by M. J. O'Shea
Emmaline glanced at Sofia, who made a non-committal gesture. “I was worried about you, baby. You seemed… different the last time we talked. Ruffled.” Arlo didn’t know how to explain the fact that he’d been ruffled ever since he’d moved to Baxter Hollow – no ever since the night of the dream back at Frankie’s. He hadn’t had a moment of steady footing. The experience was disconcerting but fascinating at the same time. He woke up every morning wondering just how he would feel that day. How it would seep into his baking and his thoughts and his entire life.
“I’m okay. Really, I am.”
Sofia cocked her head to the side, as if she were listening. “Then when are you going to introduce us to, what’s his name? Gray?”
Shit. She’s gotten better…
“Arlo darling, I’m making scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast for dinner. Why don’t you have any food in your kitchen? I had to go to the market.”
Arlo still hadn’t gotten used to seeing his mom and his sister in his little apartment— or in Baxter Hollow at all where he’d started to build a totally different life that had nothing to do with either one of them. Somewhere in his mind, life started to be divided into Baxter Hollow and everything else. Or if he was really truthful, Gray and everything else that had happened before he crashed into Arlo’s world and wouldn’t let go of his head. It was weird to see his family, his old home, in the place where he’d been consumed by new people and places, and a guy he thought he could possibly love forever if they got the chance.
Arlo nearly coughed at that thought. Love. He’d never even considered falling in love before, never came close. He never thought the word other than for his mom and sister and stepdad, Frankie, and the childhood best friend he mostly kept in touch with by text and only saw at Christmas. He had no idea why it had popped into his head so easily at the thought of one sad, gorgeous guy who seemed to know just how to tie Arlo’s insides into knots.
Gray. Mom. Sofia. Arlo made a face. He couldn’t even say he didn’t like it, having home mix with Gray and everything that entailed. Sure, it was nice to have the two people he loved the most close by, it was just… weird.
Arlo sat up from where he’d been lying on the sofa, his makeshift bed for the week, to find his mother bustling around his tiny postage stamp kitchen. Her hair was tied up on the top of her head as usual, and she wore a loose v-neck sweater, leggings, and cozy fur-lined suede boots.
Arlo thought his mom was the most beautiful woman in the world and he loved when she cooked for him. He still would’ve liked to take a longer nap after the cafe closed for the day. He’d barely gotten an hour.
“I usually just have dinner downstairs at the pub. I get tired of cooking,” he told her. It wasn’t the same cooking for himself anyway. He liked baking for other people, making them happy. Which is probably why his mother loved to cook for him. They were a lot alike in that way.
“It’s not healthy to eat pub food for all your meals, love,” she chided. Of course. Arlo might be in his twenties, but she would always be his mom.
“I know. It’s probably a bad habit. I’ll work on making more of my own food.”
But the pub was where Gray usually was every night. Gray, who Arlo had been avoiding in the two days since Sofia and his mom came to town, which was pretty easy since Gray was avoiding him right back.
They hadn’t talked about the kiss — of course, they hadn’t since they hadn’t talked at all. They also hadn’t talked about how they couldn’t stop thinking about each other either. Arlo knew he wasn’t the only one. He could feel Gray out there thinking about him. Arlo had never been good at feeling what other people felt like his sister was. He’d never been able to do it at all, so unconsciously consumed with putting his own emotions out there all the time, in his food, on his face, even out in the air if he wasn’t careful to control himself. It had to say something that he was so sure of what Gray was feeling. Something, yeah. Arlo just wasn’t sure what.
“Where’s Sof?” Arlo asked. His apartment was far too tiny for his sister to be in it somewhere out of sight, not with the door to his bedroom wide open.
Emmaline smiled. “She made friends with a girl in the cafe this afternoon. They went shopping in Portland and then out for coffee. McKenna, I think.”
Arlo nearly groaned out loud. “Blonde? Late teens?”
“Yes, I think that’s the one.” His mom lifted one dark eyebrow. “Why?”
“How is it possible that Sofia knows exactly how to torture me?” She operated quickly too. Arlo hadn’t even seen her talking to Gray’s sister, let alone making plans. Sofia was an evil mastermind.
Emmaline stopped whisking eggs and cocked her head to the side. “What are you talking about, sweetheart?”
Right. His mother knew exactly what he was talking about.
“McKenna. Gray’s little sister, McKenna. Out of all the girls in town, Sofia made friends with Gray’s little sister.”
Yes. He was being a drama queen, something Arlo rarely indulged in. But it was Gray and Gray drove him to the brink in every way. He had since the first time they laid eyes on each other. Before that, even. In Sofia’s defense, there weren’t all that many girls in town even close to her age. Still. Awkward. He pictured them at some other café down in the city, crowded over a little table gossiping about Sofia’s pathetic love-sick brother and his obsession with McKenna’s brother.
“It’ll be fine,” his mom said. “I wouldn’t worry your head.”
She gave Arlo a serene smile. Emmaline was rarely bothered by the little dramas of every day life. And she was quite good at making other people see her point of view. Her presence was calming — unless she happened to get very angry, which was rare. It was part of what she could do; make everyone around her calm and happy. Arlo sometimes wondered how much she’d used that skill on him and his sister when they were children. He didn’t remember very many childhood arguments between him and Sofia, so he thought it was probably best not to think about it too much.
Emmaline finished the eggs and bacon and piled them on two plates with a small stack of buttered sourdough toast. Something about it, even though Arlo had eggs and bacon in more places than he could count, still smelled like home. Maybe it was the way the food combined with Emmaline’s soft perfume and whatever calm she somehow infused into her cooking. It made him content.
“Thanks, Mom. This looks delicious.”
He knew it would be. Simple, sure, but Emmaline’s specialty was home cooking, just like Arlo’s specialty was baking. Sofia was a little more unpredictable but equally talented. Same with Frankie. He wondered what would happen if they ever combined forces. Not likely to happen with the three of them craving stability and home as much as he craved the open road. But a nice thought, still.
“I’m glad you like it.” Emmaline reached out and cupped her hand around Arlo’s face. “I miss you sometimes, you know. You’re still my little boy even if you’ve been out wandering from town to town for years.”
“I know. I miss you too. You didn’t have to come all the way here. I would’ve come home for Christmas. I never miss it.”
Except for last year when he’d been all the way across the country with Frankie in San Francisco, he never did. Christmas was time to put his roots down at home for a few days and be content where he was.
“I’ll still expect to see you,” Emmaline said with another eyebrow raise. “This visit didn’t get you out of it. Maybe you can bring Gray.”
Arlo snorted indelicately. “I think Gray will be as far away from me on Christmas or any other day as he can get.”
Emmaline gave Arlo a gentle, searching look. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“How could you possibly tell? You haven’t even been in the same room as him.” Arlo didn’t know if his mother really knew anything, or if she was just trying to make him feel better.
“I don’t have your precise gifts, or Sofia’s,” he knew she meant the dreams. The ones he’d put so much stock in back in California b
ut seemed like an impossible fantasy lately. “But when it comes to what’s really important to me, when it comes to my children? I always know.”
“Because that wasn’t cryptic,” Arlo grumbled.
Emmaline chuckled. “Your boy won’t be able to resist you much longer, darling. I felt it the second we got into town. So did your sister. Whatever is happening between you two might as well be written in the stars. It’s that obvious. And that loud.”
Fantastic.
Gray hadn’t been avoiding Arlo. Much. Okay, he was. He’d taken a different route to work the past few days, rather than the one which took him down the street with Arlo’s cafe. Gray could still smell him, Arlo’s own scent mixed with cookies and cupcakes and vats of spiced hot cocoa still made his mouth water, but he hadn’t gone by to check on him like he’d done in the past. It didn’t stop Gray from going insane, from thinking about Arlo constantly, dreaming about him as soon as he closed his eyes. It didn’t stop his skin, his fingers, his lips… from wanting to get closer. But he still stayed away.
Sawyer had taken to giving Gray odd looks, nothing unusual since Arlo had moved to town, but they’d grown in frequency. Like, at the present. Sawyer had been leaning on his bar, shirtsleeves rolled up, pint in hand chuckling at something Leo said while he stuffed his mouth with Carrie’s mashed potatoes, but the moment Gray walked in the door Sawyer turned and looked, measuring. Wary. It was starting to give Gray the creeps.
“What, man? Do I have something on my face?” Gray asked, as he pulled up a stool.
Sawyer just stared quietly. Gray wanted to reach across the counter and shake him.
“Where’s Arlo?” Leo asked finally.
“I don’t know. Where’s Jake?” Gray countered. Leo’s cheeks turned pink.
Gray knew that Leo had spent a couple evenings in the tiny apartment above the bookshop, chatting with Jake and his gran and having tea. Nothing further had happened. Leo’s moony phone calls told Gray that much. But Gray was ready to fight dirty if they wanted to bring up the person he was desperately trying not to think about every moment of every single day.
“I met his mom today. She’s a total fox,” Sawyer said. “Milf if I ever saw one.” He got a smack across the head from his own mother, who happened to be walking by. “Sorry, Ma,” Sawyer muttered.
“Wait,” Gray said. “You met whose mom? Jake’s? I thought she lived somewhere else.”
“Damn, someone’s off their game. Usually you can sniff out a new person in town before they’ve even hit the county line.” Sawyer chuckled at his own joke. “Arlo’s mom and sister are here visiting. Haven’t met the sister yet, but his mom is… Let’s just say I wouldn’t mind one little bit.”
Leo reached over and punched Sawyer on the arm.
“What?” Sawyer asked. “She’s hot as hell. Sue me.”
Gray sat there with his mind spinning. Arlo’s family was in town. His family. He’d always seen Arlo as kind of a foundling or something, a creature that floated around, not really real, no actual origin. The fact that he was human and he had a mom and a sister who were staying right above the pub was a bit disconcerting.
“What’s she like?” Gray asked.
“His mom?” Sawyer shrugged. “Other than hot? Quiet and sweet. Charming. A lot like Arlo, actually. We had coffee and some of Arlo’s muffins together this morning when she came down to say hello.”
Sawyer looked a bit googly-eyed. Gray’s mind was blown.
Just then, the door to the pub burst open, and two girls came tumbling in. One was quite familiar, about a month off of her eighteenth birthday and very much related to him. The other… there was something about her. Not the same something, nothing was the same as Arlo, but Gray knew before anyone said that she must be his sister.
She had his dark hair and big eyes, swirling fabric all around her and that feeling like there was more to her than a normal person had. She had the dimples too and a huge smile like Arlo’s. But there was an edge to her, more biting than soft, more sassy than sweet. He was a little afraid of the girl. And he seriously wanted to know what his sister was doing with her. Gray sighed.
“Mack, what are you doing in here? You’re not eighteen yet.” Since the pub was more restaurant than bar on weeknights, they allowed anyone over eighteen in – just didn’t serve them alcohol. Most of the time. McKenna wasn’t supposed to be on that list, and they all knew it.
She rolled her eyes. “I will be in a few days. Sawyer, you don’t mind, do you?”
Sawyer gave Gray a pained look.
Gray shrugged. “I don’t really care, I suppose.” He was too exhausted mentally over the whole Arlo thing to care if his sister had a drink or two in public. He doubted they’d be her first. Gray had gone to the prep school just out of town too. He knew how it worked. Sawyer gave McKenna the thumbs up. She grinned in response.
“Gray, come over here!” McKenna called.
Shit.
That was exactly what he didn’t want – to be near Arlo’s sister. He couldn’t imagine what Arlo had said about him by that point. About their kiss and him running away. He doubted McKenna would be very impressed by someone who did that to him. He pushed himself off of his barstool and headed over to the booth her and Arlo’s sister had ensconced themselves in.
They were surrounded by shopping bags and clouds of girly smelling perfume. Gray slid into the bench next to his sister.
“Hi. I’m Sofia.”
“Gray,” he said.
She raised one dark, thick eyebrow. “Yes. I’ve got that part already.”
Exactly what did she mean by that?
“You’re, um, Arlo’s sister?”
She nodded. “And you’re the boy who’s avoiding him. You might want to stop. I hate when my brother mopes.”
“What’s she talking about?” McKenna asked. Gray was dead shocked that she hadn’t heard it from anyone else who’d been at Sawyer’s party.
“I need to clear the air with him, that’s all. Arlo’s a nice guy.”
Sofia snorted. “Nice guy,” she echoed. “That’s exactly what you think of my brother.”
Gray didn’t know what to think of what she’d just said...but it was weird, to say the least. And then he remembered this girl was the sister of the guy who could make Gray smell him from blocks away. The one who baked cakes that made him feel things, or at least act on things he already felt. He sure as hell didn’t like to think about any of those somewhat tenuous facts, but they were hard to ignore in the face of this girl smirking up at him like she could see his insides. What if she could do weird things too?
Suddenly, Gray was a bit nervous. His face went all flushed, and he thought he might be hyperventilating.
“I um, think I’m going to go finish my dinner with Leo,” he muttered, pushing himself toward the edge of the booth. “You two have fun.”
He decided then and there that he was going to grill his sister later. He’d get it out of her, whatever it might be. McKenna hadn’t ever been good at keeping secrets. If her new best friend told her something about him and Arlo, he wanted to know.
The town of Baxter Hollow always had a bonfire right at the start of the apple harvest. The festival was the weekend after Sawyer’s birthday and traditionally between Sawyer’s party and the harvest bonfire, Gray and his friends had a fantastic week of beers and loud jokes — somewhat of a weeklong celebration where Gray let his hair down and had a bit of a breather. Usually.
That year, as Gray watched the town square get decked out with lights and a main stage, a bonfire pit and stands where farmers would sell pies and cider and crafts, he felt his stomach get heavier and heavier. It had been six days since Sawyer’s birthday party. Six days since the kiss. Six days of measuring looks from Sawyer and confusion from Leo. Gray hadn’t talked to Arlo once.
He’d thought of Arlo, oh he’d sure thought of him. He thought about the kiss when he woke up in the morning, alone in a bed that he wished had Arlo’s warm body and his smell. He
thought about the kiss when he was walking to work, careful not to pass the bakery where Arlo was sure to be with his mom and sister, and probably Sawyer, Leo, and the rest of his fan club. He thought about the kiss all damn day when he was working on accounts and trying to make sense one tenant at a time of the mess Croft had left. Gray had no idea what he’d done at work most of the week. Probably wasn’t much better than Croft’s. Mostly he stared at the wall and wished he had soft, dark curls to run his hands through.
I need to stop this...
He didn’t know how.
The night of the bonfire was thankfully clear and crisp, a gorgeous Friday evening with palpable excitement in the air. The last remnants of New England summer had finally faded so the village square was filled with a brisk breeze and the smell of simmering cider and spiced cakes. Gray tried to get to his usual level as he left his house, but he was nervous more than anything else. He was meeting the boys at Sawyer’s pub to walk to the bonfire together.
All of the boys. Including Arlo.
Sawyer had made it quite clear that he wasn’t allowed to be a dick about whatever had happened between them. “I like Arlo. I want him to stay. If you act like an asshole and make him leave town, I’ll brain you, got it?”
It was as close to anger as Sawyer ever got, and it didn’t happen often. Gray knew he had to behave. Honestly, he didn’t want to push Arlo away anymore, no matter what he’d said the entire first month Arlo had been in town. He wanted to touch. Gray didn’t know how he was going to react once Arlo was finally in his presence again. He felt like he’d been starving for days.
Turned out he was off the hook, which was a relief and a disappointment. When he got to the pub, he saw Leo and Sawyer, Jake, nuzzled up to Leo’s side, McKenna and Sofia but no Arlo. Gray didn’t want to ask.
“We’re all here!” Sawyer announced. “We’ll meet Arlo and Emmaline in the square. He said he wanted to grab a few more things from his shop for his booth.”
“O-okay.” Gray didn’t know why he responded. It wasn’t like Arlo was supposed to be his date. Everyone turned and stared at him for a moment. Gray cleared his throat awkwardly. “So are we going?” He asked. He tried to smile, but somehow his lips got stuck on his teeth. Gray wanted to disappear.