Always My Hero

by Jennifer DeCuir

  “And what do you want?”

  “I just told you. I want to sell the hardware store.” Ryan shook his head and pulled at a cheesy tortilla chip, dislodging an olive and some Pico de Gallo.

  “That’s what you want for your parents. What do you want for you? Got someone special waiting for you back in sunny California?”

  “Well, no. No girlfriend. Just a job. Waiting for me, that is. They’ve given me a six-month hiatus. I was lucky that they’d hold my position that long.”

  Okay, it was hard to make a job as an accountant at a worker’s comp insurance company sound exciting. Because it wasn’t. But it paid the bills and put food on the table. He couldn’t really ask for more than that, right? He had a son to raise. He no longer had time to chase foolish dreams.

  “So you want to get back to your job. Crunch some numbers. Sit at a desk.”

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what I want. Not all of us can be firefighters, policemen, and gourmet chefs. Some of us are happy playing with numbers and making sure everything adds up.”

  He wasn’t fooling either of them. So what if he didn’t know what he wanted? He had the rest of his life to figure that out. He had some regrets. Didn’t everyone? But he also had Wesley and he was going to do right by his son. As soon as he could figure out a way to connect with the boy who felt more like a stranger than his own flesh and blood.

  Chapter 3

  Standing in front of her closet in her rubber ducky pajamas, toothbrush hanging out of her mouth, Bree contemplated her choices. Long boring black peasant skirt with equally boring black cardigan, or long boring brown peasant skirt with washed out yellow cardigan. She worked with kids all day. They’d probably think it a hoot if she were to show up in her jammies.

  She almost choked on her toothbrush when someone knocked on the front door. Who would be looking for her at this hour? The sun was barely up. Hurrying out of her bedroom and down the hall, Bree yanked open the door. Then wished she hadn’t.

  “Hey, is Foster up yet? I’m hoping he has an extra shovel. I figure if we work together we can get this stuff cleared in no time.” Ryan stamped his feet on her welcome mat, blowing on his bare knuckles as he awkwardly looked anywhere but at her.

  Foster? Bree frowned, blinking. She wasn’t doing so well, keeping up with a conversation before her morning cup of coffee.

  “I know, it’s stupid, right? My family owns the town hardware store. You’d think I would have a ton of shovels lying around. I meant to snag one out of my parents’ garage, but I forgot.”

  “He’s not ... ” Note to self. Don’t try to talk when you have a toothbrush in your mouth. With a disgusted shake of her head, Bree tossed the toothbrush] on the entryway table and swallowed the foamy paste left in her mouth.

  She realized she hadn’t finished her sentence. What had she been about to say? He’s not here. He’s not awake yet. This truly was a pointless charade she was keeping up. It wasn’t like it benefitted anyone.

  Foster didn’t live here. For that matter, she wasn’t quite sure where he lived. It had to be close to the center of town, because she saw him run by the library nearly every morning during decent weather, his faithful yellow lab looking blissfully pleased to join him. Bree frowned. She’d never even asked him what his beautiful dog’s name was.

  “It’s all right. Don’t bother him. I’ll get Wes to help me. Do you have a shovel we can borrow?”

  “Wes?” Bree peered around Ryan, who took up her whole doorway with his six foot two inch frame. The guy was almost as wide as he was tall, when she counted in his massive shoulder span.

  Her eyes widened. She must have missed the weather report yesterday. Several inches of new snowfall blanketed the ground. Though the sky was a steely gray, it seemed to be done for the time being. Not enough for life in Scallop Shores to grind to a halt, just enough to make a big mess.

  “My little guy. He’s eight.” The pride in his voice was unmistakable.

  Turning around quickly, so he couldn’t see how this news affected her, Bree stuck her upper half into the hall closet. Pretending to search for the shovel, she sucked in a few shuddering breaths. Ryan had a son. Correction. Ryan and Haley had a son. It shouldn’t have hurt as bad as it did. But a phantom pain gripped her by the uterus and shook it hard enough that she saw stars.

  “I see it, Bree. To your right.”

  Ryan reached around her, brushing against her side and nearly tearing a sob from her aching throat at the contact. He grasped the handle of the plastic snow shovel and jiggled it to show she’d have to get out of the way for him to remove it from the crowded closet. Bree practically climbed into the narrow enclosure to avoid any chance that they’d touch again.

  “Thanks. I’ll get the cars cleared off as soon as I shovel out the driveway.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to go to the trouble. I was planning to walk to work. It’s just a couple of blocks.” She stumbled from the closet, shutting the door.

  “Well, Foster will need the car to get down into the harbor, right?”

  For crying out loud, Foster again!

  “No, he won’t. Ryan, Foster doesn’t live here. He probably won’t be here ever again.” Wincing, she fervently wished she could take back that last part.

  “Hey, I’m sorry. Was it me? Oh, God, did you tell him about ... you know?” He looked miserable, resting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing.

  “Seriously, Ryan? Could you be any more full of yourself?” Bree jerked out of his grasp, slamming the door that was letting in the freezing cold before hugging herself tightly.

  “Just listen, all right? You saw Foster and me on a date. Our first date. And our last. Not that it’s any of your business, but we just didn’t hit it off. If you jumped to the wrong conclusion, that’s not my fault.” Okay, yeah it was. Kinda.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have brought up the past.”

  Amen to that! She bumped her shoulder against Ryan’s, her smile contrite.

  “You aren’t full of yourself. I’m just really cranky and overdue for my first cup of coffee.”

  “Hey, I’m going to get started on the driveway. Wes is all by himself over there. Would it be all right if he came in and hung out while I clear off the snow? He doesn’t need to get all soaked before his first day of school. Just turn on some cartoons or something. Do eight year olds still watch cartoons?”

  “You’re asking me? He’s your kid.” Panic zinged through her body at the thought of meeting Ryan’s son. But now she was curious.

  “I admit, it sounds weird. We just don’t know each other as well as we could.” He coughed into his fist, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

  “Ah. Custody issues?”

  She’d heard through the town grapevine that Ryan and Haley divorced, but must have blocked out the part about their having a child together. Wesley would have only been an infant at the time. Bree remembered feeling a little giddy, hoping Ryan would come back to Scallop Shores to lick his wounds. But the weeks of waiting turned into months and she eventually gave up. That had been years ago.

  “What? No. Haley signed over her rights in the divorce. A baby didn’t fit her lifestyle.”

  Typical. Bree would never have pictured the former head cheerleader and aspiring actress as the nurturing type. Still. She felt sad for the little boy growing up without a mother.

  “Bring him over. I’ll throw on some clothes and meet you in the living room.”

  “Thanks, Bree.”

  Ryan let himself out and Bree raced back to her room to throw on the drab brown and yellow ensemble. At least she wouldn’t look like she was going to a funeral. She jogged into the bathroom, flipped her hair upside down and brushed it vigorously. Maybe she could give it a little fake bounce. Swiping on a neutral lipstick and blush, she hurried back out to the living room before her guests arrived.

  “Bree, I’d like you to meet my son, Wesley.” Ryan gave the little boy a push forward.

  “As you wish.” She g
iggled. “I’m sorry, an obscure book reference. I wouldn’t expect you to understand that.”

  “The Princess Bride by William Goldman. I read it a few months ago. Except my name isn’t spelled with a ‘t’ in the middle, like his was. Think Wesley Crusher from Star Trek, Next Generation instead.” Wesley pushed his glasses to sit further up on the bridge of his nose.

  Bree cocked her head to the side, her smile widening as she touched her own glasses, having forgotten to put in her contacts in her rush to get dressed. It would appear they had a thing or two in common. The kid was a bookworm and a Trekkie.

  If only she could get over the fact that he looked so much like his father. Not his coloring. That was all Haley. But still, there was no denying he was Ryan’s son. God, it hurt to look at him and know what she’d lost.

  “How about I make you some hot chocolate? I might even have some leftover candy canes from Christmas somewhere around here.”

  “Can I, Dad?”

  “What the heck, sugar him up! Let his new teacher deal with it.” Ryan chuckled as he ducked back out the door.

  Bree watched as the eager expression on Wesley’s face fell away, replaced by nervousness once they were alone together. She led the way into the kitchen and waved the boy over to the small table in the corner while she looked for the canister of cocoa. Poor kid. First day at a new school was rough enough, but being from Southern California, he probably couldn’t see how they’d even still have school with all the snow on the ground.

  “I bet you wish you could just stay outside and play all day, huh?”

  “Nah. I’d rather get back to my book. Dad wouldn’t even let me bring it here. Said I had to socialize.”

  “Oh, I hear you. To be able to curl up with a good book, tune out the real world, and dive on in to one that you have a hand in creating. That’s way easier than taking a chance that the kids at your new school are going to like you.”

  She turned away to hide her grin when Wesley’s jaw dropped. He clearly wasn’t used to an adult being able to see inside his sensitive soul. Of course she understood him. She had been him.

  By the time Ryan came back in from shoveling, Bree and Wesley were deep in a discussion about which would be better to visit, Narnia or Hogwarts. She looked up from her second cup of coffee to find her new neighbor studying them from the doorway. He looked like he was scared to join in the conversation, for fear he’d say the wrong thing.

  “You need to warm up. Pick your poison—cocoa or coffee?” She stood up from the table and motioned for him to take a seat.

  “I wouldn’t say no to a cup of coffee, if it’s not too much trouble.” He smoothed a hand over the light scruff on his cheeks as he sat down in her vacated chair. Rubbing his hands together briskly, he sent her a warm smile that she felt down to the tips of her toes.

  One would have thought the man’s parents had spent a fortune on braces for him to end up with a winning grin like that. But Ryan never had to experience the awkwardness of braces as a teenager. He’d been blessed with naturally perfect, white teeth. Perfect teeth. Perfect body. Perfect everything. She turned away to fix that cup of coffee before she embarrassed herself.

  “Dad, Bree works in the children’s library. How cool is that? Can we stop by after school? Since I’m almost done with the Harry Potter series, she has a bunch of suggestions for me. And I’ll need my own library card, of course.”

  “I don’t see why not, bud.” Ryan caught her eye over the top of his son’s head, as she set his steaming mug in front of him. The tender look on his face reminded her of stolen moments from long ago.

  She tried to ignore the thrill from being on the receiving end of his smile. He was distracting her. She was supposed to be looking for her happily ever after. Now she was pining for a man who’d already walked away from her once. Besides, if he learned her secret, he’d walk away from her for good.

  • • •

  The snowy weather would make the hardware store a busy destination today, but Ryan was grateful to have it to himself for the moment. He tossed the tangled key ring on the counter near the cash register and slumped onto the stool his dad kept out of sight.

  He reached for his cup of dark roast. Though he’d already had one cup at home and another at Bree’s place, habit had him steering his dad’s pickup toward Logan’s Bakery.

  The bakery, which had been there as long as he could remember, had been replaced with a comic book store, of all things. Thank God the kid behind the counter was able to point him toward a new coffee shop, Cady’s Dream. Though Ryan felt like a dumbass when he realized it was only two storefronts down from the family hardware store.

  Scallop Shores remained largely unchanged since the last time he’d been home, probably going on ten years or so. Sure, if he drove around long enough, he’d find new housing developments and maybe a few new businesses. But it felt good to know that he could count on things being the same.

  Something about seeing that old Civil War monument in the center of town took him back. He smiled to himself, remembering the time he and his teammates had dressed the statue in a Wildcats jersey after they’d won the homecoming game against the Rangers. The stone dude had rocked the look.

  The bell jangled over the door as he walked into the hardware store for the first time in a decade. He’d hated having to put in his hours back then. How he’d wanted a job where he didn’t have to work for his old man. Now he’d gladly clock in, if it meant his father was working alongside him. No matter how cluttered and stuffed the shelves were, without Bo Pettridge, the store just seemed a little too empty.

  Time to get this day started. He perused the shelves beneath the front counter for something to write on. They were stuffed with register tape and a myriad of other items to make his dad’s life easier—if he could find what he was looking for in all the junk. Ryan grabbed a notepad with a coffee stain on it and a worn stub of a pencil and settled down to make his daily to-do list. Haley had always made fun of him for planning out his day, claiming he couldn’t pee unless he’d written it down so he could cross it off later.

  Writing lists calmed him. Or maybe it was being able to cross off the items he’d accomplished. Probably both. At the top of the blank page he wrote: Drop Wesley off at school. Then he drew a thick line through it. Talk about a blast from the past. Scallop Shores Elementary was like a frickin’ time capsule. The only thing that had changed was the roster of teachers. And Ryan wondered if there might have been one or two that were still there from when he was Wesley’s age.

  He had to give the kid props. Wesley hadn’t cried or whined or bargained for another day or two before starting his new school. He’d put on a brave face, straightened his spine and even greeted his new principal with a handshake when they’d been introduced in the front office. Not that Ryan didn’t have respect for authority, but he was again reminded of how different he and his son were.

  That had his mind wandering back to earlier in the morning, when he’d first walked into Bree’s kitchen. Ryan set down his pencil, cracked his knuckles and brooded. On the one hand, he was thrilled that Wesley had made such a strong connection to someone new in town. He hadn’t seen the kid have such an animated conversation ... ever. Okay, so that was a very good thing.

  But they were talking books. And he was so happy. And she got him. Bree understood Wesley and knew exactly how to draw him out of his little walled-up self. And that should be a good thing too. If it didn’t make him feel so damned inadequate.

  He took a sip from his paper cup and gagged at how fast the coffee had cooled. Slipping off the stool, he realized he hadn’t even turned the heat on for the day. Only the front-end lights were on, too. And his dad would have his hide if he didn’t put the Muzak on. “I pay an arm and a leg for that damned thing, we’re damned well gonna play it,” the man used to rant when Ryan would forget to flip on the sleepy elevator music, when he opened the store every weekend morning while he was in high school.

  Was there still such
a service? He knew his dad used to pay a monthly subscription fee. Was the old man onto satellite radio, like the Sirius stations Ryan listened to on his daily commute back in California? Honestly, he couldn’t remember his father ever listening to music at home, so he couldn’t imagine him switching to CDs or an iPod, where he’d have to choose the music himself.

  The bells over the door jingled just as Ryan was returning from the back office. A low rumble signaled the heater kicking on. He hurried up front to make sure his customer didn’t need any help.

  “Well, if it isn’t the younger Pettridge. Your Ma told me how you’d be taking over the joint now. Hated like hell to take my business elsewhere when they were closed for a bit. How’s your Pop?” Curtis Blaise lifted his worn ball cap in greeting and yanked it back down over his salt and pepper hair.

  “Dad’s doing well. He’s frustrated that he can’t do things for himself, and that’s probably the best motivator he can have for getting better. If his poor nurses can stand him, we should be fine.”

  Curtis chuckled as he made his way down the plumbing aisle. He wouldn’t need any help. This guy practically lived at the hardware store. Ryan went back to his list.

  Contact a Realtor. This one was tricky. He’d been so busy getting him and Wesley settled, that he hadn’t had time to sit down with his parents and broach the idea of selling the hardware store. All right, he hadn’t said anything yet because he was a wimp. He knew what had to be done, what was the best thing for all of them, in the long run. But he also knew his parents had emotional ties to the store that would make it a lot harder for them to see what was best.

  Another jingle, another customer. Ryan had his smile in place before he even looked up, but it took a little extra effort to keep it in place this time. Mr. Swanson, his old high school algebra teacher, waved from the door and hurried up to the register.

  “What a sight for sore eyes! I knew you’d be home sooner or later. Good to see you, boy. Good to see you.”