by Lindsey Hart
“No sale signs or anything?”
“No.”
“Which could mean he’s coming back.”
I repress a sigh as I stare off to the side. It’s white all around us. The trees are skeletal, with no leaves, and it’s a pretty barren sight. Not pretty like winter can sometimes be. “I honestly don’t care if he is. You know I went over to his house the night we looked him up, and I told him I didn’t want to see him again. I meant it.”
“Which is why you’ve been mopey and sad and refusing to go out and do anything fun for all these months.”
“That’s not it. What kind of fun things can you do when it’s minus a thousand out?”
“You’ve been in a shitty mood for the past six months. Don’t tell me you haven’t looked him up once.”
I have. I have, and Leanne knows it. She’s very well aware that I’m very well aware that Wade has done a lot in the six months he’s been gone. He left the week after we had our little talk. I call it a breakup, but I’m not sure it’s the correct term because it would imply we were dating, and whatever we were doing, it wasn’t that.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t know he started a company that makes affordable housing. We really needed that. It was a great idea.”
“He has a construction background. It made sense.” I wince, realizing how easily Leanne suckered me into that one.
“Well, sense or not,” Leanne says, more diplomatically than I would have expected after my lapse of judgment, “he’s doing some good things. He’s funding buildings for veterans and homeless people. I can’t imagine all the work and research it would take.”
“He was in construction. He probably knew all about it beforehand. He had to learn something in school, I’m sure.”
“He also set up all those scholarships for people who can’t afford to train. There are ten different scholarships—full scholarships—for people who show promise in carpentry. Do you know how much it would cost to fund that?”
“I can imagine,” I mutter. I barely avoid stepping on a patch of ice and breaking my neck. Luckily, disaster is averted, and we keep on walking. My toes are freezing, and I can’t feel my fingers. I have a strong urge to tell Leanne that we need to go somewhere and get a coffee to warm the frick up, but I just keep walking.
I don’t mention the strange letter of thanks I got in the mail two months ago—the one from some weird foundation that does research and conservation work with and for spiders. They thanked me for the donation made in my name to the tune of a quarter-million dollars. All that money will apparently help save endangered species and help in the conservation and research of natural habitats for species of spiders worldwide.
I knew exactly who had done it. I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a joke or if Wade was just paying homage to the good times we had. Either way, I never heard a thing from him directly. But I’m glad he stayed in Chicago and is putting the money to good use. Once he actually got things going, the media pretty much settled down and left him alone. No one treats him like a celebrity, and he’s never hounded or plastered all over tabloids or trash articles online. I guess people like a feel-good story, and so sometimes those get posted, but no one is acting crazy enough to drive Wade out of Chicago. Maybe people finally figured out the city could really use someone like him to try and make things better for the many people who have gone through some rough times. Maybe they figured it was best to leave Wade alone to do his good work.
“It’s freezing,” Leanne suddenly states like she just noticed it now, even though we’ve been out here walking for twenty minutes. “Let’s go back to your place. You can make us hot chocolate and read me some of that new story you just finished. You were saying you wanted my input on some of the history parts.”
“Right. Well, I’m game for going home, but do you really want me to read it to you? The parts I have questions about are pretty boring. I don’t mind doing research, but it only goes so far, and I hate making mistakes and having everyone point them out after. I feel so dumb.”
“I don’t mind. Let’s go.”
Leanne had driven us to the park after she picked my sorry ass out of my office upstairs, which is where I’ve pretty much lived for the past six months. I find that drowning myself in work is a very effective way to deal with my sorrows and all the things I really don’t want to spend time dwelling on.
The minute we walk in the door, I know something is off. For one, the door wasn’t locked. I was sure I told Leanne to twist the lock on the inside handle before we left. I should have double-checked. Second, the lights are all off, and I’m also sure I left them on.
“Shit, I forgot my phone in the car,” Leanne mutters right after we walk in. She turns and pretty much flies out the front door. It’s still open, and when I go to shut it, I frown as I watch her get into her car and take off.
Did she leave her phone in the park or something?
I shut the door and lock it, all the while shaking my head. She’ll probably come back in a few minutes with her phone, wherever she left it. I take off my winter boots and place them on the tray at the front door. They’re soaking wet on the underside, and I know I’ll have a mess on the tray to clean up after. I shed my jacket, throwing it onto the couch before I walk into the kitchen to start making those hot chocolates Leanne requested.
I’m so focused on trying to warm up my frozen hands by vigorously rubbing them together—and anxious to get to the kettle to start boiling water—that I almost miss the cake sitting right in the middle of the table.
When I do, I stop so abruptly that I nearly fall on my face. I catch myself with the back of one of the chairs and stare at the black cake. Of course, it’s black, and it’s in the shape of a spider. And there, in the middle of the big spider with all the black icing, is a red heart.
“Lu-Anne.”
“Jesus!” I whirl, slamming my hand over my racing heart.
Wade is standing behind me. His deep voice scared the living bejesus out of me. I inhale a few rapid breaths, trying to steady myself, but all I get is a whiff of his enticing, manly smell. He looks good. The past six months have been kind to him. He looks pretty much the same—deliciously handsome. He’s wearing a black hoodie without the hood up, and a pair of jeans. They look broken in and comfortable. Essentially, he looks exactly the same.
“What the heck are you doing in my house?” I gasp when I finally realize how creepy this is.
“Leanne helped me with that,” Wade admits guiltily. “She left the door unlocked for me and took you out of the house for a while to distract you so I could get the cake in here. Well, and myself.”
“Leanne,” I mutter indignantly. Suddenly the frigid walk of doom and her hasty retreat makes a whole lot of sense.
“I got her to help me because I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me. You made it pretty clear the last time about how you felt.”
“So, you thought you would disrespect that by just barging your way in here and tricking me?”
“When you put it that way, I guess so.” Wade’s face falls. “Should I leave? This was pretty shitty, wasn’t it?”
I start gnawing on my bottom lip without even realizing what I’m doing. I want to tell him to leave. I do. Okay, fine, so maybe I don’t. Maybe I am secretly pleased he did this stalkerish, creepy thing. I know he’s not creepy. I know he’s not crazy. And I know he did this to get my attention. He’s right. I probably would have just shut the door in his face.
The thing is, I haven’t forgotten. I haven’t forgotten the way it felt to be with him. Not just in an intimate way, but the truly intimate moments we shared together. The way it felt to do little things like enjoy breakfast or laugh, and how it felt just to have him near. How it felt so right in a way that I’d never truly known anything could be.
And being a couple of feet away from him now, it’s pretty easy to remember how I felt because I’m starting to feel it again. My insides are doing funny things, and even though I shouldn’t, I know I
’m already letting my guard down because I just can’t keep it up with him around, which was why I distanced myself. I had to protect myself and my heart because I knew I was already letting him in. I was already crumbling and changing and experiencing something I never thought would happen to me. I was scared. I was scared I would get hurt because I knew those few days we spent together, and the few brief encounters before that were leading up to something monumental. At least for me, and I needed to cut it off before it led to hurt that I didn’t know if I could handle.
“Okay. I’m taking the cake, and I’m leaving. I’m sorry. All of this was a terrible idea. Don’t take it the wrong way. I thought it might be romantic, but I can see how wrong and twisted it was instead. I truly am sorry for invading your home like this.”
Wade takes a step, but suddenly, I’m thrust out of my thoughts. “Wait!” At the sound of my voice, he freezes. “No. Just leave the cake. Please.”
“Okay.” He winces. “I’ll just go then. The icing and everything are made with natural food dyes, so it won’t actually endanger your health to eat it.”
“No! I meant—I meant I don’t want you to go either.”
“No?” One of his brows arches up.
“N–no. I—no. I guess I don’t. You’re here already, and it can’t get much creepier than this.” Wade realizes it’s a joke, and he smiles. Just a shadow of a smile, but it’s there, and it makes my stomach do painful things.
We stare each other down for a few minutes of awkward silence before he seems to think I’m ready to hear whatever it is he needs to say and starts talking.
“You weren’t a distraction, Lu-Anne. I want you to know that. I was serious, even if it was early. I know you couldn’t tell. I said I wasn’t going to let the money change me, and I hope it’s true. I wanted to change other people’s lives instead. I wanted to keep building houses. In addition to working on the low-cost housing and housing for veterans, I’m going to be starting a new company. One that builds modular housing and tiny housing and works with therapists, mental health specialists, and addiction counselors to help get more people off the streets. The whole thing would work together to address the real issues because it’s not just about having a house. It’s everything. This is just the tip of the iceberg, as they say. I want to do so much more. I want to keep growing and expanding.”
“I might have heard something about everything you’re doing. And I got the letter from the spider foundation. That was just as weird as the cake. I mean, I guess they deserve help too. They are living beings.”
Wade grins. “I thought you might like that. It was a genuine gift, though. Spiders are amazing creatures, and they have a purpose in this world too.”
“I would have been happier if you gave the money to a cat or dog rescue foundation or something that’s cute and cuddly.”
“Spiders can be cute and cuddly. Think about how hairy they are.”
I shudder at the thought. I actually haven’t found any spiders in the house lately. I glance at the cake and glance back at Wade. He’s standing there looking so hopeful that it makes my heart hurt. I know there’s something else he wants to say, so I keep quiet.
“I have all these things I want to do and accomplish. I’m starting to put a team of people into place and actually thinking about branching out and creating a corporation that can expand not just in Chicago but across the States. I want to help people everywhere. I put a large chunk of the money into a savings account and invested some, so it should keep making money. I don’t think I’ll run out anytime soon, even though everything I want to do is obviously a non-profit venture. We’re hoping to get people on board, individuals and companies to help with time and donations. It would be great to have all our employees as volunteers or students who need the construction and building experience. It’s a great way to get started in the industry.”
I swallow hard. “It sounds like you have everything figured out.”
Wade runs a hand through his hair. It’s grown out a bit since I last saw him. Honestly, I thought if I ever saw him again, he’d be wearing a three thousand dollar suit and driving a two hundred thousand dollar car. I thought he’d own a helicopter and a yacht, maybe even a castle on a private island. I admit I was wrong, and I’m glad I was.
“Not quite.” Wade’s smile fades into uncertainty. “I was hoping you might actually want to be a part of that. I’ve kept tabs with Leanne, actually. Finding her number wasn’t hard. I wanted her to make sure you were doing okay. I only texted her once a month to check-in. She did happen to mention last week that you were single and that she thought you might miss me.”
“Oh, really?” I fist my hands in the oversized sweater I have on. “Leanne took some liberties, I see…”
“Don’t be mad at her. She was just trying to help. She loves you, and she doesn’t want to see you unhappy.”
“Yeah, well, maybe it’s something completely unrelated that’s making me unhappy.”
“Is it?”
Damn it. I’m a terrible liar, and I know it. He seriously has me by just asking the simplest questions.
“I’m not here to try and start trouble,” Wade says quickly, reading my turmoil. “Seriously. I just wanted to tell you what I have to say, and then I can leave. Or I can go now if you want, without saying it.”
“No,” I blurt. “Say it. Say what you wanted to say.” I know if he doesn’t, and he walks out, I’m always going to wonder. I’ve done enough wondering over the past six months to drive myself crazy, and Leanne obviously knows that. She can see right through me. She knows that after all this time, I haven’t even attempted to go out on a single date. I really just buried myself in my work in an effort to keep busy.
“I wanted to say that yes, I have lots of money. No, I didn’t tell you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was even hiding out and that I didn’t get my head screwed on sooner. You were instrumental in that, so I’m here to tell you thanks. I needed the push. I want to keep growing this company I started. Most of all, I want to tell you that I haven’t changed. At least, if I have, I hope it’s for the better. I’ve become more sensitive and compassionate and aware of so many more issues than I ever was. I really believe in what I’m doing. My parents are also getting involved with the company. They both quit their jobs so they could help. They’re great people, and I love working with them every single day. I wanted to buy them a new house, I’ll admit, but they didn’t want one. Not yet. One day, when they start slowing down more, which isn’t anytime soon, maybe they’ll let me, but they haven’t changed one bit. I still live in a fourteen hundred square foot bungalow. I still enjoy it, and I still drive a regular car. I still like pizza and hanging out with my friend Rob, who also works for me now. Although I shouldn’t say for me—with me is probably a better term because I still work every single day. I do what I love. Carpentry. Building. Making things for the people who need it most. Giving them refuge. I’m here because I know this is a huge thing to ask, and maybe it’s too soon and too much, but I was wondering if you might want to be a part of it. Any of it.”
“Um—like—in a professional capacity?”
Wade shakes his head, clearly flustered. He looks adorable, by the way. I know what he’s trying to say, but I have to be sure. I’ve made enough assumptions about us. “Uh, if you would like to, we could always use a writer for our websites and our communications. That would be great, but I was hoping you might consider something a little less professional, too, and that you might want to be a part of my life. Starting out slow, I mean. Like seeing each other a couple of times a week, if you want. Dates. Normal dates. Or friendly stuff. Whatever you want. Or if it’s nothing at all, I’ll be okay with that.”
“Will you?”
Wade slowly shakes his head. “I keep telling myself I’ll have to be, but I don’t want to think about it. I’m really hoping the cake over there is quite tasty, and that maybe if I beg a little…”
“You’re such a dork.” I can’t hold in my l
aughter. Wade slowly starts smiling, and I realize I like seeing him smile so much more than seeing him standing there looking so uncertain and sad.
“I’ve missed you,” he says simply. “I thought we had the start of something that could be awesome. I couldn’t let it go.”
“I couldn’t either.”
I don’t know why he looks surprised at that. Does he think he’s so forgettable? “Wade, I think—I don’t know. I felt something good. That’s all I know. It was good, but I panicked. I got scared. I wanted to protect myself from getting burned.”
“I get it. I’ve been burned a couple of times too. It sucks. But I promise I will never do that to you. I want to be the same person I was before, or better. The money is great, but it’s only great if I can do great things with it. I still want to be your spider-trapping neighbor from next door. I was thinking about moving here permanently. Finishing the house. Maybe my parents would like it one day.”
“So, you’d be my neighbor again?”
“Only if you’ll have me. If you never want to see me again, I’ll sell the house as it is, and I promise I won’t bother you again. Ever.”
“I just said I felt something good,” I protest with a laugh. “Do you think it means I never want to see you again?”
“I don’t know. You were using the past tense.”
“You really are a dork.” I close the distance between us cautiously. Wade doesn’t move. I slowly reach out and wrap my hand around his. It’s warm, and mine are still cold from the terrible walk Leanne dragged me out on. “The cake does look good. We should have a piece.”
“Is that a yes? Because I’m confused here. I don’t want to misread anything…”
“It’s definitely a yes. I want to see where this goes. I like you, Wade. I liked you then, and I like you now. Thank you for coming back and rescuing me when I couldn’t do it myself. I missed you. I missed you a lot, and I thought about you all the time. I even wrote characters in my stories based on you.”
“Christ. I hope they were complimentary.”