Always You: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (ABCs of Love Collection Books 5-8)

by Brenna Jacobs

  Before he knew it, both her arms were around his neck. Over the next few years, they’d talked (okay, argued) about who instigated that first kiss, but in the moment, all Fletcher had cared about was that her lips felt so warm, even though her nose was so cold. The smooth tree stump she stood on held her at the perfect height for his arms to wrap around her back. His need to get a little closer had battled with his desire to pull back and just look at her for a few more seconds.

  She was a miracle. A force of nature. A whirlwind.

  That first kiss had led to hundreds more over the years. They became a power couple at Hillside High, and when they left home for college, they left together. And stayed together, right up until they didn’t anymore.

  Uninterested in thinking too hard about that, Fletcher drove to the edge of the new housing development and turned his truck around. Promising himself he would think of something other than Hadley as he drove back through the neighborhood that had once been their forest, he saw his phone light up with a text. When he pulled over to check if it was the station, he found the message was from Nick.

  Come play ball at the rec center?

  He thumbed a reply.

  When?

  Busy now?

  Was he busy now? Driving through the depressing remnants of what used to be a place full of mystique, trying (and failing) to forget what had made it so perfect?

  Give me 10 minutes.

  His gym bag was always in the truck, but he needed to check on his mom. He dialed her number, not expecting an answer, so he was pleasantly surprised when she did pick up. Her voice was groggy, but the fact she had answered was a good sign. When he told her about Nick’s text, she insisted he go play basketball instead of hovering over her while she ate tortellini and watched TV. So he headed to the rec instead of home and went inside to lace up his court shoes. By the time Nick arrived, Fletcher was warming up, making three shots out of every four.

  Nick’s warmup seemed unnecessary. He never missed a shot. Fletcher complimented a few particularly great baskets. Nick had been so friendly and welcoming, but there was something weird there. It was more than a little weird to be welcomed into his hometown by someone who hadn’t always lived there. But when he thought about it, Fletcher knew the truth actually had to do with Hadley; it seemed strange to become friends with a guy who was so clearly into her. And that was just dumb. Despite the warmth of the memories he’d been reliving on his drive, Hadley meant nothing to Fletcher now.

  At least, she shouldn’t mean anything.

  And if Nick was interested in dating her, Fletcher wasn’t going to stand in their way.

  He should say something. But what? Hey, I used to date Hadley, but you should definitely go for it? Not a chance.

  Finally, he settled on, “Dude. Nice,” when Nick’s third three-pointer in a row swished in.

  Nick grinned.

  They played one-on-one for an hour, after which Fletcher was thoroughly wiped out. He lay down on the bleacher bench at the edge of the court and watched Nick, who seemed not to feel it at all.

  “You know, fire training’s good for more than I would have thought,” Nick said, tossing the ball against the backboard and catching it on the rebound. “Not that I need to tell you that.”

  Several times during their games, Nick had made comments like this, just random thoughts he tossed out when he checked the ball in. Fletcher wasn’t used to small talk between firefighters. The guys on his smokejumper crew were more typically the strong, silent types. But Nick seemed unconcerned with fulfilling any stereotypes.

  “You mean like to keep you healthy?” Fletcher asked, swigging half his water bottle.

  Nick shrugged and sunk a lay-up. “I guess. But more than that.”

  “My dad always said his training made him a well-rounded man,” Fletcher said. “I don’t really know what he was talking about.” He lowered his voice. “I’m just glad I can have a burger and fries every day and not look like that guy.” Fletcher gestured with his head to a middle-aged man pushing a double stroller around the track. Poor guy looked like the stroller was holding him up.

  “Not just physically, though,” Nick said. “Relationships, too.”

  “Are we going to have a heart-to-heart?” Fletcher asked, sitting up on the metal bench and loosening the laces on his shoes.

  This got no response. “I’m thinking about direct and indirect attack strategies,” Nick said, landing a left-handed lay-up. “You know, like when you’re putting out a fire. But not. Attacking an impossible situation, maybe.” Nick executed a flawless fall-away jump shot.

  “I’m trying to decide if one—direct or indirect—is better than the other.” Looking at Fletcher, he said, “You know. With women.”

  Fletcher had no idea how to respond to that. Talking about theoretical comparisons of fires to women was not something he was used to. Nick missed a shot and the ball bounced toward Fletcher. He tossed it back with a shake of his head.

  Nick took another shot and did a hamstring stretch. “The direct attack can leave you in dangerous territory. Indirect sometimes causes you to miss the target.”

  “We’re not talking about fire at all anymore, are we?” Fletcher asked.

  Nick laughed. “I guess not.”

  Fletcher jumped back up off the bench as he realized that Nick must know about his history with Hadley. But was Nick asking if Fletcher minded if he asked Hadley out? Fletcher was not interested in having a conversation about Nick’s apparent crush on Hadley, particularly when he had no idea how Hadley might feel about Nick. She hadn’t seemed terribly interested earlier.

  But then, how could Fletcher know what kind of signals Hadley had been giving Nick before today? For months? Years? Fletcher had no way to gauge her apparent interest in any guy these days. It had been years since he’d seen Hadley into a guy. And, well, before, it had always been him.

  Not that it mattered, he reminded himself. Hadley could fall for anyone she pleased.

  He glanced at Nick again as he passed the ball, waiting for some glaring flaw to appear: a third arm, maybe, or some sign of a disgusting personal habit.

  Nothing obvious. Hadley was welcome to him.

  Except that when Fletcher thought of Hadley wrapped in Nick’s arms, he wanted to hit Nick directly in the nose.

  Huh.

  That wasn’t a reaction Fletcher generally had to a good game of basketball. He tossed up a free throw and missed.

  “So,” Fletcher said, clearing his throat. “It’s been a while since I lived here. What do the guys on the crew do for fun?” If Nick mentioned getting together with Hadley now, it would be innocent—just an answer to a friendly question.

  Nick held his arms out as if to introduce Fletcher to the wonders of the rec center. “You’re basically doing it right now. Most of the guys on the team are married,” he said, laughing and rolling his eyes to show how he felt about the crew’s collective marital status getting in the way of his social life. “Which means, as far as the party aspect of the Greensburg City Fire Station goes, you’re looking at it.”

  Fletcher grabbed the basketball from Nick and dribbled around him, hooking another left-handed lay-up. “So, what you’re saying is,” Fletcher said, “where have I been all your life and what did you ever do without me?”

  “Yeah, something like that,” Nick said, stealing the ball and effortlessly dunking it, hanging on the rim for a second. “Sometimes I’ll go do group stuff,” Nick said, shrugging as though “group stuff” wasn’t the greatest. “You know. Greensburg singles. Something my mother would set up. But it’s not always lame. Now and then, Hadley and Savanna come along,” he said, a smile creeping onto his face.

  “Did you know I used to date Hadley?” He didn’t know he was going to say it.

  Fletcher watched Nick’s face. He didn’t look shocked. Honestly, he didn’t look affected at all. Fletcher wondered if Nick thought he was being territorial. “That was a long time ago though,” he said, dribbling the ba
ll.

  “Yeah,” Nick said.

  Yeah? What did that mean? Fletcher tossed Nick the ball.

  “Too bad it didn’t work out, I guess,” Nick said, stepping back and launching a perfect three-point shot.

  There was no hint of aggression. Nick didn’t square up. He talked about it like it didn’t mean anything to him at all. Maybe Nick had more confidence even than Fletcher had assumed.

  Chapter 4

  Hadley turned the knob and let herself into her store, Second Glance Books, where the clatter of a cowbell announced her arrival.

  Not that it mattered. Faith, the high school senior that Hadley employed for afternoons and weekends wasn’t listening for the bell. She wouldn’t have been listening for the alarm, either. Faith was charming and hilarious and dependable in the following way: the minute Hadley left her alone, she’d stick her AirPods in her ears and tune out everything not directly in front of her.

  Currently, what was in front of Faith was a huge box of donated books for the used section of the store. Faith sat, legs tucked beneath her, flipping through the collection and making piles: toss it, repair it, sell it, or display it.

  Hadley glanced around the shop. There were a few people sitting in squashy armchairs and a man leafing through old Fodor’s travel books. The autumn light filtering through the shop windows slanted in and warmed the wooden shelves like a soft, cotton blanket. Framed pictures and seasonal knickknacks filled tables stacked high with books both old and new. The air smelled like oiled furniture and cinnamon. Altogether, the place evoked comfort. It never failed to thrill her how perfectly charming her shop was. It was exactly what she had always wanted, and precisely what her family thought was most foolish.

  For all her life, her parents worked in high-tech industries, her mom as a software developer and her dad as an inventor of smart-phone technology. When Hadley was in high school, her parents had finally saved enough to start their own business making apps and software for existing cell phone companies, but soon after, her dad’s new phone landed with a gigantic splash in the market. Her older sister worked for the family company making unheard-of amounts of money, and they thought Hadley’s dream of selling books—paper books, no less—was kind of adorable, but mostly silly.

  It was a lot like the way they all looked at Hadley herself.

  She got it. Really, she understood that to people with a particular viewpoint or filter or bias, books were the opposite of technology. And if it wasn’t strange enough that she wanted to make a business out of going back in time to an outdated product, add in the factor that half of the books she sold were used? Used books. They were baffled.

  “Sweetie,” her mom had said, “nobody is going to spend enough money on used junk to even let you afford storage of your product. There’s simply not a market for what you want to sell.”

  Her mom was wrong, occasionally. Hadley was convinced that this was one of those occasions.

  Her sister wasn’t any more supportive. “Sweetie,” Shae had said, “you have so many creative friends. Why aren’t you setting up an online publishing company and putting new digital books out there into the market? That’s where the customers are. Do you have any idea how many people buy more than one digital book every week?”

  No, in fact, Hadley had no idea. But she was confident that there were also people who would buy one or more books made of paper every month or so.

  Her dad, doubtless her biggest fan in basically every avenue of her life, was not much better. “Sweetie, you have a business degree. I know you’ve learned where to lean for success. This little hobby of yours is mystifying.”

  Honestly, if one more person in her world called her “sweetie,” she would bare her teeth and bite them on the nose.

  Her family couldn’t see the value of her endeavor because they valued different things (constant technology upgrades and lots and lots of money) than she did (textiles, relationships, and a cluttered, bright, warm shop full of dusty, beautiful books).

  Hadley walked over and tapped Faith’s head.

  “Oh, hey,” Faith said, pulling the AirPod out of one ear.

  The fact that she never felt the need to apologize for tuning out the world kind of made Hadley like her even more. At least as long as there were no customers who needed her attention.

  She held a red leather-bound book with gilt page edges up to Hadley’s face. “Fun fact—people who smoke cigars in their houses donate books that smell like cigar smoke. And who, I ask you, wouldn’t like that?”

  Faith’s ironic tone perplexed some of the elderly customers who came into Second Glance, but Hadley loved the girl’s sarcasm.

  Breathing in, Hadley wrinkled up her nose. Faith was right. Stale and dank-smelling, the book dropped in value right before her nose.

  “The whole box?” Hadley asked.

  “Nah. Just the really pretty ones. There’s some great stuff in here, though, even if it stinks.” She handed over a Flannery O’Connor first edition and a set of the collected works of Jane Austen.

  Hadley clapped her hands like a child being handed cookies.

  “Want to see the poets?”

  Hadley gasped. “He sent poets?”

  The box had come from an estate sales agent named Niles that Hadley had met in school. After the sales he oversaw, he’d send her the leftovers. But, as he put it, because Hadley was such a nice human, sometimes he’d pick out a few winners before the sale, giving her first pick and a great deal. Most of the secondhand books she sold went for a couple of dollars, but now and then, particularly now, there was a handful of gems that could bring her shop some real money.

  Ignoring the smell of stale smoke, Hadley kissed the spines of the Jane Austen set and placed them on a counter. She’d have to remember to pick up some British-looking flowers to display with Jane. The right customer would notice.

  “So,” Faith asked, “how did the donation delivery go the other day? Are you winning?”

  “I got dropped to the floor by a fireman.”

  Faith’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead. “This is already a better story than anything I could have imagined. You went to take in a bunch of blankets and ended up on the floor with a fireman.” Faith held up her finger in a wait-a-minute gesture and looked into the middle distance as if trying to picture it happening.

  Hadley gave Faith’s shoulder a mock shove. “Stop it. Gross. No, I mean literally, a guy knocked into me and I went sprawling in all my elegant glory.” A part of Hadley wanted to laugh, remembering how ridiculous she must have looked, and certainly felt. But the thought of Fletch, of all people, standing there looking down on her, lifting her up off the floor…

  Touching her again. Holding on to her, even if at a polite distance. Stop it, she told herself. That’s ancient history.

  Faith laughed. “Was it that Nick guy who comes in here? I’ve been wondering how long it would take him to literally sweep you off your feet. That guy would try anything to get his hands on you.”

  Nick had spent some time lingering in the bookshop. Occasionally he’d buy small trinkets and gifts, but if he was giving them to someone, it wasn’t to Hadley. She understood what Faith meant, but the truth was, Nick was a complete gentleman. He would do nothing like “anything” to get his hands on her. He would be present. And he would wait. Smiling.

  Hadley shook her head but didn’t say anything. She didn’t know how to convince Faith that she simply wasn’t into Nick Baxter. Come to think of it, she didn’t have any idea how to convince Nick, either. He’d been working at the station for a couple of years, and in a place like Greensburg it was easy to know everyone her own age. She’d seen him here and there, gone out in groups a few times, but lately, when she’d gone to visit Savanna at work at the station, he’d been more obviously present.

  Like an eager puppy.

  He was always bringing them things (a bottle of juice, a pastry from the rec room). And he had this way of looking at her that left all nuance behind. Unfeigned ado
ration. Puppylike. But somehow less appealing than the affection she got from her actual canine dog.

  Which, she knew, was an unfair comparison and not a very nice thing to say. So she didn’t say it out loud. Even if, in her mind, Baxter had become the perfect name for a Labrador.

  “No. It was the new guy. Fletcher Gates.” It was still strange to taste his name in her mouth again after all this time.

  Faith replied from inside a huge box of paperbacks. “He sounds like a law firm.”

  Hadley laughed. “Yeah, but he’s not. Just a regular guy.” A regular guy with a whole lot of history, a striking profile, and all the expected flexings and ripplings that came with his job. She tried to scrub from her mind the memory of how good he’d looked the other day.

  How good he’d looked at the station. And running. And in the store.

  Good enough that she’d had to remind herself how patronizing he’d been, telling her how she ought to buy ice cream and assuming she needed his help to stand up. Some things never changed.

  “Firemen are not regular guys,” Faith said. “Accountants and car salesmen are regular guys. Tile workers are regular guys. My chemistry teacher is a regular guy. Firemen are the actual opposite of regular guys.”

  Hadley knew better than to delve into this topic with Faith. Mainly because Faith was a kid, and Hadley had a few scruples when it came to sharing too much information with minors. Instead, she made a vague sound of disagreement, suggesting there was not a healthy middle ground for them to come to and they might as well move on.

  “So?” Faith asked. “Was he hot?”

  Annoyed by the answer that immediately came to her mind, she put on her Older and Wiser Person voice. “Faith, you know very well that there are about a hundred things more important about a person than his physical attractiveness.”

  A breath of annoyance preceded Faith’s reply. “Here we go.”

  “I mean it,” Hadley said, almost keeping a straight face. “I wish you’d asked me if he was thoughtful or if he was genuine.”