29. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
C ARLY
Once I get out of class, I think of calling Micah to come pick me up, but I stop myself.
Why do I need to call him when I can get myself back to Laketown just as well without him? Why am I relying on him for a ride now? As a matter of fact, why did I rely on him to get me up on time and bring me here in the first place?
I should have taken a cab or an Uber or something, even though those were practically impossible to come by in Laketown. Still, I should have figured something out myself so that I didn’t have to owe him any favors. So I don’t rely on him.
Because eventually he’s going to leave and then what am I going to do?
I shake my head.
No. I can’t start relying on Micah. He’s already told me multiple times that he’s not a reliable person and when someone tells you who they are, believe them. Even when they start doing things like giving me massages and making me coffee. And paying my dad’s hospital bills. And cuddling with me at night, and making me feel better about myself and my negative emotions. Even when he sometimes looks at me like he feels something… something deeper....
I can’t believe it.
I have to take him at face value and not even let myself think about anything beyond that.
Micah Landing is not a forever guy. He’s simply around for a good time and soon he’ll be gone. I need to come to terms with it.
And even if he did want something serious with me–and that’s a big if born only from the most delusional of minds–what’s the end goal here? He clearly doesn’t want to stay in Laketown for more than a few months and as much as I want to, I can’t leave. Not yet.
So even on that fundamental level, we wouldn’t work. Not to mention bigger incompatibilities, our families and such.
There are so many reasons why this can’t work, why we can’t take each other seriously. So I guess in that way we’re on the same page.
I smirk and then head to the bus station, waiting for the bus that’ll take me down to Laketown. While there, I finally open up my messages to see that Micah texted me twice, one of them to say, “Headed to church with Mrs. Peach and Poppy.”
I frown at that. He told me he had a meeting with Declan that morning. How on earth did he end up with Mrs. Peach? And why church?
I thought you said you weren’t religious , I text back.
The answer comes almost instantly. I told her that too. She said Jesus doesn’t care.
I snort. That does sound like something Mrs. Peach would say.
You need me to come pick you up? he texts next.
No, I’m fine. I’ll come meet you at church. I’m curious to see what Mrs. Peach has him doing over there, and the sight of Micah with the old ladies bent over their Bibles or leading a prayer sends me into peals of laughter.
But, lo and behold, what I find is even funnier.
Micah isn’t necessarily in the church itself. Rather, he’s in the church parking lot, surrounded by rose bushes and wearing sweatpants, an eighties bright pink top and a matching headband.
He’s also practicing yoga along with a dozen other elderly people, who are all separated by mats as they face off against Tate who is leading the class.
“Alright, guys, now I want you to get into the downward dog, and just inhale,” Tate says.
“What on earth?” I look behind me and see Declan approaching also with a puzzled look on his face. He looks at me in question. I shrug.
“I have no idea. I just got here.”
Declan turns back to Micah. “We’re supposed to meet for a late lunch. He told me to pick him up here, but I had no idea this was why.”
And Micah clearly enjoys surprising us, because, in the middle of his downward dog, he turns and gives us both a wave and a wink.
And Micah really seems into it too, executing the stretch perfectly and then turning to tell Mrs. Henderson beside him, “No, my love, you have to extend your back a little more. Just a little. Engage your core.”
“I’m gonna pop a hip if I do that.”
“No, you won’t. Let me show you.” He stands and then goes to her, his hand hovering over his body. “May I?”
“Please,” she sends him a flirtatious smile, which he returns with a wink of his own.
Micah then gently positions her body into a better pose that takes the weight off her lower body. He also puts his hand on her stomach and asks her to inhale and hold the strength there so she can find her balance. He then makes micro-adjustments to her posture so she neither overextends nor rounds out her back. It takes Mrs. Henderson a few tries but she finally gets it. Micah’s so gentle and patient in his guidance that even Poppy looks impressed. Her eyes meet mine over their heads, and she gives me a little nod and a thumbs up.
And then, when Mrs. Henderson is more stable, Micah gets back into his pose, closes his eyes, and transitions into a child’s pose.
“That’s right,” he says to the class. “Feel the stretch.”
“I’m feeling something alright. And it’s ‘embarrassed.’” Old Man Shoreton snarls, his hands shaking in an attempt to hold the pose.
“Embarrassment is just shame leaving your body,” Micah says, which makes the old man snort and half the class laugh.
It continues like that for another few minutes until Tate finally calls out, “And that’s the last move guys. Good job. You guys really did great today.”
“Yeah, that’s thanks to your pansy assistant over there,” Shoreton responds with a theatrical whisper, jabbing his head in Micah’s direction though everyone already knows who he’s talking about.
Micah doesn’t take offense. “I resemble that remark,” he says as he bounces to his feet, jogging over to meet me and Declan bright-eyed.
“Hey, guys. What do you think?”
Declan looks too discombobulated to even speak.
I shake my head and snort at his clothes. “What’s with the getup?”
He glances down at himself. “Oh, this old thing? It was all they had in the church lost and found. Mrs. Peach wouldn’t let me go home and change before yoga. She seemed to think that I wouldn’t come back.”
“Right.
“And how did you end up getting dragged into the yoga session anyway?” Declan asks.
“It’s a long story,” Micah sighs dramatically. “But basically, what happened is that during bible study, Mrs. Peach was telling me about her waist problem, and then I go, ‘You know what would help with that? Yoga.’ She tells me that Tate will be having a yoga session in the afternoon, but she’s too embarrassed to go because she’ll be the oldest one there. And I told her that it was nonsense and that she should go and rock her stuff, and in between trying to encourage her, I somehow got wrapped in it. She was saying that she wouldn’t go unless I did and well... I ended up here.”
Declan sends that puzzled look to me as though to say, “What do you even see in this dweeb?”
I, on the other hand, am trying my best not to laugh. And that’s when I get that warm tingling feeling in my chest.
That feeling gives me pause and wipes the smile right off my face.
Oh no.
I think I know what that is.
Because while I like suave, sexy Micah, and dominant Micah, and heck even arrogant Micah...
Goofy Micah, the one in the pink headband, the one who escorts old ladies to yoga. That man is my kryptonite.
And that’s when I know I’m in serious trouble.
I look away from him and immediately catch Tate’s eyes. She’s standing a little away from the crowd, near the back of the parking lot. I get the feeling she’s been waiting to talk to me for some time and now that we’re looking at each other, she beckons me over.
“Give me a second, guys,” I say to the two men before I walk to her.
I barely get there before she begins talking.
“Hey, I just wanted to apologize,” she starts. “You know with me telling Emma about your problem. You were right, it’s not my place to interfere and even though it came from a place of genuine care, I shouldn’t have butted my nose into something that wasn’t my business.”
I blink at her.
“Well, thank you for saying that,” I respond. And since she’s being honest, I decide to be honest right back. “I can’t lie, I was really pissed when you did that.”
“Yeah, I know.” She gives me a wry look. “Try as you might, Carly, you’re not very good at hiding your emotions. Which is how I also know you don’t really like me very much. No, don’t deny it.” She holds up her hand when I try to protest. “I’ve known for a while. Even Emma knows. She thinks it’s because of all those shitty questions I asked when we were younger. I know now how uncomfortable they made you. I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean it that way; I just don’t think before things come out of my mouth sometimes.”
I sigh. This isn’t where or how I wanted to have this conversation, but it’s a conversation we need to have. Tate is doing her part. I need to do mine too.
I stare Tate in the eyes, feeling like I’m seeing her for the first time. And I want her to see me too.
“I don’t dislike you, Tate,” I tell her. “Honest. I was just always ferociously jealous of you.”
Her perfectly arched eyebrows climb up her forehead. “ Jealous of me?”
“Well, duh. Half the girls in our class were, maybe except Emma because she has a heart of gold. Have you seen yourself? You’re gorgeous. Accomplished. Smart. And you don’t take shit from anyone. I wanted to be you but hard as I might try, I couldn’t do it.”
Tate remains wide-eyed for the better part of a minute.
And she bursts into loud peals of laughter, which attracts the attention of some of the elderly leaving the lot.
“Jealous?” she says in a much lower tone. “ You were jealous of me ?”
“Of course.”
“Oh, Carly. I was jealous of you too.”
“Really?” I frown. Now that made no sense. “Why would you be?”
She shakes her head. “I guess you don’t see yourself as you are either. Carly, I’ve always admired your strength and how driven you are. How you hold your head up high despite your disaster of a family. How hard you work to take care of them still and make a name for yourself. How you stand up to them while still loving them. That’s a balance I’ve never found with my mom and she’s not quite as bad. And, Carly, you... I’ve never seen anyone more driven and kinder than you. Even to people who don’t deserve it.”
I stand there staring at her. I truly don’t know what to say. This wasn’t at all how I expected today to go, and this talk has even veered off the cliff as well.
Tate Moon was jealous of me, Carly Huntley.
It sounds so ridiculous, I can’t even imagine it.
But Tate stands there, looking slightly unsure, as though she just bared a deep insecurity of hers.
I can’t hold back anymore.
Suddenly, I burst out laughing.
The best part is that Tate does too.