by L. P. Dover
Four
Kyler
I’m turning into a stalker, and I can’t even justify my actions. I also have no excuse for what I’m doing. Ever since I saw Maeve at the Turkey Trot and ended up in her tent, she’s on my mind. In every which way possible, even though I’ve never seen her naked. When I went home to nurse my injury, I pulled my high school yearbooks out and looked her up. At first, I had to do a double-take because there was no way in hell the woman I saw at the festival and the one in my yearbook was the same. Paramedic Maeve is beautiful and flawless with expressive features. The girl in the black and white picture is—well, for lack of a better word—plain.
After hours of looking through the pages and doing a deep dive on social media, I gave up. Maeve was going to remain an enigma until I could find a way to spend more time with her. One thought I had, I would find a reason to call her from the bank with some made-up issue with her account, but she doesn’t use my bank.
Who the hell doesn’t use my bank?
Maeve, that’s who, but her mother does, and she’s one of my best customers. Each time she comes in, she’s bright-eyed and has the best smile. Although I’m a bit salty, she never told me she had a daughter. Not that I asked, but you’d think that would be something Mrs. Jenkins shared with her favorite bank manager.
As soon as I saw Maeve at the festival with her son, I put my plan into motion. I exaggerated the limp as best I could in hopes of catching her attention. There’s no doubt my knee hurts, but hell, it always hurts. Once you have your knee sliced open and your ligaments reattached, there is no way to escape any type of pain. There are times when I’m strolling around the bank, thinking I’m cool as shit, and then bam, my knee gives out. Of course, I look around to see who notices, but none of my employees ever let me know they saw me stumble.
It was stupid of me to enter the race. I knew better, but I am tired of sitting on the sideline and letting an old college injury rule my life. Yes, I had started working out again and feel great, but running on a treadmill is different from running on the road. I knew this and ignored the warnings. And boy, am I glad I did because my injury gave me the easiest excuse to not only talk to Maeve but to continue to do so.
“Ky, over here.” I look toward the sound of my name and internally grimace. Waving me over is my best friend from high school, Jared Duffy. It’s not that I don’t like him. It’s that he’s married and has a set of twins, and I’m jealous. There used to be a time in my life when I was on the same path as Jared. My ex, Tessa, ruined that for me.
“Hey, Jared.” I give him a bro hug and then kiss his wife, Imani, on her cheek. Their twins sit in front, in their little folding chairs, not paying attention to their parents. “So, how are things?” I ask. Jared went off to college down south and stayed after graduation. It’s where he met his wife, who prefers the warm winters over the cold, bitter ones we have in Plymouth.
“Good, good,” he says. “Mom isn’t doing too well, so we’re here until after the New Year. We want to give her one last Christmas with everyone home.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll stop by and say hi soon.”
“She’d like that. What’s new?”
I shake my head slowly. “Honestly, not much. I work, go to the gym, hang out at Dan’s Pub a few nights a week. Small town living at its best.” It hits me hard how mundane my life is and that running in the race yesterday was a highlight of—well, I don’t remember the last time I did something out of the ordinary. I need to pull myself from this funk or whatever it is and start living my life.
“Are you happy?” Imani asks. I used to be happy. I thought my life was going in the direction I had always imagined until Tessa ripped my heart out, stopped on it until it stopped beating, and then handed it back to me with nothing more than a “sorry.”
I chuckle. “I’m content.”
“Not dating anyone?” she asks.
Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Maeve and her son. Right behind her are her parents. She turns and says something to her mother, but then she looks at Logan, and her expression changes from what I’d say was happy to pure and utter joy.
“Who are you looking at?” Jared asks.
I shake my head but can’t take my eyes off Maeve. “Do you know Maeve Jenkins?” I ask Jared. His head goes back and forth.
“Name doesn’t ring a bell.”
Slowly, I raise my hand and extend my finger to point across the road. “We went to high school with her. She graduated the same year we did.”
Jared stares for a long moment. “Nope, her face doesn’t look familiar. She’s hot, though.” Jared makes a sound after Imani whacks him. “Sorry,” he mumbles. He leans down and kisses his wife. I turn away, not wanting to see their somewhat private moment. This gives me more time to stare across the street at Maeve. She’s watching the parade, pointing to floats, and leans down often to talk to her son. I almost had that—a child—until Tessa took it away from me.
I end up staying with Jared and his family until the parade is over. When I was little, I loved this thing. By the time I hit puberty, girls were far more important, and we used this time to go make out on the carnival rides or at the ballpark. Now that I’m an adult, I see the allure. The Town of Plymouth does an excellent job putting this festival together, and I’m happy my bank is now one of the major sponsors.
When the parade is over, and I’ve said goodbye to Jared with the promise of stopping by to see his mom, I finally hobble my way back to my car. I’m surprised to run into Mrs. Jenkins on my way.
“How are you feeling?” she asks. “Maeve mentioned you should be on crutches.”
She talks about me! On the inside, I’m a giddy schoolboy because the pretty girl is worried about me. On the outside, I’m calm and stoic. “I was just heading to my car and about to go home. I would’ve had them earlier, but I ran into an old friend.”
“Well, Maeve said you should be off your feet. That you need to rest.”
“Yes, she mentioned this earlier.”
“You know what, you should come over for dinner tonight. I know Tom has been trying to get into the bank to see you about his retirement, and you and Maeve can catch up without everyone vying for your attention.”
Dinner at the Jenkins? Sign me up!
“That would save me a trip to the grocery store. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to push a cart and use those crutches Maeve gave me.”
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Jenkins touches my forearm, squeezing it a bit. “Come over about half-past five.”
“Can I bring anything?”
She shakes her head and waves me off. “Just your bubbly personality. Maeve will be happy to see you.” With that, Mrs. Jenkins walks off and leaves me in the parking lot with a million and one thoughts running through my mind. Maeve wants to see me and has been talking to her mom about me. That means she’s interested. If I know anything about women and dating, once they start talking to their moms about someone, it means they want to get to know the other person. This stupid injury was worth it if I get to spend time with Maeve, and even though Mrs. Jenkins said not to bring anything, I think I’ll bring a bottle of wine. Maeve and I can share it later.
On the way back to my house, I start to wonder about Maeve’s living arrangements. With her not using my bank, it’s been very hard for me to snoop into her life, so I can’t tell where she’s living and am going on the assumption that she lives with her parents. It does make sense—her living there. She’s recently divorced, and from what I hear, Maeve's husband is entirely out of the picture. This leads me to believe she’s living with her folks.
Teenage bedroom.
Within seconds my mind is in the gutter as I picture a pink frilly bedspread, white bed frame, pom poms . . . nope, scratch that. The room I’m thinking about is Tessa’s because that is the only teenage girl’s room I have ever seen. I shudder and clear my thoughts. She’s the last person I want to think about.
As soon as I get ho
me, I feed my cat and then let him out while I jump into the shower. Undoubtedly when it’s time for Tom to come back in, he’ll have a bird or some other creature hanging from his mouth as he greets me at the door. Tom, a big orange cat, adopted me when he was about eight weeks or so. He showed up on my doorstep and wouldn’t leave. I made the mistake of feeding him, and that made him my best friend for life. I don’t mind, though, because he’s gotten me through some dark times and did so without passing judgment. He always knows when I need space or when I need him to lay next to me and purr.
While I dress for dinner at the Jenkins, Tom lays on my bed. He fluffs his tail and lets out a long, drawn-out meow.
“Don’t look at me like that. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”
Meow.
“Her name is Maeve, and it’s the strangest thing. We went to school together, but I don’t remember her at all. I wish I had.”
Meow.
“I know, I know. I haven’t dated since Tessa, and you’re right, it’s time.” I sit on the edge of the bed and push my fingers over Tom’s soft coat. He purrs loudly and stands so he can come closer to me. “She has a little boy. I think you’d like him.”
Hiss.
“Or not,” I mutter as Tom jumps off my bed and saunters out into the hall. I glance at the clock and notice I have about thirty minutes to get to the Jenkins. They don’t live far, but I want to stop for some wine and a bouquet of flowers.
When I finally arrive, after one pit-stop, I’m the only car in the driveway. I find this odd but think nothing of it because maybe Maeve is running late. When I step up to the door, it swings open, and Mrs. Jenkins is there to usher me in.
“These are for you.” I hold out the bouquet.
“Oh, thank you, Kyler. They’re lovely. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. Logan and Maeve will be here shortly.”
“She doesn’t live here?”
Mrs. Jenkins looks at me wide-eyed and cracks a grin. “Heavens no, she has a house a few doors away.”
Interesting.
I do as suggested and try to make myself comfortable, which means I’m snooping as much as possible. There are pictures of Maeve and Logan everywhere, but none of her ex. Part of me finds this odd since he’s the boy’s father, but whatever. I think the fact that they’ve removed any trace of him bodes well for me.
The front door swings open, and the voice of Logan fills the air. He calls out for his grandfather and goes running off. I lock eyes with Maeve, smile, and move closer.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Five
Maeve
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Kyler’s eyes widen in shock, and my mom gasps, glaring at me like you would a toddler who won’t stop talking in church. I saw the extra car in the driveway, but I didn’t expect it to belong to Kyler.
Kyler clears his throat awkwardly, and my mom pats his shoulder. “Guess we surprised her,” she says, laughing it off. “Why don’t you open up that wine you brought? I think we could use it about now.”
He nods and looks over at me once more before hobbling off to the kitchen. Once he’s out of earshot, my mother lifts her arms in the air. “Where are your manners?”
“My manners? Did you seriously invite him to dinner?” I snap.
She lifts a finger to my lips. “Shh … he’ll hear you.” Then she moves closer. “Kyler’s a sweetheart of a man. You need to give him a chance.”
I swear the woman has gone delusional in her old age. “Hell no. You realize we graduated high school together, right? He was an ass, and so were his friends. They used to make fun of me.”
She waves me off. “That was high school, Maeve. People grow up and change.” She points over at my graduation picture on the mantle. “Look at you. You’re not the shy, introvert you used to be. It took you a while to break out of your shell. I think you’ll see that Kyler’s not the same as he was then.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass who he is now. I’m not interested. You can forget the whole matchmaking crap you have in your mind.”
“All right, girls, let’s drop it,” my father interrupts. He walks over to me and places his hands on my shoulders. “We’re going to have a good dinner tonight. By looking at Kyler’s face when you cussed at him, I have no doubt he’s already feeling uncomfortable. We don’t need to make it worse.” He squeezes my shoulders. “Try to be polite. That’s all I ask.”
“Yeah, Mom,” Logan calls out, his voice echoing from the hallway. “He likes football, and he gave me an unlimited pass for the festival.”
My parents both raise their eyebrows, and I groan. “Fine. I’ll be nice tonight. But you,” I say directly to my mother, “need to forget the whole idea of me finding a man. I’ll date when I’m good and ready.”
My father nods. “I agree.”
“And it sure as hell isn’t going to be Kyler Groff.”
He appears just as I say it, holding up the open bottle of wine. I have no doubt he heard me, and it makes me feel a little guilty. “Who wants some?”
My mother chuckles to break the silence. “I know I do. Let’s go to the kitchen and eat.”
She holds onto Kyler’s arm and walks with him while my father nudges me with his elbow. “Your mother means well. She just wants to see you happy.”
“I would be if she’d stop meddling.”
“That’s not your mother.”
Exactly. He heads into the kitchen, and I walk over to the hallway and stop just outside of Logan’s bedroom door. After I had him, my parents converted their guest bedroom to one specifically for him. He’s their one and only grandchild. I’ve always wanted more kids, but it never worked out. It was kind of hard to have a baby with a man who was never around.
I tap a finger to the door. “Dinner time, babe.”
“Coming.” He opens the door, holding one of his footballs. “Do you think Kyler can show me some of his moves? I was talking to my friends, and they said he’s like a legend here in town.”
And the night just keeps getting better. “Not tonight, sweetheart. His knee is still messed up.”
He pouts his lip and tosses his football onto the bed. “Okay.”
It hurts my heart that Logan hasn’t had a male figure around other than my father. Ethan calls and FaceTimes him every chance he gets, but it’s not the same. Logan marches into the kitchen first, but I hang back to calm myself down. I don’t want to be a bitch, but it’s hard. Maybe if I drink enough wine, it’ll help. Taking a deep breath, I walk into the kitchen, and of course, my mother has Kyler sitting next to me. Our plates are full of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Luckily, there’s a large glass of white wine calling my name. I take my seat and reach for my drink, gulping down as much as I can. It’s an expensive Napa Chardonnay with its buttery goodness and hints of tropical fruit and vanilla. I’m impressed. My mother’s mouth gapes, and my father tries his best not to laugh. I don’t even look over at Kyler.
“Kyler brought the wine. I think it’s a Chardonnay. You’re favorite.”
“Thanks, Kyler,” I say, determined not to look at him. “We ready to eat?”
My dad recites a little prayer, and we all say our amens. Once I finish my wine, I pour another glass since the bottle is right in front of me. By the time I get to my meatloaf, I’m tipsy. Guess that’s what I get with drinking on an empty stomach. Kyler talks to my parents for a few minutes about their investments, but then he spends the rest of the time talking to Logan about football. Keeping my focus on my food, I pray I don’t spill ketchup covered meatloaf all over my shirt. Kyler enamors my parents, and I don’t see why. Don’t get me wrong, he’s good looking, always has been, even in high school, but that’s about it.
Once dinner is finished, I breathe a sigh of relief. Soon, Kyler will be on his way, and Logan and I can go home and watch more of our favorite show. Logan takes my plate and places it in the sink like he always does every night. He always helps me with the di
shes when we’re at home, but my father suggests that they go outside and toss the football around. My mother opens the dishwasher, but Kyler steps up next to her.
“Why don’t you let Maeve and I handle the dishes tonight?”
Eyes wide, I glare at my mother, but she just smiles and backs away. “That would be great.” She is not going to hear the end of this once we’re alone.
“All right,” she agrees. “I’ll leave you both to it.”
When she leaves the room, I groan under my breath. This night just gets better. I turn on the hot water to rinse off the dirty dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. Kyler stands by the dishwasher and rolls up his sleeves. “If you rinse, I’ll load.’
“Whatever you say.” I rinse off one plate and hand it to him quickly, sloshing water all over his jeans. He looks down at his wet crotch, but I keep the dishes coming, trying my best not to laugh, which is hard considering I’m tipsy.
“It looks like I pissed myself,” he says, chuckling as he loads the dishwasher.
I rinse off more plates, trying my best to keep soaking him. “You should learn to control your bladder better.”
He laughs again. “Why are you so salty towards me? Do you really hate me that much from high school?”
I was right. He did hear me in the living room. “You were an ass.” I pick up my pace with the dishes. As soon as we get them done, the sooner he can leave.
“Yeah, I was,” Kyler admits, “but that was a long time ago. I’m not that same guy anymore.”
I snort. “Okay.” I hand him the last dish and wash my hands. “We’re done. I think it’s time I go home.”
My mother appears in the doorway. “Kyler can walk you. It’s dark, and I don’t want you walking by yourself, especially since you’re three sheets to the wind. Logan decided he wants to stay here tonight.”
As if my night can’t get any worse. “Kyler’s knee is hurt, Mom. That’d be inconsiderate of us to ask him to do that.”
