by Piper Rayne
So as my van pulls up to the house and a dark gray truck comes into view, I curse to myself. I already know who it is and my stomach sinks. I calculate my chances of pulling down the driveway and acting as though I didn’t see him, but that’s shot to hell when the driver’s side door opens.
I say one last prayer that Hank has apprentices working under him and it’s one of them in the truck. He must have employees. I’m sure he wouldn’t be too keen on seeing me either.
But just like every other facet of my life lately, this situation doesn’t go my way either. Two long legs attached to work boots hit the pavement as Hank unfolds himself from the truck. He’s bigger than I remember. Taller, broader. There’s scruff along his face that’s darker than his honey-blond hair, which is longer than I’ve ever seen it, as if it’s weeks past a haircut but not so unruly he looks unkempt.
Just like all my friends in Arizona thought all men in Alaska looked like, he’s wearing a flannel shirt, jeans, and brown work boots. He pushes his sunglasses up to rest on top of his head and offers me a wave.
I can only smile. Nausea hits my stomach as I turn off the ignition and slide out of my minivan.
“You didn’t have to come,” I say immediately.
He side-glances me, getting something out of his truck. “Your mom called me this morning.”
“I’m sorry. I told my dad I would get someone else. I’m not even sure…”
He pulls a toolbox out of the back and looks at me. His gaze slithers across my body side to side, up and down, and when his gaze meets mine, the hazel eyes that would pierce me from across the room in high school make me want to sigh. Hank Greene.
“Hey,” he says in an easy way. As if it hasn’t been twenty years since we saw one another face to face.
“Hi.”
He nods. “Welcome back.”
I fidget with my hands and balk when I look down at my feet. I have on my mom’s flowery rain boots, my dad’s too-big flannel pants, and oh my God. I cross my arms over my chest. His chuckle says he wondered when I would figure out how I look.
“So the water heater… I have a key to your parents’ place, but I didn’t want to barge in.” He changed the subject. At least I can be thankful for something right now.
“Oh, thanks. I have to warn you.” I walk up the steps to the house. “We’re still getting settled, so it’s a little mess—”
“Marla?” his deep voice says behind me. “I have teenagers. I understand.”
I whip around, guilt weighing heavily on my shoulders. “I wanted to reach out and say how sorry I was to hear about Laurie.”
He nods. “Thank you.”
Okay, just open the door and let him go look at the water heater. If he really wanted to have a conversation with me, he would’ve reached out when I first arrived in town. Not that I blame him that he didn’t. If I would’ve had anywhere else to go after Jeff decided his side piece was the love of his life, I would’ve gone there. But I have no money of my own since I quit my job almost twenty years ago to raise the kids. So pathetic me now lives in my parents’ house. I’m a billboard ad for why women should be independent.
“It’s right in here.” I open the door.
“You didn’t lock the door?” he asks once we’re inside.
I scramble to pick up all the dirty clothes and dishes that make it look as if we live in a frat house. “I was in a rush. I don’t make it a habit to wear my dad’s clothes either.”
He laughs and his gaze falls over my body once again. Shivers follow the path of his vision, raising the hairs behind my neck.
He slides by me, heading to the basement. “I’ll let you know what I figure out.”
Then all I hear are his pounding footsteps down the basement stairs. I fall onto the couch and wish there was some magic way it could suck me in and swallow me whole.
After a few minutes, I see that wish isn’t going to be fulfilled either, so I do the best thing I can think of—get dressed in anything but what I’m wearing.
I take off the rain boots, leaving them by the door, and shed the sweatshirt on my way to the stairs, leaving me in my cami and flannel pants. As I’m passing the basement door, the footsteps grow louder and I freeze, searching for a place to hide. But unlike my eight-year-old self, I’m too big to go under a cabinet, and before I know it, Hank is standing at the top of the stairs. He stares at me, focused on my breasts straining the white fabric.
“I was just about to go change.”
He nods, and his gaze bounces back up to meet mine. The smoldering look on his face is foreign to me and my body says, “Just take what you can and suffer the consequences later.” I’m dreaming about men, I’m so desperate to have an orgasm that isn’t self-induced. But I remind my unquenched libido that I know nothing about Hank. For all I know, he’s seeing someone.
I step forward and he steps to the side, thumbing toward the front door. “You’ll need a new one. I’m just going to run to Handyman Haven and pick one up.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I’ll call your dad first.”
“Okay.”
We stand in awkward silence for a moment, his eyes dipping once more to my breasts. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.” Find a new word, Marla.
He’s the first one to walk away. My libido screams about what a wimp I am, but what was I going to do? Jump in his arms and kiss him?
His truck starts and I wait to hear the crunch of the gravel under his tires before I knock my head against the wall in complete and utter embarrassment. Returning home is going great so far.
3
Hank
* * *
It takes all the strength I have to pull out of the McAlisters’ driveway knowing Marla is in there—alone—wearing a tight white tank that made it clear she isn’t wearing a bra. Her hard nipples were practically begging me to tear the thin material off her body and suck on them.
When Mrs. McAlister called this morning with the news about the hot water heater, I assumed that the sexual tension that had always lingered between us in high school had faded. We’d moved in two different directions. She married my cousin and me Laurie. We have families of our own, kids who are almost grown.
Rumors have run rampant in Sunrise Bay about why Marla McAlister-Greene is back in town with four kids. According to our small town gossip brigade, Jeff couldn’t keep it in his pants, cheating with any woman who showed interest. They said Marla was crushed she wasn’t enough for him, but she stayed for the money and security. I always assumed she stayed for the kids though. Marla was never the type who cared about money. But maybe once you have it, it changes things.
Jeff’s a real estate developer, from what I know. Our dads didn’t always see eye to eye, and when Jeff took Marla down to Arizona for a business opportunity he got from a college buddy, my aunt and uncle followed them. They’ve never returned, not even to bury my father. That’s the day I lost all respect for them. I no longer consider Jeff or his parents’ family, even if we share a last name. There are people here in Sunrise Bay who picked my mom up, who took care of my kids and me after Laurie passed. Those people are my family even if we don’t share blood.
I park along the curb of Handyman Haven. It’s located downtown in our small Alaskan town. I’ll try to be in and out because downtown is like a game of gossip telephone from one store to the next. If they’re not trying to fix me up, they’re trying to set up my kids.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Mr. McAlister.
“Hank,” Mrs. McAlister answers the phone.
“Hi, Mrs. McAlister, is Mr. McAlister around?”
“How was my daughter? Did she look okay? I’m so worried. I told Frank we should head home, but he swears she’s fine and a little alone time would do her good, but I’m not so sure. I mean—”
“She looks good.” I refrain from telling her how Marla might have looked a little unhinged when she came out of the minivan. I’ve been where she is. Not exactly—my
wife died—but there were days I didn’t want to get out of bed. And I’m sure the kids are navigating new terrain with their dad still back in Arizona.
A long breath falls out over the phone. “Oh good. Maybe you could take her out.”
“Helen, stop trying to set them up,” Mr. McAlister says in the background.
“I’m not trying to set them up, but she needs friends.” Her voice grows farther away until it’s Frank on the phone.
“What’s up, Hank? Tank is blown, I guess?”
“Yeah. Sorry, completely rusted out. I’m at Handyman Haven to grab a new one. Wanted to talk to you about how you want to handle this.”
“Let me know what I owe you. I almost replaced it last year, but I figured we might as well get the last bit out of it. I guess my grandkids finished it off for me.” He chuckles.
“Speaking as someone with teenagers, you’re probably right.”
“Helen’s on my tail every day to get back up there, but this is our vacation. I feel bad for Marla, but it’s not like we didn’t see this all coming. Jeff’s a weasel. He never deserved her in the first place.”
I say nothing. As weird as it is, Mr. and Mrs. McAlister always feel open to talk to me about how horrible my cousin and his family are because of the very public feud between the two Greene brothers.
“And his dad is a whole other story. Your mother picked the right Greene there.”
I nod although he can’t see me. Not sure what he wants me to say. This town acts as if I don’t know the story of how Ethel Mann fell in love with two brothers once upon a time.
“I’ll get this new tank in and I’ll clean up the mess too,” I say.
“Are you sure? My grandson can help as soon as he gets home from school.”
“It’s a slow day for me.”
“Thanks, Hank, we feel so much better knowing you’re taking care of this.” He pauses before he whispers, “How is she really?”
“She’s good.”
“Come on. It’s me. She sounds horrible on the phone.” His voice is so low I struggle to hear him.
“I only saw her for about five minutes, but she’s holding up.” Which isn’t a lie. She’s standing, her kids got to school, and based on the stain on her sweatshirt, she’s eating.
“Okay. Good. That’s good.” I can almost see his gray hair falling onto his forehead as he nods. I’m not sure my words are doing much to make him feel better.
“Well, I’m gonna head in and grab this.”
“Yeah, I don’t wanna take up any more of your time.”
“Have fun. We’ll see you in about two months, right?”
“Yeah, we’re heading into the Midwest tomorrow.”
“Great. Safe travels, Mr. McAlister.”
“Bye, Hank.”
We hang up and I climb out of my truck, rounding the back and stepping up to the sidewalk. My mind is consumed by Marla returning to town, and all those unrequited feelings swarm inside me like bees in a hive.
The bell chimes above the door. As usual, the owner, George, is behind the counter on a stool while three of his fellow members of the gossip brigade are in front of him, whispering.
“Hank!” George waves.
All three of them turn to me, waving and smiling. From the surprise in his voice, my guess is that I was the topic of conversation.
“Hey, George. Fellas.” I nod in greeting. “I need a water heater.”
Walking down the aisle, I locate the water heaters in the back. I know where everything is since I’ve been shopping here since I was in my mom’s stomach. I grab a dolly and wheel it up to the front.
“Water heater, huh? I sure do hope someone’s house isn’t flooded?” George says.
That question is bait on the end of his line.
“Yeah, that’d really be a shame,” one of the other men says.
They think they’re going to trick me into saying it’s for the McAlisters, then I’ll be interrogated about Marla’s return. Because every member of the gossip brigade are military vets, they all act as if they can pull information out of people. Sometimes I assuage them. Not today though.
“Luckily, no.” I’m not lying. There isn’t a ton of damage at the McAlisters’, and as though Frank knew it was coming, he moved all the storage boxes up onto shelves.
“Oh, that’s good,” George says.
“Yeah, good,” the three other men say in unison.
I pay George. “Bye, guys, don’t waste too much of your day inside. It’s beautiful out.”
I wave and wheel out the dolly. Thankfully they didn’t pressure me too hard for information. But as I load the water heater into the bed of my truck, I realize I counted my thanks way too soon—my mom and her blue-haired best friend are at my truck, their hands clasped in front of them like church ladies. Mom met Dori a couple of years ago and they’ve been inseparable ever since. These two are so much worse than the gossip brigade. These two make you feel like a POW.
“Mom,” I say with a nod.
“Hey, Hank.” She steps up to me and wraps her small arms around my stomach.
“Dori.” I lean forward and kiss her on the cheek before I get the heater into the bed of my truck.
“You’re so strong. I threw my back out, otherwise I could’ve helped you with that.”
I wave off Mom’s friend. “It’s all good.”
“Who’s the water heater for? Jeez, I hope there’s no water damage. I remember when ours went out.” Mom looks at Dori. “And it almost ruined all of Hank’s baby pictures. I was so upset, and Jim snapped at me to calm down. Let’s just say I didn’t talk to him for an entire week. Disrespecting me by snapping at me when it was our baby’s pictures…”
Dori shakes her head in agreement. If my mom’s friend wasn’t here, I’d probably interrupt and say let the man rest in peace.
“Oh, but you can imagine after a week of no talking, the make-up sex,” Dori says.
“It is the best.” My mom laughs.
My mom looks at me. “Who’s the water heater for?”
I stare blankly at them. I know my mom’s game. She’s going to continue this until I fess up and fill her in. But I’m going to tolerate this even if I throw up my entire breakfast on the way back to the McAlisters’.
“Let’s just say Jim was all over me.”
I choke on the bile rising up my throat.
“Philip used to… you know.” Dori eyes me, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m positive I must be green or if she’s judging if I’ve reached my limit yet.
Mom touches Dori’s arm. “I wore this lingerie and tried to do a striptease once, but he grabbed me and tore the lace—”
“The McAlisters!” I say a little too loudly.
Hey, at least I didn’t cover my ears and yell, “No, no, no make it stop.”
“Oh,” Mom says in that tone that speaks more than if she just said what she’s thinking.
“Definitely, oh. Second-chance romance is the best.” Dori smiles.
“We were never a first. She just divorced my cousin. You two better keep this between you two.”
“Sure. Who would we tell?” Mom looks at Dori.
I’ve seen them work their magic. They think they’re modern-day matchmakers.
“I’m serious. She has enough on her plate with returning to this town. She doesn’t need everyone in town making up stories.”
Mom stares at me in disbelief that I would think she’d spread news. “I understand.”
“Do you? Because I vaguely remember you being the one to tell me about her divorce. How your voice was dripping with ‘I told you so’s.’ She has a life and kids. Leave her be.”
“You’ve got it bad. All protective of her. Women like that.”
Dori’s tone is so enthusiastic, I want to yell at her to back off. I’m confident in my skills. If I wanted to ask a woman out, I would. Well, that’s a slight exaggeration. I haven’t really dated since Laurie. Mostly because raising five kids hasn’t left me wit
h a ton of spare time. Chevelle’s issues from losing her mom have been so ever-present, I can barely step away from her to take a piss, let alone bring another woman home.
“Listen, I’m leaving. You two need a ride somewhere?”
They both shake their heads.
“I’ve got my Cadi. We’re heading into Lake Starlight,” Dori says, making their almost identical town—minus our spectacular bay—sound glamorous.
“Yes, Dori is going to show me where she lives now. Northern Lights Retirement.”
I stop walking and turn to face them. “Are you thinking about moving there?”
Mom shrugs. “The house is big, and your dad is gone. I don’t know. We’ll see.”
Huh. I always imagined she’d live there forever.
“Have fun at the McAlisters’,” Mom says, her and Dori walking down the street.
“It’s not fun putting in a water heater.”
“It is if you get all wet doing it,” Dori yells back.
They both bend forward in a fit of laughter as if they’re thirteen. It is nice to see mom laugh again though.
Maybe she should move to a retirement community, but what would she do with the house? I can’t afford to buy it from her, and I know she doesn’t have the cash to pay for the rent at a place like Northern Lights Retirement Center. I mean, Dori’s family owns Bailey Timber Company. My dad was the best contractor in the county, but it’s like comparing peas and carrots.
I glance at my watch. Shit. I better go. Just as I climb into my truck, my phone rings and I curse.
“Hello. Hank Greene speaking.”
“Hi, Mr. Greene. This is Nurse Mindy. I have Chevelle in the office.”
I throw the truck into drive and head to the elementary school instead of the McAlisters’. This day just keeps giving and giving.
4
Hank
* * *
My day went from “meh” (the usual grind of getting five kids out the door), to fantastic (got to see Marla in a tight see-through cami), to annoying (picking up Chevelle from the nurse for the tenth time this month).