by C. Lymari
“Like the Nordic goddess of love?” Max broke the silence.
“You’re really smart, aren’t you?” Not many people knew that if they weren’t into the whole geek mythology—my bad, Greek mythology. I felt a little bad when his cheeks became rosy but mostly found it adorable. “Yes, exactly like the goddess of love, but between the both of us, I think I lucked out since dear old mother could have named me Dionysus.” I wasn’t joking since my mom loved her bottle, but it was nice hearing Maximilian laugh.
“You're mixing your mythologies. Nordic is Scandinavian. Then there’s your Greek mythology and Roman, where Aphrodite and Venus are essentially the same as Freya.”
“When you put it like that, I guess my name isn’t so bad,” I said in all honesty. Can you imagine having Aphrodite for a name? Like what would be your nickname? Ap? Afro? Guess ol’ Mom could have done a lot worse.
“A pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said with a smile. I was about to respond with some of my grade-A sass because he made it so easy, but when I looked out the window, we were already by my trailer.
“Oh shit,” I croaked, because standing outside in his rocking chair was my grandpa. “Just leave me right here. I’ll walk the rest of the way,” I urged in a meek voice.
“I wouldn’t do that. It’s dark and late. Besides, your grandfather would think less of me if I just left you on the side of the road instead of your front door.”
I snickered. He made it all sound so proper. First of all, our trailer was small. It wasn't a long walk from the dirt driveway to the front door. Second, my grandpa was in his rocking chair with a gun nearby.
“I hope you lived a nice life. Just know that under his chair is his shotgun.” I patted his shoulders without thinking. Crap, did I just touch Max “golden boy” Dunnett? He didn’t seem to mind though.
“Stay here,” Max broke the silence, his tone calm. I couldn’t decide if he was as affected as I was. I watched him get out of the car, taking long strides until he made it to my side. Total Maximilian move, the good ol’ boy next door. Was it old fashioned? Totally, but also so freaking hot. When he gave me his hand, I smiled up at him, my belly dipping at the heat he was emitting. Knowing Grandpa was watching, I let go of his hand and walked next to him.
“Good evening, sir,” Max greeted. Meanwhile, I prayed he didn’t pull out his shotgun on Max.
“It's past midnight,” Grandpa grumbled.
“Max was just giving me a ride back. Rusty and I never made it anywhere. Bow broke down on us,” I said defensively as a way to try and explain. Grandpa snickered then took a sip of his beer.
“Guess that’s karma for you, kid.” Well, this was embarrassing. Nothing like getting scolded by your guardian in front of a cute guy.
I turned to Max and mustered up a smile. “Thank you, but I think it’s best if you left. I’m home safe and all.” Panicking, I pushed him back, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he extended his arm to shake my grandpa's hand. “Maximilian Dunnett.” It wasn’t like Grandpa didn’t know who he was. Everyone knew the Dunnetts.
“Careful, too many potholes in the back roads. Wouldn’t want that pretty car getting all busted.”
I glared at my grandfather. Would it kill him to be nice? He didn’t even shake Max’s hand. This was surreal. No boy ever wanted to be seen with me, except Rusty, but he didn’t count. And now the only boy who didn’t look at me like I was trash was standing here with me, all nice and shit, and Grandpa was rude. Max surprised me when he looked down at me and gave me a mischievous smile.
That smile changed something in me. I didn’t know what yet, but I knew it would be epic.
“See you around, Freya.”
Too tongue-tied to reply, I waved.
“Boy like that ain't nothing but trouble.”
And just because I was still mad at Grandpa, I said, “You always said trouble was my middle name.”
3
Freya
My feet ached, my legs were sore, and my heart was broken. What a lovely way to start the morning. The sun was already shining. I shouldn’t be surprised I was already up; I never did get rid of my midwestern roots. In California, I was an early riser, up before the sun, but I guess a part of me never did leave home.
My room looked exactly the same as the night I left, containing a twin bed that was hell to sleep on now that I was used to a king size, a small little table that I used as a desk, and a tiny closet that wouldn’t even fit one third of my belongings now.
Dammit, where am I going to put all my shit?
Victor was supposed to mail my things to me; it was the least he could do for not warning me I was sleeping with Mr. I’m-one-fuck-away-from-having-my-dick-fall-off. Thank God, my test came back clean. I’d probably be in jail for murder if it had come back with something. I sucked up my soreness and made Grandpa some breakfast. It was the least I could do after showing up here without warning.
“You always were an early riser. Even as a kid, you didn’t know the meaning of sleeping in on the weekends.”
My throat clogged when I looked at the only father I’d ever known. Last night, it was hard to see through my tears, but now in the daylight, it was clear that I had failed him. The money I sent him every week was not what he needed.
He needed me.
I used to look up to him; he was as tall as a mountain—at least to me. He was my everything. I swallowed back the lump of guilt upon looking at him. Wrinkled and older, he didn’t seem that strong and invincible anymore. When I left, he was tall. Now he was a little hunched, and his hair was completely white, but the smile he gave me was the same one he always had just for me.
“Well, what can you expect when you would wake me up at the crack of dawn by making a ruckus. I’m a light sleeper. I’m just the product of your creation.”
He made his way to the table as I put the plate in front of him. “You ain't eating?”
“I need coffee first. Then I can start my morning.”
He shook his head but dug into his plate. When I left San Francisco, I had no idea what I was going to do. I just knew that I couldn’t be in a town where I was being ridiculed behind my back. It was funny how I came back home where all my life I was belittled. Initially, I hoped this could be a stop on the way to my next big dream, but looking at my grandpa, I knew I couldn’t leave him.
Not again.
I was stuck here for the time being, and the idea terrified me, because the longer I stayed here, the more likely the chance of running into him became. You couldn’t hide in a small town. It could take a few days, but by the end of the week, you always ran into everyone. Sunny Pines was a small town. We were somewhere in between Port Wing and Superior. There was only Highway 13; the rest were small-town roads. Unless I planned on hiding in this trailer, which did sound appealing, I was going to see a few faces I never thought I’d see again. I needed coffee, and that was just the start of the things I was going to need.
Then it occurred to me, hell, maybe he didn’t even live here anymore. Perhaps he left this town and was doing much better at life than I was.
He deserved it.
He deserved everything.
It would be easy to ask Grandpa what happened to him, but it was better if I never spoke of him again. The damn guilt of what I did to him was going to kill me before the week was over, I just knew it.
“You’re not going to ask?” I asked when I couldn’t stand it anymore. My grandpa acted like we had breakfast together every morning. Like I didn’t up and leave him in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.
“Figured you’d tell me when you were ready. Or we don’t have to talk about it.”
I was tapping my hands on the old wooden table since I didn’t have a coffee to sip. “So, it’s like that? I come back home, and it’s like nothing ever happened?”
“You’re home safe and sound, all I care ’bout.” Grandpa shrugged and kept on eating. I cleaned up after him, and when he said he was going into town, I decide
d I also needed to go and face it head-on. It was noon already, and I didn’t have an ounce of caffeine in me, and that was sinful. I should be worried that Grandpa didn’t like coffee who didn’t love coffee? I was surprised his old, red truck still worked. So many memories in that truck. I didn’t appreciate it then, but my grandpa taught me to drive when I was fifteen, giving me my first taste of independence.
“So, what’s new in town?” I asked as I stared out the window, watching the green grass blowing in the wind. I bet I was a sight—brown hair blowing, wearing a navy blue pantsuit with a white silk blouse and black stilettos sitting inside a truck that was so rusted it was a miracle the wind didn’t blow it apart. Grandpa had made a face when I walked out of the trailer but didn’t say anything. I was not the girl who grew up here, the one who had wild hair and wore combat boots and tight jeans like it was her religion. I was no longer the girl the town referred to as trailer trash.
“You know the folks ’round here ain't too fond of change. There’s a hippy coffee shop that opened up ’bout two years ago.” I rolled my eyes. Anything that wasn’t your status quo around here was either hippyish or liberal. “The Millers’ daughter opened it up after she came back from college.”
That was cool. I liked Emma Miller. She was one of the few girls back in high school who didn’t look at me like I was covered in shit. Naturally, I told Grandpa to make the hippy coffee shop our first stop.
I stopped breathing for a second at the sight of the massive building that wasn’t there when I left town. “Dunnett Industries,” the massive sign read. The Dunnetts owned half the town. Mr. Dunnett was a savvy businessman who had his finger dipped in a little bit of everything.
“What’s that?” I croaked.
“Oh... the Dunnetts were able to get a contractor to settle its roots here. It’s some type of technological warehouse; provides work for many families around the area.”
I didn’t ask more, didn’t say more. The past was better off left in the past, right?
When we made it to Main Street, it seemed like time stood still in this part of town. The white kiosk was surrounded by beautiful flowers and trees, and stores surrounded the park. He parked in front of the hardware store, telling me that the hippy shop was just on the other side of the kiosk. I could see the building; it was bright yellow and stood out from all the white ones.
I grabbed my bag and stood tall and proud, even though my feet were killing me from yesterday’s adventure. When I opened the door to Emma’s Coffee, it was heaven. It smelled like coffee grounds and baked goods. I was surprised by the long line. Since I was going to be stuck here for a bit, I took a moment to look around. There were small tables all along the walls, all with books on them. A smile broke across my face. From what I remembered, Emma loved to read; she always had her head stuck in a book. The far wall was black. Looking more closely at it, I realized it was a giant chalkboard. On the top, it had a quote of the day—today’s being: Don’t let yesterday dictate your tomorrow. Those words spoke to me, like I was meant to see them. The girl I used to be was not the woman I was today; it made my shoulders relax a little bit and my breathing a bit more comfortable. Still waiting, I decided to pull out my phone and turn it back on. It had been off since I ran in on my ex-boyfriend with his secretary. Afterward, I had stayed at a hotel and gave work the number so they could contact me there. As soon as the phone was on, it started dinging with messages, missed calls, and voice mails. This was going to be stressful.
“Hello, what can I get you?” Emma smiled at me. She was still sweet looking, with a curvy frame, blonde hair that reminded me of sunrise, and the most adorable dimples.
“It’s my first time here, so what do you recommend? I want something sweet but strong.”
“I got the perfect thing for you.” She went to work on my drink. Meanwhile, I deleted any message that had to do with Ashton.
Ashton: Really, Freya, you left town without giving us a chance to talk things out?
Yes, I was just going to leave like that. What was Ashton going to explain to me? That it was an accident? Oh yes, Ash, I forgive you. The winds in our apartment must have been so strong that it made you fall dick deep in your assistant’s pussy. I understand completely.
As if, asshole.
“Here you go. It’s a cookies and cream mocha.”
When I took a sip of the beverage, it was like being reborn again. “This drink is fantastic!” I raved, making Emma blush.
“Do I know you?”
I considered lying for a second, but I braved it out.
“It’s me, Freya Pratt.” I stuffed my mouth with more cookies and mocha to avoid awkward silence, but there was none.
“Oh my God, I knew you looked familiar.”
I smiled, not knowing what else to say. I stepped aside while she took care of her other customers.
“How long are you in town for?”
“For a while,” I replied vaguely. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m going to go before my grandpa decides to leave me.” I waved bye and walked out like my ass was on fire. I needed to get all my stuff before I ran into someone I didn’t want to see. Gossip spread fast in a small town. It was like playing telephone; by the end, the story was so far from the truth. I could just imagine. They’d probably add a husband and a pregnancy or make me out to be a mistress with a sugar daddy.
Grandpa was already waiting for me in the truck. As soon as I climbed in, he muttered something about coffee not needing to be all fancy-schmancy. I disagreed but didn’t comment. When we stopped at the supermarket, he decided to wait in the car. Figured.
I was on the meat aisle when the unfortunate happened. That unfortunate had a name—Jana Moore. I know I said the past was the past, but there was a type of history that just clung to you.
“Love the outfit, very chic. If I weren't carrying around a beach ball in my stomach, I would copy that look.”
I was weighing my options. I could ignore her and pretend like she didn’t exist, and that would make me feel better, but only for a bit. If I was planning on staying in Sunny Pines for a while, being amicable with Jana, one third of the town’s darlings, would be essential. So, I plastered on the same fake smile I gave Ashton when I told him to go fuck himself before I ran out of our loft.
“Thank you. Fashion is my job.” Or was part of my job. I took my vacations and paid time off; beyond that, I had no idea what I was going to do, but I was not going to think on that right now. “Jana, you’re glowing. Pregnancy suits you.” That wasn’t so much of a lie. She did look stunning. If you were to look at her from behind, you wouldn’t even guess she was carrying. She was dressed cutely in a long maxi skirt and a V-neck blouse.
“Oh my God! Freya Pratt… you look… good. I have no words… wow.”
Bitch.
Of course, I didn’t say that out loud. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from telling her off. She, Abigail, and Juliet where never nice to me.
“God, it's been how long? Almost a decade. Time sure flies by.” Jana looked me up and down, and I had to admit it felt good. She probably couldn’t believe the chick she made fun of all through high school and called trash was standing in front of her and she complimented her outfit. As fun as this trip down memory lane was, I wanted to leave.
“It was lovely to see you, Jana. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“Of course. What else is there to do in a small town? Wait, are you back because of the wedding?”
My stomach dropped at the W-word, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.
“Excuse me?” I said against my better judgment, a part of me knew I did not want the answer to that particular question. Yet, I couldn’t help but ask it. Jana’s glee left for a second, then she waved it off.
“Oh, nothing, just you know, Abigail Newton is getting married. The whole town is invited. You know how it is, the Newtons like to do everything big.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask Jana about her and Gary Newton. They
were high school sweethearts, but if she was a Newton, then whatever I said could get back to Abigail. Like the Dunnetts, the Newtons were wealthy. The difference was that none of the Newtons had any redeeming qualities; both offspring were arrogant, prepotent assholes.
“See you around, Jana.” I made a hasty exit. I wasn’t in the mood for any more encounters. I was drained and needed another one of those delicious coffees, but I knew Grandpa wasn’t going to be in the mood to drive back so I could get my fix.
4
Max
Seventeen years old
Have you ever felt a pull toward a person, a pull you couldn’t explain? I had, and it was driving me crazy.
My brother Prescott was in the back smoking with his friends while Juliet was in the pool house because it was too cold outside for her liking. Wasn’t being outside the whole point of having a bonfire? Juliet didn’t seem to care, and I was glad because that meant Nikki was with her and not plastered to my side. Nikki had thought of me as her boyfriend ever since she decided to sneak into my room one night when she was having a sleepover with Juliet. I was stupid for fooling around with Nikki. I’ve always been more reserved than Prescott, and when Nikki offered like most teenage guys I took. I know it sounds like a dick thing to say but compared to Freya she didn’t mean anything. Sure, it was cool to get some experience except the whole time I was mortified my little sister was going to walk in looking for her friend.
I wasn’t like my brother, who had an easy time getting girls with our family’s wealth and his Adonis face. Me, I always had a hard time trying to figure out the right thing to say or do. Prescott was the only one who didn’t have a hard time living up to the Dunnett legacy. Often my father and I clashed because I didn’t agree with his ideas.
My eyes involuntarily searched for Freya. It was something I automatically did every day as soon as I walked into school. Tonight she looked real pretty standing in front of the fire, the bright flames making her face glow. I swore when she looked up at me with those big brown eyes and smiled at me, I felt like I lost a part of myself. Ever since I gave her a ride home, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I noticed her before at school—what guy at our school didn’t? Freya was a pretty little thing; she was wild and funny. Still, it was that same reputation that always made me keep my distance, but driving her home that night, something changed, and now whenever Freya saw me in the hallways, she said hello, and it made my mornings. I would be at my locker, and she would give my arm a squeeze as she passed by and say “Hey” or “Hello,” followed by a smile. Sometimes she would be with Russell and his friends and wave at me from across the hall.
