by Daws, Amy
I let myself in the front door using my key. “Hey Mom, where are you?” I holler.
Her voice drifts down from upstairs. “I’m just up here in the bathroom getting stuff out of the way for you to take a look! Come on up!”
I make my way up the stairs, toolbox in hand, and find her arms full in the hallway bathroom. “Hi,” she says with a feeble smile. “I was just clearing this stuff out for you. I’m sorry you had to come out here.”
“Mom,” I scold with a shake of the head but give her a reassuring smile. “It’s fine.”
She shifts out of my way with various shampoo bottles clutched to her chest and drops them on the vanity counter. I shine my flashlight on the floor of the shower and spot the hairline crack instantly. All it needs is a quick sanding and an application of fiberglass from the repair kit I picked up for a few bucks, and it should be good as new.
I drop down on my hands and knees to get to work as my mom perches on the counter behind me. After no more than a moment of silence, she says out of the blue, “So you haven’t been by for Sunday brunch in a couple of weeks. Is everything all right? Is taking over the shop too much for you? I told Terry I didn’t want him to rush you.”
“No, Mom. The shop is good,” I reply as I sand down the fiberglass around the crack. “It’s not work. It’s…personal stuff.” The second the words come out of my mouth, I regret them.
“Personal stuff?” she asks, her voice rising in curiosity. “What kind of personal stuff?”
I roll my eyes and glance over my shoulder at her. My mom has a nose for lies, and if I try to make something up, she’ll interrogate me until I’m sweating. “I’ve been helping this girl with a dumb project. It’s basically over now, though.”
I finish sanding and sit back on my heels to work on mixing the epoxy gel coat next. I can feel my mother watching me quietly as her mind races with the best way to crack me like the floor of this shower.
“Is this the same girl you took ice fishing?” she asks, hitting the subject right on the nose.
I lift a brow and look back at her. “Yes, and she’s Miles’s little sister.”
“Sammy.” She gasps, her blue eyes wide. “Are you involved with her…romantically? Does Miles know?”
I shake my head. “He doesn’t know. I’m going to tell him tonight.” I dip the fiberglass cloth into the mixture and lean back over the floor to spread it along the crack. “Stuff just got too heated. Too stressful. And I hate lying to my friend.”
I hear her tsk. “What does the girl say about it? What’s her name?”
“Maggie,” I reply and reach back for my putty knife to smooth out any air bubbles. “She’s not happy. Pretty pissed actually.”
Once the patchwork is smooth, I turn and sit on my rear with my back against the wall. Looking up, I take in my mom’s reaction as she considers everything I’m sharing.
“What do you think Miles will do?” she asks, her brows knitting together in worry.
“Probably deck me,” I reply with a huff. “But I deserve it.”
She doesn’t like that response one bit as she fiddles with her necklace and stares at the wall with a serious expression. “Well, what’s your end goal then? Are you in love with the girl?”
“Love? No, Mom,” I snap and turn to grab the bottle of sealer out of my box. “Why would you think I’m in love with her?”
“Because you’re risking a friendship for her.”
She shrugs her shoulders as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and I quickly turn around so she can’t see my reaction to that statement. My eyes blink rapidly as her words have an unexpected effect on me. Am I risking my friendship with Miles for Maggie? Surely, I’m not. I don’t want to lose Miles, but coming clean seems like the only thing to do at this point. Maggie and I have obviously progressed somewhere past casual, and I can’t keep lying to my best friend when I’m falling for his sister.
My heart begins to pound in my chest at that realization, and I turn to lean back on the shower wall and get my fucking shit together. My phone chimes from its spot on the floor, and I glance down to see a text from Miles.
Miles: Hey man, change of plans. Megan’s boyfriend just showed up unexpectedly, so can I get a rain check on drinks tonight? Kate and I are going to take them to Rio and introduce them to the two limit margaritas.
My hand tightens around the phone, my eyes losing focus as I absorb the fact that Maggie’s ex-boyfriend is here. Sterling is here? What kind of fucking name is that anyway?
And seriously, what the actual fuck? It was only days ago when I was inside Maggie making her come, and now this fucker decides to show up?
“Who is it?” my mom asks, her voice soft but probing.
“It’s Miles,” I reply, my hand loosening around my phone. “Maggie’s ex just showed up, so he needs to take a rain check on the drinks we were supposed to have tonight.”
“Maggie’s ex?” Mom asks, her voice rising in pitch. “Is he from Boulder?”
“No,” I reply through clenched teeth. “He’s from far away.” Which means if he’s here, Maggie’s stupid-ass plan actually worked, and he wants her back.
I stand and begin tossing my tools into my toolbox, throwing them in way faster and noisier than necessary, but damnit, I’m freaking the fuck out right now. Who is this guy to show up at my best friend’s house and have dinner with my goddamned people?
Mom slides off the counter and grabs my arm, so I turn my focus to her. “Sammy, what’s going on?”
“Nothing, Mom. Leave it alone,” I growl. Pulling away from her, I grab my toolbox off the floor to head out the door.
“It’s not nothing!” she exclaims and uses all her strength to turn me to look at her. “Talk to me.”
Her face is stricken with worry, and instantly, my anger morphs into an apology. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m just pissed off, I guess.”
“Because of that text?”
“Yeah, because of that text,” I growl and rake my free hand through my hair. “That ex of hers is an asshole. He broke her damn heart, yet she’s obsessed with getting him back. She’s going to take him back. I know it.”
“And why do you care?” she asks, her hands reaching up to touch my cheeks so I stop darting my gaze all around the small bathroom and look at her.
“Because I care about her,” I state without pause.
She nods, her brows pinching together in the middle. “I can see that. Does she care about you?”
I shake my head in frustration because it doesn’t fucking matter. “That’s not the point, Mom. She’s Miles’s little sister. I can’t go there.”
“Of course, you can,” she says, slapping my chest with her hands before placing them on her hips. “He loves you, and he loves her. He’ll understand it if it’s what makes you both happy.”
“It’s not just that,” I state and fight the urge to roll my eyes. “You don’t know Maggie, Mom. She’s got her mind set on winning her ex back, and she went to great lengths to do it. If he’s here, it’s game over. She’s succeeded in her mission.”
Mom pins me with a seriously unimpressed stare. “Are you trying to tell me that after all that horrible brawling you did as a kid, you don’t have it in you to fight for this girl?”
I bark out a laugh because getting romance advice from my mother is about as useful as a bucket of frozen minnows. “I don’t think Maggie wants me to fight for her.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Mom argues, whacking me in the stomach. “If you’ve given your heart to this girl at all, Sammy, that’s not something to walk away from.”
I exhale heavily because I hate having to explain all of this to my mother, but I know she won’t let this go if I don’t. “I can’t handle being with someone like her, Mom. Maggie is…a lot. She’s young and stubborn and way too obsessed with a perfect life and achieving her happily ever after. She wants romance novel shit. I’m not the kind of guy who can give that to her.”
“Of
course, you can, you fool. Happy endings come in all shapes and sizes.”
Mom is not letting this go, and it’s killing me because I know that my truest fear is going to hurt her. With a quiet voice, I reply, “I’m not good enough for her, Mom. What if I’m like Dad?”
“Samuel Michael O’Connor!” she exclaims, her voice high and ragged just like it was when I got into trouble as a kid. “I never raised my hand to you during your entire misspent youth, but I swear to God, my palm is itching right now with how badly I want to slap you.”
“Mom, jeez!” I exclaim, holding my hand up in defense.
“You are nothing like your father, you hear me?” she hisses, reaching out and shoving me to accentuate her point. “You are kind and good and giving. You take care of this whole family. You always have…even when you were a little terror at sixteen, you still got up early and shoveled the driveway. Your father never did a thing around here. Not even for you kids. The only decent thing he ever did was teach you how to ice fish, and you even have a hang-up over that because you think you have to do it alone to hold on to the one good memory he left you with.”
My eyes begin to burn from her words because damnit, they are true. For years, I’ve gone ice fishing on my own because I didn’t want to lessen the one decent memory I have of my father, who, let’s face it, is deceased in my family’s eyes. I worried that if I brought someone else with me out on the ice, new memories would outshine the old.
Then I met Maggie and, suddenly, without any concrete or tangible reason, I opened myself up to create a new memory.
My mom reaches out and pulls me into a hug that’s so tight, I feel the entire weight of her on my neck. “If you found someone you were willing to take ice fishing, then you need to stop bitchin’ and start fishin’.” A broad smile spreads across my face as she releases me with a smile of her own. “Don’t let this girl be the one who got away.”
Men And Fish Are Alike… They Both Get Into Trouble When They Open Their Mouths.
Not enough Chardonnay exists in Boulder to get me through this dinner. And sadly, we are at a Mexican restaurant, so wine isn’t even an option here. On the entire ride to the restaurant, I mentally flip out at the fact Sterling is here in Boulder. This is like all my romance novel fantasies come to life. The hero shows up on the doorstep of the heroine’s house after traveling through a plethora of natural disasters to tell the love of his life that he needs her back, and he’s been a fool, and he wants to marry her and have a million babies and goats.
Well, maybe not the goats.
But that’s the dream, right? Yet the entire time at dinner, something feels off. Looking at Sterling’s face doesn’t bring me the same flutters in my stomach it did only weeks ago. Is my heart just still that broken?
Even my brother seems to be struggling to connect to the person I’ve fantasized about marrying at least fifty different times.
“So Sterling,” Miles says, setting down his Corona and leaning across the table at the Mexican restaurant, “how’s it feel to know that in just a few months, your entire world is going to change?”
Sterling frowns and sits back, draping an arm across the back of my chair. “Pretty crazy.”
Miles blinks, waiting for Sterling to elaborate, but when he realizes he’s not going to, he adds, “What team are you hoping for?”
“Not the Broncos,” he huffs and takes a drink of his margarita. “I did a training camp here, and the elevation was brutal. And how do you guys handle all this snow all the time? I can’t stand it.”
My brother’s face falls as if Sterling just kicked his favorite puppy. “Well…you get used to it.”
“Better you than me,” Sterling huffs.
Kate’s eyes find mine as she sips her drink, and she offers me a sympathetic smile. I offer one back. I’m still mad at her about Friday night, but she’s the only one who truly understands the position I’m in right now, and I need her support.
My brother continues to try his hardest to make small talk when suddenly Sterling’s hand slips under the table and grabs my thigh firmly. Something about the way his fingers inch slowly up my tights has me reaching down and squeezing his hand in silent warning. He looks over at me with narrowed eyes while my brother continues to ramble on about the wonders of Colorado and the seasonal changes.
When Sterling’s hand touches the hem of my plaid skirt, I lean in and hiss, “Stop.”
He half smiles at me, his eyes slightly hooded. “Why?”
“Because we’re here with my brother,” I grind out and then smile politely at Miles as he asks Kate about the name of some hiking spot they found this past summer.
Sterling harrumphs and yanks his hand away from my leg, visibly annoyed. I lean down and take a large gulp of my very strong margarita. Sterling has always had a thing for public displays of affection, and once upon a time, I enjoyed them with him. What’s changed?
“Mind if I join you?” a familiar says from behind me, and I spew part of my drink out all over Sterling’s lap.
“Jesus Christ,” Sterling says, pushing back away from the table and wiping at his lap where most of my beverage landed. “What the hell, Maggie?”
Ignoring Sterling’s fit, I turn around to find Sam standing only a foot away from me, watching the entire scene with great amusement. My eyes fall down his body to see that he’s dressed in another one of his hot button-downs, green this time to match his eyes, and a pair of perfectly fitted jeans. He looks at me, and his eyes flash down to my tights and widen ever so slightly before he slaps on a strained smile.
“You okay there, sparky?” Sam asks, leaning in to gently pat me on the back.
Miles chuckles from across the table. “Hey man, what’s up?”
Sam smiles over at my brother. “Well, I got your text and then decided I was in the mood for tacos anyway, so I figured I’d stop in and see if I could join you. That is if you guys don’t mind a fifth wheel.”
“We love all wheels!” Miles says, standing up and walking over to the next table to ask if he can borrow a chair. They nod their agreement, and he twirls the seat around, placing it right on the end, smack dab between Miles and Sterling.
“I’m afraid we haven’t met,” Sam says, holding his hand out to Sterling.
Sterling takes Sam’s hand in his and shakes it firmly. “I’m Sterling, Maggie’s boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend!” Sam exclaims, his brows raised in surprise as he continues shaking. “You’re the football player boyfriend we’ve all heard so much about? Wow, nice to meet you at last.”
Sterling smiles awkwardly at Sam as the two shake hands for much longer than is necessary. “And you are?” Sterling asks finally.
Miles claps his hand on Sam’s back. “This is my best friend, Sam. He owns Tire Depot here in town—where I work,” he replies.
Sterling lifts his brows. “You’re a business owner?”
Sam nods thoughtfully. “Very recently, yes.”
Sterling nods but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes a drink of his margarita and eyes Sam like a rooster who’s agitated by the presence of another rooster.
Sam smacks his hand on the table. “So what’d I miss?” he asks.
“Sterling was just telling us how much he hates Colorado,” Kate deadpans, then tips her margarita to her lips to polish off the last drink. Her eyes appear slightly glazed, and I’m certain the tequila is currently doing the talking.
Sterling shifts in his chair. “I didn’t say I hate Colorado. I just said I would never want to live here.”
“That’s a shame,” Sam replies, shaking his head. “There’s so much here to do for the adventuring types. You’re pretty adventurous, aren’t you, Sterling?”
Sterling nods and stretches his arm around me again.
Sam’s eyes fixate on where Sterling’s hand lands on my shoulder. “I could tell that about you. You have the confidence of someone who takes a lot of risks. What’s the craziest thing you’ve done recently?” he asks.
Sterling chuckles softly. “You mean besides avoid tackles from three-hundred-pound linemen?”
Miles nods his appreciation of that response—the sweet, oblivious puppy dog he always is.
“Linemen is just work, though,” Sam says, propping his elbows on the table. “I’m asking what you do for personal adventure. Something that feeds your soul.”
Sterling stares down at the table, his brow crinkling as he attempts to come up with an answer. “I’m afraid nothing comes to mind.”
Sam’s face bends in confusion. “Nothing? You’re from the East Coast, right? Have you ever done some deep sea fishing or water sports? You know…the basics.”
Sterling shakes his head, clearly not picking up what Sam’s putting down.
“Huh,” Sam retorts, scratching his jaw. “What about bungee jumping or white water rafting?”
“Nah, man. I haven’t done those.”
“Rock climbing?”
Sterling shakes his head again.
“Paintball? Surely, you’ve done paintball. Hell, even twelve-year-old boys do paintball!”
Sterling’s eyes light up. “I’ve done laser tag with my buddies at this indoor facility in my hometown. It gets pretty intense.”
Sam’s lips turn down as he tries to suppress his amusement. “Sounds badass.”
Sterling shifts in his seat, clearly catching on that Sam is messing with him. He narrows his eyes. “What about you?” he asks.
“What do I do for fun?” Sam asks, pointing at his chest with wide, innocent eyes. “Well, in Boulder, it’s endless adventures even in the winter. I snowboard. I climb frozen waterfalls. Hell, there are even these ice-covered farm silos that you can scale now that are pretty thrilling. But my true love is ice fishing. I do that any chance I get.”
Sterling’s brow furrows, and my eyes flash to Sam, who has literally just listed nearly every single thing I’ve done over the past few weeks and sent a picture of to Sterling. If Sam were sitting closer to me, I would kick his shin under the table.