by Jami Wagner
“Just let me move your shit,” he says.
“Dad, you said a bad word!”
“Jake, sit on the steps while Dad helps move this lady’s things, okay?”
Great, I have a neighbor who thinks he owns the place and can do whatever he wants with my stuff.
“That won’t be necessary because you aren’t touching any of my shit,” I say, and immediately cringe that I just swore in front of his little boy.
Conner, I think he said his name is, rolls his eyes and then nudges me again. This time I try to yank the box out of his grip. He doesn’t let go, so I do it again.
“Fine,” he growls at the same time I give up, thinking he isn’t giving up, but I am wrong. The box drops, shattering the moment it meets the floor. Oh my god, I’m going to kill him. He had better hope that wasn’t valuable. I kneel to the floor, flipping one tab of the box open, my eyes find the broken frame and tears fall immediately. The clay frame my brother made me before we were split into two different fosters homes is broken into pieces.
“Look, I didn’t—”
“You should have just listened to me!” I stand and push the box into my apartment with my foot.
“I was just trying to help you,” he argues.
“I didn’t ask for your help!” I yell again as more tears come. I turn, prepared to slam my door in his face and hopefully hit him with it in the process when two small eyes grab my attention. His son is staring right at me, blinking and looking ready to cry as well. I sniffle and take a deep breath before I calmly close my door.
I let out a couple more slow breaths and slide down the door, sitting next to the box. I pull out the pieces of the frame, running my fingers over the sharp edges of the blue, green, and yellow pieces. Next I pull out the faded photo that used to being inside it and choke back more tears when I notice a corner stuck to part of the frame, leaving it ripped.
My last memory of my brother, Logan, is of when we were making these picture frames in the children’s home, before they separated us. It was like he knew they couldn’t keep us together. He was hugging me, telling me to be brave, that I was the strongest little girl he knew, and that no matter what, I’d see him again one day. For some reason, this frame and the fact I kept it in good condition gave me hope that his words were true.
Now it’s broken and I hope I never run into my jack-hole of a neighbor ever again and coming to Wind Valley has been the worst decision I’ve ever made.
* * *
Yoga has always been my go-to when I’m stressed, and since I’d applied for a job at this gym before I moved here, I knew they offered classes. Between my afternoon and plotting how, if, or when I tell my brother I’m here, it seemed liked the right thing to do. This class, however, wasn’t what I expected.
The lights flick on as the class comes to an end, and the redhead next to me keeps talking. This would usually annoy me, considering this is a class of peace, but she sounds friendly enough and somewhere in her chat session—where she did the majority of the chatting—she actually invited me out for a drink tonight. Since I don’t know anyone, it sounds like a pretty great idea.
“Okay, so the bar is called The Black Alcove, have you heard of it?” she asks, spraying down her yoga mat and passing me the bottle.
“I think it’s near my apartment,” I answer honestly, even though about eight percent of me isn’t sure that’s the same bar I saw earlier.
“You think?” she laughs. “Where do you live?”
“In the Hillman Apartments on Center Street.”
The redhead stops rolling her mat and her eyes go wide as she looks at me.
“Seriously! That’s in the building next to mine!”
This time it’s me who pauses mid-roll. It’s always hard moving to a new place, especially alone. My fear is that at twenty-one you’ve hit that awkward age where either you have all the friends you need or you’re making new friends in college, so if you don’t have any, people think there’s something wrong with you. Seeing as college isn’t something I want to do right away, I’ve been dreading that I’ll end up as option three. Only the redhead here doesn’t seem to have the same plan for me. I should probably ask her name.
“Well, neighbor, how about we actually introduce ourselves? I’m Alex.” Like I was taught at a young age, I offer my hand and present her with a smile. She laughs it off but doesn’t shake my hand.
“You’re one of those polite, fancy girls, aren’t you?” She eyes me, tucking her mat into her bag. “You’re from the south. I hear the catch of an accent.”
“Yeah, North Carolina.”
“How in the heck did you end up in Wyoming?”
She isn’t looking at me now, which is good. She seems like the outspoken type and I’ve been told I have a “giveaway” face. People always know what I’m thinking with just one look. And right now, I worry she might see the real answer and not accept the one I tell people, because once people learn you grew up in the foster system, they look at you differently. Most people don’t realize they’re doing it, looking at you with pity. Besides, I think telling someone I grew up without my real family and I came here to find my real brother might be a bit much for day one, or any day, really.
“Just trying something new.” I shrug. I’ve got my yoga mat against my hip and my water bottle dangling from my finger as I wait for her.
“You know, I have a hunch the blonde girl in the corner was new, too, because in this town almost everyone knows everyone and I do not know her. That, and college kids won’t be rolling in a for a few more months, sooo, where is she?” Red hair whips her neck around as she surveys the room. Her back straightens when she finds who she’s looking for.
“Hey you,” she hollers at a thin, pale blonde across the room. “Are you new here?”
The girl nods hesitantly, as though it caught her off guard that someone would actually be talking to her. I know the look because I used to give it all the time.
“Are you twenty-one?”
The girl nods again.
“Fantastic, come have a drink with us tonight. My other girlfriends are all married with kids now; I need a couple new single gals. What’s your name?”
“Skylar,” the blonde answers, still seeming a little unsure of my new redheaded friend. Crud, what is her name?
“And you are?” I ask, urging her one more time to share her name.
“Beth.” She laughs. “Sorry I got a little sidetracked when you asked me earlier.”
I notice how Skylar returns her mat to the pile of borrowed ones, and then she thanks the instructor. Beth and I thank her as well before we step out in the hallway where cool air brushes against my skin now wet from sweat.
“Alright, so let’s all go home and shower and meet at the BA in about an hour?” Beth looks between me and Skylar. It’s actually cute that she is all about this new friend thing. I want to know more about these friends she used to hang around, but without knowing whether it’s a sore subject or not, I better not.
“Alex, we can walk together if you want. Skylar, do you know where to go?”
Skylar nods and then turns for the locker room while Beth and I head for the exit. We part ways, and as I drive to my new apartment, I mentally cross my fingers that I don’t reveal too much during drinks. Sharing little pieces of your life with a new friend is usually what happens when you meet someone new. And no one wants to know that, for years, I’d thought my family didn’t want me. That’s why I was in the foster system, right? Because someone didn’t want to be my parent or devote enough of their time to me.
At this time, letting anyone in on this secret is not something I want to do. I have no idea why I was ready to move to another state but not ready to admit to anyone that I’m really here. That gut-aching feeling that there could be a chance he’s changed his mind won’t go away, and until it does, this is my secret to keep.
I take a quick shower and dry my hair before putting on a pair of jeans with holes down the front—sadly th
ey weren’t made that way, but I’ve managed to alter them to at least look fashionable—and a new t-shirt. It’s only June and I’ve only been here since this morning, but I swear I’ve already gone through the chilly morning, a warm and misleading afternoon, and now, it’s turning into a windy evening. The weather here can’t seem to make up its mind.
I steal a glance at the clock on my phone. I told Beth I’d meet her outside about forty-five minutes after we left the gym. It’s about that time, and although I should stay home to unpack some things, I rush out the door to find her standing on the sidewalk, chatting away on her phone. She, too, is wearing a pair of jeans, only hers are sans the holes and she’s got on a green hoodie that makes her red hair even brighter than before.
“Perfect timing because I am starving,” she says dramatically, but in a fun way. I’m learning that Beth is one of those beautiful outspoken women. The kind that are unaware of how attractive they are. Not that I’m attracted to her, but her personality is attractive, and that I do enjoy. I sort of hope a bit of her bluntness can rub off on me one day.
We walk to the bar, passing the time with small chitchat—age, birthdays, music, all the random things. She’s twenty-four while I’m twenty-one. Her birthday is in January, mine is in October, both on the twenty-third of the month, which we find pretty coincidental. And we both feel the same about music: as long as it’s good, the genre doesn’t matter. It isn’t until we’ve reached the bar that she tells me she also works here, so I shouldn’t be thrown off when every employee stops by the table to say “hey.”
Only two tables are open when we arrive, and there isn’t a spot open at the bar. Beth rushes to a booth, motioning for me to follow her.
“It’s still early, but the burgers here are to die for. Once people eat their dinner, it will die down till the evening rush,” she tells me, sliding a menu my way.
I’m about to open it when the door opens and Skylar walks in. Like earlier, she hesitates before she steps inside. When she catches the sight of Beth’s hand waving in the air to gain her attention, she heads right for our table without even a glance at anyone as she passes them.
“Thanks for inviting me,” she says, taking a seat next to Beth. “I actually ate right before yoga, so I hope it’s okay that I just came to hang out. I don’t really know anyone here.” She starts to bite her nails, looking nervously back and forth between Beth and myself.
“I just moved here, too. Today actually,” I say, hoping to calm her nerves. Her hand drops and she sits up a little straighter.
“Oh, you two are cute.” Beth laughs. “If you want to know people, I can help you with that. But first, pick out some food so we can order.”
We sit in silence as we each look over the menu. I haven’t read even two items before three different people stop by to say hi. Beth doesn’t introduce us to any of them. I guess these aren’t the people she wants us to know.
“Hey, Beth,” a small female with a blonde and brown fade says as she stops at our booth.
“Abby.” Beth doesn’t even glance up to look at her.
Abby stands there, not acting offended as she offers both me and Skylar a fake smile. It’s a little awkward.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’ll just have water,” Skylar says quickly.
“Can I have a Roy Rogers?” I ask. Abby stares at me while Beth laughs.
“I thought we were coming out for a drink. Water and a Roy Rogers are not what I meant.”
“Hey, I need to eat first,” I say and this seems to an acceptable answer. Beth orders a Redds’ Apple Ale, and the moment Abby shifts away from the table, I have a direct view of the bar. More specifically, of the guy standing behind the bar. It’s my neighbor. He’s on my shit list for breaking the only thing I had left to remind me of my brother, but right now I’m realizing something else: there is a stupid crazy hot guy living next door to me and I can’t pull my eyes away. He flashes a smile at the two women in front of him and then he winks. His gaze lifts, finding mine. With a tilt of his head and another cute-as-hell grin, he waves at me.
“Oh, I see you’ve found Conner,” Beth says.
“The guy behind the bar?” I ask, trying to sound uninterested.
“That’s the one. If he weren’t my best friend’s little brother, I’d probably look at him with lust-filled eyes the way you are now.”
“I am not.” I laugh off her comment.
“It’s true, and I think the fact he has a son he spends almost every free moment with makes women even more interested.”
“Jake?” I ask, thinking of the little brown-haired boy I met earlier today.
“How did you know?” Beth asks.
“I met him earlier today.”
“Oh that’s right, you two are neighbors. Well, dang, I bet things around here are about to get pretty interesting.”
“Why?” I ask, my eyes searching him out once again. But he’s gone now. It’s for the best. I shouldn’t be checking him out. Where there is a cute guy and a kid, there is mother and significant other. I’m many things—a runner, a reader, a dreamer, even a hopeless romantic—but a home-wrecker, I am not.
“I’m no guy, but if I had a girl like you living across from me, practically there when I came home at night, I’d try to do something about it.”
“Oh,” I laugh her comment off once again. “I’m not in that place right now.” It’s true. This isn’t the time for me to be starting a relationship with anyone. I mean, I’ve grown up in multiple foster homes, and each time I thought I found my place, they up and rejected me, placing me in a new home. Trust in the everyday human isn’t something I have, and if I can’t even put it in this brother who is looking for me, as much as I want to, I sure as heck know I can’t put it in this random guy who already has a family. Why am I even thinking about this? Being hot is no excuse for having no manners. Which, after our encounter earlier, he is clearly lacking.
“Seriously? When isn’t a girl in the place for a hot guy?”
“I’ve just got some other things going on my life right now that don’t have place for a guy. Especially one who is—”
“Smoking hot,” Skylar says, reminding me she’s at the table, too.
Beth is about to object to me or agree with Skylar, I assume, when a tall figure appears at our table. My attention is pulled to focus on him. He has these dark forest-green eyes that I’ve never seen before but would be perfectly fine looking at for the rest of my life. My heart beats faster as I continue to check him. Dark hair just long enough to run your hands through. Strong, defined cheekbones with dark, perfectly shaved facial hair makes him look dreamy. All features I must have missed earlier in the hallway.
His chest rises and falls, grabbing my attention. The black t-shirt he’s wearing reads The Black Alcove in white letters just about the chest pocket. I try to keep my attention here instead of near his eyes, because the heated look he’s flashing my way right now is exciting something inside me.
“Ladies,” he says, now sharing his grin with the rest of the table. “Beth, I didn’t realize you had more friends.” There’s a joking tone to his voice that I find adorable. No. No, I don’t find it adorable.
“Ha funny, Conner, this is Skylar.” Skylar waves but doesn’t look up. “And you already know Alex.”
“Well, I met her briefly today, yes.” He switches his gaze from hers to mine. “I actually came over here to apologize. I’m sorry about earlier, and I hope you got everything else moved in okay.”
“I did, thank you,” I answer, managing to turn my gaze to a plastic beer advertisement on the table.
“Actually, she was just telling me how she needs to move some furniture around, but some pieces are too heavy. Since you’re her neighbor, you might be able to help.”
I don’t need to be looking at myself to know that my eyes have grown and my jaw is hanging open slightly at the lie. Her brow rises as she tilts her head toward Conner. I’ve changed my mind—Beth’s
bluntness isn’t an admirable trait.
“I’d be happy to help,” Conner says before I can correct her.
“That’s really not necessary. I’ll be fine.”
“Well, it’s not like I have to go out of my way. I get off around ten tonight, and if that’s too late I can come by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Tomorrow afternoon. We already have plans after this,” Beth adds quickly, taking a notepad out of Conner’s pocket and writing something down. Hopefully, this said cheeseburger.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” His eyes have found mine once again, leaving me speechless. I nod as he walks away.
“Yeah, okay, I’m just going to say right now, with that dreamy look on your face, that place you’re in … well, I think it just opened up a spot for Conner. Oh, and after we eat, we’re all going to your place because that furniture isn’t going to misplace itself.”
“Where were you when I was in high school?” Skylar smiles as she plays with the napkin her water is sitting on. “And whatever he did, with a smile like his, I’d have forgiven him already.”
The two quickly go into high-school talk. I shrug off the topic of my neighbor, because, if anything, I really do need help moving my TV stand and I guess I should make nice if I’m going to continue living here. I don’t have to even make friends with him, just be polite is all. Conner and I are nothing but neighbors.
Chapter Two
Conner
It’s been way too long since I’ve been alone with anyone of the opposite gender. It shouldn’t make me all clammy hands nervous, but it does. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be attracted to someone. I need to man up quick before I make it obvious to the entire world, or worse, before I make it obvious to Alex and make a fool of myself more than I already have with her.
“Are you really going over to that girl’s apartment?” Abby asks as I wipe down the bar. We make eye contact and I can see it right away that she isn’t too happy with the idea. I’m pretty sure that ever since she lived with Logan and I last summer—lesson learned on that move—she’s had this idea that something would happen between the two of us. I’ve made sure I’m always on my best behavior so as to not lead her on, and I think I do fairly well with it, but still, she looks hurt right now.
