The What If Guy

by Moss, Brooke

  “What are you doing here?” Holly asked.

  “Oh, hello there, Holly.” Layla scowled at my best friend.

  “Shouldn’t you be on a date with your Valentine tonight?” I said.

  Layla laughed, making her sparkling earrings bounce. She wore a low-cut, red T-shirt with a sequined heart nestled in between her fake breasts. I pressed my shoulders back, chest out, but I knew I couldn’t compete.

  “No Valentine for me tonight,” she said. “Daddy’s still the president of the Service Club, so he asked me to help chaperone the dance, since all the kids love me so much.”

  “Especially the boys,” Holly added, her tone flat.

  I gaped at Layla’s cleavage. “I can see why.”

  Layla waved her manicured finger at us. “Jealousy doesn’t become you girls.” Her gaze dropped to Holly’s stomach. “Pregnant again, I hear. When will you learn that popping out babies won’t keep your man? A girl’s gotta keep herself up to hold her husband’s interest.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding?”

  Holly’s grasped my arm. “Layla was just giving me some sound advice. Thank you.” Layla’s smile relaxed and Holly went in for the kill. “Besides, she would know all about losing a husband. After all, she’s lost her share, hasn’t she?”

  “Ouch.” I snickered.

  Layla’s smile frosted. “Autumn, may I speak to you?”

  “What?” I looked between her and Holly. “Me?”

  “Yes, please.” Layla glared at Holly, then strode towards the doors.

  I turned to Holly. “You think she’s going to knife me in the parking lot?”

  “Why would she do that?” Holly scoffed. “She’d ruin her outfit. Besides, I’m the one who insulted her.”

  “Okay, but if I’m not back at nine, call the police, and check her trunk.”

  I followed Layla into the cool, night air. She stood next to her black Hummer—such a Layla vehicle to drive. She smiled tightly as I approached with my hands shoved in the pockets of my jeans.

  “Autumn.”

  I laughed nervously. “Layla.”

  She was all business. “First off, I wanted to tell you that the drawings I saw in the pharmacy that day were terrific.”

  She wanted to talk to me about my drawings? “Okay.”

  “No, I mean it. They were fantastic. I was impressed.” She paused, probably waiting for me to thank her for the compliment.

  “Thank you?” I said quickly.

  “Do you do murals?”

  “I guess so. I haven’t done one since Elliott was little. I did the solar system on his bedroom wall in Seattle. Complete with aliens. It was cute.”

  “Aliens?” She flared her nostrils. “Not exactly where I was going, but we can hammer out those details later. I want you to do a mural in my daughter’s room.”

  “You want to hire me to paint a mural?”

  “Yes.” She checked her lipstick in the side mirror of her Hummer. “I’m having the windows redone. They weren’t big enough. The room isn’t finished yet, but it should be ready to paint in a month.”

  I couldn’t help but look skeptical.

  “I’ll pay you generously,” she said. “We can discuss exact numbers later.”

  “Layla, I—”

  She put her hand up, palm out. “Don’t try to stop me. I’m throwing you a bone here.”

  “Throwing me a bone?”

  “Your father’s been moved to part-time,” she said. “And I know money is tight for you. I figured you could use the work. I’m just doing my part, you know.”

  The angel in me wanted to accept the job. After all, I needed the money. Since my father wasn’t able to work full-time anymore, the responsibility for the bulk of the household expenses rested on my shoulders. But the devil in me wanted to shove Layla into an old snow heap, purely on principle.

  “You’ve got talent. Nobody was as surprised as me.”

  I scowled at her.

  “I want you to make my daughter’s room a fantasy land. Something every little girl would die for.”

  “Well, all right, but—”

  “No buts. I’ll call you when the room is ready to paint. We’ll set it up then.”

  “Okay,” I muttered, shaking my head.

  Layla leaned into me conspiratorially. “Speaking of things that surprise me—you and Henry Tobler? Really?”

  I clenched my teeth so hard that pain shot through my jaws. “I, uh…yeah.”

  Her head bobbed to one side, an expression of false sympathy plastered on her face. “That bad, huh? Still hurts?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “Henry and I are just friends.” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat.

  “But you dated?”

  I nodded.

  “Don’t you still have feelings for him?”

  “No. No feelings for Henry at all.” Why did it matter if I lied to Layla Deberaux? She went after men like a boa constrictor and swallowed them whole. I jutted my jaw. My stomach roiled. Of course I still had feelings for Henry. My feelings for him kept me up at night, for heaven’s sake.

  “Well, that’s a relief. I didn’t want you to be upset that he came over the other day.” She winked at me. “He and I have been talking, and he finally came over to see my hot tub, just so you know.”

  I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I didn’t know what to say. I’d been rendered speechless.

  She flashed me a grin. “I knew you might be upset.”

  I swallowed the softball-sized lump in my throat. “I’m…I’m not upset.” I stepped back, staggering over a frozen snow pile and onto the sidewalk. “I’ve got to go. Call me about the mural.”

  “Will do. It’s going to be great.”

  “Right. Goodnight.” I wrapped my arms around myself and charged up the hill toward home.

  Henry had gone to see her hot tub? And they’d been talking? Nausea churned my stomach. I’d been right. Henry was so hard-up that he was now dating Layla Deberaux. He wasn’t looking for a relationship. He was looking for someone to get frisky with—and looking in all the right places, if history served.

  I shuddered.

  I shoved open my front door, and headed straight for the freezer. This occasion called for Half-Baked Brownie ice cream—with a side of self pity.

  §

  I couldn’t sit still.

  For the next two and a half hours, all I did was fidget, eat ice cream, and stare out the window. I had no right to care. I’d forfeited my right to say anything about Henry’s love life years ago. He was free to do what he wanted, with whomever he wanted. Yet there I was, picturing Layla and Henry in her two-person hot tub.

  “Why don’t you just go get him?” my dad grumbled from his recliner.

  I whirled around. “What? What do you mean?”

  His blue eyes were smiling, despite his perpetual frown. “Elliott.”

  “Oh, right.” I laughed anxiously. “El.”

  “Why else would you be freaking out?”

  “Yes. I should be going to pick him up right now.” I pulled on my coat. “Will you be all right while I’m gone?”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “I’m not a child.”

  I nodded. “I know. Be back soon.” I opened the door.

  “Hey, Auto?”

  I glanced back at my dad. His cracked lips turned upward in a small smile. “Thanks for being my Valentine tonight, kid.”

  My heart warmed. “You’re welcome. Thanks for being mine.”

  His eyes softened, and he waved his hand again. “Get the hell outta here. You’re letting the cold air in.”

  And he’s back. I laughed to myself and stepped onto the porch.

  I made my way down the hill and to the Grange hall. Outside, the DJ packed his things and kids climbed into minivans, calling their goodbyes. I scanned the parking lot for Layla’s Hummer, but it was gone. A whoosh of air escaped my lungs. At least I didn’t have to hear more about the big hot tub party. My heart t
ugged.

  I walked into the Grange hall, kicking pink and red balloons out of my way.

  “Hey, Mom,” Elliott called.

  “Hey, punk.” The building was nearly empty, except for Elliott, Tabitha, Holly, Cody, and their brood of sleeping blondies in the corner. “Did you have fun?”

  Sweat dampened Elliott’s hair, his face red. “Yeah. We did the limbo, and Marshall fell down. Hilarious.”

  Several feet away, Holly swept up streamers.

  “How are you doing?” I asked.

  She smiled tiredly. “Better, now that the troops have passed out.”

  “Want some help?” I took off my jacket.

  She blew at her bangs. “Sure. Cody, give the woman a broom.”

  I took the broom and started sweeping. “I take it the night was a success?’

  Cody nodded. “The kids had a great time, and the Service Club earned their costs back—and then some.” He gave me the thumbs up, then brushed some pink confetti out of Holly’s hair.

  “That’s wonderful.”

  Nearby, Elliott and Tabitha shared an iPod and giggled. I gave Holly a look. “I see they had a nice time.”

  Holly covered her mouth to hide a chuckle. “Mm-hmm.”

  “I checked the basement, everyone’s out.”

  At the sound of that voice, all of the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I turned to see Henry walking through the back entry, a garbage bag in hand. Had he volunteered to chaperone the dance? Was there anything Henry didn’t do? I was suddenly filled with anticipation, though it was muddled with resentment because of Lay-a-lot.

  Henry stopped in his tracks. “Hello.”

  I frowned. “Hey.”

  Holly raised an eyebrow at me. “Thanks, Henry. Can you take that garbage to the dumpster?”

  He nodded and ducked out the exit.

  “Could you take this out, too?” She asked me, gesturing at a bag on the floor.

  Muttering to myself, I scooped up the bag and stomped towards the door. I didn’t want to talk to Henry. I wanted to kick him in the crotch. I followed him to the dumpsters in silence, trying my best to appear cool and aloof.

  “I was hoping I’d see you tonight.”

  I ignored him, even though my arms twitched, longing to reach out and hold him.

  “Something wrong?” he asked, propping open the dumpster lid.

  “No.”

  “How was your Valentine’s Day?”

  I shot him an icy glare. “Not as good as yours, apparently.”

  Henry’s smile flattened. “What do you mean?”

  I turned to leave. “Nothing. It’s not important.”

  He gently grasped my arm and turned me around. “Come on. You look like you’re ready to punch me.”

  I glanced away. “Maybe I am ready to punch you.”

  “Why?” He smiled, appearing amused by my anger.

  I didn’t return his smile. “It’s late. I’ve got to get Elliott home.”

  Henry scrunched his face. “I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

  My eyes flashed. “Layla said you came over to see her hot tub.”

  It was dark out, but I was pretty sure he blushed. “It’s not what you think.”

  “That’s original,” I scoffed.

  “I went over with Howie Warner. He was fixing the heater in Layla’s hot tub and she wanted to talk to me about the Service Club,” he explained. “She asked me to help out tonight, and then asked me to volunteer for the Flag Day celebration this summer.”

  “So you’re not dating?”

  “Not hardly.”

  “I—” My cheeks heated.

  His brow furrowed. “Why does it matter to you, anyway? You said you weren’t interested in dating anyone in town.”

  “You said the same thing.”

  “Why do you care who I spend time with?”

  “I don’t.” I shivered in the cold night air. “I just don’t want you catching syphilis in Layla’s hot tub, that’s all. I’m…” My stomach tightened. “Being a good friend.”

  He shook his head. “A good friend?”

  “Uh huh.” I nodded shakily.

  Henry stepped closer and removed his knotty gray scarf. He wound it around my neck, then slid his hands across my shoulders and down my arms. “A good friend.” He sounded as if he were saying it more to himself than me.

  I would have moved away, but my feet were cemented in place. He leaned in, his hands gliding up to cup my face, his thumb grazing across my lips. I was glad I couldn’t move. I opened my mouth to speak, but lost all my words when Henry’s lips brushed against mine like a whisper. A sudden burst of heat shot from my stomach to the top of my head. Please don’t stop.Alas…he did.

  Henry pulled back, then adjusted the scarf on my neck. “Thanks for being a good friend. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  He pulled his keys out of his pocket, turned, and strode behind the building to his truck. He fired up the truck’s engine, backed out of his parking space, and drove away.

  I stood, immobilized by yet another one of his kisses.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “He’s been out of town, you know,” Ramona said, as she checked my groceries in Fisk’s a few weeks later.

  “Who?” I pretended to be clueless.

  Ramona smiled conspiratorially. “Henry. I saw you strolling past his house the other night.”

  Of course she did. Ramona knew about our past. It was a freaking miracle she hadn’t managed to see us kissing yet, with the way she watched everyone.

  “Out of town?” I asked.

  “Heard he had to go to California for some divorce thing.” She put a pint of ice cream into my bag. “Heard his wife is taking him for all he’s got.”

  I shook my head. “That’s too bad.”

  “He’ll be home soon, my dear.” She handed me my change.

  I gave her a half-hearted wave, then walked out the door.

  I’d not laid eyes on Henry since Valentine’s Day. I’d waited to hear from him, but no call had come. Eventually, I’d given up waiting and started walking the long way home. I’d planned to catch him at home, strike up a conversation, then land myself a date. Unfortunately, Henry was M.I.A., and I hadn’t gotten the chance. But I had been spotted by the town crier, Ramona Fisk.

  Great.

  So, Henry was in California for divorce proceedings. Happiness swelled in my chest as I loaded groceries into my car. Maybe now he would stop running away from me every time we kissed. Now we could date. Having his divorce finalized would keep Henry from holding back, I hoped.

  A week later, the phone rang at my dad’s house. “Autumn?” Henry said.

  I gasped—yes, I realized how pathetic I was. “Henry?”

  There was a pause. A good pause, or a bad pause, I didn’t know.

  I instinctively checked my hair in the reflection from the side of the toaster while I waited.

  “You need to come to the school immediately,” he said.

  “To the school? What’s wrong? Is Elliott okay?”

  “Elliott got into a fight.” Henry’s tone was serious. “Mr. Purdell is out for the day. I’m his substitute. Elliott’s in the office right now, nursing a bloody nose.”

  “A bloody nose?” I hollered. “What the hell happened? El doesn’t fight.”

  Henry sighed. “He did today.”

  I leaned against the kitchen counter, stunned.

  “I called the pharmacy first,” Henry said. “Doris said that you have the day off. There’s a mandatory one day suspension for fighting. You need to come pick him up.”

  “Yes. Of course. I’ll be there shortly.”

  The drive to Palouse Plains took forever. Why had Elliott gotten into a fight? He wasn’t a fighter. A vision him with a bloody face and broken glasses flashed through my mind, and my stomach flip-flopped. I pressed on the gas pedal, breaking the speed limit on the country roads.

  I bypassed Miss Price and headed straight into the office where El
sat with a bloody wad of tissue pressed beneath his nose. His hair was sticking up, and a splatter of blood stained his collar.

  “What happened?” I bolted towards him, dropping my purse on the floor, then pulling him into a tight hug. “Are you all right? Where does it hurt?”

  “I’m fine, Mom,” he said. “Chill.”

  “Autumn.” Henry’s voice startled me. And despite how much I didn’t want them to, my toes curled.

  “Henry.” I stood and faced him as he entered the office.

  I could tell that he was in teacher mode—shirt tucked in, corduroy jacket rumpled, eyebrows pulled together sternly.

  “I’ve spoken to Elliott and the other boy.” He crossed the room to Mr. Purdell’s desk.

  I glared down at Elliott. “What were you thinking?”

  Elliott didn’t look at me. He just shrugged. “I dunno.”

  “Both boys received a day of suspension. They’ve agreed to write apology letters to each other, and the lunchroom staff.” Henry’s gaze shifted from my face to Elliott’s, then back.

  I nudged Elliott’s foot. “You’re in big trouble.”

  He scowled. “You don’t understand.”

  “Well then, enlighten me.” I splayed my hands, exasperated, and waited for him to start talking. We stared each other down for a few moments, then I turned back to Henry. “Would you like to explain what happened? I thought that this bullying thing was over. Do I have to worry about some redneck punk messing with my son again?”

  Henry shook his head. “The boys shook hands. They’ve worked out their differences.”

  “So you think.” I wasn’t sure whether I was more ticked off about the fight, or Henry’s complacency. “You didn’t go to this school as a kid. I did. The kids will make nice in front of the teacher, and then get even later. It happens all the time in these little schools. The teachers turn a blind eye, and—”

  “There will be no blind eyes here, I assure you,” Henry said. “I’m confident that this matter is resolved.”

  “You don’t understand what it’s like.” I crossed my arms.

  “I work here,” he said, his tone all business. “I know what it’s like. It’s important to remember that I grew up in a school with three thousand students. You could get your butt kicked and lie behind the bleachers with a dislocated jaw for an hour before anybody even noticed you were missing.”