One Call Away

by Emily Goodwin

  It’s the most normal message she’s left, and it hits me the hardest. This woman desperately wants her loved one back and is calling as if he’s going to answer. It’s heartbreaking. I put my phone back in my pocket and walk across the street. A faded sign that reads The Book Bag hangs above the store. A little bell rings when I open the door and step inside, getting hit right away with the familiar smell of ink and paper. The store is small, packed full with as many books as possible. It’s bright and airy in here, and the large windows along the storefront let in sunlight. Sierra is sitting behind the counter, nose buried in a book. She looks up and blinks.

  “Chase.” Her voice is welcome and familiar.

  “Hey, Sierra,” I say back and spy the cover of her book. “That’s a good one.”

  She carefully slides a bookmark into place and closes the book, running her fingers over the cover almost as if she’s caressing a beloved pet. “You’ve read it?”

  I nod. “I read the whole series.”

  “Oh.” She doesn’t try to hide the surprise on her face but instead looks at me with curiosity. “This one is pretty dark.”

  “They get darker. But in a good way.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard.” She slides the book away and slips off the stool she was sitting on. “Are you looking for anything in particular?” Her question is innocent, one she probably asks all her customers, but I feel like she’s testing me.

  “What do you recommend?”

  “Depends on what you like to read. Do you only read epic fantasy?”

  “I’ll read anything if it interests me.”

  “Even romance?”

  I give her a grin. “I did read Fifty Shades of Grey.”

  “No way.” She smiles right back at me.

  “I mostly wanted to see what the fuss was about. Once I start a book, I tend to finish.”

  She laughs. “Did you read the other two?”

  “I can’t say I did. But thanks to the internet, I know how the story ends.”

  Sierra laughs again and her green eyes sparkle. She pushes a curtain of thick hair over her shoulder and comes around the counter. She’s wearing denim shorts and a white T-shirt. Her long hair hangs straight around her face, and she’s not wearing makeup. She’s just as beautiful as the first time I saw her.

  “I’ve been meaning to read this,” she says and picks up a copy of The Fake Wife and hands it to me. “The movie came out last year, but I haven’t seen it yet. I try to read the books before I watch the movies.”

  “The books are always better. And I haven’t seen it or read it either. I’ll take it.”

  She nods and goes back to the counter to ring me up. “Chase,” she starts, saying my name slowly. It sounds so good coming from her lips. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “About your dad. I didn’t know and—”

  “It’s okay. And thanks.”

  “So…does it feel like home yet?” she asks as I pay for the book.

  My heart lurches in my chest. “No.”

  “Maybe it’ll take time.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure it will.”

  She gives me my change and motions to the window. “What you see is what you get here. It’s simple, but I like it. Life is complicated enough, right?”

  “That’s for sure. At least it won’t take me long to figure out where things are.”

  Sierra smiles. “Very true. You can do a tour of the town in just a few hours. Or less. Probably less. Though there are rumors we might get a Target. People already come all over to go to the Walmart here. I can’t imagine what a Target will do. Especially if it’s one with a Starbucks inside.”

  I laugh. “I do miss getting coffee in the morning.”

  “Suzy’s Cafe has the best coffee,” she tells me. “I get a cup almost every morning before work.”

  “I’ll have to try it. What about places to eat? Living in the city made it easy to never have to cook.”

  “Uh,” she starts, smiling again, and I realize that I’ll do just about anything to make this woman smile. “There are a few places. But if you’re looking for something to take home, my go-to is Suzy’s again. We do have a Pizza Hut, too. And Paragon has decent Chinese.”

  “And that’s probably all the restaurants in town, right?”

  “We do have a few sit-down places, and then The Mill House, of course.”

  “Of course.” I look into Sierra’s green eyes, trying to figure her out. She’s guarded and it’s almost as if she’s shy. From what I saw Friday night, she’s not. It’s not often I come across someone I can’t figure out, especially when they’re not trying to fool me.

  “Do you want to go out sometime?” I ask Sierra before I have a chance to overthink it.

  She opens her mouth, but no words come out. She blinks a few times and shakes her head before looking down. “You don’t want to go out with me.”

  I chuckle. “I do. Or else I wouldn’t have asked you.”

  She takes a hold of her necklace, rubbing her thumb on a little cat charm. She takes in a shaky breath then looks back up, eyes meeting mine. For a split second, her walls come down and I see it.

  Pain.

  The same pain that’s ricocheted its way through me, leaving scars on my soul.

  “How about this,” I start, giving Sierra my best smirk, the one that always works for me. “I take you out and then I’ll decide if I want to go out with you or not.”

  “What if I decide I don’t want to go out with you?”

  “That won’t happen.”

  “You seem rather sure of yourself.”

  “I am,” I tell her. “I’ve never had any complaints before.”

  She lifts an eyebrow, and I can’t tell if she’s amused or annoyed. Dammit. Leave it to Sierra Belmont to get under my skin. “There’s a first time for everything,” she quips and flips my receipt over. “Call me then, and I’ll see if I’m feeling it.” She sticks the receipt in the bag and hands it to me. “Or text, because I actually don’t like talking on the phone.”

  “You’re honest. I like that.”

  “See if you still like that when I give you my honest opinion after you take me out.”

  I give her a smile again, shaking my head. The door opens, and we both turn to see Josh walking in.

  “Hey, Sierra,” he says then turns his gaze to me. “Ready? Sorry to rush you. We have to open soon, though.”

  “Yeah.” I pull the bag off the counter. “Thanks for the recommendation. I’ll call you.”

  “Bye, Chase.”

  Josh and I leave, making a beeline for his truck.

  “You’re going to call Sierra?” he asks once we’re in.

  “Yeah.” I reach into the bag for the receipt, wanting to put her number in my phone before I lose it. “I got her number.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I’m gonna pretend the shock in your voice isn’t insulting.”

  “It’s nothing personal,” Josh starts, and I unfold the receipt. I recognize the number immediately. The blood drains from my face and my chest tightens. No. Fucking. Way. Sierra is the mystery woman. It all makes sense now and I feel dumb for not recognizing her voice. Though, in my defense, most of her messages were left when she was crying or emotional, distorting the way she sounds.

  “Sierra’s always been a little odd,” Josh goes on, and I immediately feel defensive of her. “I didn’t think you’d go for her. Though, I know a good-looking woman when I see one. And those Belmonts are very selective. Don’t tell Melissa, but I used to crush on Sierra’s older sister, Samantha.”

  Josh’s words go in one ear and out the other. I can’t take my eyes off the number written on the thin strip of paper. Sierra’s handwriting is big and loopy, messy yet neat in its own way. Shouldn’t I be happy to find out who my mystery woman is?

  “Chase?” Josh asks. “Is something wrong?”

  Yes, something is terribly wrong.

  “No, not at all.” I force a sm
ile and fold the receipt, shoving it back in the bag. Josh starts the truck and I turn, watching The Book Bag grow smaller and smaller out the window, heart in my throat.

  I can’t call Sierra.

  I wanted this mystery woman to have a happy ending, to have found her second chance and started over. And that’s why this is all wrong.

  Things never end well for me.

  7

  Sierra

  “I gave Chase my number.” I run my hand over Tinkerbell’s sleek fur. She’s purring like mad and cuddling even harder.

  “You better not be joking.” Lisa turns away from my closet that she’s raiding and stares me right in the eyes.

  “I’m not.”

  “I need details. Now.” She comes over to the bed and sits at the foot. Dolly, who was lazily grooming herself, glares, growls, and then gets up. She’s such a friendly cat, I know.

  “He came into the store yesterday and—”

  “This happened yesterday and you’re just now telling me?”

  I look down at Tink, admiring her black stripes against her soft gray fur. “Yeah.”

  “Go on.”

  “He asked for a book recommendation and then asked me out.”

  “And you said yes? That’s awesome, Si! I’m so happy for you!”

  “Don’t get too excited. I told him I might go out with him, and I might not answer if he calls.”

  Lisa purses her lips. “Why?”

  I shrug. “I just don’t see the point. I don’t want to go out with him.” Or anyone, and I think it’s a safe bet I’ll always feel that way.

  “Have you seen him? That man looks like he sprang from the pages of those bad-boy romances you’re always reading. Take a chance.”

  I wrinkle my nose and shake my head.

  “Don’t be nervous,” she goes on.

  I bite my lip and think of what to say next. I’m not nervous. Or scared. Or excited. I don’t feel anything.

  “I’m not.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  I shake my head. “He’s kind of irritating.”

  “Good!”

  “How in the world is that good?”

  She looks out the window and pulls her lip over her teeth, considering her words, which is very unlike say-it-like-it-is Lisa. “You were sad for so long and then shut down. You never went through the rest of the grieving process. You need to get irritated. Get mad. Hell, a full-out screaming match would be good for you at this point.”

  I keep my gaze on Tinkerbell, not knowing what to say back. It’s true, and I didn’t think anyone had noticed. “It’s only been a year and a half.”

  “I know. And I know how hard it’s been for you but it’s time to move on.”

  “If you think I can move on then you have no idea how hard it’s been.” Tears pool in my eyes and anger wells inside of me. Tinkerbell jumps out of my arms and runs down the hall. My jaw trembles and I shake my head, trying to push back the tears. “Everyone is giving me a time limit and I’m sorry I can’t follow it. I’m sorry to inconvenience you with my grief,” I spit and angrily wipe away tears.

  “I’m not giving you a time limit, but you’re not the only one this has been hard on.” Tears roll down her cheeks. “Jake was my friend too. I lost him and then I lost you.”

  “I’m still here.”

  “But you don’t want to be.” She stands up and waves her hands in the air as she talks. “I talk to you but you don’t listen. We go out and it’s like you’re not even there. I know losing Jake hurt. I know it’s been hard on you. But it’s been hard on me too. I never know how to act around you. I don’t want to be too happy. And when Rob and I have a fight, I feel like I can’t go to you because I know you’d do anything to have one more fight with—” She cuts off and closes her eyes. “I feel like we’re drifting apart and I don’t know how to stop it. Because no matter how many times I reach out to you or throw you a rope so you can pull yourself to shore, you just let it go. I don’t want to imagine how you feel, Sierra, but I know it hurts. And letting yourself get carried out to sea isn’t the answer. You’ll still hurt, but you’ll be alone.”

  Her words are like a sucker punch to the stomach. I don’t deny it. My throat thickens and what’s left of my broken heart thumps in my chest.

  Lisa takes in a slow breath and brings her arms in around herself. “Listen,” she starts. “You’re family and you’re my best friend. They told me not to say anything, but I can’t sit back and watch you wither away. I love you, Sierra, and I miss you.”

  “I miss you too,” I croak out.

  “Please don’t be mad at me.”

  “I’m not.”

  Lisa flies around the bed and wraps her arms around me. “I don’t know what else to do, and it makes me feel like I’m failing you as a friend.”

  I hug her back, not knowing what to think. I want to be angry at her, to tell her to get over herself and not make me feel guilty on top of everything else. That it’s bullshit to make my grief out to be a burden.

  But at the same time, I see merit in her argument. I’ve shut down. Stopped feeling to spare myself the pain.

  I don’t want to go through life like this. Jake wouldn’t want me to go through life like this either.

  “I’m scared if I move on, I’ll forget,” I whisper, tears falling.

  “You won’t.”

  I move my head up and down, but don’t believe her. How can she promise me that? She gives me one more squeeze then sits up, taking my hands. Lisa and I grew up together, so naturally, we fought like sisters, but we always made up fast, and none of the fights were serious.

  “So.” Lisa wipes her eyes and smiles. “When Chase calls, answer. Let him be a fling or even your first bad date. And if it gets serious, go with it.”

  I smile and nod like I’m supposed to. “Okay.”

  “Now…the concert Thursday night.”

  “What about it?”

  “Please tell me you changed your mind and want to come with.”

  “Even before…” I let out a breath and shake my head, trying to center myself. “You know I’m not a fan of crowds. And didn’t you just say that Rob took off work just to go with you?”

  Lisa makes her face. “Yeah, he did.”

  “You’re stuck with him then.” I lean back against my pillows. Six months after Jake died, I stripped the bedding we’d picked out together, packed it away in bags, and stashed it in the cave of a basement this old house sits on. I drank a bottle of wine that night, and the alcohol flooded my emotional walls and I couldn’t take it anymore.

  The bedding I had before Jake moved in is back on the bed, and the little smiling tacos that are printed on my sheets stare up at me.

  “I’m starving,” Lisa announces and stands. “Want to go into town with me and get something to eat?”

  “No, I don’t want to get dressed.” I look down at my sleeper shorts and tank top. “But I will go to my parents’ and see what they’re having for lunch.”

  Lisa grins. “Now you’re talking my language.”

  We get into Lisa’s truck and drive the mile-long gravel driveway connecting my house to the family mansion.

  “Want to take bets on how long before my mom comments on my outfit?” I ask Lisa as we walk up to the front porch.

  Lisa turns, dark hair blowing around her face in the wind. “I’m gonna give her ten minutes.”

  “I’m gonna go with one minute. I’d say less, but the shock is going to hit her and leave her speechless.” I point to a Lexus parked in the breezeway. “Isn’t that the Vanders’ car?”

  Lisa squints in the bright sun. “Yep. They have that douchy custom license plate. This will be fun.”

  The smile comes back to my face. “If I’d known they were going to be here I’d have changed into something even worse.”

  Lisa laughs and links her arm through mine. “Now this is the Sierra I love. Want to run home and get your ‘my ideal weight is Dean Winchester on top of me’ sh
irt?”

  “Sadly, it’s in the laundry. I dropped blueberry pie filling on it the other day.” More like two weeks ago, and I’d forgotten about it. It’s probably ruined now. “Which is rather fitting for a shirt about Dean, now that I think about it.”

  I open the front door and step in, kicking off my flip-flops. Melinda, my parents’ housekeeper, rushes over to get the door, face flushed. Seeing that it’s just Lisa and me, she relaxes.

  “It’s good to see you again, Ms. Sierra,” she greets. “And Ms. Lisa. Always a pleasure.”

  “Hi, Mel,” I say. “Is my mom around?”

  “Yes, she’s in the sunroom with Mr. and Mrs. Vander. Was she expecting you?”

  “No, we’re just here to raid the kitchen,” I confess.

  Melinda nods. “I’ll let her know you’re here.”

  “Thanks.” Lisa and I go into the kitchen. It’s one of my favorite rooms in this large plantation house. It was newly renovated a few years ago, updating the previous renovation from the early 1900s. Now the kitchen is huge, looking like something you’d find on Pinterest or on the cover of Southern Living.

  My parents have a chef who cooks for them six days a week. The meals are perfectly proportioned, so there aren’t usually leftovers. But we get lucky today and dig into the spread that’s still out from lunch that was served to my mother and the Vanders. I fill a plate with fried okra and sweet potatoes, saving room for at least one beignet.

  Lisa pours herself a full glass of wine and offers me the bottle. I decline and take my food out to the rear veranda. I’m able to eat all the fried okra—which is one of my favorite foods—before Mom comes out.

  Lisa looks at her watch then up to me, raising her eyebrows.

  “Oh, Sierra, darling,” Mom gushes, smiling as soon as she sees me. Her excitement is genuine. I don’t come over as often as I used to, even though the main reason was always for the food. “And Lisa! What a treat to have you girls over. And what perfect timing. The Vanders are heading out and you get to say hello before they leave.”