by C. Lymari
Grandpa’s voice made me look up, and I had to agree I’d be damned. Damned indeed.
Our place looked like the set of a Disney movie—that’s if the princess lived in a trailer. There were flowers all around our home. There was even a little path created with vases full of pink roses. If that wasn’t shocking enough, the sight of Maximilian Dunnett arranging another vase full of flowers was enough to render both my grandpa and me speechless.
“I’ll get rid of him.” I rushed out of the car before Grandpa could. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened on Monday, then coming home to our place looking like a funeral home with all the flowers. I wasn’t a huge fan of flowers. They were pretty, but it wasn’t my style. I’m not saying the sentiment wasn’t cute, but it wasn’t me.
“What are you doing here?” I walked up to Max, who was looking sheepishly at me, and too bad for him, I was still so mad that I didn’t find him cute.
Not one bit.
Not at all.
“You look beautiful,” he said, and I had to fight a smile.
“What are you doing here?”
“Can we talk for a second?”
I looked around, trying not to cringe. “What do you think, just because you have money to redecorate my place, I’m supposed to forgive you?”
“Look, Freya, I know you’re mad at me and you probably hate me, but I swear Nikki isn’t anything to me. She was never my girlfriend.”
I kept looking at all the arrangements he had set up just so I wouldn’t have to look at him.
“How much allowance do you get?” I dubiously asked. He really did a number on my place. It smelled like Mrs. Carson’s garden, and I hated going to her garden. I turned to look at Max. His face was red with embarrassment, and then I turned to look at my grandpa who was making himself busy getting our stuff from the trunk.
We didn’t even take much with us.
“I might have cleared Mrs. Riordan’s shelves.” Great, now I felt a little bad about robbing other people from getting their flower fix.
“They are lovely… thank you,” I lied, hopping it sounded sincere.
“Freya, I like you… I more than like you, and I would hate for things to end before they even begin, so would it be possible for me to have another shot?”
I saw my grandpa walking toward us, having decided he had given us enough time. “Can we talk tomorrow? I’m tired from the drive.”
Max’s face fell for a second, but he composed himself quickly.
“Bye, Freya.” He waved, walking to his car.
Dammit, I cursed myself. I tried being mad and unaffected, but I couldn’t do it. No one had ever done anything this nice for me or cared enough to apologize sincerely. It meant more than he knew—even if I hated flowers.
“Maximilian,” I shouted after him. He turned around slowly, cautiously waiting for what I would say. “I like you too,” I admitted.
When a goofy smile broke across his handsome face, I could tell it made him happy because he missed a step and almost tripped.
My grandpa stood by my side as we watched him drive away. “What are you going to do with all the flowers?”
“I’ll think of something,” I responded with a silly smile on my face.
The next morning, I called Rusty bright and early. He was a little grumpy that I woke him before ten in the morning, but I couldn’t help it. I barely got any sleep last night, and it wasn’t just because I was excited to see Max. I also couldn’t sleep because of all those damn flowers. When Rusty made it over, he helped me put all the flowers in Bow’s bed.
“I’m keeping three sets of the dozen roses. There are a few girls who are still mad at me.”
I turned to glare at Rusty. The bad thing about being best friends with a guy who was a player was that you constantly felt like you were violating the girl code or something, but since I had no girlfriends, I had a guilt-free conscience.
“You know, I bet we can sell them back to Mrs. Riordan. We’ll go fifty-fifty,” he added.
“But they are my flowers.”
“It’s my truck.”
“Just help me hand them out,” I retorted as we got at the assisted living apartments. Just because I didn’t like flowers, didn’t mean it wouldn’t make other people happy, and they would appreciate them more than I ever would.
It was late by the time Rusty and I got done delivering flowers. Between chatting up the elderly and eating baked goods, I lost track of time. Shit. I had Rust floor it home, not knowing what time Max would call. I didn’t have a cell phone, and Grandpa never answered the house phone.
“Oh crap,” I muttered when we pulled up to my house and found Max sitting on the hood of his car looking at the flowerless space. Rusty left with a nod in Max’s direction while I slowly made my way to him.
“Hey,” I said, not knowing how to start this conversation.
“Were those the flowers I got you in the dash of Russell’s car?”
“They were.” I could tell he didn’t like my answer. His eyes flashed with pain, but he quickly masked it. He was a nice guy, and he wouldn’t go off on me, that much I was sure of.
“I should get going; it’s getting late. I’ll see you around, Freya.”
“I was almost five when my mom died,” I said as he walked to his car, my voice halting him. "I didn’t understand what was happening or why my grandma and my grandpa were crying. I sat between both of them in the funeral home, my mother in a casket a few feet away from me. ‘She’s sleeping with the angels,’ my grandmother told me. She always slept with me at night, except on her last night, and I figured she liked sleeping with the angels more than she did with me, because why else would she leave me, right? I was sitting between my grandparents, and I couldn’t look at where my mother was sleeping because it hurt to know she preferred to sleep with the angels more than with me. Her daughter. I don’t remember much, but I remember the pretty flowers all around her. I had never seen so many flowers at once… and I never wanted to again.”
My voice was breaking. I hated to show weakness, especially in front of someone who had it all.
“I don’t like flowers. They remind me of my mother’s funeral.”
“Shit… I’m sorry, Freya.” Max took a step toward me.
“That being said, it doesn’t mean I didn’t think what you did was sweet.” I gave him a small smile to put him at ease, but I had a feeling he was beating himself up over it. I held my hand out to him, a part of me scared he wouldn’t take it. I led us to his car to make it harder for my grandpa to spy on us. We both sat on the hood and looked at the stars, not talking much, but our hands remained entwined the whole time. It felt nice having him hold my hand; it was better than talking, because words wouldn’t do justice to the strength and peace I found in his warmth.
For a moment, I wasn’t alone anymore.
“I’ll have you know that your flowers made all the ladies over at the nursing home happy.” Max made one of those manly chuckles, and I felt my stomach dip at the sound. “Oh, and you probably helped Rusty get three girlfriends.”
“Not to sound presumptuous, but did I get myself a girlfriend?” he asked teasingly, causing my heart to almost stop beating.
Narrowing my eyes at him, I smiled. “You want me to be your girlfriend?” My voice was hesitant. I was scared I might have heard him wrong. Abruptly, Max jumped off the car, making my heart sink for a second. He faced me and put both of his hands on my cheeks, making me look into his green eyes.
“I wouldn’t have bought all the flowers in town just for anyone,” he whispered. “Say yes, Freya.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
Max’s face broke into a grin before he gave me a kiss full of promise and hope.
9
Max
The windows were open; I was speeding through town like a madman, yet I felt like I was suffocating. I loosened my tie to relieve the pressure, but that didn’t seem to help. At this rate, even if I crashed and wrapped myself arou
nd a tree, I didn’t think I’d be able to feel it.
Seven fucking long years, and she waltzes back into town as if nothing had changed. Seven fucking long years, and she walks back into my life just as I had stopped seeing her in everything I did.
When I made it to the loft above my law practice, the first thing I did was grab the bottle of scotch and pour myself a drink, then another. After the third drink, my blood had stopped racing, my anger had faded, and I was back to my calm self.
A bitter laughed escaped me when I realized Freya Pratt was still the one person who could make me lose control. The thought pissed me off, and I ended up flinging the empty glass across the room, watching it shatter right before my eyes. This wasn’t real, it couldn’t be, but the sweet smell of apples followed me home. It was the first thing I noticed, even in the auto shop with the smell of oil and fumes. It was a nostalgic smell that reminded me of high school and memories I wished I had forgotten. Then she spoke, and every memory I had pushed back came back front and center.
I needed to get far away from Freya before I let go of whatever pride I had left and begged for answers.
My ringing cell phone woke me up the next morning. My neck was stiff from falling asleep on the sofa. The bottle of scotch was empty and a slight hangover was forming. Fuck me. I was losing my shit for a selfish bitch who didn’t think twice when she dropped me.
“Hello,” I answered on my way to wash my face, trying to at least feel a little normal.
Right away, Sandy, my multitasking secretary, began ranting in my ear. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Dunnett. I know today isn’t your day to come and check things at the factory, but your brother isn’t here yet. I already called him three times, and he hasn’t answered. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but you have the investors coming in later today.”
“Sandy, it’s okay. I’ll be there in a few.”
Shit, where the fuck was my brother? Prescott should have been overseeing the factory today. I get that he was running for mayor, but we still had our obligations. I got changed fast, throwing on pants and a button-up shirt. I needed coffee to help with my hangover. I couldn’t believe my brother. We needed this deal to go through since the one I got three years ago would expire soon. The company we’d been helping assemble the parts for went out of business, so we needed a new contractor to keep all our employees. Things would also be easier if every once in a while my sister came and did her share. Juliet was in Minneapolis with her husband, Chad. She preferred city life.
Emma’s was empty when I stopped by for a cup of coffee. Someone had already filled the spot for the quote of the day. I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me; I was sure little Em did not write it herself. I got myself. I’ll catch myself. I’ll pick up myself. Fuck relying on anyone. I got me.
“This is different, who wrote this?” I headed over to get my regular. I was sure she worked on it as soon as she saw my car pull up. That was just the kind of business owner she was.
“It was hectic this morning. I didn’t catch them, but I like it. It’s more assertive, aggressive even, but inspiring.” She was cleaning the countertop even though there weren’t any stains on it. Any other time I would pry, but today I was already running late, and I had enough of my own problems; I didn’t need more.
“I like it too, but I disagree with that statement. It’s always nice to have people who care about you lend a hand.”
Emma said nothing back. I didn’t expect her too, but I liked the girl, liked how she ran her business, and I would hate for her to one day close shop. I knew she wouldn’t say anything, but if it weren’t for Harold at the bank mentioning it, I wouldn’t have any idea that Emma was struggling.
As I made my way to the warehouse, I had to talk myself out of driving down the road just to see that old trailer. Nothing good would come of it. Right now I was acting like an addict that remembered how good his drug of choice made him feel.
“Oh, thank goodness you are here. I was freaking the F out.” Sandy came running toward me, her black hair in a tight bun like always and wearing a nice pantsuit. She was holding a stack of papers I had to go through before the investors got here.
“Hey, Sandy, can you do me a huge favor? Can you get flowers delivered?” At least that would take care of one of my problems for today.
10
Freya
Sixteen years old
Homecoming was just around the corner, and Max had yet to bring it up. I didn’t want to mention it because that would make me sound desperate. And I wasn’t desperate. I mean, it wasn’t like I was planning on a particular color or whatever.
Since we’d been together for a year, perhaps he didn’t think he needed to ask me. Was there such a rule? Why was I making such a big deal about a stupid dance? I guess it would show people how together we were.
For the first eight months, we kept things low key; only Rusty and Grandpa knew about us. Neither of them liked it very much, but like me, they saw that Max was different; he was special. We got in a fight in the hallway at school because of that low key status. Max was mad because Prescott made some lewd comment at me. Nothing new there. It was actually surprising he had not done it sooner. It was almost the end of the year when Max took me on a real date to Franny’s. Since classes would be over soon, we didn’t care much for the fallout. Max never got me fresh flowers again. He was attentive, sweet, and kind. He was the perfect boyfriend, always doing little things to make me feel special. I knew I wasn’t an easy person to be with. He made it seem easy and effortless, like something that just came naturally to him.
I was in my speech class when Jana got a bunch of balloons and chocolates delivered to her by Gary Newton, her boyfriend. All of the cooing going around turned Jana’s face beet red, but she was loving it. Not to mention, I saw the smirk she sent my way. What did your boyfriend get you? At least, I think that’s what she meant by that evil smirk.
Abigail turned to look at me. “So, what are you and Max going to do on Saturday since you guys aren’t going to the dance? Besides, even if he asked, what would you wear? Dresses cost money and based on your hand-me-downs, you have none.”
I wanted to say something, but what could I say? I didn’t know if Max even wanted to go. I had never gone to a dance. Rusty didn’t go either; he said it was a waste of money, and in the past, Grandpa didn’t let me go if Rust didn’t go. And even if Max asked, Abigail was right, I had nothing to wear.
“I’ll see you on Saturday,” I bit back. Meanwhile, Abigail and her posse laughed. Sticks and stones, I reminded myself throughout class, but sometimes sticks and stones didn’t cut it. Nothing played you like your insecurities, and damn did my insecurities love to play with me.
Walking into the cafeteria, I went to my usual spot where I ate by myself. Max and Rusty both had a different lunch break than I did, and I hated it. The school wasn’t huge, so the chances of getting a lunch break with your friends were one in three since there were only three breaks. Being alone didn’t bother me before, but now that I knew how it felt to have someone, it made me feel… lonely.
In the middle of lunch, Prescott came in with the school band to ask a girl to homecoming.
It really annoyed me because it wasn’t me being asked to homecoming by the other Dunnett brother. I was being a little petty, wasn’t I? My mood didn’t improve the whole day. I even avoided going to my locker just so I wouldn’t have to see Max. I didn’t want him to think I was some stupid little girl in case he didn’t want to go to homecoming.
I was in my last class when the secretary called asking me to report to the main office. This was a new one. It was usually my teachers sending me to the main office, not the other way around. I was trying to think of what I had done in the past few weeks that could have gotten me in trouble, but I came up blank.
“What are you doing here?” Were the first words I spoke to Max all day as he opened the office door for me. If he knew I was avoiding him, it didn’t show. Now I was kinda hoping I was in
trouble to escape his questioning.
“Maximilian isn’t feeling too well, and he asked if you could take him home since he doesn’t think he can drive,” Mrs. Lopez, the secretary, said. I turned to Max for an explanation, but he pulled us out the door immediately.
“You’re not feeling well?” I questioned. Maybe it was true; I wouldn’t know I as had been avoiding him all day.
Max only shrugged. He grabbed my hand and dragged me out of school. He didn’t seem sick to me. When we got to his sweet ride, I expected him to hand over the keys so I could take him home, but nope, that was not the case. He got in his car and drove like nothing was wrong.
“Max, what the hell’s going on?” I demanded to know once I had enough of his silence.
“Oh, so you’re done avoiding me now?”
My mouth dropped open. Of course, he knew.
“We have to stop by the UPS store and then go back to my house.”
My stomach fluttered in both a good and bad way at the mention of his home. I knew his parents were out of town and no one was home. The bad part was no one was home. People in this town said many things about me, but none were true, and I wasn’t sure if Max had expectations.
“You pulled me out of class so we can pick up a package?”
“Why don’t we go back to you not talking?” he said. Like most people, I assumed Max’s quietness meant he wasn’t rude or a jerk. Like most people, I was wrong. He could be cocky, but lucky for me he was mostly sweet. Max kissed my nose before getting out of the car, telling me to wait for him. He was acting a little edgy, but I wasn’t too worried. This was Max; he was the most honest guy I knew. When he returned, he gave me the box and sped his way back to his house.
“What is it?” I asked, trying to open it, only to have my hand smacked.
“Patience is key, babe.” If I didn’t love the way he called me babe, I would have thrown the box out the window to prove a point that patience could kiss my ass, but he sounded cute as hell when he called me babe, so I couldn’t be mean.
Like always, I waited in the car while Max got out to open my door. While he went around, I took in the monstrosity of a house he called home. This was the first time I had ever been here. We mostly just hung out at Rusty’s dad’s garage, the field, or in front of my trailer. I always wondered why the Dunnetts didn’t build their house by the lake. Those houses were beautiful. From what my grandpa said, Max’s grandfather was a stand-up guy who wanted to be a part of the community.