Where We Meet Again

by Wilson, A. M.

  “Are you going to tell me who—ˮ?

  “Mom!”

  The shriek is blood curdling. I bolt out of the kitchen so fast I don’t even spare Kiersten a glance. I round the corner into the hall and fly through Evelyn’s bedroom door, surprised I don’t take it off the hinges.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?”

  I survey the scene, but see nothing out of place in my teenager’s untidy room. A trail of clothes on the floor, papers scattered across her desk, uncapped and open tubes and palettes of makeup on her dresser. The only thing out of place is Evelyn cowering in the corner of her unmade bed.

  “I saw a mouse.”

  “Eww.” That comes from behind me.

  “Shut up, you did not.” The words fly from my mouth immediate and horrified.

  “I did too! I was at my desk, writing, and leaned down to scratch my foot, and there it was in the corner.” She indicates to the corner where she keeps her trash can.

  “Was it just one mouse?” I hate rodents. I can deal with bugs and spiders just fine, but rodents gross me out. The traps make me feel awful, too. Either I kill it or I have to set it free. Either way, I don’t want to go near the damn thing.

  The one time I wish I had a man around. I can handle everything else but this.

  “Um, I’m not sure. It could have been two.”

  I shoot her a motherly glare that says I-didn’t-birth-you-to-deal-with-this-shit and tiptoe across the room. Thankfully, there isn’t a mouse that I can see. There is, however, a banana peel and god knows what else in her trash.

  “When was the last time you emptied this? Are you keeping food in here?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. Last week? I’m sorry, I’ll take it out right now.” She leaves her perch on the bed and approaches me.

  I pick up the trashcan and kiss her temple. “Thank you, baby. Get Aunt K the number to call pest control too, please. If you saw a mouse, I don’t want to give it time to make a cozy home. Blegh. I’ll take the trash, but you can pick up your room.”

  I give her my cell to use and leave the girls to clean the room while I take her small bag of trash to the kitchen. Our plates have been soaking in the sink, so I give them a final rinse and load the dishwasher, then pick up the remaining scraps of wrapping paper.

  As I wipe down the kitchen table, the doorbell rings. I hang the rag over the faucet and wipe my forearm across my brow. That was fast. It can’t have been over twenty minutes.

  I talk as I swing the heavy interior door open, wanting this mouse dealt with as quickly as possible. “Thank you for coming so fast—oh.”

  What in the hell is happening?

  Law stares back at me from my front porch. He wears a pair of nice fitting jeans (not that I look) and a red button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. A patch above the left breast pocket reads: Chuck the Exterminator.

  My eyes move back up to his face, and I can’t help noticing that he sports an honest-to-god five o’clock shadow. It kills me to admit it, but it looks so good on his angular jaw and chiseled cheekbones. Shit.

  “Your name isn’t Chuck,” I blurt to save face for letting him stand on my doorstep for so long.

  “And this isn’t my day job. If you’ll let me in, I can get started and be out of your way as soon as I can.”

  I glance at my socks and open the door the rest of the way. My cheeks flame with embarrassment. “Right. Sorry. Down the hall and on the left.”

  His footfalls have long since passed, so I close the door and meander to my daughter’s bedroom. Today is messing with my head. There’s no way I can stand with him and my daughter in the same room until we deal with this mouse. I’ll lose my damn mind.

  I grab Kiersten’s arm and tug her into the hallway.

  “I need you to stay with them. Listen to what he says, his recommendations, and be the decision maker. I trust you.”

  “Where are you going?” she whispers, somehow controlling her normally obnoxious volume.

  “The kitchen. Maybe start some laundry.”

  She cocks an eyebrow and gives me a funny look. “What is your deal?”

  “That’s… Law,” I murmur as low as I can. Her eyebrows shoot beneath her choppy blonde bangs.

  “No shit?” She peers back into the bedroom.

  Law’s bent over, pulling Evelyn’s desk away from the wall while she chats his ear off.

  Kiersten turns back to me with a wide grin on her face. “No shit. I recognize that ass now.”

  “For fuck’s sake, I’m done with today. Done. Go in there and behave yourself.”

  She struts back into the bedroom so I return to the kitchen. Since I’ve already started the dishwasher, there isn’t anything left to do to take my mind off the man in the other room. Even though the laundry closet is just off the kitchen, I don’t have any full baskets to do. I suppose now is as good as any to start dinner.

  As time passes, my anxiety increases. I drop utensils and make a mess of ingredients as I put together our meal. I guess I know why he’s been in the area. He must have moved here. That is not the answer I wanted. I wanted to hear he was in town on business or visiting a buddy or buying a car he found on some resale internet site.

  What I did not want to hear was that the man I’ve loved my entire life is once again living in the same small town as me.

  Footsteps grow louder from the hallway, and I snap my head up from where I stare blankly at the speckled pattern on the countertop. Wanting to look busy, I yank open the oven and remove the casserole dish I’ve been cooking for dinner. The sound of Law’s voice drifting from down the hallway distracts me, and I grab the dish without putting on an oven mitt.

  “Ow! Owowow!” I cry as the hot dish crashes back inside the oven. My face turns red as I hold back tears and several inappropriate curse words. Instead of sobbing like I want, I bend at the waist and cradle my injured hand with the other. My heartbeat pulses through the red, swelling flesh and causes even more pain.

  Strong hands wrap around my shoulders and steer me to the sink. The faucet flips on. Those same hands slide down my arms in a light graze, sending goosebumps skittering along my skin before they reach my wrists and thrust my hands beneath the water.

  “Ahh.” I sigh in a cross of pain and relief.

  A moment passes as the severe pain subsides into a dull throb, and I notice the proximity of Law’s body to mine. He practically wraps around my back. His hips are to the side of mine, but his long, muscled arm drapes around my waist, beneath my elbow, to where he holds my hands lightly beneath the water.

  “Still clumsy around me,” he murmurs in my ear, a hint of teasing in his voice. The sound of humor coming from him causes me to stiffen further. I yank my arms back and fall against the countertop beside me.

  Law still holds one of my wrists, and he tugs it, forcing my hand back beneath the lukewarm water. Our eyes lock as he jostles me, and I can’t look away. Apparently, he can’t either.

  I don’t know if he was smiling before, but he sure isn’t now. His eyes narrow and he drops them to my lips. “Keep it here. Ten minutes.”

  His voice is too warm. Too close. It sends a quiver through me.

  “I know that. Let go.”

  His eyes drift back to mine. If I’m not mistaken, I swear heat resides in his gaze.

  “Fine.” He bites out in a flip of emotion.

  Kiersten rushes forward with a towel for him to dry off on. He thanks her, but returns his attention to me.

  “I didn’t find a mouse. Not a sign of one, either. No bedding, food crumbs, or scat. Still put up a couple traps. One in your girl’s room behind her desk, two in the basement, and was going to drop one in here. Checked outside before I came in, and your house looks tight. I’ll come by in a day or two to check the traps.”

  I suck a deep breath through my nose. “Thank you. How much do I owe you?” I turn in search of my purse, but only make it as far as the kitchen entrance before his voice stops me.

  It’s not
so much what he says as the tone. The deep baritone gentles and softens, almost as if he’s crooning a lullaby. I glance over my shoulder and my jaw slackens.

  He speaks to my Evelyn. The warm gaze, the way he bends toward her to speak to her and not at her, it all warms my heart, and sends it into a frenzy.

  “Can you find your mom’s purse so she can keep her hand under that water?” That’s all he says, but it melts me all the same.

  Evelyn scampers off, prompting Law to cut a glance at me and jerk his head toward the still running faucet.

  I listen. Not because he told me too, but because my hand still hurts like crazy and I know he was right. I need to draw out the burn.

  While he busies himself setting another trap in the pantry, Kiersten removes dinner from the oven. I, however, stare out the window and pretend they don’t exist. Evelyn returns and drops my purse on the counter next to the sink.

  “Can I go back to my room now?”

  I give her a smile with a turn of my head. “Go ahead, but dinner is in a few minutes.”

  “Thanks, mom.”

  She reaches up on her toes and kisses me on the cheek. Only a few inches separate our heights now. Sooner than later she’ll catch up, and most likely pass me.

  Law approaches me then and turns off the faucet. I try to pull my hand away, but he won’t let it go. He tugs it closer and lowers his face to inspect the freshly burned skin.

  Blisters form on the entire underside of my thumb and the side of my index finger. It hurts—bad. Not going to lie. Though, it hurt less while under Law’s scrutinizing gaze.

  What am I saying? I need to get a grip. “What are you doing?”

  He pulls out a kit from the bag he carried in and tapes a fresh piece of gauze over my injury.

  “Keep this on. Change it if it gets wet or soiled. Don’t put any cream on it until at least Monday.”

  I didn’t bother telling him I’m a paramedic and know how to care for a simple burn. His attention to taking care of me is unsettling. I don’t like it. It resurfaces up old memories of scrapes and skinned knees. Too many memories. “Okay. How much do I owe you?”

  One side of his mouth tips up. I can’t quite call it a smile, but it’s one step up from the perpetual scowl. “For the doctor services? I give those out for free. Hundred bucks for the mouse problem.”

  Ouch. For both his teasing and that cost.

  I nod and dug out my wallet one-handed. “Okay. Thank you.” I tuck a hundred-dollar bill into his hand, trying not to touch his skin.

  A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Be back in a couple days for those traps. Have a good evening, ladies.”

  Ladies. Shit.

  I spin away from him as he shows himself out, having completely forgotten Kiersten. Her back is to the refrigerator door, arms crossed over her chest, and a grin on her stupid smirking lips.

  I wait until the door closes to address her, but Kiersten does what she always did—blurts out whatever the hell is on her mind.

  “Is it hot in here or is it just me? You look a little flushed.”

  “Not now,” I hiss, still waiting to hear the door shut.

  “I think you need a cold drink. A tall drink of water, amiright?”

  Cutting her a sharp glance, I tiptoe out and peek into the foyer.

  Empty.

  Relief fills me, and I sag against the wall in the hallway. My eyes close. I clutch my injured hand to my chest and breathe deeply until my racing pulse slows and Kiersten calls my name.

  As I walk back to the kitchen, I make a mental note. Law will be back to check the traps, but I need to tell him to stay away after that. If he’s living in this town, it’s best we don’t see each other again.

  That means no more speaking in public.

  No more visiting Ritchie’s grave at the same time.

  No more house calls.

  Definitely no more speaking sweetly to my daughter. Or speaking to her at all, for that matter.

  If I want to stay sane, I need to cut all contact. Again. I just hope I can survive it a second time.

  7

  When a knock sounds on my front door Tuesday evening, I’m prepared for the man on the other side.

  Steeling myself with a deep breath, I open the door to Law. He’s back in the red work polo with the logo and a pair of dark wash jeans. I graze down his torso before I return my gaze to his face. God, he looks… every word that crosses my mind isn’t adequate to express what I now see in his features. Aged like a fine wine, his face holds a becoming maturity. His eyes crinkle in the corners as he studies me, and even that’s appealing to me. He’s more defined and hard all over, but his eyes maintain a softness I’m pleased time didn’t steal.

  Three days have passed since my emotionally chaotic weekend, and I’m uncertain I can do this.

  The sky changes from blue to amethyst as twilight sets in. The first hint of stars twinkle beyond his left shoulder. Awkwardness bridges the physical gap between us. A greeting hasn’t left our lips, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

  The shock of running into one another again has lessened, although it’ll never completely dissolve. We aren’t yelling at each other for old hurts or pretending the past never happened. We just exist.

  Two people who used to be in love, standing in each other’s presence; for the first time in fourteen years, a part of my soul feels repaired.

  I won’t delude myself into happy endings. He’s here to perform a job. After a few breaths in the calm peace of our new reality, I’m ready to let him.

  Nerves steal my calm at the last moment, and I babble to dispel the queasiness in my gut. “We’re alone here. My friend Kiersten isn’t here, and my daughter’s at basketball practice.” My face glows as I stumble over my point. “I mean nothing by it, other than to tell you they aren’t here.”

  Law cocks an eyebrow at me, intensifying my blush. His eyes stray over my right shoulder and into my hallway. “May I?”

  “Of course.”

  I inhale sharply through my nose as he brushes by me. What I intended to be a cleansing breath fills with the scent of him. Soap or cologne, whatever it is, overwhelms me to the point I close my eyes and sway with dizziness.

  He smells as I remember, something uniquely him. Back then, I thought it was a mixture of the aroma of his home, laundry detergent his mom used, and his soap, but after all these years, that can’t be accurate. Still, the scent of him from my memories lingers beneath the layers of black tea, rhubarb, and a hint of cedar from his cologne.

  Opening my eyes, I shut the front door in a daze and trail after him.

  “See any more mice?”

  I locate him in the middle of my kitchen. My house is modest with three bedrooms, one-and-a-half baths, and a fully finished basement. The size exceeds our needs. Having Law standing in the middle of my average kitchen, however, cramps the space. I can’t pass through the kitchen without bumping into him. Shaking my head, I belatedly register his question.

  “Um, no. None.”

  His eyes find mine as I speak, lingering for my full attention. Once received, he jerks his head toward my pantry. “May I?”

  God, I’m an idiot. “Yes, sorry. Do whatever you need to do.” I nibble the inside of my lip. He’s essentially a stranger. I need to keep my guard in check before it slips even more. The silence between us feels as simple as always, and I wait without the need to fidget.

  He moves from the pantry down the hall to Evelyn’s room. From my spot in the kitchen where I lean against the counter, I hear the basement door open, and his booted steps thud down the stairs. A few minutes later, he returns and deposits his work bag on the floor by the refrigerator. His thick forearms cross his expansive chest.

  “All clear. Have you seen or heard any mice since the other day? Movement in the walls? Chew marks in the pantry?”

  “No.” My unconcealed disgust makes Law smirk. He glances out the window and passes a hand over his unruly hair.

  “I can leave the traps for you, and
you can always call if they catch something. I haven’t seen any evidence of a problem, though. It’s up to you.”

  “I think it’s best if you don’t come back here.” I blurt. The thought occupied my mind all weekend, and my unfiltered brain decided now is the time to let him know.

  That slight smirk on his face fades into a scowl. “What?”

  “I’m sorry. If I had known you worked for pest control, I would have called somewhere else.” He stares at me skeptically. I sigh, knowing there isn’t anyone else around this small town. “Or bought a cat,” I add. “This isn’t right. Running into you at the coffee shop was… well, it sucked. And if you live here now, I think it’d be best if we weren’t around each other.” The more I talk, the faster my words run together until I’m nearly breathless at the end of my speech. Getting those words out hurt. What perplexes me more is the anger. Anger for needing to express them at all. Anger at Law for not avoiding me like he should. Like I deserve after all this time.

  “You owe me coffee,” he returns. Now it’s my turn to frown.

  “I don’t owe you anything.”

  “You do.” He steps closer. Not so much that we touch, but in the dwindling space, it’s damn close. “You asked for coffee the other day. Said we could catch up and talk about things. Now I’ll admit, I was damn pissed to see you, but I’ve changed my mind. I want coffee.”

  My confusion rises. “So you can leave, and we can plan a better day to have coffee.” Like, say, never.

  “I’m feeling like I could use a cup now.” His voice drops with the murmur.

  Oh, shit.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “It’s been a long day and your house is the last on my list. I don’t know if I can make it back to the shop without some caffeine in me. Thirty-minute drive, I might fall asleep.”

  I’m overcome with the desire to stomp my foot. “Are you guilt-tripping me right now?”

  “I don’t know, am I?” His stupid grayish-green eyes twinkle with humor.

  I dart my gaze around my kitchen in search of something to save me. They land on the empty coffee pot. “I don’t have any coffee made. It’s probably best for you to get on the road now. There’s a gas station on the way out on highway 31. They probably sell coffee or energy drinks. Mountain Dew is good when I’m tired too.”