by C. Lymari
“Damn, baby girl, you is fine.” I stopped and glared at the kid behind the counter. He was cute, slim muscles, pale green eyes, and skin like milk chocolate, and he was way out of line.
“Kid, I get with you, it’s called pedophilia. Hit on me when you’re over twenty-one. Then we’ll talk.”
“Baby girl, I turn eighteen in a year, why not then?”
I stopped and stared at him. “You need two years to mature, at least.” Then I went to the back and looked for Emma. Was this how bad Rusty was when we were younger? It was almost comical that Emma employed the town’s goth girl and the bad boy. I was sure this kid gave Rusty a run for his money.
I knew I was freaked out about meeting Rusty’s wife when I saw Max’s car pass by and I didn’t freak out. I didn’t come to help Emma in the morning because I was mentally preparing myself for dinner. Did it make me a bitch to hate her a little? I mean, I used to be Rusty’s number one girl, and now I was on the outs, like way on the outs. Sure, it was mostly my doing, but dammit I just got my best friend back, and if the wifey didn’t like me, I was toast.
Buh-bye, Freya.
“What’s your name, kid?” I asked before I grabbed an oatmeal cookie. I said grabbed and not stole because working there had its perks.
“Quincy.”
“I’m Freya. Now that we know each other, where the hell is Emma, and why is she not in the back baking?” I really needed to talk to her. She would tell me who Rusty married.
Quincy was helping a few clients when he replied, “She went to the UPS office to pick up a package. Said she be back soon.”
Our town wasn’t too big, so the UPS store had no drivers. Everything had to be picked up; nothing was delivered. Sunny Pines was missing out on online shopping. That glorious feeling after a long day at work and coming home to boxes stacked outside your door—was there anything better? I didn’t think so. Amazon and I had a great relationship back in the Bay Area, but it also ended when Ashton and I did. Thinking about Ashton, I forgot I turned off my cell phone in the morning, that way I wouldn’t have to waste time ignoring his calls.
As I was turning my phone on, I heard him speak. I hated the way my body vibrated with need at the sound of his voice. I hated that I reacted to him at all.
“Freya, may I have a word?” Maximilian was standing on the other side of the cookie display. He was wearing a pale blue, button-up long sleeve with navy blue pants, and he looked divine. If I was still chewing, I might have choked.
“We’re a little busy,” I replied without looking around. I blamed his eyes. Oh, how I could get lost in those green orbs. Max looked around then raised an eyebrow at me. Shit, when I looked around, no one was in line, and the few people who were in the shop were eating peacefully.
“Is this man bothering you, Freya?” Quincy attempted to intimidate Max. It was cute, like a little puppy standing up to a Rottweiler.
When you get older, you realize you have to do things you don’t want to, like making sure you eat veggies because you need them. Stopping yourself after two glasses of wine after a long night because it isn’t socially acceptable to kill a whole bottle, and now I would have to talk to Mr. Polite because I still wasn’t sure if what he wrote on the board was about me.
“It’s cool, Q. He’s not bothering me.” As I headed around the counter, Quincy came up and whispered that if I need help to holler.
Wasn’t that sweet?
Max led us to one of the back booths, making it harder on those who were in the store to pry into our conversation. It was one thing to be close to Max when it was the first time seeing him again because the shock wouldn’t let me react. It was another thing seeing him with her, but now it was just us two, and my fingers itched to touch him.
“After you.” Max motioned a hand for me to slide into the seat in front of him. His gaze unraveled me. I would not back down, not now at least. Didn’t he know any better?
“What’s up?” I asked when I sat down. I was trying not to take deep breaths, because Max always smelled good and his cologne was my kryptonite—well, after his eyes, his smile, and how good he looked in those clothes. I really should stop ogling Max.
“I owe you an apology, Freya,” Max said, and I refrained from saying “Aha, I knew it, you big jerk,” but I was a woman, and like most women, I played stupid to milk his apology. “I don’t want things to be awkward between us. Obviously, you’re back in town, and I want you to know that there isn’t resentment on my part. We will bump into each other. It’s a small town, so it’s unavoidable. I would like it if things were friendly between us. There’s no reason for things to get complicated. Our past, well, that was a long time ago. We were children back then; it shouldn’t affect us today. I would appreciate it if we were on the same page. My—Abigail would appreciate it as well.”
Max, say what?
This was so not the apology I had hoped for. What about the quote about the distance thing? He wanted us to be on friendly terms? Was he for real? Could he really sit across from me and tell me he didn’t hate me a little bit? Did he not care at all? I stared at him in confusion, and a part of me wondered if this was some sort of joke. But Max brought her up. He was talking to me to make sure I behaved because he cared about Abigail, and he didn’t want me to hurt her feelings. A tiny whisper echoed in the back of my mind, asking, But what about mine?
“You want to be friends… with me?” I pointed at myself, still going on autopilot.
Max gave me a small smile, and I was trying to see through it, but I couldn’t. “Civil. I want to be civil. This town isn’t big enough for the both of us to run around without seeing each other.”
“Are you saying I can’t do civil?” I raised my tone, and I hated that he raised his eyebrow, as if saying he had just proved his point.
“That’s not what I said.”
“You suggested I had to be civil; therefore you expected me to do what exactly?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” he said through gritted teeth, and a part of me perked up. He was angry, right? That had to mean something.
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“You know what, forget it. My fiancée and I will keep our distance,” he snapped, and I felt a little fragment of my heart break.
I smiled at him to hide the pain I was feeling. “Like you said, we were just kids, right?”
I watched Max get up; he was so different from the boy I remembered, and part of me was fascinated, but also repulsed. His shadow fell on me, and I wondered if I should have gotten up, that way he wouldn’t be looking down at me.
“Exactly nothing special,” he added.
I flinched. I could feel myself beginning to crack. I couldn’t help but open my big fat mouth and ask, “So what you wrote on the chalkboard wasn’t about me?”
Max stopped before he got to the door. He turned to look back at me, his face blank, and he said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Freya. Have a good day.”
Then he left. Never had Max lied to me so well. He was a crappy liar, but I couldn’t forget this wasn’t my Max anymore.
My blood might have boiled; still, I didn’t ponder it for long, not the fact he lied to me or the fact that we were friendly or the fact that the most precious moment of my life got reduced to nothing special. Nothing special my ass. I wanted to demand answers. I was about to go out the door and follow Max and not be civil, but Emma chose that moment to walk in.
“Hey, Emma, be right back,” I told her without meeting her eyes.
“Wait, Freya, I want to show you something.”
I made a sour face Emma couldn’t see. She didn’t know it yet, but she was stopping me from making a mistake. I should thank her, not be annoyed, but I wasn’t very rational, and at the moment, I was trying to go have a word with my friend. Still, I turned around to my sweet Emma. It wasn’t her fault I was a hothead.
“What is it?” I asked. Resigned, I looked at the door one last time. It was too late to follow Max anyway. Em
ma smiled brightly at me when she handed me the box she had picked up. Quincy, the nosy little rascal he was turning out to be, came behind my shoulder as I opened the box.
“Oh my God!” I shouted.
“Damn, girl, you blew my hearing,” Quincy complained.
“You like it?” Emma asked with a smile.
Did I like it? Was this girl nuts? All the customers were staring at me like I was crazy. I pulled out the bright yellow apron that read Freya and immediately put it on. I was part of a team now. It felt good.
“So, getting a girl an apron is all it takes to get that kind of gratitude?” Emma froze in my arms since we were jumping while we hugged. I turned to see Detective Dex smiling at us.
“Well, it depends on the girl. Some girls want Cartier and Tiffany’s. Others like flowers.” I might have made a yuck face. “And some of us want to feel like part of the team. Isn’t my boss the best?”
“I’m not your boss. I don’t even pay you,” Emma grumbled. I let her grab Dex’s order while I put on the apron.
“Need help with the back?” Quincy asked, looking hopeful.
“I don’t think so, kid.”
“Now I’m officially a member of the team. I got to say, Dex, I’m a little disappointed you’re barely having your first cup of coffee. I can’t imagine Chief Timmy spends money on the good stuff.”
Dex laughed. “This is my second stop. I actually beat Dunnett on the quote of the day.” Never be afraid to speak what’s on your mind. There it was, proof I should have gone after Max and demanded answers. That damn chalkboard was like a Magic 8 Ball.
“How brave of you,” I told Dex.
“I asked about you,” he said.
Emma was handing him his coffee but froze for a second before softly saying, “You did?”
At the same time, I said, “Why?”
It was one thing for hot guy Dex to ask around about me; it was a whole different story for Detective Dex to ask about me. Not that I had any skeletons in my closet, at least not anymore, it was just one of those things where you got a little iffy about a cop snooping in your business.
I couldn’t be the only one, right?
Dex looked a little sheepish as he brought his hand to his neck and said, “I was making sure you weren’t a danger.”
“Me?” I pointed at myself. “A danger?”
“You and Rusty had your own police code,” he added dryly.
“Oh my God, I had forgotten about that!”
Emma jumped back at my sudden burst of excitement. Sure, whenever I thought of Sunny Pines, it was laced with bittersweet memories about Max and me, but then there were all the other ones where it was just Rusty and me.
Good times, good times.
“What did you find out about me? Better yet, who did you ask? Because let me say, if you asked Mrs. Mayer, that woman hates me. I allegedly killed her cat, and she’s had it out for me ever since.” It wasn’t my fault that her cat was black, and it was pitch black outside. Better question was why her cat was outside in a blizzard? The worst thing about ice is black ice; that shit is slippery.
“Did you kill her cat?” Quincy asked.
“Lucky may or may not be buried under the first tree up by the jogging trail.” Something had to be said about my ability to self-snitch; it wasn’t doing me any favors.
“Just like you may or may not have put gummy bears in the school ceiling our junior year,” Emma added. I turned to look back at Dex who was looking at me like I was nuts, and at Emma like she was fascinating.
“Changing the subject, Dex, since you’re a detective and have no problem with snooping, can you tell me the name of Rusty’s wife? You know Rusty right?”
“Uh-oh,” Emma uttered, which made me turn and glare at her. That little baker was hiding something from me. Whirling around, she tried to rush to the back.
“Uh-uh, Emma, come back.”
Emma’s shoulders sagged a little, something both Dex and I found amusing. She turned around and looked at me pleadingly. “I thought you already asked Rusty,” she said defensibly.
Crossing my arms, I replied, “It didn’t come up. Now spill, Emma. Rusty will be here shortly.”
Emma looked up at Dex for help, but the detective wasn’t getting in the middle of this, not that I would let him. I mentally started a list of chicks who dated Rusty back in the day, and I use the word dated loosely. There wasn’t any one girl who stood out to me. The last girl I remembered he was on and off again with was Bethany Vails, but it was mostly an on thing just to pass the time.
“HemarriedJanaMoore,” Emma slurred, or tried to rap, I wasn’t sure.
“Come again?”
Emma took a deep breath, looked me in the eye, and spoke more clearly this time. “Rusty married Jana Moore, or now she’s Jana Hayward.”
There was silence, or maybe it was just the ringing in my ear that made me deaf. I took a second to take in what Emma had said. Then the words hit me like I literally felt each letter slap me silly.
I screeched, “Jana Moore!”
20
Freya
Seventeen years old
“You look fancy.” My grandpa took a break from watching the game to compliment me.
“I’m having dinner at the Dunnetts,” I replied nonchalantly. Even though my grandpa had warmed up to Max, that didn’t mean he suddenly though the rest of Max’s family was worth getting to know.
Neither did I.
I thought Grandpa would make fun of me or make a smart-ass comment, but he surprised me. “That boy won’t let anyone hurt you. He’s a good kid, Freya.”
“I know, Grandpa.” I smiled as I looked out the window, waiting for Max’s Mercedes. Prescott didn’t want the Mercedes; he and Juliet wanted something more modern, leaving Max with sole ownership of the Benz. When I saw headlights in front of our trailer, I got giddy with anticipation.
“Don’t smile like that at him. He’s going to think he can do whatever he wants,” Grandpa shouted as I went to open the door.
“He can do anything he wants anytime,” I murmured under my breath. It wasn’t like my grandpa and I had the talk. Ignorance was bliss in our case. I thought he knew I would know better, growing up the way I did.
“Baby.” I threw myself into Max’s waiting arms. My boy twirled me before he put me down. He was wearing white Bermuda shorts with a burgundy polo and white slip-on shoes, and even though I still thought he looked like a total tool, he was freaking cute.
“Look at you, looking like a rich boy.”
He usually laughed, but not today; instead, he kissed my forehead. “Not a rich boy, just yours.” Something about the way he said it made a chill go down my spine.
“Always,” I replied. Max grabbed my hand and led me back into the trailer, making his way to where Grandpa was sitting.
“I’ll have her home by midnight, sir.” Max never failed to greet my gramps, even when my grandpa refused to shake his hand.
“Eugene, you can call me Eugene.” My Grandpa shook Max’s hand with a smile. I wasn’t the only one who froze. This was huge. My grandpa was finally welcoming Max into our little family.
About damn time.
“All right, have a good night, Eugene.” Max waited for me to kiss my grandpa goodbye before going to his car. Except that wasn’t his car; it was a sleek, black Audi.
“Where’s your car?” I asked as he opened the car door. Max gave my butt a spank and pushed me in.
“It’s getting some work done. I borrowed my mom’s.” There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it wasn’t just because Max was driving in his mom’s car. Even as Max held my hand, the feeling didn’t go away.
“Rusty didn’t mention having your car earlier today,” I said, since I knew Rusty was now the only person Max trusted with his car.
“Just dropped it off today.”
I didn’t think much of it. My nerves were acting crazy today. I wondered what kind of reaction I would get at the Dunnetts.<
br />
“It’ll be fine, babe.” Max brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it softly.
“I know, Max. I know you’d never let anyone hurt me, not even your own family.”
Max’s grip on my hand became tighter, more possessive. When he said, “Never,” I felt a chill all over my body at the conviction in his voice.
The party was in full swing when we arrived at Max’s house. Mrs. Dunnett went all out this time since it wasn’t a simple cookout. There were white tents filled with twinkling white lights, servers, and a makeshift dance floor.
It was by far the fanciest party I had ever attended. I was glad I had bought a dress for the occasion. Between prom and today, my savings had taken a hit, but it was all for a good reason. The white and navy blue floral maxi dress flowed nicely, accentuating my small frame. It had a small slit, nothing too flashy, and it tied at the neck. Since I didn’t want to sink my heels in the grass—a choice I now regretted—I wore tan, strappy sandals.
We said hello to a few people. Most of them were nice, but most of them were also here sucking up to Mr. Dunnett and the Newtons. I never let myself think on how much Max had because it was intimidating, but sometimes it stared me in the face, as it did now, and my demons would tell me he was too good for me. He could do so much better than me.
“I’m thinking about asking the mayor if I can help with his reelection campaign.”
“Why would you want to do that?” I laughed it off.
Max shrugged. “It would make a good experience. Besides, what else am I supposed to do while you and Russell work?”
“Rusty and I work because we have to.” I didn’t mean to sound so judgmental, but when Max lost his smile, I regretted what I said. I didn’t have a chance to apologize to him because Mr. Dunnett walked up to us with one of his friends.
“This is my other son, Maximilian. Max, this is Joshua, the man I was telling you about earlier.”
I stood next to Max, smiling at Mr. Dunnett and Joshua, waiting for an introduction, but one never came. Can you say awkward? I felt lonely, which was crazy because Max was next to me. I looped my arm over Max’s; it was something I did when we walked side by side. Max didn’t mind; he instantly inched closer, but I saw the hate in Mr. Dunnett’s eyes. I knew he didn’t like me, but I never thought he hated me. I stood there not paying attention to what was being discussed. If it weren’t for the way Max acted around his father, I would have felt worse. Max was tense, his words forced.
