One of These Days (Prairie Town Book 4)

by T. E. Ridener

  And in the end, the bitch had destroyed everything for him. She’d ruined his life and his heart, all because she couldn’t deal with being dumped.

  He anticipated things would get messy once Mia realized he wanted to terminate their relationship, so he decided to meet her in a very public setting—one she wouldn’t be tempted to make a scene in.

  His heart felt like it was going to pound right out of his chest and he felt sick to his stomach as he pulled into the parking lot of Madame Loraine’s, a somewhat classy establishment located smack dab in the middle of Aero City.

  Hopefully, she would take it better than he imagined in his mind. Maybe she’d even understand that things had grown distant between them. Surely, she could respect his decision to end their relationship rather than leading her on, right?

  There was someone else he wanted to be with—someone he wanted to have a chance with, if she’d have him.

  It was better to break up than risk cheating on her, wasn’t it?

  Because at this rate, with the way he felt every time he was near Lydia’s friend, the thought began to cross his mind more often than not. He would cheat and he knew that, and that’s why he had to end things with Mia.

  He wasn’t a cheater.

  “This is the right thing,” he told himself, gazing at his reflection through the rearview mirror. “Just go in there and tell her the truth. It won’t be as bad as you think it will be.”

  But God, he’d been wrong. What an idiot he’d been to think she would understand, to believe she would go quietly into the night.

  “You’re WHAT?” Mia screeched, dropping her fork against the plate with a loud clatter. It was such a deafening sound, in such an elegant setting, that it caused him to wince as everyone turned to stare at them.

  “Mia, please,” he said quietly, shifting in his seat. “I’m trying to do the right thing here. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Well, you’re doing a fantastic job of that, aren’t you?” She asked, rolling her watery eyes. “This is great, Jeb. This is perfect!” She threw her hands in the air, her face contorting with anger. “I gave everything to you. I thought we were happy together. You...you said you were happy with me.”

  “I was. I never lied about that. But things have changed over the last little while. I’ve changed. I just...feel that it would be best for us to break up before one of us gets hurt more than we have to.”

  “It’s a little late for that,” she scoffed. “So who is she, huh? Who’s the new girl?”

  “What?”

  “I’m not stupid, Jeb. I’ve noticed the way you’ve been acting lately. Every time I try to get close, you move away. That’s a sure-fire sign of a new love interest if I’ve ever heard of one.” Folding her arms across her chest, she leaned back in her seat and eyed him. “So, again, I ask you; what’s her name?”

  “There isn’t a new girl,” he lied. He felt terrible for lying, but the rage in her eyes was a warning; if he said a specific name, he knew deep down inside that Mia would make Ags’ life pure hell. It wasn’t something he’d ever do to her. She was too sweet for that—too kind. And he was pretty sure she already had a tough enough life without adding on the jealousy of an ex-girlfriend.

  He had to protect her from that.

  “Oh, Jeb. I’m so disappointed,” she said after a moment of silence. “I’m...really upset that you’ve done this. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

  “I really am sorry if I’ve hurt you.” He kept his gaze locked with hers, trying his best to convey his sincerity. Though he hadn’t much experience with breaking up with people, he did know how much it could hurt. Letting her down easy was what he was trying to do, but he knew he wasn’t doing a good job of it at the moment. “You’re a great person and a lot of fun to be with, but I don’t feel that spark anymore.”

  Truth be told, the spark he felt with her diminished the moment Ags kissed him. That girl had created a raging fire in the depths of his soul, and all he wanted to do was give it his best shot.

  Would she give him a chance, even after he’d told her he couldn’t do it?

  God, he hoped so.

  The dinner ended shortly afterwards and though there was an awkwardness surrounding them as they exited the restaurant, he was certain everything would get better with time.

  What an idiot he’d been for having thought such a thing. Wishful thinking was all it had been, and after that night, his world took a nose-dive into chaotic drama and it eventually led to a horror tale meant for a novel.

  “Do you think you can help me put this up over here?” Aggie asked, gently gripping a poster of David Bowie as the Goblin King in Labyrinth. “These walls are so tall.”

  “Sure thing,” he said, his voice lower than usual. “Got some thumbtacks?”

  “I do!” She turned around and hurried to her duffle bag, rummaging through it. “They’re in here somewhere...I swear this is stupid. I don’t have much to sort through, but things manage to get lost anyway.”

  “Life’s the same way for me,” he offered with a chuckle. “Do you want me to see if Lydia’s got some? I’m sure she does.”

  “No, I’ll find them in a minute.” She got on her knees—in the tiniest pair of shorts he’d ever seen—and began tugging things out from beneath the bed. “Maybe they’re in this bag...”

  Lord, help me, he thought, averting his gaze and staring at the ceiling.

  “That’s what closets are for, you know.” His voice cracked and he swallowed hard, willing his body to remain calm. “Why are you stashing things under the bed?”

  “Habit, I guess,” she replied. A few seconds later, he heard her excited gasp. “Ah-ha! Found ‘em.”

  She tossed them in his direction and had he been paying attention—which he wasn’t because he was trying to behave—he would have caught the damn things before they smacked him in the face.

  “Oh, my god!” She gasped, jumping up from the floor. “Oh, shit. Jeb, are you okay?”

  Rubbing the stinging spot on his cheek, he quickly bent to pick them up, feeling his face catch fire. “I’m fine. Truly.”

  “No, you’re not. I just whacked you in the face with a box of thumbtacks! Oh, oh...”

  Her cool hands touched either side of his face and he froze, clutching the small box as their gazes locked.

  “I am so sorry,” she whispered, frowning. “I didn’t realize you were looking away. What had your attention?”

  Not you, he thought, feeling the urge to laugh over the silliness of it all. If she hadn’t been wearing those damn shorts, maybe his ego wouldn’t have taken such a huge hit – or his face.

  “I’m really okay, Ags. Sometimes I just get distracted. My face has taken harder hits than that.”

  “Well, not from me, it hasn’t.” Her thumb gently slid over his cheek and she sighed. “I feel terrible. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine, really. That’s some arm you’ve got there.”

  “Well, I did play little league baseball,” she stated proudly, rocking back on her heels. “My uncle taught me well.”

  “I’ll say. What made you stop playing?”

  “Ah, that.” Her touch disappeared as she lowered her hands and he instantly missed it. As much as he wanted her to stay right where she was, he understood why she pulled away. “Well, life happened, I suppose.”

  “Damn life,” he murmured, his eyes following her as she moved back to her bed. Her fingers slid over the silk blankets as she turned her back to him, but he didn’t need to see her face to know which expression she was donning. The sadness was evident in her voice.

  “My uncle was my best friend when I was little. He was my hero.”

  It was easy to tell how much she loved her uncle and curiosity got the better of him as he stepped a little closer, but not too close. Too close meant he’d be tempted to pull her into his arms.

  “I’ve heard you talk about him before. What happened to him?”

  She sighed heavily
and hugged her arms around herself.

  Uh oh. That was never a good sign, and it sure didn’t help his urge to hold her.

  “I don’t really know what happened to him. We lost touch when I was fifteen.”

  “I’m sorry.” He wished he knew what else to say, but what else could he say? It was obvious her uncle meant a great deal to her—he couldn’t imagine losing touch with someone he cared so much about. What had led up to it?

  It’s not my place to ask questions like that. I lost the right to know things like that a long time ago.

  “It’s okay. Things happen.” She turned around and his heart sank when he saw tears in her eyes. God, he didn’t want her to be sad. Was she sad because of him?

  Note to self: Don’t bring up baseball ever again.

  A low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance and her demeanor changed completely. Sadness became fear as she reached out to grab onto a bedpost, her eyes glued to the window.

  He got the feeling she didn’t like storms very much.

  “It’s not supposed to be a bad one,” he offered, hoping to ease her mind. “The biggest threat already passed by.”

  Yeah – the biggest threat that resulted in three freaking tornados. But still, maybe she’d take comfort in knowing it was just a little rain, thunder, and lightning. Hopefully she would.

  “I k-know,” she replied quietly, eyes still on the window. “I’ve just never been a fan.”

  “Some people aren’t.”

  “Right.” Releasing a shaky breath, she finally blinked and relaxed, but only a little. Her knuckles had turned white from the grip she had on the bedpost. “So, do you think you can put that poster up for me? It’s the only one that survived.”

  “Sure I can. Where do you want it?” He grabbed the poster off the floor and then looked at each bare wall, wondering which spot she’d pick.

  “Right above my bed would be nice.”

  Arching a brow, he stared at her and watched her cheeks brighten with a blush.

  “Don’t even think like that!” She laughed, lifting a socked foot to kick his leg lightly. “I just really admire him, okay? He’ll always be one of the best.”

  “One of the best musicians, or the best Goblin King?” He asked teasingly.

  “Both, okay? Just put it up. And take your boots off before you get on my bed. I haven’t had a chance to sleep in it yet.”

  Doing as she asked, he removed his boots and then eyed the bed, a million and one dirty thoughts running through his mind.

  “Right above your pillow, I’m guessing?” He asked, climbing onto the mattress and carefully standing up.

  “Yes, please.”

  “All right, I can do that.”

  And he did. Time flew by as he helped her get her temporary room situated.

  With everything sorted away, her massage table moved in, and her beloved poster right where it belonged, he honestly hadn’t realized how much time had passed by until Lydia knocked on the door and announced that supper was ready.

  Everyone had shown up for dinner at Casa de Reynolds thanks to Lydia, but given she had a table big enough for everyone, he guessed it made sense to do so. Especially after the devastation they’d all endured during the day.

  Lydia, Callum, Benji, Laney, Callum’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. McIntosh, Tula, Paul, their two kids, Ags, and himself all sat down to enjoy the mouth-watering meal Lydia had prepared for them.

  “I feel bad you had to cook all of this by yourself,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “You should have called me over to help, Lydia.”

  “Me, too,” their mother said, frowning. “It looks delicious, sweetheart, but you should have let us help.”

  “Nonsense!” Lydia waved a hand in the air and smiled. “I’m sure you were both busy cleaning up after the storm. The least I could do was cook tonight. I just want us to have a nice family dinner.”

  “Well, it’s mighty kind of you, Lydia,” Mr. Reynolds said, eyeing the fried chicken on his plate. “It smells divine.”

  It smells just like our mother’s recipe. He thought with a grin, pouring himself a glass of tea. But he wasn’t going to say anything about it – she’d kill him.

  They said grace and dinner began. It was always easy to tell when a McIntosh was eating because everyone was quiet, but it wasn’t long before the conversation started.

  “What are the plans for the company now, Dad?” Callum asked in between bites. “I imagine we’re going to be a hell of a lot busier.”

  “That we are, but my focus is going to be on this town, first and foremost.” Mr. Reynolds nodded. “There are a lot of houses that will need work – some worse than others.”

  “I do know Kelly Spencer will need her roof repaired again,” Tula chimed in, sipping at her glass of wine. “We drove by there on our way here and I was really saddened by all the damage I saw. It’s going to be a full-time job for all of us.”

  “And you’ve been so kind to donate as much money as you have for the cause, Tula,” Lydia said, smiling at her boss. “When will you make the official announcement?”

  “Tomorrow, I hope. It depends on if they can work me in on the local news station. And you’d think they would, seeing as I am running for mayor.”

  “I am so glad you’re running for mayor,” his mom said excitedly. “I think you’re exactly what this town needs.”

  “Thank you for thinking so, but honestly, my concerns right now are just helping people rebuild – especially those who can’t afford it on their own.”

  “We’ll get them taken care of,” Mr. Reynolds assured her. “Surely with your contribution and mine, we can make a difference.”

  If only I had that kind of money lying around, he thought, finishing off the last of his food. It must be nice to have millions in a bank account.

  He knew it was a terrible way of thinking. It didn’t matter if Callum’s dad had inherited his millions or that Tula had written to earn hers, they used their money for the betterment of others.

  Would he really be so selfless if he were rich?

  Like any other average Joe, he often thought about what he’d do if he won the lottery. He’d have a nicer vehicle, a brand new wardrobe, and he’d never worry about paying bills on time again. Life would just be easier if he had access to funds like that.

  But, as life had it, he was not rich and he hadn’t fallen in love with a secret millionaire like his sister had, so he’d just have to keep working to earn his decent little paycheck.

  And he was completely okay with that.

  Still, though, he admired Mr. Reynolds and Tula for their altruistic tendencies. Prairie Town was incredibly lucky to have them.

  “Did you all hear about Andrew Rose?” Laney asked, causing everyone to fall quiet.

  It was no secret that Andrew Rose, Devin’s father, was a very disliked man. But it was still sad to know he’d lost his life due to the storm. Even though none of them cared too much about the guy, they had to remember he was someone’s husband – someone’s father.

  “Yes,” their mother replied after another few beats of silence. “It’s tragic. I feel for his wife.”

  Murmurs of agreement sounded from all around the table and dinner continued, albeit a little more awkwardly than before.

  Devin hadn’t been one of his favorite people on earth and that was no secret, but things had changed between them recently. He felt bad for the guy; losing one’s father surely wasn’t easy.

  And it made him think about how he’d feel if something ever happened to his dad.

  “Does anybody know if there are funeral arrangements yet?” He asked, pushing the thought from his mind. The last thing he wanted to do was bring that up again. It never ended well for him, emotionally.

  Mr. McIntosh looked up at him, surprised. “What’s with everybody’s sudden interest in that boy? I thought we established a mutual hate long ago.”

  “He’s not a bad person, Dad. He’s changed.” Laney finally decided to join in on the conversatio
n. “And it’s terrible to hate people.”

  “Where did I go wrong with you?” That earned him a few chuckles as he took another bite of food, and pointed his fork in her direction. “Do you really still believe that nonsense? If he’s lost his memory and turned over a new leaf, then I’m Hugh Hefner.”

  Mr. Reynolds snorted and received a glare from his wife.

  “Does that make me a playboy bunny?” Mrs. McIntosh joked, leaning against her husband affectionately.

  “Gross, Mom. No. Just no.” Laney wrinkled her nose.

  “It’s not gross,” their father argued, wiggling his bushy eyebrows. “You’d give those bunnies a run for their money, sweetheart.” He kissed the tip of her nose and rested his forehead against hers, smiling.

  Jeb couldn’t help but smile, too. His parents and their comfortable display of affection—even if it made Laney uncomfortable—gave him hope that he would someday find someone to be that happy with. He wanted that kind of love; to be with someone for nearly thirty years and still be as in love as they were.

  Everybody wanted that, right?

  His eyes wandered to Ags. She wasn’t paying them a bit of attention; instead poking at her mile-high pile of mashed potatoes, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

  He was positive he’d never seen anything so beautiful.

  I wish I hadn’t waited.

  Deep down, he knew he had to accept defeat and move on with his life, but how? How the hell was he supposed to do that when he still felt his heart race every time she walked into a room? Her presence alone was enough to send him into shambles – a person didn’t just get over that overnight.

  It’s been two damn years.

  But what did time matter when it came to matters of the heart?

  Exhaling quietly, he tried to focus on his food and the conversations happening around him. It was better than getting lost in his personal turmoil.

  It was almost ten o’clock when everybody finally left, heading back to their homes – if they had one to return to.

  “I’m so glad everybody could make it over for dinner tonight.” Lydia began clearing the table, a permanent smile on her face. “If Kelly could have joined us, it would have been perfect.”