One Call Away

by Emily Goodwin

  Wyatt nods, gives Chase a quick glare and then pays for the book and leaves. Standing behind the counter next to Chase, I turn, hands on my hips, and inspect him.

  “What?” he asks, taking another popper and putting it in his mouth.

  “I don’t know what I find more curious: the creativity of your lies or the ease at which you tell them.”

  He smiles, finishes chewing, and says, “Either way, that’s a compliment.”

  I shake my head. “A helicopter, really?”

  “Hey.” He holds up his hands defensively. “You seemed to enjoy the Mr. Grey vibe the first time we met.”

  “Christian Grey is pretty damn sexy,” I agree. “And thanks, but I really don’t need to be saved like that, you know.”

  “Oh, I know. We already established how well you handle yourself. You’d get out of the party, I’m sure, but he’d be back. That guy has a serious school-girl crush on you.”

  I shake my head and let out a breath. “I know. I was friends with his sister and went to prom with him when he was a senior and I was a sophomore but only because he had no one else to go with and underclassmen couldn’t go to prom unless a senior asked them. And I really wanted to go to prom. It was the classic Under the Sea theme that year.”

  “You used him for a theme night.”

  “I totally did. I’ve always had a girl-crush on Ariel.”

  Chase laughs and then slowly runs his eyes over me. “I should take you out tonight. You don’t want to get caught in a lie, do you?”

  I stare back at him and bite my lip. Part of me really does want to go out with him. He’s funny, confident, and so damn hot. There was a time in my life not that long ago where Lisa and I would gush over a man like Chase, admiring his fine physique from a distance. We could look, but not touch.

  I can touch.

  I’m single.

  I can touch whoever I want. Whenever I want. It shouldn’t feel wrong.

  Yet it does.

  “Sierra?” Chase asks softly and reaches out. His fingers sweep over my wrist, and the tenderness of his touch makes me want to melt into him. I crave the touch of a man, the way it feels to be wrapped in someone’s arms.

  “Sorry,” I say and bring my arms in and around myself. “Chase,” I start, only to let out my breath and shake my head. “When I said I wasn’t the kind of girl you’d want to date, it wasn’t a lame attempt to blow you off.”

  “Then what was it?”

  “The truth.”

  Chase’s eyes soften, and he gently curls his fingers around my wrist. “It’s okay,” he whispers, and it’s almost like he knows. I twist my arm in his grasp and slide my hand up, so my fingers intertwine with his.

  “Before this,” I start, feeling my chest tighten. “My boyfriend…Jake…” I say his name and the same pain that hurts my heart is reflected on Chase’s face. “He died.” Tears fill my eyes and my bottom lip begins to tremble. I pull my hand out of Chase’s grasp and turn. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Chase says and stands. His hands land on my shoulders, and he gingerly turns me around, pulling me close. “Don’t ever be sorry for feeling, Sierra. It’s what makes us human.” A tear rolls down my cheek and Chase brushes it away. “And don’t worry about going out tonight.”

  “I want to,” I whisper. “I find you interesting, Chase. I want to go out with you but it’s…it’s…” I let the words die in my throat. Because I don’t know what it is. Too soon? It’s been almost a year and a half, yet the hole in my heart is still fresh. The edges of the wound are still seeping blood. It’s thickening and beginning to scar, but the oozing hasn’t stopped, and I’m weak from blood loss.

  “Your heart was broken,” he fills in.

  “Yes. But it was because…because he died.”

  “I’m so sorry, Sierra.”

  “And that’s why you shouldn’t want to be with me. I have baggage.”

  “Everyone does,” he replies and slips his arms around me. I step into his embrace, soaking in the warmth of his touch. “There aren’t many people I’m willing to pick up the baggage for, but you’re one of them, Sierra. I don’t know why,” he confesses. “But there is something about you I’ve never seen before. And I want more of it. Go out with me tonight. Give me a chance.”

  I look up at Chase and see it. The momentary slip in his tough exterior. It’s not the first time I’ve seen it, and right now, I hope it’s not the last.

  “Okay.”

  “Spill,” Lisa orders, leaning on the counter.

  “We close in five minutes, you know?”

  “I already locked the door.”

  “You can’t do that!”

  She shrugs. “But I did. Now fucking tell me everything! Wyatt came back all huffy saying you’re going on a date with Chase tonight.”

  “I am. Kind of.”

  Lisa leans back, waiting for me. “Don’t make me beat it out of you.”

  I look at the clock, decide we’re close enough to closing, and pull the cash drawer out of the register. “You know yesterday was Jake’s birthday.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Let’s just say I didn’t handle it too well. I was all emotional, and then got mad that Chase said he’d call and never did. So I went to The Mill House to yell at him, but ended up drinking too much, puking by the river, and passing out in Chase’s bed.”

  Lisa’s jaw drops. “Are you being serious?”

  “I am. And no, nothing happened, sorry to disappoint you. He was the perfect gentleman last night. But this morning…” I wiggle my eyebrows, teasing Lisa. “Nothing happened this morning. I thought he was going to kiss me, but then his brother came over because they had a delivery at the bar, so whatever vibe we felt was over.” I pull out a handful of pennies and start counting.

  “Do you want him to kiss you?” Lisa asks after I counted and sorted.

  “I think so.”

  Lisa waits until I count the rest of the change. “That still doesn’t explain why Wyatt says you are going out with Chase tonight.”

  “He brought me food and coffee this afternoon and stayed to eat with me. Wyatt asked me to go to his grandma’s birthday and you know I’m terrible with excuses, so Chase said I can’t go because I’m going out with him.” I shake my head. “He really is irritating. It’s like he thinks I can’t take care of myself. Socially, I mean. He probably thinks I’m socially awkward.”

  “You are socially awkward.”

  I give her a look. “I’m usually better at hiding it.”

  “So you’re not actually going out with him tonight?”

  I quickly count the dollar bills. “I am. I think. Maybe. I shouldn’t.” I bite my lip and look up. Lisa is hopeful, and I remember her words all too well about how hard it is to be my friend. “How was the concert?”

  “Fucking amazing, but don’t change the subject. Go out with him. Try to have fun. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

  I blink away tears. “I feel like I am.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to go out with Chase. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to him.”

  “That makes me so happy to hear. I want you to be happy, Si. And I know you’re a relationship person. You like being with someone.”

  “I do.”

  “Now to discuss the important stuff: what are you wearing and where are you going?”

  “I don’t know. He’s going to pick me up around seven-thirty or whenever he’s done helping his brother get through the dinner rush at The Mill House. We’ll figure something out. There is the tractor-pull tonight.”

  “The tractor-pull is a step above the school bus derby at least.” Lisa rolls her eyes. “Nothing says romance like the smell of exhaust.”

  “I’m joking, Lisa. But I could give him a tour of Summer Hill: Civil War Edition.”

  “I honestly don’t know if you’re joking about that. I know you like the walking tour of the town enough to go every year.”

  “I th
ink it’s cool that a lot of the buildings built in the late 1800s are still here. And it’s important to know the history around you.”

  “You’re such a nerd.”

  I hold my hand up. “Mutant and proud.”

  Lisa pushes off the counter and untucks her blouse. Dressing office-casual like that every day would drive me nuts. “Have fun tonight,” she starts. “And text me with updates. Rob’s working tonight so I’ll be home being bored and need some excitement.”

  “Don’t hold your breath.”

  Water drips from my hair, splashing onto the hardwood floor. Panicked, I grab my robe, throw it on, and pad to the front door. It’s only half-past five, and someone is knocking on the door. Chase isn’t two hours early, is he?

  “Oh, Mom, it’s just you,” I say when I open the door.

  “Just me? Do I need to remind you of the seventeen hours of labor I went through for you?”

  “You do all the time.” I step aside and let Mom in, shutting the door behind her. “And hi, Mom.”

  She gives me a hug, surreptitiously eyeing the house behind me. “You cleaned. Everything looks great, honey. And that smell…is that lemongrass?”

  I nod. “My favorite scent. I got a new diffuser too.” I motion to the oil diffuser on the end table next to my couch. “The colors change and make shadows that look like a creepy forest at night.”

  Mom pulls me in for another hug and plants a kiss on my forehead. “It’s so you, Sierra.”

  “Not that I’m not happy to see you, Mom, but what are you doing here?”

  “You didn’t come home last night.” She holds up her hand so I don’t interrupt. “Which is fine because you’re an adult and I said I wouldn’t keep tabs on you anymore, but I wanted to check in before your father and I head out.”

  Between my siblings and I, I was always granted the most freedom. Which was directly related to the fact that I wasn’t interested in the normal teenage rebellion type of things like my brother and sister. Sam went out drinking with friends because that’s the normal thing to do and Scott was rebellious just to cause trouble.

  My house is about a mile behind my parent’s mansion. They can’t see into the house or anything but can tell when the lights are on or off. Neither paid much attention to my whereabouts before, but since Jake passed, Mom’s been more attentive.

  “Head out?” I echo.

  “We’re going to Indiana to discuss purchasing the windmill farm.”

  “Oh, right.” I shake my head. “I remember now. Is Gran going with?”

  “Of course. There is no slowing that woman down. I hope you inherited her longevity.”

  “Me too. And I’ll keep an eye on the house. Do you need me to feed Marley?”

  “I was just going to ask. I left instructions out in case you need them.”

  I consider hassling Mom over it, since they’ve had that parrot since I was a kid, but I’m the same way with my cats. “Okay. I’ll hang out with him too.”

  “Oh, good. Thank you. He does get lonely. Are you and Lisa going out? It looks like you were in the middle of getting ready.”

  “I was, but I’m not going out with Lisa. I’m going on a date.”

  Mom doesn’t say anything. Her blue eyes widen so much I can almost see myself reflected back in them. Her lips—which are full thanks to lip injections—begin to slowly part yet she still doesn’t speak.

  “Mom?” I ask. Is she horrified I’m going out? Thinks it’s too soon?

  “Oh, Sierra.” She throws her arms around me. “You have no idea how happy this makes me.” She squeezes me tight and leans back. “Your father and I have been so worried. We didn’t want you to give up on having a love life.”

  “There’s no love…” I start, feeling awkward. “It’s just a date.”

  “It’s a starting point, and one I’ve been waiting for.”

  “You don’t think it’s too soon?”

  Mom takes my hands in hers. “Only if you feel like it is. There is no right or wrong time when it comes to things like this. Who are you going out with?” She shakes her head, knowing it’s impossible for her to not judge whoever I name. “It doesn’t matter. Have fun tonight.”

  “I will,” I say with a smile, but feel empty inside. “Safe travels, Mom. When are you leaving?”

  “As soon as your father gets in, we’re heading to the airport. We’ll be back Monday evening. I switched you to be the emergency contact for the house this weekend with the security company, too.” She hugs me again. “It’s good to have you back, baby.”

  12

  Chase

  “I got it from here,” Josh tells me. “You can go.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. A lot of the regulars are at the tractor pull tonight, so it’ll be slow, even for a Friday.”

  “You say that like it’s not one of the most redneck things you go to,” I say with a laugh.

  “Don’t judge it ‘till you go. They’re fun.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” I change out a few bottles of booze that are running low and clear off one more table before heading out.

  “Chase,” someone calls right as I get to the door. “Wait up.”

  Lisa, Sierra’s cousin, is hurrying over. She’s here alone and put in an order for takeout minutes ago.

  “Hey, Lisa. Do you need something else?”

  “Just to talk to you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Sierra told me what you did. She never would have gotten out of that party tonight if you hadn’t helped, but don’t tell her I said that. So, thanks for looking out for her. Again.”

  “I like looking out for her.” And looking at her, but I don’t say that out loud.

  “And she said you guys are hanging out tonight. Did she tell you about her previous boyfriend?”

  I nod. “She did.”

  “That’s a relief. And she’ll kill me for telling you, but she’s looking forward to tonight, even though she’s feeling a lot of guilt for moving on.”

  I find myself nodding again, trying to separate in my mind what Sierra’s told me versus what I’ve learned about her from the voicemails. Fuck. It’s blurring together. My lack of response causes Lisa to look at me funny.

  “I hope you guys have a good night,” she says. “And just remember our family owns a lot of farmland and equipment that can rip you to shreds and scatter the pieces across multiple fields, never to be found again.”

  “I will keep that in mind. Sierra’s lucky to have a friend like you.”

  “She is.” She smiles and goes back to the counter to get her food. I leave the bar, go upstairs to shower, and head to Sierra’s. Before I start my car, I find myself staring at my phone, voicemail pulled up. It’s like I’m possessed, doing something I know will cause harm.

  I have no control.

  I press play on the next message.

  “I told my therapist that I still call you,” Sierra says. “And she said I need to stop. Calling and acting like you’re still alive won’t allow me to move on, she said. I’m not ready to move on yet and I don’t know why everyone acts like that’s a bad thing.”

  I pull the phone away from my ear to look at the date of the next voicemail. A month and a half goes by before she leaves another, and everything inside me tells me not to listen.

  So I don’t. I toss the phone onto the passenger seat and start the car, and roll out of the parking lot. The engine revs and I pass a slow truck, crossing over a double yellow line. Oh well. Really, I should be more careful. I have a record, one with a recent arrest. If I get an unforgiving cop having a bad day, a simple speeding ticket could set me back more than a few hundred bucks.

  Sierra’s house isn’t far from the bar and I’m there in less than fifteen minutes. If I’d gone the speed limit, it might have taken longer than that though, to be fair. Her house is off a private drive, and I pass by the large antebellum-style plantation house on the way. The driveway to Sierra’s little brick house is gravel, u
nlike the stone-paved path that leads to the Belmont family mansion.

  Being born into a family with money is unfathomable. Being born into one with money and history blows my mind. Since internet stalking Sierra’s ex wasn’t creepy enough, I went and looked up her family history as well.

  If it weren’t for the Belmonts—the first Belmonts, that is—Summer Hill wouldn’t be here. They were the first to settle in this area, and though their establishment in the south was thanks to the slave trade, later Belmonts turned into abolitionists. The original farmhouse that Sierra resides in is rumored to have been part of the Underground Railroad, or so Wikipedia says.

  I park next to Sierra’s BMW and get out, taking a minute to soak in what I can before going to her door. I know she has cats, likes to be outside and wants to start a garden—or at least she did at the time when she left that message. I have to push all that aside and pretend I don’t know anything else about her.

  This old house is over a hundred years old and has gone through a series of renovations. The yard is neat but not professionally landscaped like the large white house. Light from the sinking sun reflects off crystals and gems hanging from the trees around the front, and what looks like sea glass is scattered amongst the rocks on either side of the sidewalk leading to the covered front porch.

  Planters full of dried and dead plants hang in planter-boxes from the wooden rails of that very porch, long forgotten, but at one time loved. The boxes are hand-painted in bright colors, matching the pillows on the wicker lounge chairs on the porch. Wind chimes and old, metal and glass lanterns hang above them, swaying slightly in the thick, summer air.

  I count three birdhouses and even more bird feeders hanging from the trees on my way to her front door. A miniature fairy garden is set up in the weed-filled stone circle around a large Angel Oak. I pause, lifting my head to see the full length of its twisted branches. More crystals and a wind chime made from antique spoons hang, looking out of place yet perfectly at home at the same time.

  Is this part of why people around here think Sierra is weird? The eclectic style of the front yard is welcoming to me, though it’s hard to narrow down exactly why. Conforming to social norms and doing what you think you should do has never been my strong suit. I have a love/hate relationship with my inability to give a shit about what others think. Finding someone else who marches to the beat of their own drum is incredibly satisfying.