by Amber Garza
“You should try again,” I say to Emmy.
“What?” She furrows her brows, her forehead a mess of squiggly lines.
“With Taylor. Talk to her again.”
“What’s your sudden interest in her, man?” Chris asks.
“I was just thinking about Emmy and how she doesn’t have any girlfriends,” I say.
Emmy bristles beside me.
“Taylor’s new and she doesn’t have any friends. It’s the perfect match,” I explain.
Chris reaches across the table, threading his fingers through Emmy’s. “She doesn’t need friends. She has me.”
Not helping. I narrow my eyes at him. This conversation may have started because I was interested in Taylor, but the truth is I’m worried about my sister. She’s lonely even if she won’t admit it. “When did you grow boobs, dude?”
Christian’s eyes widen. “What?”
I pin him with a challenging stare. “Well, last I checked you weren’t a chick. Has that changed?”
Chris chuckles. “No, trust me. I’m all man.”
“Then you’re not her girlfriend. She needs a girlfriend,” I state firmly.
Christian’s eyes soften. His gaze slides to Emmy. “He’s right, you know.”
Emmy bites her lip. “But I’m fine. I’m better than fine. I’m happy.”
“I know you are, baby. So am I,” Christian says. “But it’s selfish for me to think I’m all you need. I mean, I’ve got Cal and the guys on the team.”
“Chris and I just want what’s best for you, Emmy,” I add, grateful that Chris stepped up to help me in this conversation. Things have changed now that they’re dating, but one thing has remained the same. Chris has always had Emmy’s back. We’ve worked as a team to protect her for years.
“I know.” She sighs. Chatter and laughter float from the other end of the table, and her gaze flickers over there momentarily.
“Hey.” Christian reaches across the table, sliding his finger under her chin and gently lifting her face. “I know you’re scared, but not every girl is like Ashley.”
“A lot of them are,” she says, and she does have a point.
“Taylor’s not,” I chime in.
“How do you know?” Emmy’s head whips in my direction.
“I can tell. I’ve always been a good judge of character, haven’t I?”
“I used to think you were.” Emmy’s gaze floats to where Ashley is now sitting next to Josh.
My stomach twists. “Trust me, I wasn’t with her for her character. I always knew the deal there.”
Emmy frowns.
“Hey, you know I would take it back if I could.”
“I know.” Emmy waves away my words. “And I won’t make you apologize again.”
Thank god.
“I’ll try to make nice with the new girl, okay?” She says.
My heart lifts, an involuntary smile leaping to my face.
“But I’m not making any promises,” Emmy adds. “If she treats me like crap, I’m finished.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” I’m proud that she’s finally grown a spine. “But I don’t think she’ll let you down. I have a good feeling about this one.”
And the truth is, I do. There’s something about Taylor. Something in her eyes, in her expression. It’s the same look I’ve seen on Emmy’s face ever since her friendship with Ashley ended. Taylor is lonely too. Maybe together the two of them can heal.
TAYLOR
Screw this.
I’ve got to get out of this house. Out of this stuffy bedroom. Out from under my aunt and uncle’s watchful stare. I’m going stir crazy. At home I was always out with friends. Mom and Dad didn’t keep a tight rein on me. Pretty sure they’re regretting that now.
But it’s safe to go out here. It’s not like I can get into trouble. I don’t even have any friends. Besides, I doubt there’s much excitement around here anyway. In my former life, I’d wait until everyone went to bed, and I’d sneak out. But that’s not an option now. If I get caught doing that, Uncle Alex and Aunt Molly will never trust me. Then I’ll never get any freedom. Gathering up courage, I head downstairs.
Uncle Alex sits on the couch next to Aunt Molly, his hand resting on her thigh. Both of them face forward, watching something on the TV. When I glance up at the screen, a show I don’t recognize is playing. Man, do they even have different shows around here?
“Hey,” I practically whisper from behind them.
They both turn.
“Hey,” Uncle Alex says, wearing a hopeful smile. “Wanna watch some TV with us?”
“We added some cable channels for you,” Aunt Molly interjects, her expression bright. “We got some of those channels the teens are watching nowadays. I think one of them is Nick-something or other, and I can’t remember what the other one is called.” She taps her index finger to her chin as if deep in thought.
I cringe, certain they didn’t get any channels I’ll be interested in. Still, I know they’re trying, so I force a smile. “Thanks, but I…um…actually was hoping to go for a walk. I just kinda need some…fresh air.”
Their faces fall a little, their smiles taking more effort. My insides knot, sure they’re going to say no.
“Want us to come with you?” Uncle Alex offers. “We can show you around town.”
I bite my lip. A part of me wants to say yes. It’s what they want, and I’ve done nothing but push them away. This is an easy way to throw them a bone. But the truth is, I’m feeling claustrophobic. I need some time to myself. A girl needs space.
I’m an only child. My mom had some health problems after I was born and couldn’t have any other children. Therefore, she smothered me when I was a kid. As a toddler, I used to hide in closets and kitchen cabinets just to get away from her. To get some time to myself. Even though my mom let up as I got older, I guess that part of me has never changed.
“That would be great,” I say. “And maybe we can do that this weekend. But tonight I just kinda wanna be alone.” I pause. “If that’s okay with you?” When they don’t answer immediately, I rush to add, “I promise I won’t go far. And I’ll be home within the hour.”
They exchange a look, and I hold my breath. I marvel at how much my life has changed in such a short span of time. If you had told me two months ago that I would be living in some backwater town begging my aunt and uncle for an hour alone to go on a walk, I would’ve laughed at you.
Yet here I am.
“I guess it’s okay,” Uncle Alex speaks slowly. Aunt Molly’s face scrunches up with worry.
I know exactly what she’s worried about, and I can’t say that I blame her. Clearly they don’t trust me, and it’s not like I’ve ever given them reason to. I wish there was a way to convince them. Nodding, I realize that there is. It’s not with words. It’s with actions.
Glancing down at the watch wrapped around my wrist, I say, “Okay, I’ll be back within the hour.” I never used to wear a watch. Didn’t need to. I had a phone. But Dad bought this for me after they took my phone away. I didn’t really see its value until this moment. Maybe keeping my word will prove to them that I can be trusted.
I’m not naïve enough to think it will happen after one time, but eventually.
Uncle Alex’s head bobs up and down. “All right. We’ll see you then.” Leaning back on the couch, he attempts to seem nonchalant. But Aunt Molly doesn’t even pretend. She watches me with concerned eyes as I head toward the front door. Even when I head outside, I can feel her gaze boring a hole in the back of my head.
The air is cool with a slight breeze. I tug my sweater tighter around my body and scurry down the stairs of the front porch. The steps creak beneath the weight of my black boots. When I hit the grass, my heels crunch on leaves and twigs. After reaching the long driveway, I hurry down it, determined to relish my hour of freedom. I have no idea where I’ll go, but anywhere will feel exhilarating after spending weeks holed up in my aunt and uncle’s house.
I’m n
ot directionally challenged. Unlike many of my girlfriends, I never need a GPS to tell me where to go. Since I’ve been riding a skateboard for years, I learned at an early age how to navigate through the city. Therefore, I’m good at reading street signs, and I’m cognizant of my surroundings. So even though I’ve only headed into Old Town a couple of times with Aunt Molly, I know exactly which way to turn to get there. At the end of the driveway, I make a right. If I wanted to get to the high school, I’d make a left, but there’s nothing near the high school. Besides, I go there every day. I haven’t done much exploring in town, so I figure I’ll head there.
It’s evening, and the sun is starting to go down. I have to admit that the sky looks pretty streaked in pinks and purples. It’s hard to see the sky like this back home. It’s obscured by buildings and bright lights. With the toe of my shoe, I kick at a rock on the ground. It skitters, rolling into a patch of grass on the side of the road. I turn a corner and Old Town comes into view. Of course, by “Old Town” I mean a few shops and a grocery store. My uncle’s church is at the end of the road. I catch sight of its stained glass windows and pointed roof.
The road winds to the right and I step up onto a curb. In front of me is a row of shops. I eye the bookstore, thinking how different it is from the ones in the city. Peering in the window, I wonder if it even carries the newest releases. From the looks of it, my guess is that it’s a used bookstore. Next to the bookstore is a boutique. Clearly it’s where Aunt Molly shops. In fact, I’m pretty sure I saw her in the same outfit the mannequin is wearing two days ago. I shake my head. I wouldn’t be caught dead in an outfit like that.
I pass by the boutique and come up on an antique shop. Pausing, my gaze lingers on a lampshade made of black fringe. Now this is my kind of store. I’ve always been fascinated by antiques. Items that are one of a kind. Unique. I love the idea of finding something so rare that no one else has it. My gaze scans the display in the window, antiques cluttering the small space. There are so many of them, it’s hard to take them all in.
As I’m studying each piece, movement to the right catches my attention. Glancing up, my breath hitches in my throat. Hot and cold flashes rip up and down my spine. No, it can’t be.
Closing my eyes, I breathe in deeply and pray I’m seeing things. I pray my mind is playing tricks on me. Flipping my eyes open, my pulse quickens.
Nope. No tricks.
This is real.
He’s here.
How the hell did he find me?
CAL
“Hey, Cal.” Mom enters the kitchen. She’s wearing pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, and by the looks of her hair I’m assuming she hasn’t showered yet.
“Good writing day?” I cock an eyebrow. Sweat beads along my shoulder blades, sliding down my spine. My practice uniform clings to my skin. Reaching into the fridge I pull out a two-liter of soda, unscrew the cap and pour the carbonated liquid down my throat. Practice was brutal. I’m hungry, thirsty and beat.
“How many times have I told you not to drink from the bottle?” Mom scolds me.
Drawing the bottle from my face, I swallow. “A lot.”
Mom glares at me.
“Sorry.” Carrying the bottle in hand, I step toward her. With my free hand, I give her a one-armed hug. “I’ll work on it.”
The look she gives tells me she’s not buying it. “I need you to do me a favor.”
Inwardly, I groan. Unless the favor is inhaling all the food in the fridge or crawling under my covers, I’m not interested. “What is it?”
“I need you to take something to Olivia at her shop.”
“Why can’t Emmy do it?” Normally I wouldn’t argue. Especially when it involves my best friend and his mom. But now that Emmy and Chris are dating, the Alcott’s are as much a part of her life as mine.
“She’s doing homework,” Mom states.
“Maybe I have homework.”
Mom raises a brow. “Maybe? You don’t know if you do or not?”
I chuckle. Well played. “Fine. I don’t have homework. I did it all before practice.” That’s the problem with having Emmy for a sister. She’s in AP classes, so her homework takes a lot longer than mine. It has been getting her out of stuff for years.
“Great.” Mom disappears into the hallway.
While she’s gone, I finish off the remainder of the two-liter. I’m letting out a giant belch when Mom reappears.
“Really? How old are you?” Mom says, but there is a teasing gleam in her eyes.
“Age doesn’t matter. All of our bodies work the same,” I point out.
“But maturity means knowing when to be discreet,” Mom argues.
I don’t respond. Instead I flash her a smile. Mom can never resist my smiles. When I was a kid, I knew I only needed to give her a giant grin and she’d forgive almost anything. Shaking her head, her lips edge upward, and I know it’s working.
She thrusts a giant stack of paper into my hands. “Here. It’s my latest manuscript. Olivia’s gonna read it for me.”
Olivia’s been doing this for Mom for years. Mom calls Olivia her beta reader, meaning she reads over Mom’s books before they go to her editor. She looks for content issues, plot holes, and stuff like that.
“I still don’t know why you can’t just give it to Emmy. I’m sure she’ll see Chris soon,” I say, still hoping I can get out of this. My stomach growls as if reminding me of how badly I need to eat.
“Chris is home studying. Emmy’s doing homework. You’ll probably see Chris before Emmy does,” Mom responds, the beginnings of exasperation painting her tone. Her patience is wearing thin. I need to shut this down before she yells at me. “Olivia wants to start reading tonight.”
“Chris and Emmy are both studying, huh?” I joke. “Seems suspicious to me.”
Mom throws up her arms. Uh-oh, I’ve gone too far. “Emmy’s in her room. Alone. You can check if you don’t believe me.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Take the book to Olivia. This conversation is over.”
A nervous laugh escapes. “Okay, calm down. I’ll go.”
Mom stares at me, pressing her lips together.
Pivoting on my heels, I head to the front door. After snatching up my keys, I race down the walkway and hop in my car. The cool breeze causes goosebumps to rise on my flesh. It’s not that cold, but it feels that way since my clothes are damp. Once inside my car, I toss the manuscript on the passenger seat and turn on the engine. Music streams from the speakers as I pull away from the curb.
I drive swiftly down the street, knowing the faster I do this, the faster I’ll be able to get home and eat. Hunger pangs jab me in the gut, and irritation rises in me that I have to do this. Between Emmy and me, Mom usually asks me to do her favors. I resented it when I was younger, thinking Mom favored Emmy over me. But as I got older I realized that wasn’t the case. It’s actually the opposite. Emmy spent much of her childhood vying for Mom’s attention. It was heartbreaking at times watching her try and fail to gain Mom’s approval. For whatever reason, Mom and I have connected in a way that Emmy and Mom never have.
But the truth is, I’m closer to Emmy than anyone in my family.
That’s why I feel a little bad about throwing her under the bus in my conversation with Mom before. Deep down I’m still kind of bothered by her dating Christian. I know I need to get over it. I hate that it’s affecting our relationship. Nothing has ever come between us before. Hell, nothing has ever come between Chris and me before either.
Chris and Emmy are probably the two most important people in my life. I don’t want to lose them. Sure, things have shifted. Our relationship has been altered in a huge way, but I need to learn how to deal with it.
I turn down Old Creek Road, and Olivia’s shop comes into view. The sky is darkening and light shines through the front windows, emitting a soft glow onto the sidewalk. Row upon row of antiques are visible from the street. Chris has told me that business is slow for Olivia, and I sort of get it. I mean, how popular can antiques be?
Especially in a small town like ours. Still, I feel bad for her. I know how hard she works. How hard she’s always worked.
Snatching up the manuscript, I tuck it under my arm and head out of the car. Ambling up the sidewalk, I make my way to the shop. There are only a few people out tonight. A couple strolls past me, hand in hand. When they get close enough I recognize them as Mr. and Mrs. Johnston who live down the street from us. I wave to them before pressing my palm to the glass door and pushing it open. The bell on the door dings.
Olivia’s head snaps in my direction. “Hey, Cal.” She steps out from behind the counter and comes toward me. When she reaches me, she wraps me in a hug. Olivia’s always been a hugger. My parents aren’t touchy-feely, so when Olivia and Christian moved to Prairie Creek it took awhile to get used to Olivia’s affection. When she draws back, the bracelets on her arm tinkle. Her hair is curled around her face and she wears a long, flowing dress. I always find it amusing how opposite from my mom she is in her looks. Especially since they’re such close friends. Mom can usually be found in sweats and t-shirts, and she rarely wears jewelry. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Olivia in sweat pants, and I’m certain I’ve never seen her without jewelry on.
“Ooh, you have it.” She squeals, scooping up the manuscript, a greedy look in her eyes. “I’ve been dying to read this one.” Grinning, her head bounces up, her eyes meeting mine. “It’s a second chance romance.”
She says this like I should know what that means. My mom may write romance, but I sure as hell don’t read it. “A second chance romance?” I raise my brows, willing her to explain.
“Yeah.” She presses the manuscript to her chest. “You know. Lovers who break up and reconnect years later.”
I nod. “Sounds familiar.”
Her smile deepens. “It does, doesn’t it?”
“You and Dan still together?” Olivia and Dan used to be high school sweethearts. Then she had an affair with one of her college professors. That resulted in her pregnancy with Christian, and it caused her and Dan to break up. Earlier this year Dan left his wife, and he and Olivia started dating again. To say Christian was upset would be an understatement. Not that I completely blame him. Dan treated his mother terribly when they first moved back to town. Of course I kind of get that too, since Dan felt hurt and betrayed by Olivia. Still it doesn’t excuse his behavior. And to add insult to injury, Dan is Josh’s dad, and Josh isn’t exactly Christian’s favorite person either. Anyway, I have no idea if Christian is dealing with it better now or not. We haven’t discussed it. He probably talks to Emmy about it, but she hasn’t mentioned anything.