I should have long-since been over her. Things didn’t exactly end on good terms when she went off to New York for college, and every time she came back to visit I made sure to make myself scarce.
It was like I existed in some sort of limbo, where I couldn’t get past it but couldn’t go back to the way things were. I doubt she even thought of me anymore. Small town loser pines after high school crush and wonders what could have been. At least I didn’t stalk her on social media.
I took a sip. So, I’ve got that going for me.
Even in late September Sunrise Valley got a little chilly at night. I wouldn’t trade it for any other place though. I’d been to Florida, and I honestly did not know how people lived there. That entire state was a testament to man’s hubris.
Beer empty, I stood and took the nearest path back towards Main Street where the bakery was, and subsequently my apartment.
Back at my place, beer bottle responsibly placed in the recycling bin, I stared at the dish of keys near the door. I still had Richard’s key. He was my next-door neighbor after all. He once owned a small bookstore and lived above it similar to how I did with the bakery.
With a sigh and the beginning of a buzz, I pulled out another beer from the fridge and scooped up the keys on the way out.
Richard’s place was just as I remembered it, which was filthy as hell and insanely disorganized. I popped the lid off the bottle on his granite countertop and took a swig to steel my nerves.
I shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t my business anymore, right? So what if Richard had helped me get my first job, and then pulled a few strings to get me that small business loan to take over the shop next to his and turn it into a bakery? His family should go through his things, not a stranger like me.
Yet, there I was. Cleaning up empty pizza boxes and putting dirty clothes away into hampers. I wasn’t going to wash his clothes, but I could at least make the place presentable so when his daughters came they wouldn’t be assaulted with rotted food and unwashed underwear.
Besides, the bro code stipulated that I should make sure everything was kosher for the girls before they came over. It was the least I could do for Richard and if things were organized and reasonably clean then maybe Jemma and Claire would have an easier time packing things up.
It took a while. The place looked like it had been hit by a tornado. I went back to my place for a vacuum and a mop because apparently, Richard owned neither. I should’ve been surprised but I wasn’t. It was well after midnight by the time I finished.
Like my apartment, Richard’s was a two-bedroom with the kitchen immediately near the front door - his on the right, while mine was on the left - with the living room and a hall down to the bathroom and two rooms. It was more space than I needed, truth be told.
I closed the door, went back home, and tossed the keys back into their dish. I should give them to Jemma when she comes, right? I doubt Claire could get the time off so soon, from what I heard, she had a big-shot job in New York City and made the kind of money I only dreamed of.
My eyes felt gritty with a lack of sleep. The phone alarm went off telling me I needed to make sure the loaves were ready for their second proofing and I wished for once I could be irresponsible and knock off for the day. Or a week.
Sorry, we’re closed. Thomas is taking some personal time. Come back later.
Dragging myself off the ridiculously comfortable couch I zombie-walked down the steps and to the rear entrance of the bakery. It only took three times to get the keys to fit into the damn lock. I’d been needing to do something about that.
That’s what WD-40 was for, right? I made a note on my phone to pick some up next time I was at the hardware store.
Hands washed, surfaces floured and phone set into the dock playing my favorite music, I went to work kneading and folding the dough. It was normally a very Zen-like activity for me. My mind would wander and I could see a better life ahead of me just out of reach.
But tonight was different. I knew I should have been sad about Richard - and I was, he was my friend and I missed him. Only, that felt like I was sad because I wouldn’t get more of his company. Every reason for being sad felt like a reason for being a selfish prick.
I wanted to hear another bad joke. I wanted him to pester me about Claire and threaten to call her and tell her I still talked about her when I got drunk.
What about what Richard wanted? I couldn’t pretend I didn’t see all those pain meds he had, and while I wasn’t a doctor I knew a fifty-something-year-old man didn’t usually have to take a fistful of different medications three times a day.
I tried to talk to him about it once. It didn’t go over well. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about it with anybody. I left the door open about it, hoping he’d feel comfortable enough one day to confide in me, but we never spoke about it again.
Was he happy now? I hoped so. He probably had a small bookstore up there already. I could see him sitting in the corner leather chair reading while customers perused the shelves.
Claire’s dark hair and bright green eyes swam out from the depths of my mind and I was too tired to push it away. We’d been friends, hadn’t we?
Where had I gone wrong? We were so close once. I had the largest crush on her in high school, but when I finally got the courage to tell her how I felt after graduation everything fell apart.
I still don’t know what I did to this day. Richard didn’t know either. Claire wasn’t one to talk about her feelings. Beth had said she didn’t want me holding her back. That if she dated me she’d feel obligated to stay in Sunrise Valley. As if I wouldn’t move. It was ridiculous, but it’s not like Claire gave me any reasons of her own.
She hadn’t given me anything. Before I could even confess my feelings, that very night she blew up at me for betraying her and left town a week early. We hadn’t talked since.
I put the last tray of bread onto its rack and slid it away to let it rise overnight. Whoever said owning your own business was easy never did it themselves. You’d think you only have one boss, but instead, you have dozens. Hundreds or thousands if you’re lucky. Every customer, plumber, electrician, and building inspector was now your boss. And the list doesn’t end there.
Each of them had the power to end your career.
Not to mention, every mistake was something to over-analyze because you could have made a different decision. All the success and accolades were yours for the taking and so was all the blame.
Sunrise Valley was so vibrant when I was a kid. Main Street was full of open shops, quaint boutiques, and trendy stores. People were always coming and going.
Now over half the shops were sold - for quite a large profit I hear - and every day Sunrise Valley took one step closer to the grave. I shut off the lights, locked up and headed back upstairs to take a shower and get ready for bed.
I took one glance out the window of my living room at the shuttered storefronts across the street. Mister Burgens sold his place three months ago and Misses Robbins the month before. It was getting hard to get people to come into the bakery, nobody wanted to look at the boarded-up stores and be reminded of how bad things were.
With a sigh, I stripped down and collapsed into bed. That was another problem for Future Thomas.
3
Claire
I should not have gotten a truck.
In fact, I should have taken an Uber. Even a taxi would’ve been worth it. I hadn’t driven myself in nearly a year. Not since I went to visit Dad over Christmas.
Now, barreling down the winding back mountain roads with no shoulders and a pathetically small guardrail I was suddenly aware of my own mortality.
Cars honked and angrily sped around me, but there was no way I was going to even approach the speed limit. Not in this gargantuan thing and not hundreds of feet up in the air.
There was only one major road into Sunrise Valley and while there was talk that a big corporation was pushing for a tunnel and four-lane highway to be built, there was
nothing yet.
So twisting, winding mountain roads was all I had.
I cranked up the volume so my music could drown out all the fear buzzing in my head. If the car was smaller, maybe I’d feel differently. When I said, “I’d like a big truck for hauling furniture and things.” I didn’t expect the automotive equivalent of a boat.
The Suburban was also built like a tank. I had to admit it made me feel a lot safer, and I could totally see the appeal. But on winding narrow mountain roads it was absolutely terrifying.
I white-knuckled the entire trip down into the valley. By the time I had to stop and fill up the SUV for what felt like the hundredth time, my hands ached and I felt like as jittery as if I’d kept a steady IV drip of caffeine all morning long.
Even with my grandma-driving, I made it to town by six o’clock. Still within reason, there should have been an hour left of daylight left. Sunset was supposed to be around seven, but Sunrise Valley was already wrapped in dark shadows and the town never was good about repairing its streetlights.
It’s in a valley, Claire. You didn’t account for the mountains.
I could have slapped myself. Being in a valley was like having a late sunrise and early sunset based on where the mountains were and Sunrise Valley was situated so that it was between east and westward mountains.
How could I forget about that? It was one of the things I loved the most as a kid.
Halloween trick-or-treating was always done in the dark and felt so much spookier. All the kids from out of town had to go while it was still light out because of their bedtimes, but Jemma, Thomas, Beth, and I went while it was dark.
My heart did a little ba-thump-thump at the thought of Thomas.
I hadn’t seen him since I learned what he really thought about me just after the big graduation party at the McCallum’s. Of course, my best friend would turn out to be a massive jerk who had been spreading lies about me behind my back.
It was why being vulnerable was such a bad idea.
You were the only one you could wholly trust. Everybody else will just let you down, or use you to get what they want and throw you away like trash. It was a lesson I learned early on and one I’ve had confirmed a thousand times since moving to New York.
That didn’t stop me from looking for the dark mop of messy hair and playful dark eyes of his whenever I came to visit Dad. I’d see him once or twice in passing, but never close enough to approach him.
I wasn’t sure I would if given the chance.
After our falling out he’d sent email after email and eventually letters. I was still angry and hurt, so I deleted them all and burned the letters without reading them.
Stupid, I know. It was my biggest regret, what if he had a reason for betraying me like that? I couldn’t think of anything that was even in the same zip code as a reasonable excuse, but I still wondered “what if?”
I was lost in thought when I passed into Sunrise Valley proper. As usual, the streetlights were dark, one of them flickered fitfully but was more distracting than helpful. With thoughts of Thomas swirling in my head, I fiddled with the console trying to find how to turn up the brightness on the headlights.
Coming back to Sunrise Valley always did this to me. It was a forced march down memory lane.
I could still feel his lean frame against me, the way he’d lift me up and twirl me around after more than ten minutes apart that always got my heart pounding.
I was always surprised he couldn’t feel it.
The truck hit a pothole, but I couldn’t be sure. I could barely feel it. I managed to find the high-beams just as they washed out a figure waving frantically in the middle of the road.
My foot stomped on the brake. As big as the Suburban was it stopped surprisingly well. I nearly hit my head on the steering wheel from the jerk. My heart pounded against my chest. Had I hit an animal? Was the truck so massive that I hadn’t even noticed it run over somebody’s beloved pet?
I threw it into park and immediately hopped out to the sound of cursing. With the door still open, I leaned back inside and fiddled with the console until the headlights turned off and went to face the music.
I never was one to look away from a grisly scene. I’d take responsibility. But I had no idea what I was looking at.
The darkness had shrouded whatever was on the road and all I could make out was a lump. The brake lights from the rear of the truck didn’t do much.
I rubbed my eyes as if that’d help. It didn’t. My phone was still in the car. If I hadn’t killed the poor thing I could call somebody, right? I haven’t had a pet since Mister Bojangles ran away when I was ten.
As I spun around to get to the cab of the truck I slammed whole-body into a brick wall. It wasn’t, but damn it was hard. I fell gracelessly on my ass with a decidedly unladylike curse.
“What the hell is your problem lady?” rumbled a whiskey voice. “Did you not see me crossing the street? You ran over my bike and nearly took me with it!”
I sat there stunned. The man that towered before me wore tatty jeans and a tight charcoal Henley that clung to every bulging muscle along his chest and waist. There was definitely nobody that hot in town when I last visited Dad.
Or ever.
“Claire?” Nestled in the shock was a deep note of recognition. I was sure I didn’t know this Greek god, but as my eyes climbed up the thickly corded muscles of his neck to his well-groomed black stubble I was in for a shock of my own.
The tingling that started in my belly and spread to my fingers and toes had nothing to do with how sexy this man was. It was Thomas. My Thomas.
Even after all this time, I couldn’t stop the physical reaction of being near him. He was no longer the lean teenager I knew, his voice had deepened and his wide shoulders were stacked with muscle.
I took his extended hand, noting the steel cords of muscle that glided beneath his skin. He pulled me to my feet as easily as lifting a stuffed animal. The animal! I turned around, mortified that not only had I just embarrassed myself in front of Thomas but that I ran over his pet too.
Then what he had said finally caught up to my addled mind and I whirled around to face him. He’d taken two steps back like I was a dangerous fire about to burn him.
“Thomas?” As my eyes adjusted to the darkness there was only a hint of the boy I knew in the man that stood before me. His eyes, always kind and deep were the same I used to dream about. The angle of his cheekbones and the way he quirked his brow were as familiar to me as my own face.
It was the rest that was alien and it made my body confused in ways I wasn’t entirely okay with. I tried to tell myself that I was mad at him, but my body was having none of it. My heartbeat pounded so loudly that I feared he’d hear it.
“What’re you doing here Claire?” He didn’t seem to want to be near me, but he hadn’t moved away either. We stood like two combatants on the battlefield and judging by the spike of arousal that pinned me to the spot I wasn’t entirely sure my body remembered the countless nights I cried myself to sleep because of him.
The streetlights above us flickered to life with an annoying buzz and broke the spell. Thomas was first to move, he stormed past me and knelt in the street. I saw the wreckage of his bike and was glad I hadn’t hurt anything. It was just a bike. So why was it that he looked so heartbroken over it?
“I-I’ll pay for any damages,” I finally managed to say.
Thomas looked up like I had just kicked him, the hurt flashed past his gorgeous features I still couldn’t get over and he did something I never saw him do before. His face became a mask. Whatever he was feeling he’d locked it down and hidden it away from me.
“It’s fine,” he said. “You probably couldn’t even see me with the lights on the fritz as they are.”
I was still trying to figure out what happened. I nodded numbly, looking up at the light on its splintered pole. “They’ve been broken since we were little.”
“Yeah.” An awkward silence filled the deepening twilight.
The streetlight flickered.
Smart, Claire. Remind him of our childhood. Wait, why am I trying to walk on eggshells around him? He’s the one that owes me an apology!
With a stiffened back and hands placed on my hips, I turned back to him, but he was already halfway across the street with the gnarled remains of the bicycle in his arms like a wounded animal.
I wanted to shout after him, demand an apology. Something. But that all felt so juvenile. He’d obviously let go of the past. Why couldn’t I?
When I finally realized what I wanted to say, he had disappeared down an alley between two closed up shops. Which struck me as odd because Main Street had always been the beating heart of Sunrise Valley. I looked around and realized there were more shuttered stores than opened ones.
And those that were open appeared rundown and unloved. It looked like something out of a documentary about the disappearance of small-town America. I always thought that’d happen somewhere else. Not to my small town. Never to Sunrise Valley.
Why hadn’t Dad ever said anything about it? The few times I visited it’d been so brief and usually during the winter that the snow coated the town in a pristine white. But I should have noticed, even then.
With more on my mind than I thought I’d have, I got back into the truck and drove towards Dad’s apartment. This time, with the high-beams on.
I got to Dad’s place a little after seven, it was directly on Main Street so it wasn’t very far. I parked next to his old Caprice. It looked exactly as I remembered. I hopped down from the Suburban and walked over to his car, running my hand over the garish turquoise color he’d kept it.
There were no dings, scrapes, scratches, or worn paint. Not even the slightest hint that it was decades old. That was one of his most important lessons and one I took to heart.
Kneading You Page 2