Cookie points to the windows above the restaurant. The Italian joint is in the block of shops on Main Street in a red brick building with traditional storefront bay windows. I’ve honestly never given much thought to the second level of this block of shops. A childhood friend’s father had a law office up there that I knew about, and a local politician had set up temporary headquarters there one year. Besides that, I hadn’t really acknowledged it.
“Mr. Carlucci turned the three spaces above his restaurant into apartments, probably two years ago. They’re nothing fancy, but the rent is reasonable and he’ll throw you free slices at the end of the night.”
The notion of calling this home begins to blossom in my head. “All right, let’s go up and look at it.”
My sponsor leads the way, and even though she’s a toothpick of a woman almost two feet shorter than I am … her presence is bigger than anyone I’ve ever known.
Dingy floral wallpaper coats the stairwell, and it smells like butter and marinara sauce in here, but that doesn’t bother me. When we step onto the second floor, there are three doors lining a narrow hallway, and Cookie pulls out a key and walks to the one marked 3.
“There is one other person living in number two, and the first one is vacant for now. The girl is nice, a twenty-something who left her Amish community a while back and needed a place to stay. Mr. Carlucci says she’s quiet and keeps the public areas tidy, so she won’t bother you much. Make sure you do the same.”
“Who says I’m living here?” I ask sarcastically as she pushes the front door of the apartment open.
“Do you really have any other option?” Cookie levels with me.
I bite back the no on the tip of my tongue as we walk through the apartment. It doesn’t take long; the thing is barely bigger than the first floor of my mom’s condo. A small living room slash dining room, a galley kitchen that I could walk the length of in two steps, a bedroom, and one bathroom with a simple shower and toilet.
It’s nothing fancy, every wall is builder’s paint white and none of the appliances or cabinets are updated. But it’s clean, and it’s private. And I know that I’ll be able to call it my own … a home that no one else can tell me what to do in.
“I’ll take it,” I say with a definitive nod.
Cookie slaps me on the back. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll have Carlucci draw up the lease agreement, and you can move in next weekend.”
The whole thing is so fast, I feel dizzy … but, in a good way. “Thanks for doing this, Cook.”
“This will be good for you, kid. I’m proud of you. Having your own space … you’re ready. It’ll give you more privacy, more independence. And it means you won’t have to sneak girls into your mama’s house anymore.”
“You know full well there have been no girls.” I furrow my brows.
She shoots me an annoyed look. “That’s half the reason I want you to sign the lease on this place. Five years is way too long for a man to go without sex. Not even love, I’m not saying you need to find your soul mate. But you need to get laid, kid. Your shoulders are in a permanent slouch.”
“Are you offering?” I clasp my hands together in a praying motion.
Cookie snorts. “You couldn’t handle the likes of me.”
Her comment brings my mind straight back to Ryan Shea on the dance floor of the recreation room, in that hotter-than-Hades black dress.
I’m not sure I can handle the likes of her, either. I know she’d never be attracted to a guy like me. Ryan has dated men from Greece, New York City, Italy … guys who actually went to college. Her dating past was worldly, and she’d rubbed elbows with men who worked at the top companies in the world. These guys probably had penthouses and traveled first class.
Meanwhile, all I could afford was an apartment above the pizza shop on Main Street in the Podunk town I’d grown up in.
Fine, I shouldn’t call it Podunk. I love Fawn Hill. This place centers me, and I have no desire to leave.
But when I compare myself to the big hitters on Ryan Shea’s relationship résumé … it’s hard not to feel like a total bum.
Today isn’t about her, though. This is about the next step in my recovery and making the life that resembles exactly what I want in this world.
“Maybe in another life, Cook.”
I sling my arm around the woman who helped save me, and we walk downstairs so I can buy her a slice or two.
17
Ryan
I’ve been in Fawn Hill for almost two months when Presley finally broaches the subject I’ve been expecting her to ask about for weeks.
“When do you think you’ll head back to New York?” she starts the conversation while we eat lunch together in her kitchen.
Keaton is at the office, and she has a rare break from the studio and decided to come home.
Instantly, I bristle. “Why, do you not want me here anymore?”
The wounded foster kid in me bares her teeth, ready to defend her already-damaged heart and get herself prepared to be thrown away yet again.
“No! Oh my gosh, I shouldn’t have started off that way. That’s not what I mean at all. I love having you here, we both do. You can stay here as long as you like. I just mean … well, don’t take this the wrong way. But … you seem lost, Ry.”
Turmoil rages in my gut, because she’s right, of course. But I haven’t put words to my complete lack of a plan, of a path, and I’m not sure I want to talk about it yet.
“I … don’t know. When I’m going back I mean. To be honest, New York hasn’t felt like home in a long time. It used to, maybe because you were there. But now, nowhere feels like home. I was in Greece for so long that I kind of lost sight of my life, and now that my relationship is over, it feels like I can’t just waltz right back into the life I basically abandoned. Not that I was even fond of the life I had before, I don’t know, I feel like I’m not making any sense.”
My friend sets down her fork, balsamic dressing dotting the napkin next to her bowl. “You don’t always have to know exactly where you need to go.”
A whoosh of exasperation blows out of my mouth. “But I usually do! From a young age, I’ve always been decisive. I know where I want to go, and I get there.”
“I’m going to be honest with you now because I can see how much you’re struggling with this. You may have been decisive … but Ry, you never seemed all that happy with your choices when you got to where you thought you wanted to go.”
Her brutal assessment of me feels like a sucker punch to the gut. It’s harsh … and I can feel the sting of tears threaten. All the years, and I never knew that’s how my best friend viewed me.
Presley holds up her hands before I can talk, signaling that I shouldn’t get defensive and cut her off.
“I’m not saying any of this to be mean. I’m saying it because … for a long time, you were the stable one out of the two of us. I know I have a sister, but she’s never felt like one. You’re my sister, Ry … and when we were living in New York, you were the one who seemed to have everything figured out. But after I moved here, and I met Keaton, it made me realize that you were just as lost as the rest of us. Your life has been difficult, so you run at the things you think will make you successful. Relationships, work, travel … you throw yourself into them so that you don’t have to stop moving. Because when people eventually stop, that’s when the doubts and the whispers about what’s really going on inside start. That’s where you are right now. And honestly, I’m happy you are. You’ve been running for a long time, trying to avoid this feeling you’re stuck in now. But, it’s necessary.”
Her words gut me at the same time they ring perfectly clear in my head. She’s so right, it’s painful.
What started as a normal little lunch in her kitchen has me now breaking down. My voice is stoked with unshed sobs as I talk.
“If I just kept moving, if I just jumped headfirst into everything … nothing could hurt me. The faster you go, the less hurtful a brush against you
r armor can be. That’s what I thought. So I loved hard, I stayed in these relationships that were so shitty. Why did I do that? And the travel … when I was a kid, I barely had a bed of my own to sleep in. And then someone wanted to send me flying all over the world. I thought it was the most amazing thing. But I’d arrive, I’d say yes to every new adventure, and at the end of the day … I felt so alone. After you left New York, I don’t know. I kind of lost my mind there for a minute. So no, I don’t really want to go back.”
Presley gathers me into a hug, and I rest my head on her shoulder, suddenly exhausted from the past decade of my life.
“Life doesn’t always have to be moving. Sometimes, you can just stand still. I came here to find the piece of myself that I could feel was missing, and I ended up getting way more than I bargained for. This slower pace of life or stopping completely … sometimes it can lead to answers we didn’t even know we needed. Take all the time you need. Explore what makes you happy, instead of what you think will make you successful. Keep teaching at the middle school, hang out with me, or do things alone. This town can be a medicine for your soul.”
She’s rubbing my back and all I can think about when she says to explore what makes me happy, is I don’t truly know what that means.
“You’re a good friend, Pres.”
“Only because I love you. And I’ll kick the crap out of anyone who harms someone I love … even if it’s them doing it to themselves.”
That makes me laugh, a watery chuckle escaping my lips. “Maybe give me a day or two before the bell for round two rings and you have a boxing match with my brain.”
“Deal,” she says, releasing me. “But I mean it. Stand still. Find happiness.”
Could it be that easy? Was that the equation she’d followed? If so, I’d take her advice. Presley had stood still and found a life here that she could really be proud of.
That was all I really wanted.
18
Fletcher
“Be careful with that!”
My mother screeches as Bowen and Keaton drag a couch through the entrance to my new apartment and probably scuff half the paint off the frame.
“Ma, I don’t know how else you want us to do this,” Bowen grumbles, and you can feel the annoyance radiating off of him.
It’s already been half an hour of my mother, my brothers, their wives, and the kids moving things into my new place. A couch from Forrest’s old bachelor pad, my bed frame, mom’s old kitchen table, and two other big pieces have been lugged up the stairs, past the lunch hour rush at Carlucci’s. In my small galley kitchen, Lily is unwrapping the boxes of plates wrapped in my old high school sports T-shirts, and Penelope is scrubbing down the shower saying it needs a good clean.
I love them, and I’m so thankful they’re helping … but they’re also getting on my last fucking nerve. They’re everywhere, all at once, yelling and almost breaking things. Putting items in spots I don’t want them to go, or drilling nails into the wall to hang art I haven’t approved. Mom is doing that thing where she just sits in a chair and bosses people around, and my nephews are almost tripping everyone at least five times in one minute.
My teeth are fully gritted, my jaw aching from the pressure I’m putting on it, when Presley walks in.
“Who wants donuts?” she yells, holding up two big pastry boxes.
I can smell the fried dough from here, and my stomach rumbles. Relief washes over me, because what is more comforting than a chocolate frosted?
“Me! Me!” Travis, Matthew, and Ames run at her, and she catches them with her free arm, hugging them into her.
“Go get some paper plates from the pantry and I’ll split them up,” Presley tells them, and they rush past me.
Forrest and I have just brought my dresser up, and it’s in the middle of the living room but that’s not stopping me from unpacking plastic bins of my clothes and putting pairs of jeans and sweatpants into it.
Stopping, I rise to greet my sister-in-law. “Thanks for bringing those, I think everyone could use a sugar break.”
She winks at me. “I could tell, even if I wasn’t here yet. Our family is a bit much, yeah? I figured that morale wouldn’t last long in this small of a space.”
“Well, thanks.” I make a pshh noise.
She blushes. “I didn’t mean it like that! This place is great, I’m happy for you. I just meant … seven hundred square feet is a tiny space for so many Nash’s.”
“Truer words have never been spoken,” I agree.
We’re about to head over to the table where my vulture family members are scarfing down all the good donuts when a knock comes on the doorframe.
“Anyone home?”
Ryan stands there, a bamboo plant in her hand, looking just as fucking perfect as she always does.
My cock stirs, reminding me of the fantasies it’s been all too privy to when it comes to this woman. Jesus, I need to get a handle on myself, my nephews are in the room.
“You came.” I smile at her.
She shrugs. “I figured everyone else was going to see it before the housewarming, why shouldn’t I? Plus, I’m here to make sure Forrest doesn’t fuck up your Internet installation.”
I should have told both she and my twin brother that I’d already called the cable company to come hook that all up, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Ryan had come to help me move in, and for some reason, it means more than anyone else being here. Probably because I threatened them all and reminded them of all the favors I’d done. She’d come all on her own.
And in a way, it showed that she was interested in … whatever it was that was going on between us.
“Hey, you don’t touch those cords. I’m going to wire it so he has the fastest Wi-Fi this town has ever seen.” Forrest flips his middle finger up at her, and his stepsons cackle.
“Dad, you have to put a dollar in the swear jar!” Ames tells him.
Ames is the only one who is comfortable enough to call my brother Dad. Probably because he doesn’t remember his real father, a soldier who was killed when my youngest nephew was only a year old.
“What? I didn’t say a word!” Forrest holds his heart like he’s wounded.
“Our kids are too smart for you. I agree, give us the dollar.” Penelope holds out her hand.
“Kids, don’t ever give your mother money. She’ll spend it on shoes.” He points his fingers at the boys as if he’s teaching them a very important life lesson.
“They’re going to appreciate the shoes a woman wears when they’re older.” Ryan snorts, and I can’t help my eyes skimming down her legs to observe the plain white Chucks she has on.
“She’s right!” Penelope points at Ryan like she’s just made the most valid argument in the world.
“What’s that?” I ask, nodding to the plant.
She extends the small elephant figurine full of rocks with a bamboo shoot sticking straight up out of it. “It’s tradition to bring someone a bamboo plant when they move into a new place. It’s supposed to bring luck to your life in that dwelling. So I hope this one works.”
I take the gift from her. “I hope it does, too. Thank you for bringing this.”
The gesture is small, but the meaning is big.
Over the next two hours, we move the rest of the furniture in, get a majority of the boxes unpacked, and my apartment starts to resemble something lived in and semi-homey. Part of me can’t wait until they all leave, so I can spend my first night alone in the first place I’ve ever owned, well technically it’s rented, on my own.
“Fletch, why do you have hundreds and hundreds of DVDs?” Penelope asks, looking through one of the crates I’d brought with me.
Forrest cackles. “He used to be obsessed with collecting them. Would use any spare dollar he could to go to Best Buy in Lancaster and pick out the cheapest DVDs. They’re not even good movies.”
“Dumb & Dumber? American Pie 2? Major League? These are all idiotic teenage boy movies. My kids would love
these, though they’re filthy.” My sister-in-law laughs.
“Ew, DVDs, Mom? Yeah, right. Those things are ancient. You couldn’t get twenty-five cents for those on eBay,” Travis tells his mother.
“Well, if that doesn’t make you feel like an old geezer …” Keaton laughs, and all the adults nod in agreement.
“I think you saying geezer makes you older,” I tell him, shrugging my shoulders.
After we’re done, everyone heads downstairs for the free pizza I promised them. When I come back out into the living room, Ryan is the only one left, and she’s sitting at my desk. Her fingers fly across the keyboard, and by the adorable way she’s chewing her lip, I think she’s probably jailbroken my laptop, gotten me access to restricted sites, and whatever else it is that brilliant hackers do.
“You should have a website,” Ryan says as she surfs around my measly laptop.
I really hope I cleared the browser history. Nothing like the girl you’re crushing on finding porn in your Google search.
“Why?” I say.
She looks at me as if it’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever said. “Um, because you run a business.”
Ryan referring to my art and furniture as a business is the first time I’ve even thought of what I do as … well, a business.
“If you got online, built a website, maybe opened an Etsy store … it could probably double or triple your revenue. I can set up both for you at no cost. The friend discount.”
She’s right, I should have set up some kind of branding months ago. Make it official, make it searchable. No business made it without an Internet presence these days, and even if I wanted to be a solitary island out there in my barn, it was stupid not to establish at least minimal brand association.
Though my mind sticks on her words. The friend discount.
“The friend discount, huh?” I put down my keys on the hall table my mom brought in and walk over to where she sits at the desk in the corner.
Ryan’s eyes slowly blink up at me, the color an intoxicating amber. “Yeah. For free. Also, I have nothing better to do right now, and it’ll take me a day. You should thank me, you’ll get a five-thousand-dollar website for chump change. All you have to do is buy me a slice downstairs.”
Falter: The Nash Brothers, Book Four Page 9
