Breakup in a Small Town

by Kristina Knight

  The brothers stood staring at each other for a long moment. Adam considered leaving it at that, but if things were going to change in his life, he was going to have to do more than leave the past in the past. With his brother, and with his wife.

  “Do you think you’ll ever forgive me?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. I painted Simone’s phone number on the water tower after she dumped me, the same as you.”

  “You didn’t plant the petty cash from Dad’s safe in her car.” Adam wanted to sit at the table, take some of the pressure off his leg. Facing Aiden, though, seemed more important. “After the accident, when they told me I couldn’t play football, you’d just signed your letter of intent to play ball in California. I heard Mom and Dad talking about you deferring for a year.”

  “You were already working for Dad. He needed you there because he’d had to lay off a couple other guys. The doctors weren’t sure yet how long you would need the halo.” Aiden shrugged. “It would have been a year.”

  Adam didn’t hear a trace of anger in his brother’s voice. This time. When Aiden realized Adam had planted money on her, that she’d run away because of it, there had been rage. Fiery rage.

  “It would have been your whole life. You’d have kept dating Simone because she was easy to date, and she’d have made sure you didn’t take the scholarship, not even after you deferred enrollment. She’d already cheated on you—”

  “And I was so mad, I went along with the plan to paint her phone number on the water tower.”

  “But she apologized and cried, and you took her back. I knew she had to do something that would hurt someone other than you. Otherwise, she’d have hurt you.”

  “And you planted the petty cash from Buchanan’s in her car.”

  Adam picked up the water bottle from the table and turned it in his hands. “I was the one who wanted to stay. I wasn’t going to be the reason you had to stay, too.” Maybe that was why bad things kept happening to him. Because Fate was a cruel bitch who didn’t care that he’d been a stupid teenager reeling from a near-death experience. Fate wanted to make him pay for being a callous, careless eighteen-year-old.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “I didn’t know you were in love with her. If I had—”

  Aiden shook his head. “You weren’t wrong. I’d never have gone to college if Simone was in my life. If I hadn’t gone, I wouldn’t have the job I have now, wouldn’t be living in California.”

  “It could have gone differently.”

  “You mean you could have not framed her as a burglar, and she could have not run away with a twentysomething biker with Shark tattooed across his neck?” Aiden shrugged. “Yeah, that probably wouldn’t have happened.”

  Adam shoved his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to stay here, especially after the accident when I totaled Dad’s car. I knew you needed to go.” Adam had never wanted more than Slippery Rock. Aiden had always wanted more. It was the thing that most set the two of them apart. More than the slightly different eye color, more than the scar on Adam’s neck or the epilepsy he now had to deal with. Aiden had wanted a bigger life, and now here he was, back in small-town Slippery Rock.

  “She and I weren’t like you and Jenny, Adam.”

  Aiden putting it like that made him cringe. Were he and Jenny really the Adam and Jenny everyone thought they were? Because, from everything she’d been saying, their problems began long before the tornado ripped their lives apart, only he’d been too blind to notice. He couldn’t say so, not yet. Aiden was his twin, but Adam had torn their relationship apart a long time ago.

  “Do you know where Simone is?”

  Aiden shook his head. “It was ages ago. Who marries the girl he dated in high school, anyway?”

  Adam pasted a smile on his face. If Aiden could play this down, he would follow suit. “You mean other than your miles-more-attractive twin?” Marrying Jenny had been the best thing he’d ever done in his life, and he’d nearly thrown her and their marriage away. He still wasn’t sure he could fix that, but he wanted to try.

  Breakfast and the flowers were a good start. Nothing made his mom happier than when Owen surprised her with flowers. Showing Jenny he could take on more of the household chores was a good step, too. One breakfast wouldn’t make up for the years she had done most of the cooking, but it was a beginning. Plus, he was actually going to physical therapy now. That was another good thing, although that benefited him more than it would Jenny.

  He eyed his brother. “You up for manning the grill tonight? We should surprise Jenny with dinner.”

  “Sure. Steaks?”

  Adam nodded and started for the house. “It’s good to have you home, at least for now.”

  Aiden was quiet for a long moment. Once they were inside, he said, “It’s good to be home.” He looked around the room, taking in the refinished floors and renovated kitchen. “You’ve done a lot of work here.”

  Discarded string cheese wrappers were strewn across the kitchen table. Adam gathered them and threw them in the trash. The boys were nowhere to be seen. Probably upstairs watching afternoon cartoons or something. He’d check on them in a little while.

  “Renovated everything. Turned Grandpa’s den into a guest room.” Their grandfather had been the superintendent of Slippery Rock schools.

  Adam pulled steaks from the freezer and set them on the countertop to begin thawing. “I’m glad you’re here, Aiden.” His brother grabbed a beer from the fridge. He offered Adam another, but Adam shook his head. “Can’t. Not with the medications I’m on. I’ll take a Coke, though.”

  Aiden tossed a cold can and Adam caught it one-handed. “I’m here as long as you need me.” Adam started to speak, but his brother stopped him. “And if you don’t, I’m here anyway. I didn’t leave only because of Simone, and I didn’t stay away because of her or you. I just had to figure out who I was, away from you. Away from Buchanan Cabinetry.”

  Adam sat at the table, and Aiden joined him. “Did you figure it out?”

  “I did.”

  Adam considered his next words for a long moment. “Did you figure out women? Because you could let me in on the secret. If you know it.”

  “Everything okay with Jenny?”

  Adam waved a hand. “Sure. Fine. I’ve just been thinking, you know, about what women want. Like, Mom always talked about going to Paris, but Dad won’t travel outside the States, so she’s never gone. You think she actually wants to go?”

  “I don’t think you can base a healthy relationship on our parents, A. They love each other, don’t get me wrong, but Dad is the one in charge of that relationship, and that’s the way Mom wants it.”

  Then what was Jenny so mad about? She’d never so much as suggested a vacation destination for him to shoot down, but she was acting as if he’d treated her as an afterthought.

  “Why’s the RV in the driveway?”

  “Thinking about taking Jenny and the boys on a weekend trip.” It was amazing how easy it was to lie to everyone lately. “Dad offered the RV.” What was one more lie on top of the thousands he’d already told?

  “You know, Jenny doesn’t seem like the camping type.”

  “RVing isn’t like camping.” Adam finished his soda and crumpled the can in his hand.

  “It’s also not Paris. You should ask her where she wants to go.” Aiden stood, put his empty beer bottle and Adam’s soda can in the recycling bin. “In my experience, what women want is to be asked, and not just about vacations.”

  “Yeah.” Adam stood in turn. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

  Asking. That was going to be hard to do without also admitting he didn’t already know the answer. But if asking Jenny a few things would show her he was willing to change, he’d ask. Everything.

  CHAPTER EIGH
T

  THE NEXT MORNING, Jenny woke with a new sense of purpose. She was not going to let her failing marriage diminish the happiness of either Savannah or Mara. If yesterday showed her one thing, it was that she wasn’t alone. Good friends couldn’t take the place of her husband, but it was nice to know she had support. There was more right in her life than she had allowed herself to see in the past few months.

  She had a job she was good at, sons who surprised her every day and friends who listened while she talked herself around to the most important realization she’d had in her life: she would never have what she wanted if she didn’t ask for it. Having a husband who sent flowers? That was a nice thing. Having a husband who didn’t know the type of flowers she liked? Wasn’t. She deserved more than to be an afterthought.

  If Adam truly wanted to change, she would support him in whatever ways she could, starting with helping him to be less self-absorbed. A man should know the kind of flowers his wife liked. That was a basic thing.

  She glanced out the window, saw the RV parked in the driveway and sighed. Only about fifty feet separated the back of the RV and her window, but the gap seemed enormous.

  She showered and dressed before poking her head into the boys’ room. For a long moment, she stared at them. Frankie and Garrett. She’d had no idea she could love two people as much as she loved her sons. They were the reason for the RV. If it weren’t for them, she might not have gotten up the courage to tell Adam things had to change.

  They both deserved better than she and Adam had given them. They knew they were loved, but did either of them know how to give love to another person? How to listen to another person? How to be emotionally available? Those were skills she wanted to teach them.

  She didn’t want them to be lonely the way she’d been lonely—either as a child or as an adult.

  She didn’t want them to be so overprotected they were completely self-absorbed and unable to see beyond their own wants and needs.

  She wanted them to grow into strong, empathetic men, so she had to start teaching them how to be those things now. With their father living in an RV in the driveway.

  She flipped on the light, then crossed the room to open the blinds.

  “Rise and shine, boys.”

  Frankie grunted into his pillow. Garrett sat up, wiped his hands over his eyes and stared blearily at her for a long moment. “Isn’t it Saturday yet?”

  “Nope. Thursday, and you have school.” She put jeans and T-shirts on their beds. “Get dressed, and come downstairs for breakfast. Any requests?”

  “McDonald’s,” Frankie said, his voice still muffled by the pillow.

  “We don’t have McDonald’s, goofball. How about cereal?”

  “Syrup, syrup,” Garrett began chanting, his little body practically vibrating at the thought of all that sugar. She usually saved pancakes and waffles for weekend days but—she checked her watch—there was time, if the boys hurried.

  “If you’re downstairs in five minutes, we can do pancakes.”

  Garrett vibrated his body off the bed, then took off at a run for the bathroom, shouting, “Give me five minutes!”

  Frankie sat up. “Pancakes are Saturday food.”

  “We have time.”

  “Pancakes are for special days. School days have a plan.”

  Jenny’s heart hurt for the little boy. She’d been so busy making sure Adam had everything he needed, she’d missed that her boys needed something, too. “Sometimes, it’s okay not to do things according to a plan. It doesn’t mean something bad is going to happen.”

  “We were late.”

  “We have time. If you hurry.” Jenny ruffled his hair, but Frankie just watched her solemnly. Jenny sat, taking in his words. He’d said were, not are. “When were we late?”

  “The tornado day.” His little hands twisted the edge of the blanket. “Garrett didn’t want to get dressed, and Dad wanted to start working on the new chairs, and I didn’t want cereal, so I wouldn’t eat. And we were late.”

  Pain radiated in Jenny’s chest. Her sweet little boy thought the tornado was his fault, for not eating his cereal, for running late. “Oh, sweetheart, the tornado didn’t happen because we were late that day or because you didn’t want cereal for breakfast. It just happened. There was nothing any of us could do to stop it.”

  “This is just Thursday.”

  Jenny stilled his little hands, then put her finger under his chin so he had to look at her. “The tornado wasn’t your fault or mine or Garrett’s or Daddy’s. It just was. Things are different now, but that’s okay. You’re okay, and so is Garrett. I’m okay. Daddy’s sick, but he’s getting better every day. We all love you, and we’re all here.”

  “Pancakes are for special celebration days,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. Jenny hugged him tightly and caressed his hair.

  “Today we are celebrating the ordinary days.”

  Finally, his arms came around her neck, and he held on for a long moment. “You’re okay?”

  “I’m okay. I love you.”

  “Love you, too, Mom.”

  Jenny unwrapped Frankie’s arms and sat back. “Any time you want to talk about this, you can. Okay?” He nodded. Part of her wanted to keep talking to him, but she didn’t want to put too much emphasis on the tornado. Little steps, she told herself. “Now hurry up or you won’t have time to eat.”

  In the kitchen, she gathered the ingredients for pancakes and began mixing. “Two more minutes,” she called up the stairs. The only response was the stomping of feet as the boys ran between their bedroom and the bathroom.

  “Good morning.” Adam stood in the doorway, wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt. His eyes looked a little sleepy and a half smile played over his face. Jenny told herself to ignore the little zing of pleasure at seeing him.

  “Morning.”

  “Breaking out the weekend specials on a Thursday?”

  She shrugged. “Anything to get them moving on a school day, right?”

  “I can take them again this morning.” He shifted and Jenny realized he must have walked inside, because the wheelchair was nowhere to be seen.

  “Is there something wrong with the chair?”

  He shook his head. “Just trying to build up the strength in my knee and hip. The physical therapist mentioned that a little walking would be good for the muscle—”

  “Physical therapist?” She blinked. Had she just hallucinated?

  “I went to the appointment yesterday afternoon.”

  “You did?”

  He nodded. “I decided I don’t want to lie to the doctors. And I may never be a candidate for surgery, but if the therapy will help with the knee, at least maybe I can get rid of some of the pain.”

  Joy at his words hit Jenny hard. She forgot to stir for a second, and just stared. Scar on the neck, check. Eyes green not hazel, double-check. This was definitely Adam standing before her, but it was a different Adam than she was used to seeing. Gone was the wheelchair. Gone was the sullen, angry man. This guy might not be the Adam who had proposed or who was so excited about expanding the business that he’d practically vibrated—like their son—but this was a man she could—

  Jenny stopped herself.

  Having a couple good days didn’t change what had happened between them during the past three months. He couldn’t erase that neglect with a few flowers she didn’t even like, and a trip to physical therapy.

  Adam leaned a shoulder against the door jamb, and the move reminded her of how he used to wait for her in the doorway after school. Jenny swallowed, trying push thoughts of the past from her mind.

  The past wouldn’t solve the problems of the present, as sweet as it was to look back there.

  “I’m glad you went. How was it?”

  He shrugged. “Different. I thought ph
ysical therapy would be a bunch of useless stretches or maybe Pilates, but they used this ultrasound machine and heat pulses. The therapist said the best treatment was to get the blood flowing again through the hamstring, and heat does that.”

  “Are you going back?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon.” He stepped into the kitchen, took the bowl from her and began stirring. Trying to focus on anything other than how adorably sexy Adam looked holding a bowl of pancake batter, Jenny turned on the stove element and dropped a pat of butter into the pan. When it was sizzling, she took the bowl and dropped dollar-sized dollops of batter onto the skillet to cook.

  “I was wondering what your day is like today. If you’re busy.”

  “Working on the books, and I need to finalize a contract. Why?”

  “I can get myself to physical therapy, but I was thinking, if you could spare an hour or two, maybe you could drive me to that service dog place?”

  Jenny’s breath caught in her throat. Slowly, she turned to face him. He’d shoved his hands in his pockets, but that haunted look was gone from his eyes. Maybe the flowers weren’t just a throw-away I’m sorry. “You’re willing to go?”

  “I’m still not sure about adding a dog to the house, even a service dog with extensive training. But I don’t want to be stuck in that chair for the rest of my life. If a dog will show the doctors that I’m serious about recovery, I’ll check it out.”

  “Adam.” She wanted to reach out to him. To touch his cheek and let him know she was still here for him. She couldn’t love him out of this depression, and she didn’t want to be the crutch that made it okay to slip away from life again. But how could support and encouragement be a crutch?

  Jenny reached out, and the stubble on his cheek felt rough against her palm. “I think that’s wonderful,” she said.

  He stared into her eyes for a long moment, then his hand encircled her wrist and he leaned forward. Jenny stepped back quickly. Loving support didn’t, couldn’t, equal kissing. Or holding. She turned away. “Don’t want the pancakes to burn,” she said, flipping the cakes in the pan to finish cooking. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was still watching her, but he didn’t crowd into her space or reach out.