Lovesick (Coffee Shop Series Book 2) Read online

  Lovesick

  Katie Cross

  Contents

  Note From The Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Runaway

  Wild Child

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Katie Cross

  About the Author

  To the OG’s: Sam, Kristen, and McKenna.

  Thanks for the late-night dates.

  Having my back.

  And always making me laugh.

  You light up my life.

  Note From The Author

  This book takes place five years after the previous book, Coffee Shop Girl.

  For those of you who have read my book I Am Girl Power from the Health and Happiness Society series (not something that needs to be read before this book), then you’ll recognize Lizbeth as the barista from the Frolicking Moose.

  You’ll also recognize JJ as Megan Bailey’s brother.

  Her story takes place a couple months after I Am Girl Power ends.

  Now, that’s not confusing at all, is it?!

  LOVESICK

  Contemporary Romance

  Fiction

  Text copyright 2021 by Katie Cross.

  Any names, characters, places, events, incidents, similarities or resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or places, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover designed by Seedlings Online at www.seedlingsonline.com

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author. For information regarding permission, send a query to the author at [email protected].

  Every effort has been made to ensure that the content provided herein is accurate, up-to-date, and helpful to the reader at the time of this publishing. However, this is not intended to replace or treat any conditions, nor is it an exhaustive treatment of the subject. We encourage anyone to seek help with a professional counselor, therapist, or doctor where issues deem it necessary. No liability is assumed. The reader is considered responsible for your choices, actions, and results undertaken after reading this work.

  Visit www.katiecrosschicklit.com for more information about the author, updates, or new books.

  1

  Lizbeth

  My knuckles turned white as I gripped the steering wheel of my 1992 Honda, a silent mantra playing on repeat in my head.

  I won’t slide off the canyon road. I won’t plunge into the icy river below. I won’t die tonight. I won’t slide off the canyon road . . .

  “Don’t be so dramatic, Lizbeth,” I muttered to myself. “This is fine. Everything is fine. I’m not panicked. Nope.” My voice broke as a gust of wind slammed snow flurries into my window. “Not at all!”

  No consolation in sight.

  Snow pelted my windshield like a vortex of flying white icicles. Only my headlights illuminated the darkness of this mountain canyon. I’d never felt so alone or so tired.

  The soft scent of baby powder lingered in the car as a sublime reminder of the reason for my fatigue. My older sister, Bethany, had just been in labor for forty-eight hours before she gave birth to my nephew, Shane. The most adorable, squishy, wrinkled, funny-looking baby that had ever existed. He was exquisite.

  Despite the arrival of my first nephew, every muscle in my body remained tense. I shouldn’t have left the hospital. Shouldn’t have brushed off the storm. Shouldn’t have arrogantly claimed that I’d driven the mountain pass from Jackson City to Pineville a dozen times in far worse snow than this.

  I crept along toward home in Pineville at twenty miles an hour, but felt like I wasn’t moving. Maverick would kill me when he found out I hadn’t put winter tires on my car yet. But really, who’d expected a late-November blizzard?

  Maybe I should have.

  The subzero temperature left a delicate swirl of frost along the windows’ edges, despite the heat blasting on maximum. All happy vibes from the hospital vanished when my front tire skidded on a patch of black ice. The car jerked to the right, then back. My heart dropped into my stomach as I let off the gas.

  The car whipped right again. By sheer willpower, I managed not to scream as I pumped the brakes and counter-turned.

  The Honda headed right for a break in the trees anyway.

  The forest was the only barrier between me and a frothing river at the bottom of a rocky canyon a hundred yards below. The snow had frozen over like a field of pearlescent lacquer. In one second, I comprehended that, if kept on this trajectory, I would plunge right into the canyon.

  A burst of cold terror shot through my body when my car vaulted past the trees.

  “No!” I screamed. “Stop!”

  As if possessed, the car lurched downhill between gaps in the forest. I stomped on my brakes, but the tires skidded on the frozen snow.

  With a sickening crunch, my front bumper collided with a rock. A pop rang in my ears as the airbag deployed. The car flipped onto its side, and the seat belt strained against my chest. I pitched upside down, seized by a stomach-turning sensation.

  Half in a daze, I barely registered the car swinging onto its hood, then rocking back onto the passenger side. It remained there for a moment, then two. A burning scent filled my nostrils as I risked a look down at the snowy ground beneath the passenger door.

  “Oh no,” I whimpered.

  One move and my body weight would tip us back onto the hood. Would that squish me? Could I wiggle out? What if the seat belt was jammed? I’d freeze here in less than an hour.

  Or the car could tip back onto the tires and head right for the river.

  How far away was the canyon wall? Couldn’t be far. The general downward slant meant I was near the edge of a slippery shale slope. Thousands of gallons of freezing whitewater rapids streamed onward a couple hundred feet below.

  The odds were precarious either way. The seat belt ground into my shoulder as I drew in a deep breath.

  “I’m calm,” I whispered. “I’m calm. I’m fine. This is fine. Everything is fine.”

  The car engine had stopped. My headlights illuminated the underside of the snow-laden trees. I tried to shove the gear into park, but the shift had jammed. My emergency brake had broken a year ago.

  A gust of wind shook the car. I blinked through the haze from the airbag, barely able to make out a murky darkness ahead. Fractured glass marred the windshield in a spiderweb pattern. My thoughts settled onto one point of focus: I could not fall with the car. And if it rocked onto its tires, this car was going to fall.

  Snow pelted the cracked windshield. A burst of cold brushed across my face. I realized the whistle I was hearing wasn’t the wind, but my own frantic breaths.

/>   “Okay,” I whispered. “I have to remain calm.”

  Maybe someone would come help. Could anyone have noticed from the road? Not likely, but I flashed the brights just in case. There was a small chance someone would see my brake lights.

  But the chance was very, very small. Almost nonexistent. I hadn’t seen any other cars in the canyon. Nope, help wasn’t an option, then.

  Had to get out of this myself.

  Panic filled me like a hot teakettle. How long would it take them to find me? What if the car washed downriver and took my body with it? Bethany might never know what happened. Ellie would always wonder.

  The car moaned.

  I froze.

  The snow continued to fall, thick and gauzy, while I fingered the seat belt. Maybe I could get free, then jump out once the car landed back on the wheels. But how to undo the seat belt now without falling toward the passenger side?

  Well, I had to try.

  Moving an inch at a time, I reached for the door. Thankfully, the window rolled down. An icy chill snaked into the car. I froze as the car groaned, tires inching closer to the ground.

  It didn’t matter anymore. Whether or not I moved, this car was going down. If I wanted to live, I had to get myself out. With a sharp breath, I threw my weight against my door and jammed my hand into the seat belt. The car shivered. The seat belt stuck.

  I did it again.

  The car shrieked this time. With a guttural cry, I slammed my hand into the seat belt again. It loosened, hissing as it retracted. The movement tipped the car to the side until it landed back on the tires.

  Blood pulsed through my body. It thundered in my ears. A scream built in my throat, rushing out in a wild shriek even though no one could hear.

  “Help! Please!”

  Frantic, I threw myself out the window just as the wheels started to roll. The edge of the window cut into my torso as I tried to scramble free. My left leg didn’t follow the rest of my body. Something hugged my ankle.

  The seat belt.

  Ice cut into my palms as I grabbed at snow in a poor attempt to extricate myself. The car inched forward. Grunting, I yanked at my left foot. Rocks skidded beneath the front tires as the car crested the edge of the cliff face. It slipped, then shuddered.

  “No!” I shouted. “No!”

  My body slid forward with the car. Ice raked against my fingers as I uselessly grasped for purchase. The movement only seemed to encourage the car forward. Just as the front tires tipped off the edge, a hand gripped my arm.

  With a cry, someone yanked me free.

  My leg pulled away from the seat belt, and I slammed into my rescuer. A pair of strong arms dragged me to safety. We landed on the ground together.

  “Oof.”

  The sound of the Honda crashing down the mountainside ended with a splash and a sickening crunch. I blinked, suspended in time as I stared at the snow swirling in the spot where the car had disappeared. My mind raced, unable to comprehend any of it.

  How was I not in that car?

  A voice called over the gusting wind. “You all right?”

  I spotted a pair of bright olive eyes tucked into the hood of a parka. Broad shoulders and a strong hand held onto me.

  My breath caught—this time, I wasn’t sure I’d get it back. I knew those eyes. The sprinkling of stubble on a chiseled face. My stomach dropped all the way to the river.

  “JJ?” I whispered.

  He grabbed my shoulders. “Lizbeth, are you okay?”

  What were the odds that JJ Bailey, of all people, would have saved me? I put a hand on my swimming head as my fingers tingled.

  Then everything went black.

  2

  JJ

  Lizbeth shivered on the seat next to me.

  This old truck—aptly named the Zombie Mobile—issued only a desperate gasp of heat. It drove like a tanker, weighed as much as a mountain, and plowed through snowdrifts with joy, but it kicked out heat like an arctic breeze. The perfect truck for a night like this, unless you wanted to be warm.

  She blinked awake slowly, half-dazed. She looked so frightened with her wide emerald eyes, ghost-white skin, and limp hair.

  I fiddled with the knobs on the dash to give myself something to do. “Are you cold?”

  She stared at me, blinking.

  “Did you hit your head?” I asked.

  Her fingers brushed her forehead. She shook her head. “No.”

  I reached into a bag behind her seat. An assortment of clothes were stashed in a small duffel there. I grabbed a hoodie and handed it to her.

  “Put this on. Then you can put on my parka. They’ll help.”

  She wasn’t wearing a coat, although there had likely been one in the car. Her thinness probably meant a whiff of wind could chill her. There weren’t many lights in the Zombie Mobile, but her dazed expression and dusky lips were unmistakable. She slipped her arms into the hoodie and pulled it as far down her body as she could. I slid out of my parka and handed it to her.

  “My parka too.”

  She hesitated. “W-what a-a-bout you?”

  “I’ll be fine. We’re only a few miles away from the turnoff to Adventura. Once we get over the bridge, it’ll be much safer.”

  She nodded. The parka nearly swallowed her, but her shivers had already slowed. I set a hand on her shoulder.

  “Are you all right? That was . . . that was nasty business back there.”

  She nodded again, the muscles in her neck tight. How had she survived such a fast-moving event? How easy it would have been for me to miss her. If I hadn’t glanced to the left at the exact right moment, I never would have seen her brake lights. The flashing brights. If the Zombie Mobile didn’t amble so slowly, I couldn’t have stopped in time to help.

  To arrive seconds before she plunged into the river.

  Unable to contemplate that thought further, I set it aside. Right now, I had to make sure we both remained intact.

  “I’ll get us to Adventura safely.” I put the old truck into drive again. “I promise.”

  My muddled brain turned back to the road, which looked like a white cloud. By now, the canyon would be closed. I doubt we’d see any other cars, which made it all the more miraculous that I’d found her.

  “Okay,” I muttered. “Here we go.”

  Striking off into the white set my hair on edge. Definitely the worst storm I’d seen since moving back to Pineville late last winter. Lizbeth’s recent scrape with death didn’t help my nerves. Still, I forced my mind to focus on the path ahead.

  The road rumbled if I drifted toward the edge, which helped me stay in the middle. We crawled along at twenty miles an hour. Lizbeth clutched her seat belt, nostrils flared. She held her breath when we crossed the river over the bridge that would take us to my home, a camp named Adventura on the other side of the canyon from Pineville.

  Seconds later, the Zombie Mobile roared through eight inches of fresh powder without a problem. That’s when my mind opened again. Under the canopy of trees and the comforting rock faces on either side of the valley, I let out my first metaphorical breath.

  The universe had been kind to Lizbeth, but Lizbeth could also be a gift for me. With Lizbeth at my side when I returned, I wouldn’t have to explain to Mark why I’d been in Jackson City on a random Friday night.

  Everything happened for a reason.

  I wasn’t a full-on hippie, but I was zen enough to believe that.

  3

  Lizbeth

  JJ’s intent concentration on the road helped me stop my mental sobbing and get a hold of myself again. If I had to speak, I’d lose it.

  Absolutely lose it.

  Despite the horrifying conditions, he appeared as laid back as ever. JJ had always been easygoing. Quick to smile. He was calm water compared to his boundlessly energetic twin, Mark. I couldn’t have picked anyone better to be my saving grace.

  Or so I hoped.

  The fact that I was plunging into the snowy mountains with a man I didn’t reall
y know—despite my raging crush on him—didn’t escape my notice.

  Snow fell in buckets as JJ smoothly navigated a pristine lane. The mountains loomed overhead, dark specters behind the snow. The wind slowed slightly. Frigid air crept in from the windows and the bottom of the truck, which I strongly suspected had a hole beneath a wooden board at my feet. The old thing smelled like rust and hot dogs.

  “Adventura is just around the corner,” he murmured a few minutes later. “We’ll get you all warmed up, Lizbeth.”

  JJ and Mark Bailey were enigmas. People spoken of constantly in our small mountain town, but rarely seen. Mark and JJ had returned to Pineville around the same time I did. They came late last winter to open Adventura, a summer camp. I came back after graduating college in May. The summer with them in town had set my world on an awkward axis.

  Every time JJ came into the Frolicking Moose for a green tea, my heart somersaulted. Maybe it was his olive eyes, subdued but bright. Or his corded, muscular arms or equally strong legs. His climbing expertise was legendary. His affinity for hiding in the rocks made him even more popular.

  The Zombie Mobile, the name Mark had given his truck, sputtered to a stop next to a bank of snow, then died. JJ chuckled. Through a thick blanket of snow, I could barely make out a building in the dim headlights. Relief coursed through me so profoundly I sagged.