by C. Lymari
He looked the same, yet different from the last time I saw him. There was something darker in him, and it wasn't just the trimmed beard he was now sporting. It was his gaze. There used to be a shine to his chocolate eyes that was missing now. I blinked, hoping that I was lucid dreaming. Except that even in my dreams, I didn't hate him as much as I did at this moment.
“Emma,” he rasped.
Oh, no. He did not get to come back to town looking like a damn snack and call my name like that. He humiliated me and forgot about me. I could do the same.
“There was a misunderstanding,” I said, looking at Clark.
"Not according to Max," Dex answered. Then he turned to Quincy and gave him a hard stare that had the poor kid cowering. "He said you had a break-in. A day like today, not hard to do."
His accusatory tone irked me. Mr. I’m-Too-Good-For-This-Town. I stood up because I was angry and clearly not thinking rationally.
“Day like today? Let me clue you in, since you don’t live here—”
“Until now,” he stated.
The words made me take a step back. Why was he coming to live here now? Why, when the town knew he stood me up? Everyone at Franny's knew he was a no-show. Layla came the next day making fun of me, asking why on earth I thought a guy like him was serious about me. And now, after eighteen months, he’d just decided he was a small-town kind of guy?
"Like I was saying, people here are honest and good. People here don't steal." Well, maybe they did, but I was on a roll, so I kept rolling. "People here know better than to come to my shop and steal my hard-earned money!" I took a step forward, pointing at Quincy, who was staring at me like he'd never seen me. "Quincy was getting a job application, unknown to my other worker. She freaked, and I was with Max—"
Dex cut me off again. “Why were you with Max?”
“Okay, our work here is done,” Clark said at the same time.
I decided to ignore Dex again. It would have been easier to ignore him if he didn't look terrific in that uniform. Focusing all my attention on Clark, who was giving me a shit-eating grin, I asked if he wanted coffee.
“You know I never turn down a cup.” He ruffled my hair, winked at me, and walked up to the counter.
What the heck? He’d never done that before. I turned around, ready to trail after him, when the quote on the blackboard caught my eyes.
In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take.
Oh, I took that chance. And look where it got me: alone and embarrassed.
“Emma.” Dex took a step towards me, and I found myself taking one back. His eyes flashed for a second, but he quickly masked it. "Let me start off by apologizing. I shouldn’t—”
“Don’t,” I almost screeched.
He did not get to stand me up and then apologize about it a year and a half later. That was even more embarrassing.
“So, uh...can I go?” Quincy got up from where he was sitting.
Because I was desperate, I spoke. “Wait. I’ll give you a ride home, and we can talk about your schedule for tomorrow.”
It was official. I had just hired another moody teenager. One who had tried to rob me, at that. And apparently Mr. Handsome was back in town for good.
Great. Just great.
8
Dex
“Shit, I’ve never seen Emma so mad.” Clark chuckled as soon as we walked out of the coffee shop.
I turned to glare at him. “You always touch her like that?”
I knew how asinine I sounded, but I didn’t care. I was mad at her, even though I knew I shouldn’t be. She didn’t seem happy to see me. All I’d thought about was her and finally getting that date, and she looked like she couldn’t stand the sight of me.
"Sometimes. Sometimes we like to do other stuff."
He said it so casually, it stopped me dead in my tracks. Of course, Emma wouldn't be single forever. She was a beautiful woman, full of life, kind, and ambitious. But Clark? The guy was kind of a jerk and a dipshit.
Clark looked back at me. “Fuck me. I owe my brother fifty bucks.”
“Why?”
“He said you have a hard-on for Ems.”
Seriously, did everyone in town know everything?
“Who’s your brother?”
“Jake. My family owns Pete’s.” Clark’s tone was condescending, like he expected me to know the family tree of everyone who lived in town.
Well, maybe in a few years, I would. Getting shot put things in perspective for me. Realizing that I might die alone was like a slap in the face. Those moments before everything went dark, I regretted chasing fame and glory instead of chasing the feelings I’d started to develop for Emma.
My mother was a mess at the hospital because she didn’t know if her “baby” was going to make it. My arm was a flesh wound. The bullet that pierced my shoulder was the one that bothered me the most, but I got lucky. I could still use it. The one that went through my stomach missed my intestine by a millimeter.
“Why didn’t you press her about the kid who was trying to steal from her?” I asked.
I knew Clark wasn’t as stupid as people made him out to be, and my suspicions were confirmed when he made a face. I was ready to turn around and give the kid a ride if it meant Emma was safe. I would never forgive myself if she got hurt on my watch.
“Calm down, city boy.” Clark pulled me back.
“What am I missing?”
“That boy is Quincy Hardwell,” Clark said, like I should know why that was a big deal. “Seriously, don’t you watch football?”
“Man, I don’t know if you know this, but I was too busy getting shot a few months ago,” I reminded him.
“Save me the fucking pity party, Hendrix.” Clark finished walking to our squad car. “Quincy’s got scouts after him. That one-in-a-million shot to make it to the big leagues? That boy, he’s got it and then some.”
I processed the information, and my heart warmed at what Emma had done. “She didn’t want to take that chance from him.”
"Emma's one of the sweetest girls I've ever known." He chuckled. "The only time I've ever seen her pissed was just now when she was talking to you."
That made me grin too.
I’d survived, I was alive, and I was here. One thing was for sure: I still wanted Emma, maybe more than I did back then. Sooner or later, she would be mine. I was sure of that. If my dad had taught me anything, it was to never give up.
Sooner didn’t work out how I had planned. I’d been back for about six months, and Emma was still holding a grudge. I was having a hard time getting her alone. I knew if I cornered her, she would give in to me.
She seemed to hate me with a passion. That was a good thing, right? Strong feelings were a good thing. She wouldn’t be this angry with me if she didn’t care about me. And at this point, I would take what I could get from her.
“Hendrix, come to my office.” My chief’s voice made me sit up straight at my desk.
Clark, who was sort of my partner, snickered. “You think Emma finally came to file a restraining order?”
“Fuck off, Carson.”
Clark raised his hands in the air and shouted that he was going to go get coffee since the barista didn't hate him. So, yeah, maybe I went in every day, and every day I hoped Emma would finally speak to me alone. In the mornings, she was busy. She would give me a forced smile and serve me regular coffee. She didn't make it how I liked it anymore. I was sure it was a ploy to stop me from showing up.
If I showed in the afternoons, she ran as soon as she saw me, and I had to be subjected to Jess’s strong coffees, or Quincy, who made them too sweet. Honestly, I was getting tired of it.
“Yes, Chief?” I knocked and waited for Tim to call me in.
“Take a seat, boy. Don’t just stand there.”
Doing as the chief said, I sat waiting for him to finish using his computer.
“How’s the shoulder?” he asked.
“Good. Doesn’t even bother me much. I got lucky.”
>
“How’s your head?”
That was a loaded question. My head was fine. I didn't think much of the shooting, and when I did, I felt like a reckless fool for thinking I would have achieved something greater than myself. On the other hand, I’d been fucking frustrated with the Emma situation. I got shot, and she didn’t care. Not like I was broadcasting this shit, but for fuck’s sake, it was a small town.
“You finished your therapy?”
“Both. Had my last appointment with the appointed therapist yesterday.”
Protocol required that I talk to a shrink. I was cleared and could stop sharing my feelings once a week. How did getting shot make me feel? Like I almost fucking died. But I didn’t. Case closed.
“Colt is retiring,” Tim said.
I sat straighter. “When?”
“One more year.”
If he was telling me, what did that mean? I didn’t want to get my hopes up for nothing.
“You’re telling me this why?” I asked, needing the clarification.
“Don’t play stupid, Hendrix. You’re the most qualified here to take the detective position.”
I couldn’t help but grin.
“But you’re also the stupidest.”
That was like the chief. He had a way of building you up and then making you crash.
“Did your fancy education teach you nothing?” Clearly, he wasn’t done tearing me a new one, so I stayed quiet. “Sweetest girl in the county, and you left her for what? Three bullet holes and a near-death experience?”
Well when he put it that way, I could see the error of my ways. I stayed quiet.
"From now until he retires, you're Colt's shadow." My gut tightened. If the chief was hinting at what I thought he was, I would become detective sooner than I ever anticipated. "I hope you learned something from your stupidity, boy. I have faith in you."
Man, that felt good. Especially after being careless and almost losing my life.
“I won’t let you down, Chief,” I vowed before I left his office.
With new vigor and determination, I left the station, making my way to Emma’s. I timed it just right, knowing I was going to find her locking up for the night. Whether she wanted to or not, we were hashing this shit out now.
If today was any indication of anything, it was that things were finally looking up for me.
Hell yeah.
“Emma,” I called.
At the sound of my voice, she froze, key in hand. Slowly, she turned my way, her eyes wide and surprised. I loved that look. Her eyes were big, framed by natural long lashes, and the green was dark, like a forest.
“Can I help you?” Her voice was weak.
“I’m tired, Emma.”
“Wh-what?”
“Let me talk, and then you can say whatever you want.”
She nodded hesitantly.
“I’m tired of waiting around for you, Ems. Yeah, I left town, but I didn’t know if I was coming back or not. What would have been the point in postponing?” I stopped, ready to tell her about getting shot, not for pity, but to make her understand why I was back for good now.
“What would have been the point of postponing?” She whispered my words back to me. When I looked at her again, I saw tears in her eyes. “Instead, you left me to wait for sixty minutes.”
What?
“You chased and chased until I gave in and I sat there at Franny’s waiting for you. I made an idiot of myself for sixty whole minutes until I gave up and realized you had no intention of showing up.”
Fuck, my heart was hammering in my ears. Her pain. I felt that shit like it was my own.
“Emma,” I whispered, but she didn’t hear me.
"Like a fool, I still worried, thinking that maybe something had happened to you. I didn't want to believe that you’d played me and were never going to come back."
“Emma.” I cut her off again.
“There was no point in postponing, right?” she whispered.
I almost wished she would have shouted it. The whisper echoed in my soul.
“Sunshine,” I pleaded.
At the nickname, her face snapped up. I wanted to reach for her face and wipe away the tears that were streaming down.
“Don’t call me that. You said one date, right? If I didn’t like it, you’d leave me alone? Well, I hated it, so please leave me alone.” She pushed past me and ran to her car.
I let her go again.
I’d blown it in ways I didn’t even know I could. Picking up my phone, I scrolled to a number I barely called.
“Max, give me a second. My cousin is calling,” Abigail said, sounding annoyed, as she answered the phone.
At the sound of her voice, fury started to descend. My hands were shaking.
“Did you or did you not tell Emma I had to leave town?” I barked.
“What are you talking about?” Her snobby voice had me gritting my teeth.
“When I left for Milwaukee, I asked you to pass a message to Emma since I didn’t have her phone number. I asked you to tell her I had a last-minute interview and I wanted a rain check.”
For a second, I only heard the sound of my heavy breathing.
“Oh, I was doing you a favor. She’s so mousy. Why would you want to be associated with her anyways?” she said flippantly.
My cousin Gary had better not cross paths with me in the near future or I would take out the rage I was feeling towards his sister on him.
I took a calming breath. “I hope to God you are a better person to your fucking boyfriend, or you’re going to find yourself alone and miserable.”
She hung up on me before I could tell her she was dead to me. One thing was for sure: I couldn’t give up on Emma.
9
Emma
Having Dex back in town wasn't as hard to get used to as I thought it would be. After my outburst, he didn't try to corner me anymore, although that didn't mean he left me alone. Not a fat chance. He made it very clear that he was still interested in me. I found it odd that he wasn't his old cocky self, but no way was I going to ask him about it.
Having Quincy work for me had worked out great. I was able to take the afternoons off, but even then, I stayed most days with them. It was a task to get Quincy to stop calling me “bitch,” so now he just said “mamas” for everything.
When summer started, I had to hire Layla Vanhorn since it was tourism season and Quincy had practice in the mornings. Jess took care of her sister, so she couldn’t do it. Besides, when school started, I knew I couldn't depend on them for the morning shift. I told myself that I didn't want to fire her because she flirted with Dex. All. The. Time. She flirted with all the men, and she was lazy. And today, she didn't even bother to show at all.
It was the first of August, and I knew what that meant: not only was it getting closer to fall time and tourism coming to an end, but I'd have a drunk-off-his-ass Prescott today. He came into the coffee shop after going on a bender on the same day last year, and I sort of expected him this year too.
Running to my blackboard I wrote today’s quote. Don’t let yesterday dictate your tomorrow. Dex was history; he shouldn’t affect my day-to-day life anymore.
With no Layla around, I was running myself ragged this morning.
“Layla didn’t show again?” Rusty noted as I handed him his cappuccino.
“Nope.”
“Jana still has a few months to go before her due date; she wouldn’t mind helping you out.” Rusty was dead serious.
It was sweet how nice he and Jana were. It was unbelievably cute to watch the once-playboy be wrapped around Jana's little finger.
“I can manage. School is starting soon, so things should settle,” I told him. It was true, since most out-of-towners were really headed to the lake and we were the only town on the way.
Once Rusty left, I continued to take care of customers until a hushed conversation intrigued me.
“I’m sure it’s her.”
“No, she’s too classy to be her.”
I tried to figure out who they were talking about, but I couldn't see far enough. I was too short.
“Hello. What can I get you?” I smiled when I saw the woman, who seemed very familiar.
“It’s my first time here, so what do you recommend? I want something sweet, but strong.” Her tone sounded a bit peeved, but I didn’t think it had anything to do with me.
“I’ve got the perfect thing for you,” I told her while I tried to place her.
I turned back while she was texting. No way. It was her! Freya freaking Pratt.
“Here you go. It’s a cookies and cream mocha.”
“This drink is fantastic!” She shouted it, and it made me blush.
“Do I know you?”
“It’s me, Freya Pratt,” she said before she started drinking some more.
“Oh, my God. I knew you looked familiar,” I told her. She did; the last seven years had been good to her. “How long are you in town for?”
“For a while,” she replied somewhat vaguely. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m going to go before my grandpa decides to leave me.”
Once she was out the door, I wondered if she knew that Max was engaged.
“What are you still doing here, mamas? You should’ve gone home hours ago,” Quincy shouted from where he was wiping the tables.
I looked at the clock, expecting Prescott to stumble in. But who knew? Maybe now that he was married, things were different? Then again, he’d gotten married last year, and he still came.
“I’m the boss, you’re my B-boy,” I replied automatically.
Jess snickered. “And by B-boy, she means bitch boy and not busboy.”
I glared at them both. When they’d finished cleaning up, I told them to go ahead without me. I was going to wait for a little while longer, then I would go home.