saw things differently than when he’d been sixteen.

  He guessed it was the latter because as he turned onto Salvation Avenue, he realized not much had changed since he’d left. Adams’ car dealership, the library, Nino’s—wait, there was something new...Coffee to Chai For. He slowed as he drove by and saw a sign in the window that read: Now serving lunch and dinner. The place looked pretty full for middle of the afternoon, which usually meant good food. He’d have to give it a try.

  But not today. He had to start somewhere with his own redemption, and right now he was jonesing for one of Hutch’s burgers.

  In high school, the only redeeming thing about Hutch’s Diner had been the food. He’d hated the dated red vinyl booths he swore hadn’t been updated since the 50’s, the décor on the wall that went right along with them, and most of all the owner. Only thing that kept him coming back was every time he walked through those doors, Hutch’s face would turn as red as the stools lining his counter. Grant and his friends had started taking bets to see how long the old man would last before blowing a gasket.