by Sarah Smith
His face reads hesitant. Probably since the only other times he’s seen me were when I was lashing out at his brother. Finn and I haven’t even had a proper conversation in the weeks that we’ve been working next to each other.
I make an effort to lose the frown I know I’m sporting. Finn hasn’t technically done anything to deserve my vitriol. It’s not his fault his brother is a prick.
“Fancy seeing you here.” He hunches his shoulders and tugs on the end of his shirt. He’s leaner than his brother and a bit shorter, but easily clears more than six feet.
“It’s an island. We were bound to run into each other at some point.”
He lets out a chuckle that sounds more nervous than happy. “About all this madness at work.” He stretches his arm out. He’s holding a clear plastic cup of coconut boba tea in his hand. “Peace offering?”
I don’t move to take the drink, opting to keep my arms at my sides. He stood on the sidelines for weeks while his brother and I waged a full-on food truck war with each other, and this is how he breaks the ice?
“You’re joking, right?”
His hand springs back to his body. He clutches the drink to his side, like he’s scared I’m going to smack it out of his hand. “I just thought that maybe—”
“Boba tea doesn’t really make up for the fact that your brother has been a jerk to me since the day we met.”
I spin around and slow-walk through the haphazard maze of booths. My well of patience is tapped dry for nonsense like this.
“Hey, wait! Nikki!”
When I turn around, Finn’s brow is wrinkled to hell. He wears the worry on his face like a blemish. It just looks unnatural on his boyish face. “I’m sorry. Truly. I didn’t mean to make light of things.”
He shakes his head, glancing off into the distance before looking back at me, concern radiating in his eyes. Now that we’re standing up close, I notice that his eyes are a touch greener than his brother’s. I wonder if he’s worried about someone filming our little scene and uploading it online. That’s exactly what I’m thinking.
Thankfully, no one seems to have noticed us. Everyone is milling around the booths, chatting and perusing.
A heavy sigh moves through his chest. “You’re right. Callum is an absolute knob sometimes, but he really does mean well.”
I scoff. “So being rude and disrespectful is perfectly fine if he ‘means well’?”
The frenzied way he shakes his head catches the attention of a nearby arts and crafts booth operator, who squints at him in confusion before looking away.
“No, that’s not . . . Here, I’ll try to explain. I was having a hell of a time getting my business off the ground here. I love food, I love cooking, I love feeding people. I’ve done it my whole life, and my dream has been to have my own restaurant in Hawaii. But I was clueless when it came to the business side of things.”
He holds the boba tea up to me, but I shake my head. He takes a sip. “Long story short, I tried to do everything on my own at first—I wrote a business plan, applied for a loan, bought equipment. I drained my savings. I had no idea what I was doing, and before I knew it I was in debt to my eyeballs. When Callum got word, he dropped everything—his finance job, his flat in Chicago—to move out here and help me. I probably would have lost everything if he hadn’t done that.”
A crack forms in my steely hate for Callum. The knotted muscles in my shoulders loosen. What an incredibly kind thing to do for his little brother.
“He’s completely turned things around for me. Did loads of research on the food truck industry, Maui’s economy, the most popular tourist spots. Pretty much everything I should have done in the first place, but never even thought about. He was the one person who reached out to me when no one else cared.”
“Not even your parents?” I say before I can catch myself.
He shakes his head. “No. It’s just . . . our parents are good people. They loved us, took us on fun vacations, paid for our schooling. They had the money to do all the things that most parents want to do for their kids. But they had expectations too.”
Finn pauses, possibly hesitating. “They’re both in finance and thought working in food service was beneath me. They were thrilled when Callum followed in their footsteps—and the exact opposite when I told them that my career goal was to open my own food truck in Maui. But I didn’t care. It was what I loved to do. So when my business here crashed and burned, they expected me to finally give up, to get a ‘sensible’ job, as they call it. But I wouldn’t do it. And when I told them that, they made it very clear how disappointed they were by refusing to acknowledge that part of my life.”
I keep from speaking even though I’m curious. My parents were always so supportive of whatever I wanted to do. When I said I wanted to go to culinary school after high school, they cheered me on. When I said I wanted to go to school online at night and earn my business degree while working in restaurants all day, they were just as supportive. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have parents who disapproved of what you did for a living.
“Shit. That sucks, Finn.”
The small smile he flashes holds a tinge of sadness. “It did. I honestly didn’t expect money or for them to swoop in and save me or anything like that. All I wanted was their support. But they didn’t have that to give.” He clears his throat. “Callum did though. He always did.”
He glances up and sighs. “I know he doesn’t seem like it now, but he’s a bloody good person. The best I know. I’m biased of course, since he’s my brother.” He chuckles before reining in his expression. “He didn’t care how angry our parents were when they found out he quit his job. All he cared about was helping me.”
Based on what Finn’s told me about Callum, even I have to admit that’s true.
“The way he went about things with you in the beginning was completely wrong,” Finn says. “I even told him that. I told him I didn’t want to stay at the spot on Makena Road because you were already there. But he wouldn’t budge.”
“Must be that douchebag finance persona he does so well.”
To my surprise, Finn laughs. He wipes his brow with his forearm. Tiny beads of sweat on his skin shine in the sunlight.
“When it comes to business, he’s a bloody shark. It’s good because it’s an effective strategy, but it’s awful, too, because he turns into a complete bellend.”
“You’re right about that.” I bite the inside of my cheek when I hear how borderline bitter I sound.
“Look, I know things are unpleasant right now. We’re technically enemies. And in a couple months one of us is going to have to leave the spot. But you’ve noticed a big increase in your revenue, too, haven’t you? It’s like people can’t get enough of this rivalry between you and Callum, and because of it, business is booming. I mean, it’s odd and a bit terrible, but it’s also brilliant.”
For a second I think about saying nothing. He and his brother are my competition. They don’t deserve to know the goings-on of my business. But they’re not blind. Every day they see the long lines at my food truck. They know just how well we’re doing, just like I know how well they’re doing.
“You could say that,” I say, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.
Finn shrugs. All the worry from his face disappears, and a gentle smile tugs at his mouth. “Then it’s kind of a good thing overall, isn’t it?”
I admit that it is.
His smile fades, and his eyes fall to the ground. “I’m truly sorry for how Callum’s been. He’s always been protective, especially after—”
A trio of elementary school–aged kids dart between us, screaming, “You’re it! No, you’re it!” We both stumble back a step. Finn chuckles, which makes me chuckle. I feel myself loosening from the inside out. He’s got a lovely, joyous laugh. I wonder if his brother laughs the same way.
Finn runs a ha
nd through his hair. It’s shaggier than his brother’s, but they both share the same honey-blond hue. “I just wanted to apologize to you and your mum for how all this started. There’s no excuse for that, no matter how good it’s been for our businesses.”
My gaze falls to my feet. As much as I dislike Callum, his brother seems like a kind and decent person. He cared enough to apologize. And I can’t fault him for his brother’s personality. That’s not in his control.
“I appreciate that. Thank you,” I finally say. “I’m not a fan of how this all started, either, but you’re right. It’s working out so far for the both of us.”
He shoves his free hand into the pocket of his shorts.
I glance down. “I’m also not a fan of his blinding hatred of me, but I suppose there’s not much I can do about that currently.”
A smile plays across Finn’s lips. “You think he hates you?”
I nearly laugh at his shocked tone of voice. “Positive. Remember how he came at me that day we met? Remember every argument we’ve had in front of you? One hundred percent unadulterated hatred right there.”
Finn bites back a grin. He opens his mouth to speak, then immediately shuts it. “I’ll admit, Callum hates plenty of people. But you’re not one of them.”
Finn tips his boba tea at me before turning around and walking away. I’m tempted to holler at him so he can come back and explain what he meant, but he’s swallowed by the sea of tourists and locals navigating the market before I can utter a word.
I’m left standing in an invisible cloud of confusion. Every single time I’ve interacted with Callum, his animosity for me has radiated like steam from a volcanic fissure. Why in the world would Finn say otherwise?
I wander through the crowd, half-heartedly scanning items for sale. Does Finn know something I don’t? Did something change since Callum brushed me off at the vet’s office?
My throat squeezes with longing, with a hope I don’t often let myself entertain. Even so, I allow my mind to drift to distant thoughts, and something in my chest aches.
What I wouldn’t give to have a polite conversation with Callum. A friendly conversation.
You’d need friends to have one of those, Nikki.
I swallow against the squeeze in my throat. Deep down I know it’s true, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. I’m a friendless twenty-nine-year-old who was so panicked when I moved out to Maui that I didn’t think to prioritize friendships. Relationships are a luxury you can’t afford when you’re fighting to support yourself and your mom after your dad’s terminal illness threw everything into limbo.
But still.
The thought tumbles through my head. It would be pretty damn nice to have a friend right about now.
If Finn is right, if his brother somehow doesn’t hate me, if he for some reason wanted to be friends, I’d say yes in a second.
I rejoin the slow-walking crowd, stopping at a baked goods booth. A young woman in cutoffs and a holey T-shirt offers me a sample of banana bread, and I accept with a soft “thank you.”
When I look up, I freeze. Callum and Finn stand just ahead of me, but turned away. At their angle, they can’t see my face, but I can see their faces.
“You’re doing a bang-up job, Finn,” Callum says, gently elbowing his arm.
Finn looks down at his banana bread sample, his face bright. “You think so?”
“Yeah. You turned things around, and now look how well your business is doing.”
“You helped me a lot, Cal.”
“You’re the one who’s thinking up the recipes. You’re the one the customers love chatting with. Food and customer service are what’s winning it, and that’s all you. I’m proud of you.”
When Finn looks up at him, the brightness in his eyes melts. “If only Mum and Dad could be, too, right?”
“Don’t say that.” Callum’s tone takes a hard, serious turn. “They’re proud; they just don’t know how to show it. They don’t know how to do anything that’s not in the confines of a soul-sucking corporate office.”
Finn chuckles, his face light again. “Right. Thanks, mate.”
“Always.” The look in Callum’s eye says it all. Proud older brother.
Witnessing this moment of brotherly love makes me think that there really is something to what Finn told me minutes ago. Callum is capable of being soft—I’ve seen it with my own eyes. And if that’s the case, maybe Finn’s right. Maybe Callum is soft enough not to hate me.
Callum says something about leaving to change the oil in their car. Finn nods and says he’s meeting a friend soon. He shoves the banana bread in his mouth, pats Callum on the back, and rejoins the bustling crowd.
Callum turns, and that familiar hazel-eyed stare captures me from just a few feet away.
He is shocked to see me. I can tell by the lift of his brow, how his hand drops to his side instead of grabbing the banana bread sample like he initially meant to.
He doesn’t move. He simply stands facing me, an unfamiliar brand of surprise written all over his face.
I can work with surprise.
I lift my hand up in a small wave. He does nothing. I let one corner of my mouth lift in a shy, uncertain smile. Still nothing.
My stomach drops to my feet, but I wait. Our history may only consist of heated arguments, one nude beach incident, and an awkward run-in at an animal clinic, but he does not hate me. Finn said so. If that’s the case, all I have to do is give this a few extra seconds.
Just then his brow makes the familiar journey downward. His eyebrows pinch together, he presses his lips tight, and it results in the harshest scowl I’ve seen him make to date. There’s no room for friendliness here, not when I’m miles deep in hostile territory.
I bite my lip in an attempt to erase my grin and force my arm back down to my side. It’s too late though. I’ve already shown my hand. I’m someone aching for any semblance of kindness, friendliness. He knows that now. And he doesn’t give a shit.
With his giant paw, he swipes a sample of banana bread from the table and heads right toward me. A whoosh of air hits my skin as he passes by, angry scowl still plastered on his face. No eye contact, no “excuse me.” Just him walking right past me—right through me—as if I don’t even exist.
The gesture lands like a punch to the gut. He’s strong, unflappable, no-nonsense. I’m weak and pathetic, desperate for an empty gesture of kindness.
I ignore the ache in my chest and trudge ahead, weaving through the crowd on my way back to my car in the parking lot. Finn was probably just trying to be nice, to help me feel better after spending the past few weeks watching his older brother behave like an unconscionable dick.
Callum hates plenty of people. But you’re not one of them.
A well-meaning lie, but a lie nonetheless.
Chapter 6
I plop down in the driver’s seat of my car, shove the key in the ignition, and hear nothing but a faint clinking noise. My heart drops, and my palms sweat. I know what this means, but this cannot happen. Not now. Not when I’ve just begun to make decent money. I’ve got a razor-thin budget and no room for emergency expenses.
I turn the key in the ignition over and over in direct opposition to all logic. Still nothing.
I punch the steering wheel. A group of people walking toward the farmer’s market turn their confused glances at me. I lift my hand, my face hot, and mouth, “Sorry.” They just frown. I don’t blame them. I’d be confused, too, if I were them and saw someone pummeling their steering wheel. But right now I’m me, and the only thing I’m feeling is frustration because the battery in the ten-year-old used car I share with Mom has decided to die on my one day off this week—the day I was planning to run a list of errands so that the rest of my week could pass by smoothly.
Gripping both hands on the steering wheel, I lower my face to the center, forcing myself to br
eathe deeply. The slow, even rhythm is in stark contrast to the frenzy of worried thoughts making a mess of my brain.
Dead car battery means I have to call roadside service or Uber home if no one is available. I’ll probably have to replace the battery, maybe even the alternator, too, if that’s the root of the problem. So instead of running to the grocery store and testing out recipes at home like I planned to do today, I’ll be stuck at a body shop, scrambling to find places in my budget I can pull from to pay for this surprise car repair.
I grind my teeth so hard I give myself the beginnings of a tension headache: dull pain starting at the base of my skull, slowly creeping down my neck. A beat later I yell out a groan. Of-fucking-course this would happen. Just when things were starting to pick up for me.
Just then there’s a knock on the window. I jolt up with a yelp.
Callum’s face greets me. “Car trouble?” His voice is muffled through the glass window, but I can still understand him.
“Um, yeah. Hang on.”
I reach for the door handle, and he steps back to make room for me to climb out. I shut the door and cross my arms, facing him. “I think my battery’s dead.”
He stares, eyebrows in an impressive deep wrinkle. “I can give you a jump.”
“No, thanks.” The words spill from my mouth, like a reflex. As much as I desperately need a favor right now, I don’t want it if it’s from him.
He glances to the side, then crosses his arms. “Are you really in a position to refuse my help?”
My mind flashes back to how he swooped in at the vet’s office and took care of my bill despite my protests and the condescending way he explained that it was for the cat’s sake, not mine.
“I will always be in a position to refuse you.” I practically spit the words through gritted teeth. He didn’t even have the decency to acknowledge me when I waved at him minutes ago. He has no right to demand I accept anything from him.
He doesn’t seem fazed by my curt tone though. In fact, for a split second it looks like his mouth quirks up. It falls away before I can be sure.
