Awakening Love: Castleton, #2

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to places, establishments, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental and the work of the author’s imagination.

Copyright 2018 © Reina M. Williams

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No part of this book may be reproduced in any format without permission from the author.

First Digital Edition/May 2018

Second Digital Edition/January 2022

PHILIP PRINCE CAN’T forget the voice of the woman whose singing woke him from a coma. Before he can track her down, family obligations call him to the Sierra mountains and a snowstorm strands him. Roads blocked and phones out, he goes to a friend’s vacation cabin where a woman invites him to stay—a woman with a familiar voice.

Ashley Bright has to spend the holidays alone, in hiding from her abusive ex. But when Philip shows up, caught in a storm, she opens her home—and soon, her heart—to him. With help from his quirky aunts and her cranky—but not around Philip—cat, Philip and Ashley awaken to new feelings. When Ashley’s past threatens, will they chose to confront trouble together, or lose each other forever?

Chapter One

ASHLEY TRILLED THE last notes of a favorite Christmas carol, dancing her way to the table, a bottle of homemade salad dressing in hand. Inhaling the savory fragrance of the lasagna she’d made caused a rumble to join the loosening in her stomach. The rumble was just hunger, but she couldn’t fix that yet—she had to wait at least fifteen minutes for the noodles to cool. The salad she’d made earlier needed to be tossed.

She breathed in again. She hadn’t sung in months, not since Philip. She rubbed her cheek.

Malificent mewed at the door. Trust me, you don’t want to go out, Ashley told her cat. Outside, wind howled, drowning Malificent’s plaintive cries. Something crashed against the porch. Ashley padded to the front window, looking out. A large, snow-flecked branch had come close to hitting the window.

She should feel so cozy here, in this cabin, her favorite hand-knitted socks on, her cat rubbing her leg, a hot dinner ready, a fire crackling in the grate. Nestled on a hill above a tiny Sierra Mountain town, the cabin was an old-fashioned, compact place: an open floor plan with a large living room and a cushy sofa and fireplace; a kitchen and eating area with a wide, worn table and cushion-padded chairs; two bedrooms, hers with a fireplace; a bathroom with a claw-foot tub and shower; and faded but sturdy fabric curtains on the windows. Everything she needed was here. Everything except someone special to share it with.

She shook her head and walked to one of the chairs, leaning her hands on its solid frame. She’d had one moment, singing. That was something, a start.

But she couldn’t sustain that moment of cozy safety, out here alone, knowing her ex could be hurting one of her friends, or some other unsuspecting woman. She clenched her teeth. She should have suspected. She should have known better.

Since high school, when one of her friends had been in an emotionally abusive relationship, Ashley had helped others to understand, avoid, or get out of, similar relationships. Yet less than ten years after that, she’d been charmed and played by Dr. Flint Hiverson. When they’d met, it’d seemed a whirlwind—Flint, a respected doctor at the hospital where she’d started working as a patient advocate, sweeping her away with his grand gestures of red roses and expensive dinners, compliments and attentions. No one had ever done those kinds of things for her. All her boyfriends had been just that, male friends. In the swirl of Flint’s affections, she’d been unseeing of the darkness of his motives: to control her, possess her. Before she’d stepped into the light again, she’d lost her roommate, some of her friends, and maybe her career, all because she’d believed lies: those she told herself, and those Flint told her. But she wouldn’t let him control her anymore. She might need to hide for now, but she knew her truth, and she could move forward.

Malificent scratched the door. Hey, not there. She picked her up and set her by the scratching post. Malificent swiped at her hand. Spiteful creature. Back to earning your name, huh? Her cat gave tortured meow. All right, I know it’s not your fault. Out here in the middle of nowhere, and after a year of Flint coming around when you told me from the first you hated him. Should’ve listened to you. She caressed Mal’s small head. The little creature had disliked Flint from the beginning, always hissed at him and scratched when she could, which should’ve given Ashley a clue to her ex-boyfriend’s real nature. Instead, it had taken her a nearly a year to realize he was a cheater, narcissist, and abuser. One of her nurse friends at the hospital where they both worked had admitted she and Flint had been having an affair, but that he’d started hitting her, and then she’d disappeared. Flint had been responsible, Ashley was sure.

When she’d told Flint they were done, he said they belonged together, and he’d do whatever it took to make her see it, including getting rid of her godfather or any of her friends who stood in his way. She’d laughed, disbelieving his threats, and he’d backhanded her. So she’d fought back, broken his precious wrist—bad choice—and then told her godfather, who’d helped her go on the run. Since it looked like she’d attacked Flint, and she had no evidence on him, it’d seemed logical at the time. Brooks had said he’d work to gather any proof he could of Flint’s crimes, and clear her name, while she went into hiding. She shook her head. Letting Brooks fight her battle made her want to run right back home and... But she couldn’t. She’d promised Brooks.

Wind howled and icy snow pelted against the windows. Why had Brooks chosen this cabin in an isolated Sierra mountain town in the middle of winter as a safe house? Easier to disappear in plain sight, so to speak, or at least as her parents used to say.

Then again, they hadn’t been right about very many things.

Malificent mewed again, renewing her calls to go out. But she, like Ashley, had never been in snow before, only the temperate weather of the San Francisco Bay Area. She could freeze to death or something out here, even with her sleek fur coat. The wind seemed to knock into the walls of the cabin. This storm had hit hard and fast. They could be inside for days. She wasn’t used to being stuck inside, alone all day. Her days as patient advocate had been busy. This time gave her more scope for her cooking hobby, but she missed work—the patients, their families, the hospital staff... She shook her shoulders. A loud knock sounded. Not the wind this time.

Her upper body tensed. She stopped herself from crouching and looked to the window on the side of the front door. Another knock, louder, with the sound of someone’s voice, reached to her. Her throat tightened. Her whole body seemed locked-down for a moment. She breathed through it and stepped toward the door. Through the side window, the figure of a man—or a tall person with a heavy parka on—shadowed the porch near the door.

Please, can you let me in? She thought he said. What if it were Flint? She shook her head and studied the figure outside. Her ex wasn’t that tall. Hello! My car’s stuck. I was on my way up to Fee House, he shouted, but she had to strain to hear him. A man, on his way to visit the Fee sisters...no, it couldn’t be...could it? Philip. It was Christmas, and a nephew might visit his aunts. She leaned closer, trying to hear his voice again, not that that would help. Smirking at herself, she shook her head. He’d been in a coma when she’d talked to him, sung to him, so she’d never heard his voice.

Another knock sounded. As a precaution, she jogged over and got the pepper spray Brooks had given her. She set it in her jeans pocket and slid her cell into her other pocket. She had to know if it was Philip. The wind pushed against the door, harder when she opened it. Someone stumbled in. She shoved the door shut.

The man—he was a man—unwound the long scarf from his face and smiled. He looked familiar. She nibbled the inside of her lip while she studied his features. He was Philip, Philip Prince. The coma patient, who, in some odd way, pulled her back to herself after the doubts Flint had blown into her. Philip’s face had haunted her dreams, still did, even after a few months. She’d ducked into his room one evening after a long day at the hospital, hoping to avoid Flint. Something about Philip kept her coming back, something that eventually gave her the courage to see her truth, and face the truth about Flint.

She was staring at Philip’s handsome face, taking in his deep blue eyes, and a quirky smile that seemed to match the slight off-tilt of his nose. She glanced away. Her limbs loosened again, and the sensation of sweet excitement that infused her when she sang and danced earlier rolled through her, a ball of yarn untwisting.

Oh, hey there. He reached out for Malificent, who approached.

Be careful—

You want attention, don’t you? He squatted as Malificent wound herself on his leg, purring. Had her cat been bewitched? He picked up Mal and continued stroking her head. Sorry to bother you, but my car didn’t make it up the hill—it stuck in the snowbank in the driveway. My aunts live in the estate up the road. I tried to walk, but couldn’t see in the storm. Figured I’d try here—my friend Adam owns the cabin. We used to stay here.

Brooks knew Adam—that was one reason he’d picked this place. Yes, I went to college with his wife. She shifted her feet. She shouldn’t have said that. Any information about her could be too much—he was a private investigator, after all. Merry and Flora Fee are your aunts? She knew the answer, but she wanted to turn the conversation back to him. She fingered the hollow of her throat.

Right. I don’t suppose your phone is working?

Sorry, no landline here. No TV or internet, either. It was safer that way.

Cell working? Mine’s not.

She pulled hers out and looked. No reception. She shook her head and placed it on the counter. He glanced at the table.

Hey, sorry I interrupted your dinner. Guess I’ll get back out there. If I get my bearings right, maybe I can make it. He stepped to the door. Thanks.

Wait. You can’t go out in that. It’s a blizzard. She clasped her hands together, as if asking for divine intervention.

I can’t impose on you.

I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you. The coincidences that had brought them together were too serendipitous to ignore. He’d helped her before, and now she could do something for him. And how would I explain to Merry and Flora?

He chuckled. Good point. Then we might both be frozen.

She smiled, almost laughed. His Aunt Flora seemed very capable of freezing someone she didn’t like out of her community. Ashley wanted to belong. She fiddled with the hem of her sweater. She was only here until Brooks caught out Flint.

I’m Philip Prince, by the way. He pulled off his gloves and strode forward.

She shook his hand, warm and firm. The mellow excitement in her buzzed. Briony Rosen.

Well, Briony, nice to meet you. Unusual name. Are you named after someone?

No. She didn’t want to get into any personal questions, questions she’d have to lie in reply to. Are you hungry?

Sure am. I was hoping to catch dinner with the aunts, a surprise.

So they’re not expecting you? She turned to the fridge, to get out the salad, and away from the openness Philip’s presence seemed to unfurl.

Not tonight.

At least they won’t be worried. She glanced at him.

Flora doesn’t worry, but Merry does it for both of them. He set down Mal, and peeled off his scarf and hat. His short sandy brown hair stood up at odd angles. He rubbed a hand over it with a smile and hung his jacket on the peg by the door. She pulled open the fridge and took out the salad bowl.

His tall, lean frame moved agily, almost like a dancer. Malificent approached and slunk around his legs again. Hey you. He reached to scratch her head. She’s affectionate.

Not usually. She stopped as he patted the cat without the expected answering scratch.

I charm cats and old people. He winked. My brother lays claim to other groups. His tone now held a bitter, sarcastic tinge.

She tilted her head slightly. She didn’t know much about siblings, not having any herself. Sounded like there was some rivalry between the two brothers. Rumor around the hospital was they’d fallen out before Philip landed in his coma.

Philip glanced up at Ashley as he ran his hand over Malificent’s head. The cat arched into his touch. Okay, little one. He stood tall again. Need any help?

She shrugged. The space seemed smaller somehow with him in it, though he wasn’t a big man—but six feet, with a lean build and broad shoulders. It was his presence, that same quiet strength that had filled his hospital room.

I’ll set the table. He moved near her, soon plates and silverware clinked.

So, your aunts’ house is like your second home? She tossed the salad.

Yeah, how’d you know?

Uh, read about your family in the paper. It wasn’t a lie—there had been an item in the local paper Brooks had left along with the supplies.

"Right, the Castleton Weekly. I guess we do appear in it often." He shrugged and waited by the table.

Should you be traveling alone yet, having been in a coma and all?

He stared at her, his blue eyes seeming to darken. "They