Winter Heat

by Kennedy Fox

  A few people are in line and others at tables, huddled together in their heavy coats and hats.

  “Mariah Jenkins!” Thelma, the coffee shop owner, greets when it’s my turn in line. “I’ve been waiting to see your pretty face.”

  I grin and rub my glove-covered hands together. “Never miss a day when I’m home. What flavors do we have today?”

  Lava Java always has a difference coffee flavor daily.

  “Pumpkin spice and cinnamon gingerbread.” Thelma beams with pride.

  “Sounds delicious.” My mouth waters. “I’ll take it.”

  I pull out my wallet, and a deep voice behind me says, “I got it.”

  Every muscle in my body tightens.

  No.

  No way.

  Last I heard, he never comes home.

  He stays in his stupid New York playboy life.

  All excitement of being home, of pumpkin spice and cinnamon gingerbread evaporates. All the times I’d googled him, I’d never once thought about what I’d do if we saw each other again, if we had one of these little run-ins.

  It’s so Hallmark-cheesy.

  Two old lovers run into each other at the coffee shop.

  A shot of liquor for you, Mariah.

  When I look at him, I turn on my customer service smile. “Sorry, I don’t let strangers buy me coffee.”

  I hold in a breath to stop myself from gasping. He’s the same man I fell in love with yet also different. He’s grown, matured with age. The boy I’d known who sported casual jeans and tees is wearing expensive jeans (I live in LA, so I know expensive denim) and a large designer jacket. He’s not wearing a suit, but he still screams businessman. I scowl at his expensive clothes. His family got rich while mine lost so much.

  While he’s put together, I’m the opposite.

  Yes, I’m your ex who’s eggnog hungover, stressed from being fired, and wearing sweatpants and snow boots hot mess.

  The pictures online didn’t do him justice. His jaw is sharper, and he’s now a facial hair supporter. The emotions and memories I’ve had with him surface like a river overrunning after a storm.

  He tilts his head to the side, slightly smirking. “Wasn’t aware I’m a stranger, Mariah.”

  Thelma’s confusion at my comment is evident on her face. Anyone who’s lived in Blue Beech longer than ten years knows our history. I’m not even sure why I called him a stranger. It was the first insult that came to mind—a defense mechanism hoping he’d step away or talk shit so I could continue to hate him.

  “Hi!”

  My attention slides from him to a little girl at his side.

  “I’m Nicole,” she goes on even though I already know who she is. I’ve seen her around with Shane and Helena, Miles’s parents. When I asked about her, Phoebe told me they had a baby after Miles moved.

  “Hi,” I reply with a wave. “I’m Mariah.”

  She nods. “You’re Evie and Ethan’s aunt.”

  I gulp. “I am.”

  “I love hanging out at their house.” Her tone is polite and sweet. “It’s so much fun.”

  My jaw goes slack.

  What?

  Hanging out at my sister’s house?

  My family doesn’t hang out with her family.

  We avoid them at all costs.

  Since I’m not a rude jerk to kids, I smile. “It is fun. You’re friends with Evie and Ethan?”

  She nods eagerly. “Yes!”

  “Come on,” Miles says, jumping into the conversation. “Let me buy you a drink for old times’ sake.”

  Without waiting for my answer, he orders a black coffee while Nicole opts for a cookie dough hot chocolate. Thelma doesn’t ask if I’m okay with him buying my coffee and tells him the total for our drinks. He pulls out his wallet, plucking out a few bills, and then discreetly slips a twenty in the tip jar. No one says a word as the employee starts making our drinks.

  “Here ya go,” she says, handing them over.

  “Thanks for the coffee,” I say before turning around quickly and leaving. It’s impolite, but I’d rather be curt than for him to see the emotions swirling through me. I’m easily read, and if the past hasn’t changed, Miles can read me like a book.

  So, I hightail it out of there.

  “Mariah,” he calls out, following me outside. “Talk to me for a sec.”

  “Why?” I ask, and as much as I don’t want to, I look at him. “I need to get going.”

  Blowing out a breath, he says, “It’s been a long time.”

  “It has.” My voice goes low, almost shy.

  He slips his hands into his jeans pockets. “How have you been?”

  I shiver. “Miles, do you really want to do this?”

  “Do what?”

  “Have unnecessary small talk in the cold.” I dramatically shiver.

  “I’m up for having small talk in the coffee shop?” He jerks his head toward Lava Java.

  “That’s not … it’s not a good idea.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Because my heart hurts looking at you.

  I remember every feeling, every emotion, and I want them back.

  I forget how bad you broke me.

  Java Lava’s door opens, and Nicole comes out, talking to another kid.

  “I really have to get back to my sister’s,” I say. “They’re waiting on me.”

  I’m lying, but it’s all I have at the moment.

  “What about later?” he asks.

  “Not a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  A twinge of anger surfaces.

  How dare he act like he doesn’t know?

  “You know why,” I hiss.

  “Come on,” he groans. “It’s been years.”

  I level my gaze on him. “Years don’t erase betrayal.”

  “I never betrayed you or your family.” He scratches his head before his voice grows harsh. “It was my family’s company. What was I supposed to do?”

  Those words—he’s said them to me dozens of times.

  It was his argument when I ended things.

  I cross my arms, gripping my coffee. “It doesn’t matter. It’s the past.”

  “Exactly.” He cocks his head to the side. “Time for everyone to move on.”

  “We’ve moved on, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten.”

  With that, I turn around and get in my car.

  “Question,” I sing when I walk into Phoebe’s kitchen.

  “Maybe an answer,” she replies, loading a plate into the dishwasher.

  “Were you going to tell me the twins have playdates with the Lancrofts?”

  Her face is unreadable. “Nicole comes over and hangs out with them sometimes.” She half-shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. Evie and Ethan have nothing to do with our family’s drama.”

  “You’re hanging out with the enemy.” I take a long swig of my latte.

  “She’s a seven-year-old girl.”

  Her indifference lights a fire inside me, and I thrust my finger into my chest. “I broke up with my boyfriend because of what his family did to ours, and now you’re letting your kids hang out with them? What the hell, Phoebe?”

  Her face softens in understanding, remembering my heartbreak. “What happened between Mom and them was years ago. It’s time we move on.”

  “Do Mom and Dad know about this?”

  She shuts the dishwasher, dries her hands off on a towel, and sets it down. “They do.”

  I wince. “And?”

  “They’re okay with it.”

  Anger spirals through me. I gave up so much. I broke my heart, lost the love of my life, and now they’re acting as if nothing happened.

  And hiding it from me.

  “Another reason for me not to come home,” I seethe. “You’re all liars.”

  “Quit acting like that,” Phoebe groans. “People grow up. Time heals wounds.”

  I nod, sniffling, and walk away from her. The tears surface as I take the stairs two at a time to t
he guest room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, with tears falling down my cheeks, I remember the day I ended my relationship with Miles. There was so much pain we couldn’t stop. My parents demanded we end things, refused to let me see him, and told me I’d be a traitor to the family if I stayed with him.

  I was seventeen and did as I was told.

  Now, everyone is moving on, but it’s harder for me.

  Harder because I still have yet to fall in love with anyone because I’ve never met a man as great as Miles. Hard because I’m afraid of falling in love and losing it again. Heartache kills, aches like a wound that’ll never heal, that I never want to experience again.

  After an hour of sulking, of wiping away my tears, I go downstairs.

  “Down Home Pub tonight,” Spencer says. “You’re coming.”

  I shrug. “Fine with me.”

  Every year, we get together with our friends and have drinks at the town’s pub. My best friend, Lauren, has already texted me to remind me. If I stay in, she’ll be on Phoebe’s doorstep, demanding I have a cocktail with her.

  Not that I would bail.

  I need a drink now more than ever.

  For decades, Down Home Pub has been the only bar in town passed down from generation to generation. Maliki, the owner, took over after his father almost lost the bar due to financial troubles.

  Down Home is crowded, and curiosity hits me as I give it a once-over.

  “Did Maliki suddenly turn into an interior designer?” I ask when we sit at a table.

  What had once been a dark, dreary bar has Christmas decorations with updated barstools and tables. The atmosphere is friendly—the mood you’d have when you hang out with your friends, share a drink, and watch TV.

  Phoebe shakes her head. “Nope, he fell in love with an interior designer.”

  “Makes more sense,” I reply.

  Phoebe and I apologized to each other and hugged it out before leaving for the pub. We can never stay mad at each other.

  “That’s what happens,” Spencer says, plopping down on the stool next to Phoebe and situating his cap over his blond hair. “You fall in love, and your décor changes. No more beer signs, Hooters calendars, or fun shit. Your house gets filled with Live, Laugh, Love signs.”

  “Hey,” Phoebe says, playfully swatting at him for his accurate description of their house.

  “On the contrary,” I input. “Phoebe has also changed her style. No more Backstreet Boys and Spice Girls posters, and she lost her love of black lights and bubble furniture.”

  “I’d take all that in exchange for the sixteen Christmas trees residing in our house.”

  Phoebe fake pouts. “Hey, you said you love my Christmas decorating.”

  “I do. I love it so much, baby.” Spencer kisses her cheek.

  “There she is!”

  I glance over my shoulder to find my best friend, Lauren, and her husband, Gage, headed in our direction. When she reaches us, I hop off my stool and hug her.

  Lauren was my best friend growing up, and we’ve kept in touch over the years. She’s visited me in LA a few times, and we always hang out when I’m home. She even tried to get me jobs in California since her sister-in-law is a celebrity.

  Lauren and Gage join us and say hi to everyone. The waitress takes our orders, and we spend the next hour catching up.

  “Holy shit,” Lauren says, lowering her voice and grabbing my arm.

  I cock my head and look at her. “What?”

  “Miles is here.” She points toward the other end of the bar.

  Turning, I follow her vision line to find Miles at a table drinking with a group of people. He takes a sip of his beer and laughs at something someone said.

  I grab my cosmo and chug it.

  “Have you talked since the breakup?” Lauren asks.

  “This morning was the first time. We saw each other at Lava Java.” I snort. “Imagine my surprise. It was like seeing a ghost.”

  “Girl, I know your surprise.” She laughs, twirling a dark lock of hair around her manicured finger. “Remember my situation?”

  “Shoot, I forgot Gage arrested you when he returned to Blue Beech.”

  At least our reunion wasn’t that bad.

  “No one told me Gage was back.” She frowns at the memory. “Not my parents, my friends. Everyone was so hush-hush about it, and then bam! There he was, handcuffing me, and then he practically stranded me in the middle of nowhere.”

  “But you got your happily ever after.” I hold up my glass in a cheers motion.

  She grabs her cosmo and cheers me.

  I raise a brow and peer over at Phoebe.

  Did she know Miles was home?

  Since she’s now so chummy with his family?

  “I think my family has been talking to his,” I whisper to Lauren. “I think they’re trying to move on from what happened, but it’s still so raw for me.”

  Her face goes slack, and she squeezes my shoulder. After my breakup with Miles, she helped with my heartache and made me watch horror movies to forget about love. She took my mind off him by inviting me to everything she could, and when I told her I missed the phone calls from Miles every night, she started calling me in his place.

  “Yo! Miles!” someone yells from the table over. “Long time no see, man! Come here. I need to ask you a question.”

  When I spot Miles headed toward the table, I straighten in my chair. My attention slides to the table where Hodge, an old classmate, is waving him over.

  Poor Miles.

  Hodge can be a pain in the ass when he’s drinking.

  “This is the guy I was telling you about,” Hodge tells his wife when Miles reaches them. “The one who made it big in New York.” He jerks his thumb toward his wife. “My wife, Pat, sells real estate here. Let’s just say, it’s a hard job in a small town. You have any tips for her?”

  “I wish you’d done that reality show,” a woman sitting at Hodge’s table chimes in before Miles answers.

  I glower when I recognize her. Kasey—the girl Miles took to homecoming after I dumped him.

  “Nah,” Miles says, dragging his fingers through his thick dark hair. “Reality TV isn’t for me. I like my privacy.”

  “Maybe you should move home for more privacy,” Kasey says, winking. “We’d love for you to be here.”

  I want to throw my drink at her.

  Miles shoots me a glance as if he’s known where I’ve been all night, and I quickly look away.

  Hodge pulls out the stool next to him and smacks it with his palm. “You mind answering a few questions for her?”

  Miles’s face drops. He minds. I’d mind too. He came here for a drink and to hang out with his friends, not to be a walking real estate book.

  Lauren leans in and whispers, “You want to switch tables?”

  I shake my head, noticing Phoebe and Spencer’s eyes on me. “No, I’m okay.”

  Gage’s attention is on the TV since he doesn’t pay attention to anyone but Lauren and his kids. He isn’t one to get into drama or gossip. Even if I wanted to switch tables, it’d be impossible. The only open ones are two-seaters, and there are obviously more than two of us. I also want to eavesdrop on their conversation.

  Pat blurts out question after question. It’s giving me a headache, so I can only imagine how Miles feels.

  From what I gather, Miles started selling real estate when he moved to New York. He was doing well and landed a job with one of the biggest agencies in the city. A few years later, he quit after his father asked him for help. He became president of their commercial property business and expanded it to residential.

  “I heard you’ve made millions, man,” Hodge says. “You a millionaire?”

  Miles sighs, aggravation briefly crossing his face. “I’ve done well for myself.”

  As angry as I am with him, I’m happy he found success. At least one of us did because yours truly isn’t even making ten cents at the moment. Last night, I attempted to look up jobs again, but I stopped mys
elf. The seeds that had been planted about staying in Blue Beech have grown since I ran into Miles.

  It’s stupid for me to think about him when deciding whether to move here. The man lives in New York and is probably only home for Christmas.

  Hodge and his wife throw out questions for over thirty minutes while Kasey throws out one flirtatious comment after another.

  “I need to use the restroom,” I tell Lauren before glancing around the table. “Anyone need a drink from the bar on my way back?”

  They all say no.

  I need one, though.

  I need like five, to be honest.

  I also need to get away from Kasey and her come-ons. Deep down, I do smile that Miles isn’t entertaining her advances.

  After using the restroom, I stop at the bar and say hi to Maliki before ordering an appletini. His bright and friendly grin is a rarity. Phoebe was right. Love does change people.

  “I’ve got hers, and I’ll have a Bud.”

  Miles appears at my side, his shoulder brushing against me.

  Here we go again.

  Maliki nods and walks away.

  I shift to glare at Miles. “Quit doing that.”

  He smirks. “Doing what?”

  “Buying me drinks. Showing up where I am.”

  His smirk grows. “In my defense, I was here first, and I had no idea you’d be at the coffee shop.” He winks. “That was just luck on your side.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “What do you want, Miles?”

  “I’m not quite sure.”

  I scoff. “Terrible answer.”

  He chuckles and leans his elbow on the bar. “I want you to stop avoiding me like I stomped on your heart, which is what you did to me, by the way, when we run into each other.”

  “Done and done.” I choose to ignore the heart-stomping comment. “Anything else?”

  I chose to ignore it, but it still stings.

  Is that how he still feels about me?

  Is it the first thought that comes to his mind when he sees me?

  I blink and shut my eyes to avoid the tears as guilt seeps through my veins.

  “I also want you to have breakfast with me in the morning,” he continues. When he smiles, I can’t help but return it. The man can be charming.