Wildflower (Colors #4)

by Jessica Prince

  I knew I was probably stretching my luck thin, but I had to keep trying. No matter how pathetic it made me seem. “So, you think she’ll take the job?”

  Ethan eyed me carefully, like he was putting serious thought into his answer. “No offense, Coach, but it feels kinda messed up talking to you about my sister.”

  “What? Why?”

  “It’s just…” he trailed off and looked around the room, making sure we hadn’t drawn any attention as I stood with my hands planted on my hips. When he spoke again his voice was several octaves lower. “I mean, you guys use to be… married.” He drew that last word out like it tasted funny in his mouth. “I don’t know what happened between you guys, but I already told Harlow this morning I didn’t want to be put in the middle of it.

  I knew there was so much more that I should’ve taken from what he just said, but my brain was stalled out on one particular little nugget.

  “Wait… so, she was talking about me?” Yep, I officially sounded like a desperate douchebag.

  His eyebrows dipped and his forehead crinkled. “No. Not really.”

  My chest inflated as I grasped hold of that tiny glimmer of hope. “Well, which was it? No, or not really? Because those are two totally different answers.”

  Jesus Christ! Stop fucking talking, Murphy. You’re making a goddamned ass out of yourself.

  “This is getting weird,” Ethan replied, taking a hesitant step back. But I’d already lost any modicum of cool I’d had earlier. I figured, might as well go big or go home.

  “Do you think she’d talk to me if I like… ran into her or something? You know, just by coincidence?” To try and play off what sounded quite a bit like the rantings of a stalker, I added, “I mean, it’s a small town and I’m sure we’re bound to see each other. I don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.”

  He shrugged again and I felt my eye twitch. “I guess so. She said she didn’t hate you, so maybe?”

  I let those words marinate in my mind for several seconds. She said she didn’t hate me.

  Hell yeah! I could work with that.

  “That’s good. That’s really good,” I spoke quietly, more to myself than to anyone else.

  While I was fist bumping the shit out of myself in my head I missed Ethan creeping back a few steps. “Look, Coach. I gotta…” he threw his thumb over his shoulder to the free weights.

  “Oh, yeah. Sure. Get back to it.”

  “Thanks.”

  He was only a few feet away when he stopped and looked over his shoulder. “You know, if you think you and Low-Low are gonna be cool with each other, why don’t you stop by for Thanksgiving?”

  Oh, God bless clueless, naïve, self-involved teenagers.

  I made a mental note to buy Ethan a kickass Christmas present. Like a car. There was no way in hell I was turning down that invite, but I had to play it cool. “You think that’d be all right?”

  He shrugged. I was going to have to have a talk with Harlow about teaching the boy some basic communications skills. “Don’t see why not. I mean, she doesn’t hate you and you just said yourself, you’re gonna both be living here… unless you have plans already?”

  “No!” I answered a little too hastily. “Uh, nope. No plans. I was just gonna crash in front of the TV and watch football all day.”

  “Might as well do that with company, right? Besides, it’s Thanksgiving. It’s a time for caring.”

  “I think you mean Christmas, buddy.”

  “Oh,” he replied thoughtfully. He looked like he was just seconds away from rescinding his invite. That could not happen.

  “But technically, I think the entire holiday season should be about caring, right?” I laughed awkwardly.

  I was the world’s biggest moron. Luckily, like most fourteen-year-old boys, Ethan had the attention span of a toddler and didn’t seem to notice. “Sure. So you’ll come?”

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll see you then.”

  “Later, Coach.”

  It took everything I had not to break out in my happy dance and lose the respect of every single one of my players, but I somehow managed. I wanted to pat myself on the back. My plan went off brilliantly. I was only looking for a little intel and managed to smuggle myself an invite to Thanksgiving dinner.

  Hell. Fucking. Yeah!

  Time to put Operation Get-Harlow-Back into overdrive.

  What had started as a pretty craptastic morning, ended up turning into something epically better. After Ethan took off, I’d booted up my laptop to email the high school principal about the photography teacher position, making sure to attach my resume, beefing it up to highlight my studies in photography at NYU. To my surprise I’d gotten a call back only two hours later. Mr. Whitfield had been the principal for as long as I could remember, and I was shocked to find that he remembered me. We spoke for well over an hour and he specified how impressed he was with my knowledge in the subject. He asked that I come in after Thanksgiving break for a formal interview, and by the time we got off the phone, he had indicated that as long as all the paperwork and background checks came back fine, the position was as good as mine.

  I was ecstatic. I would finally have something to do. And it was icing on the cake that my job would entail something I was actually passionate about.

  After that call, I decided to ride that high and do something I hadn’t done in a very long time—I went grocery shopping. Back in New York, Navie and I mainly lived off of takeout. On the rare occasion we bought groceries, it was as simple as a trip down the block to the little corner store where we only picked up what we needed.

  Thanksgiving was only two days away and I was determined to make it a good one for Ethan. He needed it to help fill the hole left behind by losing Grammy. And if I were being honest, I needed it just as badly. The only thing that could throw a wrench in my plan for a good Thanksgiving was the fact that I couldn’t cook for shit. But that was what YouTube videos were for, right?

  After climbing into my grandmother’s rusted, beaten-down, old Ford pickup, I started her up… or at least tried. It took twisting the key five times as I jammed the gas pedal in, beating the steering wheel repeatedly, and cussing a blue streak, but I finally got the old fossil started. It took a two minute long pep talk, but I pumped myself up enough to throw the truck in reverse and pull out of the driveway. I hadn’t driven in almost four years. Add that with the fact there was snow on the ground and it was safe to say that it was not just like riding a bike. By the time I pulled into the parking lot unscathed—physically, at least—I’d had a near brush with a tree, a concrete median, a senior citizen, and a partridge in a pear tree.

  But I made it, damn it! And I was going to buy everything I needed for an epic Thanksgiving feast.

  I was going all out. Homemade mashed potatoes and giblet gravy just like Grammy used to make. I bought the biggest turkey I could find, and sprung for the fresh sweet potatoes as opposed to the stuff in a can. I was going to make Grammy’s signature dressing and pumpkin pie, green beans almondine, and macaroni casserole from scratch. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I was feeling pretty pleased with myself.

  I heard someone calling my name from behind me just as I tossed the can of cranberry sauce into my cart. I knew my culinary limits and homemade cranberry sauce wasn’t happening.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I sucked in a deep breath at who I saw standing in the aisle. “Chloe,” I breathed. I watched as her lips parted in a wide grin just before she rushed toward me. I don’t know what I’d been expecting, really. Part of me thought she’d punch me square in the face, for sure. Not that I would have blamed her. Chloe had been my best friend all the years I’d lived in Pembrooke, but when I ran for the hills I hadn’t just cut off all contact with Noah. With the exception of Ethan and Grammy, I had closed everyone out. She tried to reach out a thousand times, but I left every call and message unanswered.

  What I hadn’t expected was for her to break down in tears in the middle of aisle four and wrap me in
a hug so tight the air was instantly expelled from my lungs. “Oh my God,” she sniffled against my shoulder. “It’s so good to see you, Low-Low. I’ve missed you so much.”

  My own eyes burned as I returned her embrace, squeezing just as hard. “Chloe,” was all I could get past the lump forming in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face in her familiar strawberry blonde curls as different memories from growing up together assaulted my senses. “I’ve missed you, too,” I whispered.

  There was no telling how long we stood there because I lost all sense of time as I got swept away in the familiarity of my old best friend. When she finally pulled back, I let go, reluctantly, not quite ready for it to end.

  “Oh, God, Harlow.” Her green eyes sparkled with sympathy as she looked at me. “I’m so sorry about Lucille. I was thinking of stopping by to talk to you after the funeral but I figured you were already dealing with enough as it was. I didn’t want to cause you any more stress than you were already feeling. I planned on stopping by after Thanksgiving. I wanted to give you some time…”

  A typical Chloe reaction, always putting the wellbeing of others first. It was one of the things I loved most about her. Standing there in front of the woman I’d basically abandoned, for all intents and purposes, I felt like the world’s biggest asshole for how I handled things.

  It was at that very moment that the weight of everything in my life came crashing down on me. Standing right there in the middle of Smith’s grocery store, I broke down into loud, body-shaking sobs. The loss of Grammy, leaving my friends behind in New York, moving back here, knowing Noah was just a few miles away at any time, not having any idea what I was doing with my life… it all became too much. And Chloe’s undeserved kindness on top of everything else caused the dam to break.

  “I-I’m such an asshole,” I sputtered loudly, unable to bring myself to care who was around to hear me having my breakdown.

  “What? What are you talking about?” Her voice was full of concern and confusion as she pulled me back into a hug and let me cry like a baby on her shoulder. “You’re not an asshole, Harlow.”

  “Yes I am!” I demanded. “You’re being so nice to me! I don’t deserve it, Chlo. I left you behind. I was a self-centered brat who didn’t think about who I was hurting when I ran away and I left you behind! That’s the definition of an asshole. You should hate me right now, you should be punching me in the face, not hugging me.”

  Chloe stared at me like I’d just lost my mind—which, I guess I technically had—for several seconds. “Would it make you feel better if I punched you in the face?”

  “No!”

  “Then suck it up, buttercup,” she laughed as she held me away from her and gave my arms a little shake. “That was then, this is now. Was I pissed you refused to take my calls? Yeah. Did it hurt that you cut me out when you left? Absolutely. But it wasn’t like I didn’t understand, Low-Low. I did. I was there with you, remember? I know how bad off you were, and I don’t hold anything you did against you.”

  I couldn’t take it. Her kindness was killing me. “Gah! Stop being so nice! I take it back, hit me in the face. It’ll totally make me feel better.”

  “For the love of God!” she exclaimed. “I’m not gonna hit you. I just got a manicure and I don’t want your face to jack it all up.”

  I gave her a sincere smile as I wiped the tears from my eyes. The full force of how much I missed her and how stupid I’d been to let our friendship deteriorate hit me square in the chest.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

  “You’re forgiven,” she answered simply. Other than Navie, Chloe was the only person who loved and forgave whole-heartedly, never holding grudges.

  “I’ve missed you.”

  “Ditto, babe. But you’re back now, right? No need to live in the past.”

  “Right.” I sucked in a deep breath and tucked all my sorrow away, focusing fully on the present and letting the past go. “We have a ton of catching up to do. I’m seeing several late nights and bottles of wine in our future.”

  Chloe’s tinkling laughter sounded through the aisle, “Sounds like a plan.”

  Excitement at the idea of catching up with her coursed through me and I discovered I didn’t want our time to end just yet. “Well, what are you up to after this? I need to get this stuff back to the house and in the fridge,” I said, waving at my cart, “but other than that I’m free all day.” Elation began to take hold as I exclaimed loudly, “Oh! I saw this adorable little bakery off of Woodland Hills near the Cineplex. Maybe we could meet there for coffee or something?”

  Chloe smiled. “You mean Sinful Sweets?”

  “That’s the one!”

  “That’s mine.”

  My brows tipped down in confusion. “What’s yours?”

  “The bakery,” she replied happily.

  “You’re kidding!”

  Her whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Nope. I opened it up a few years ago. You know it was always a dream of mine. It’s a little tough some days, but totally worth it.”

  “Chlo, that’s so awesome,” I told her, pulling her in for another hug. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “Thank you,” she told me as we separated. “Unfortunately, I’m only on my lunch break right now. I had to get some errands done, but I have to get back pretty soon. You should definitely come in tomorrow if you have time.”

  “You know I will. Are you stocking up for Thanksgiving?”

  She looked down at the basket in her hands and shrugged. “Nah, the family got a cabin at Yellowstone for the holiday. I wasn’t able to close the bakery down, so it’s just me this year.”

  “You should come over and celebrate with me and Ethan.”

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely! I’m going all out, making a huge dinner, and it’s just me and him. Please come. It’ll be great to have you there. He’ll probably spend the whole day sitting in front of the TV watching football, anyway. This way, you and I will have a chance to catch up.”

  I could see excitement growing on her face, mirroring my own. “Okay, yeah. That’ll be fun.”

  By the time I left the grocery store I was feeling better about the turn my life had taken. Pembrooke might have held some heartbreaking memories for me, but there was also a lot there for me to be happy about. And I was determined to look on the bright side.

  “You’ve lost your fucking mind, man.”

  I hit the stop button on the treadmill, trying to regulate my breathing as I turned my glare on Derrick.

  Reaching for my water bottle, I poured a steady stream into my mouth before responding. “I haven’t lost my mind, asshole.”

  My friend slowed to a walk next to me and took a drink from his own bottle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re crashing your ex-wife’s Thanksgiving dinner. What else would you call that?”

  I pulled the towel from the waistband of my shorts and wiped the sweat from my forehead and chest. “I’m not crashing. I was invited.”

  He came to a full stop and we both climbed off our respective machines as he gave me a you’ve-gotta-be-fucking-kidding-me look. “Seriously, that’s the story you’re sticking to?”

  “It’s not a story, dickhead. It’s the truth.”

  He let out a loud bark of laughter. “Dude, you conned an oblivious kid into giving you an invite. Pretty sure that story won’t hold much water.”

  Okay, so maybe he wasn’t all that wrong. But I took advantage with the best of intentions. That had to count for something, right?

  “Whatever,” I grumbled, not having much in way of a defense. And judging by the way Derrick tipped forward in laughter, he knew it.

  “Man, I’m just saying, if I get called away from a nice turkey dinner and a warm bed to haul your ass in for stalking and harassment, I’m gonna be pissed.”

  “What sad woman did you trick into catering to your ass this time?” I chided.

  He shot me a shit-eating grin as he heade
d toward the locker rooms. “Vicky,” he called over his shoulder. “Don’t hate ‘cause you’re not getting any.”

  “You’re a douche. You know that, right?” I hollered back.

  He shot me the finger as he disappeared around the corner, his mocking laughter grating my ears. Rolling my eyes, I made my way over to the heavy bags, all the while thinking I needed to invest in some new friends.

  “Chloe,” I breathed as took in the space I had just walked into. The walls were the most beautiful shade of pale lavender. Art stenciled in clean white broke up the solid color painted on the walls, giving the entire bakery a soft, serene feel. That, combined with the rich smells of coffee and the sweetness of baked food filling your senses, it was as though I’d just walked into heaven.

  “This place is fabulous.” I was completely in awe of everything my friend had done. She had a dream of owning her own shop for as long as I’d known her, and she’d accomplished something beyond anything I could have ever imagined.

  “Thanks,” she smiled brightly from behind the long, polished, dark wood counter that sat centered near the back wall just before the kitchen between two glass pastry cases. Small café style tables and floor to ceiling windows at the very front of the shop. Plush barstools wrapped in a beautiful robin’s egg blue lined the front of the counter. A state of the art espresso machine—the kind you’d expect to see in a high-end coffee shop—sat on the back counter. My mouth watered at the thought of a delicious latte.

  Different cakes and cookies, all frosted to perfection, lined the shelves in the pastry cases, and I felt my daily calorie count climbing at just the sight of them. I wanted to live there. I wanted to move in and never leave.

  “You want a cup of coffee or something?”

  “Does a bear shit in the woods?”

  She laughed and headed toward the espresso machine and began working it like a pro. “I’ll take that as a yes.”