“Mommy!”
Max.
Levi and I turned at the same time, both of our eyes wide—mine with fear and his with confusion.
I caught Max as he threw himself at me, launching himself so his arms landed around my waist. “Mommy!” he squealed happily.
Wrapping my arms around his back, I raised my eyebrows at my mom. She looked as rough and haggard as eight miles of bad road. Her graying hair was piled haphazardly on top of her head and her oversized Pink Floyd t-shirt was shoved into a cheap pleather skirt. There was a shadow of the beauty she used to be in there somewhere, but for the most part, Maxine Dawson was as intimidating as they got.
“He wanted some chicken.” She shrugged. “He was getting a little jittery after all the candy. I figured he could use some grease.”
There were just so many things in that explanation I wanted to tackle. For instance, why all the candy? She was the adult. She could stop the candy at any time. Also the grease—pretty sure that wasn’t going to solve his sugar high.
Instead, I hugged Max tighter to my body, shielding him from Levi’s watchful gaze. “Chicken? I thought you were more of a spaghetti guy.”
“There’s spaghetti?” He rested his chin on my belly and looked up at me.
“At Lorenzo’s. With meatballs.”
He pushed away from my body and before I could stop him, he’d spun around to face my mom. “Grammy, you never told me there was spaghetti.”
She shrugged again. “I figured your mom could get you the chicken for free.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Levi’s head whip back and forth between my mom and son. Max was my mini me. Except for those green eyes, he was my spitting image. My dark curly hair, my straight nose, my non-dimpled smile. Sure, he was taller and smarter than most of the kids in his class and incredibly athletic for his age, but that could have been passed down from any man.
Levi’s words bounced around in my head, feeding the panicked fire in my gut. She’s obsessed with finding the right match to carry on the Cole family name.
That so wasn’t me. I wasn’t the right match. I wasn’t the right candidate to create a Cole legacy.
I ruffled Max’s hair with my hand and loved the feel of his bouncy curls. I did make a great kid though. She couldn’t argue with me about that.
Quickly reaching into my apron, I pulled out a ten-dollar bill. “Here, Mom. Take the boy for some spaghetti. I’m done in about an hour.”
“Can we get ice cream, too?” he asked me with big eyes, and I melted on the inside.
“Yeah, maybe.” I couldn’t help but smile at him. “Be good for Grammy though, yeah?”
“Yay!” he cheered, pumping his fists in the air like he’d just won the biggest competition.
My mom took the cash from my hand. “Is there enough here for me?”
I handed her another ten, completely embarrassed. “Now there is.”
“Come on, kiddo,” she told Max gruffly. He ran along beside her as she led him across the courthouse grounds.
Levi stared after them, his arms crossed over his chest, that muscle in his jaw pulsing again.
“Your parents are seated,” I said quickly, desperate to refocus him. I took a step back. “I should grab them menus.”
“You have a son?” His voice was steel in the night air, hard and unyielding.
I sucked in a steadying breath and wondered how he didn’t know. He and I hadn’t spoken over the years, but surely someone else had spilled the story. One of his friends or his parents. It wasn’t a secret. Actually, it was the opposite—a hot topic everyone loved to speculate about. “I do. His name is Max.”
His head snapped to the side and his glare hit me full force. “You named him after your mom?”
The way he asked the question implied that was the dumbest thing I could have ever done. My hackles instantly raised, and I prepared for war. “Yeah, after my mom. What’s it to you?”
“Who’s the dad?”
“I don’t like your tone, Levi.” My heart hammered in my chest and my fingers turned to ice. “And it’s none of your business.”
He took a step closer to me, his eyes practically glowing. “You never answered my calls that summer. You never called me back.” His words were the uncovering of a secret, a mystery he had always wondered about. “I knew we’d had our differences, but then… the night of Kristen’s party… we’d talked for hours. I just thought…”
“I got pregnant,” I confirmed. There were certain things I wouldn’t, couldn’t tell him. But this was common knowledge. “I, uh, I didn’t know what to say.”
“Because you were pregnant,” he said slower. He took another step forward, but then retreated two. “Were you pregnant when we kissed? Did you know at the party?”
Horrified he would even ask, I quickly said, “No. God, no. Levi, come on.”
“You got pregnant after we were together?”
“Yes. After.” And it was true. Granted, it wasn’t long after. Not like weeks or even days… but he’d left me because he was ashamed and went to find his girlfriend! And I thought I was in love with—
Who I had loved didn’t matter. What happened wasn’t something I was proud of. But I had been over this a hundred times in my head. It did happen. And now I had Max and I couldn’t regret that.
There was a look like heartbreak in his eyes. “You could have told me.”
“What would you have said?” I asked him. “It was one kiss, Levi. I figured the pregnancy killed whatever there was between…” I trailed off, not knowing what I was going to say or wanted to say or how I could even imply there was something between us when I’d slept with his brother almost immediately after he kissed me. “The pregnancy changed a lot of things for me.”
His gaze moved over my body again, taking in my waitress uniform with fresh eyes. “That’s why you stuck around here.”
“Listen, Levi, this trip down memory lane has been fun and all, but your parents are waiting for you and I need to get back to work.”
“Right.” He continued to stare at me.
“I’ll see you around, okay?” I fled before he could ask any more questions or study me more or just act like his stupid self. I had to get away from him.
In a way, I was relieved he’d seen Max. Now he knew. I didn’t have to try to avoid him at all costs now that he was back in town. That part of my life was all out in the open.
But there was something in his intuitive gaze that made me nervous. Nobody knew Logan was Max’s father—not even my mom, or Coco. The identity of Max’s dad was my secret alone. There was no way he could ever discover the truth.
Because I knew without a doubt I would never tell him.
Still, I made Brett wait on his table and I left at the first available opportunity. I did take Max for ice cream, after my mom ditched us for who knew where, but I made sure we steered clear of the entire Cole family. Coco and Emilia hung out with us for a while before joining the group that was line dancing near the band.
The night ended after Max and I had our fill of too much spaghetti and ice cream. I drove my son home to my mom’s trailer and tucked him into bed.
That should have been the end of my worry, of my panic. But even safe in my bed in my old bedroom, I still felt Levi’s green gaze on me, interpreting our history, analyzing the years that separated us.
Hopefully, this would be the end of it. Hopefully, we could go our separate ways and I could relax into my small, stable, predictable life and Levi could settle into his, whatever that was.
There was no faster way to chase off the town’s most eligible bachelor than introducing him to your kid.
I was just thankful I wouldn’t have to keep putting off his invitations to get to know each other again. Although I did feel bad… for the missed phone calls from seven years ago and for tonight, for accidentally springing Max on him and squashing whatever weird chemistry still existed between us after all these years.
That was the reason for the pit in my
stomach. And the unshed tears collecting in the corners of my eyes.
8
Conspiracy Theories Over Coffee
Three days later, I stood discussing Nebraska football with RJ at the counter of Rosie’s. He was under the impression that this was our season, a return to the glory days of the 90s. I had been thus far unimpressed with our uniforms and therefore convinced it was going to be another disappointing season.
Uniforms was about as much as I knew about football. I had never been the kind to get into team sports. Or group activities in general.
“I just don’t want your heart to get broken,” I told him gently. “Again.”
His thin lips trembled with the hint of a smile beneath his bushy white mustache. “And I just don’t think you know anything about football is all.”
I shot him a conspiratorial grin. “You might have me there.”
“The Thunder Rolls” by Garth Brooks filled the dining room of Rosie’s. I glanced outside to see how apropos that was in light of the thunderstorm brewing outside. The fickle Nebraska weather had not been on our side this season. And while I appreciated the real autumn weather we were having, temps in the sixties and crisp fall breezes that required sweaters and boots, I did not love the rain.
Growing up in a double wide did something to a girl whenever a storm rolled through. I had childhood trauma from the recorded radio warnings whenever there was a possibility of a tornado or bad storm. The crackling voice would always decry “inevitable destruction” for those living in mobile homes.
And that was me. I was the one living in the mobile home.
Luckily, a twister had never gotten close enough to rip our home to shreds, but the threat was there. If Mother Nature wanted to, she could chew us up and spit us out without really trying.
I was happy Max was at school today. At least he wouldn’t have to listen to the pounding of rain on our thin roof or hear the thunder as it roared overhead.
A couple locals hustled through the door, shaking out umbrellas and stomping their feet on the mat. I waved at them and told them to sit wherever they’d like.
“It’s supposed to stop after lunch,” RJ murmured around a bite of hash browns.
My gaze cut to him across the smooth counter I’d spent all morning keeping clean. “What’s supposed to stop?”
He focused harder on his food. “The rain. It’s going to quit this afternoon and then it’ll get nice and humid.”
Tapping my fingers on the Formica, I tried to decide if he knew my secret. I made a sound in the back of my throat. “I shouldn’t have tried to straighten my hair this morning then. What a waste.”
He lifted his face and grinned at me. “Seems like a waste of time no matter the weather. That hair of yours don’t want to be straight.”
I scowled at him and turned back to the coffee pot. He was right about that, but I couldn’t let him know that. He already thought he knew everything.
But my hair truly didn’t want to be straight, no matter how hard I worked at it with a flat iron. It had been difficult to handle my entire life, but after I got pregnant with Max, forget about it. It was impossible now.
Still, I tried. Not all the time. But there were some days I just wanted to look like I had my life together. And I had been in a funk ever since Saturday night, when I ran into Levi and his mom at Supper in the Square.
After wallowing in self-pity and the mess that was my life for a solid two days, I thought I’d crawl my way back to adjusted contentment, meaning the whole straight, glossy hair thing.
It had lasted all the way from my bathroom to the small deck outside our front door when heavy rain drops erased all my hard work.
“I got other customers besides you,” I told RJ as I carried the pot of coffee and two clean mugs toward the table that I watched get seated out of the corner of my eye.
“I’m sure you do,” he muttered at his eggs.
“Coffee?” I asked the new couple as they pulled menus from between the salt and pepper shakers. It was the Cooks. Lord, help us all.
They were good friends with Levi’s parents. Rich Cole and Dennis Cook had been running in the same circles since they were kids. Now the two of them practically owned this town. Not in the proper ways, mind you. They weren’t elected officials or anything. They just had all the money and influence to get whatever they wanted.
The Cooks were most recently responsible for the latest Clark City High School jumbotron, making them practically small-town saints.
“Please,” Dennis mumbled.
“Do you have creamer?” Carol Cook asked sweetly.
I filled up their mugs and pointed to the dish already on the table. “We just have what’s in front of you already, ma’am.”
Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “How about milk or half and half? Surely you have real half and half?”
I swallowed down a tart reply. “I’m happy to check for you.”
“Do that,” she answered. “And when you get back, we’ll be ready to order.”
I smiled, but it was paper thin. “Be right back.”
Turning around, I heard Carol Cook drop her voice and whisper to her husband, “That’s the daughter of that stripper. The one with the kid.”
“Hmph,” was his reply. “At least she’s found more suitable work.”
“That we know about,” Carol sighed.
Biting my tongue, I just managed to keep from turning around and clarifying. “Manager,” I wanted to say. “She’s a strip club manager. She hasn’t taken her clothes off for money in twenty years.”
I blinked at the hot plate where I returned the half-full coffee pot. “Now she does it for free,” I whispered.
The bells on the door jingled again and I escaped into the kitchen before I had to greet another judgmental shrew. I didn’t care who it was at this point. They were all the same.
How exactly did they think a strip club existed so close to Clark City anyway? Who did they think frequented the establishment? It wasn’t like a hot spot for tourism.
Besides, it wasn’t even completely nude. That wasn’t allowed in Nebraska. Technically, they had to keep some clothing on—or at least that’s what local law enforcement said.
But I was sure Dennis Cook knew more about that than I did.
“What are you looking for?” Reggie demanded as I rummaged through the cooler.
“Half and half? Do we have any?
“Half and half? Why?”
I turned around, so he could see the look on my face and know not to mess with me. “One of our patrons demands half and half for her coffee. I’m not asking you to solve world hunger. I’m just trying not to piss people off this morning, Reg. Please tell me we have some.”
He made a sound in the back of his throat. “Maybe it’s time you start pissing people off, Rube. Might do those wrinkles in your forehead some good.”
“Did you want to die today?” I asked him calmly. Thunder boomed outside, mimicking my mood. “Better call the wife and tell her you love her because I swear I will put you in the ground if you talk about my forehead wrinkles one more time.”
The kitchen staff snickered at my threat, but Reggie just rolled his eyes. He was roughly twice my size and had arm muscles bigger than my head. Yeah, I was probably not going to be able to take him out today.
Or any day.
“The half and half is on the top shelf. The saucer is in the—”
“I know where the saucer is. Thank you.”
He made another humming noise. “You’re welcome.” When I left the kitchen I heard him say, “Woman’s on the rampage today. Damn.”
I let out a slow breath as I walked toward the Cooks—barely noting the newcomers who’d taken up the booth directly next to them. Maybe I was a little higher strung than usual. Maybe I should let my frustration go. Maybe it wasn’t Carol Cook’s fault she was such a snob.
“I found some half and half for you.” I set it down with a little flourish of my hand.
Her
nose wrinkled again. “I hope you didn’t just find it anywhere back in that filthy kitchen.”
“It’s fresh,” I rushed to say, my cheeks heating with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to say—”
“We’re ready to order,” she cut me off crisply. “Dennis, we’re ready to order.”
Dennis turned around on command and I realized I wasn’t alone on this level of dismissiveness from Carol. She treated her husband just as poorly.
Now his frequent trips to Misty’s made more sense.
I instantly felt bad for thinking that. No matter what kind of wife you were, you didn’t deserve an unfaithful man.
That wasn’t to say Carol could act however she wanted without consequence. But Dennis should deal with his wife before slinking off to establishments of ill repute.
However, these were thoughts I would keep to myself. Unlike the Cooks and the Coles and all the other families in this town whose shit didn’t stink, I didn’t spread these rumors around town for everyone to hear. I kept them bottled up tightly. I was a locked vault.
I would never let anyone else, no matter how awful they were, suffer the same kind of ridicule I had to face.
Dennis said something to the man behind him, a man I was only just recognizing, and both gentlemen laughed. Levi Cole had half turned around so that his long arm stretched along the length of the booth. His dimple had appeared as he laughed and smiled at Dennis. The two of them eventually said their goodbyes for now and Dennis ordered biscuits and gravy, and for his wife, a raspberry muffin and cup of fruit.
“Coming right up,” I chirped. Standing there for a few awkward seconds, I decided what to do next and how to find someone else to handle my job for me while I found the courage to be a grownup. I eventually left the Cooks to face a table full of bad high school memories.
Not only was Levi tucked into the corner with his arms sprawled across the booth behind him, but his best friends had joined him this morning. Jeremiah Finch and Jackson Mercer, or more commonly known as, Finch and Mercer, were with him. The two of them had stuck around Clark City, unlike their fearless leader, and had settled down for the most part.
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