She nods and offers another sweet smile. “She’s my mom. I joined her a few months ago. Before that, I was working at the salon. I liked it over there, but Mom wants me to inherit the shop when she retires, so I’m learning the ropes.”
The phone rings twice, interrupting the blonde’s conversation before the receptionist picks up with a friendly greeting.
“If it’s any help, I forgave my man for a slew of things before Jasper was born. I had this fantasy that we’d be like all the families I see on TV and read about in books. I saw us gathered around the Christmas tree, the little cabin in the meadow, Jasper in a house with a mom and a dad.” She laughs under her breath and uncrosses her legs. “I forgot to see reality.” The coffee maker sputters in the corner before she continues. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t try again with Wyatt, your situation is completely different than mine, I’m just saying… really think it through.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Why do you stay if you’re so unhappy?”
“I’m not unhappy all the time. Sometimes I’m laughing, shining, and feeling like a million bucks. Then randomly, I’ll start talking about a feeling or I’ll tell Pete about something that’s hurting me, and he’ll turn into someone I don’t know.”
“Sounds confusing,” I say, sucking on the ginger candy in my mouth. She’s right, there’s a little zip to it. “My grandma once told me that if someone keeps breaking your heart, you should stop handing them the pieces.” I’m meaning the advice for the blonde, but I’m wondering if I should take it as well.
She’s about to speak as a nurse dressed in bright pink scrubs steps into the waiting room and calls out a name.
“Sara Jenson.”
“That’s me!” The blonde pops up from the chair next to me and tosses her bag over her shoulder before handing me her card. “We should keep in touch.”
I glance down at the small white card with the hairdryer and scissors over her name. “Better yet, I’ll make an appointment to get my hair cut before I head back to California. I’ve been needing something new.”
“Perfect! I’ll talk to you then!” She smiles and turns away, following the nurse down a narrow hallway and toward the back of the building, leaving me alone with the ominous yet tempting prenatal magazines.
I resist the urge to continue the suffering and wander toward the bulletin board where there are pictures of babies with thank-you notes attached. The board is so big I couldn’t say how many are actually there, but there are notes dating back at least ten years with heartfelt gratitude for helping with baby deliveries.
They don’t have a board like this at the clinic in San Francisco.
I’m reading over the notes and letting the cute baby pictures distract me when movement from the corner window catches my eye. I glance toward it, expecting to see a random shopper making their way out to the car with groceries, as the office is right across from the market.
Trouble is, I don’t see a random shopper. I see the big, tall, inked-up man who owns flannel in every color. I see the giant I haven’t spoken to in four months. The one I can’t seem to forgive. The one I claim I no longer love.
If any of that is true, why do I have an overwhelming urge to run out after him?
Chapter Two
Wyatt
I hop over the snowbank near the diner and take a left down Main Street toward the new whiskey brewery going up for the Wilder brothers. It’s a major project and the guys at Blackrock Contracting have been working on it for the past nine months… minus me.
I lost my job three months ago, but that’s going to change today.
The second Wade sees me, his eyes roll to the side.
Fair enough. I’ve earned that one. This year hasn’t been a banner year for me, and I’ve fucked over quite a few people, including Wade.
“What do you want, Davis?” He leans forward and grabs his tool belt out from the back of his truck and readjusts his hat.
“I want my old job back.”
He glances toward me, narrows his gaze, then bursts into some sort of hysterical laughter that I’m sure is meant to shame. The man doesn’t look right with a smile. He never has. It’s almost like he was born with a grimace, which makes anything jovial look wrong.
“You think it’s that easy?” A puff of steam surrounds his face as he calls out into the frigid air, “I’ve got talented guys, Davis. Talented guys that don’t show up to my job site drunk.”
I earned that one too.
The wind whips across the street and blows the collar of my jacket up. I have no idea what the temperature is today, but it’s been well below zero with the chill lately. “Fair,” I say, “but it was one time. I was going through a rough patch. You know me, man. I do good work.”
Tool belt in hand, he heads back toward the brick-sided building, shaking his head. “You also don’t show up on time, leave the job site early, and the drunk thing happened more than once.” He slaps me on the back. “Sorry, man. I don’t do second chances.”
“That’s not true.” I jog to keep up with him, tucking my hands into the pockets of my jacket. “Morgan went nuts last year. Folks still don’t know what he was on. Hell, the man nailed himself to the fucking floor, and you gave him a second shot.”
