18. Zach
18
ZACH
Y esterday, when I went on a whim to shoot some hoops with Cole at Vernford’s gym, he asked if I’d go to the holiday ordeal downtown. I hadn’t planned on it. It seemed too people-y for someone with borderline social anxiety like me.
It seemed that making impulsive choices was becoming my style, though. Last night with Blake hadn’t been planned.
And as I parked at the festival area at dusk and got out, I realized I was making another impromptu decision to come here and hang out with him. I didn’t want to socialize, but coming to walk around with Cole should be tolerable.
Honestly, nothing could bring me down after sleeping with Blake. Waking up in her arms had restored me. Like a cliché Christmas miracle. I wasn’t so stupid as to believe this would last, though. She was still skittish. It made sense for her to hide me this morning, but I felt like I was missing something at the same time. Almost like there was an extra element of panic she was battling with the idea of her friend and son seeing that I’d spent the night there.
Stop overthinking it.
Cole waved at me from where he was walking through a big tent. He’d texted that I could find him there since the elementary school had a little booth in this children’s area.
“Hey,” he greeted.
“Hey there,” I replied. “Quite a crowd here.”
“Yeah, they usually are.”
I wouldn’t know. It seemed like they’d only started this event as a tradition in the last couple of years.
“I hope it’s not too crowded that I can’t get a hot cocoa,” he complained good-naturedly.
I shrugged and gave him a small, mild smile to be polite. “Want to go see?”
“Yeah.” He furrowed his brow as we walked. “You sure seem happy and relaxed.” He glanced at me again and huffed a laugh. “I can’t believe I’d use this word, but what’s got you so chipper ?” He brandished his hand at the décor and overwhelming Christmas spirit that had thrown up all over town.
I ducked under a long streamer of red and green as we exited the tent. I didn’t make a habit to kiss and tell, but I couldn’t hide the grin that came with the thought of what made me brighter today. I had been bored and listless at home, but I hadn’t suffered from such a morose and depressive state of mind, for once.
Because of Blake.
Because I felt… more whole.
Grounded.
Wanted.
Needed.
“Come on, man,” Cole teased. “What gives?”
I gave in and said, “I hooked up with Blake last night.”
He almost tripped on a stake holding a rope anchoring the tent. The red and white tape winding around a safety cone made it look like a moveable decoration, not a device intended to keep people from tripping on the stake. “You what?”
“Blake and I…” I shrugged. I didn’t want to repeat it. Anyone could be listening in and I liked my private life just that—private.
“Huh.” His brows shot up as he walked along the tent with me.
“What?”
“I’m surprised.”
“Why?” I furrowed my brow at him.
“Well, because Blake doesn’t date much. Or ever. Nor does she have flings.” He glanced up at me. “She’s always so busy with George, being a single mom, and she’s a good mom, present and attentive without hovering. But her work hours aren’t the easiest, often away at nighttime and on the weekends.”
“They are long hours.” I wasn’t sure why my grandma still wanted to deal with the business and not retire.
“And between me and you…” He looked around as though someone were listening. “She’s got money issues. Funeral expenses she had to take loans on for her parents and Kevin. I guess a bunch of old medical debt from her mom. She’s been struggling.”
Fuck. I hated to hear that she was struggling at all. She had lost her family, but it seemed she’d started one too.
It wasn’t a matter of her big brother not being here to protect her and handle the hardships of life for her. It was just that life had hit her hard. That didn’t mean that I had to accept it.
“Sara hates that it’ll drive Blake out of town sooner or later.”
What? I scowled at this news. “Why?”
“Mainly to find somewhere with better work opportunities. I bet Jenny pays her well, but it’s still just a small-town business.”
“Grandma Jenny never wanted to expand the catering company to stay in Vernford,” I added. If she branched out to cater outside of town, she’d have bigger-paying jobs.
“Yeah.” Cole nodded. At the sight of the long line for hot cocoa, he shook his head and said he wasn’t interested anymore. Once we walked back toward the tent I found him in, he continued what he had been saying. “That’s how it is in a small town. Great place to raise a family, but not a lot of jobs or competitive pay in jobs.”
I didn’t like the sound of any of this. I knew what he was saying. Vernford was quaint and cute. Small and limited. I wondered again if Blake’s previous goals of going to the city had fallen apart when she had George.
It wasn’t my business. None of what she did had to be my business just because we slept together, but my stomach clenched with dread at the idea that she’d move. “I wonder what Grandma Jenny would think about losing Blake as an employee.”
“She’d hate it,” Cole guessed, “but no one can blame her for doing the best she can do, even with difficult decisions.” He slowed his pace and pointed ahead at the tent. “Uh-oh.”
I looked and saw what he’d indicated. George frowning next to Brent laughing at him.
“I’m getting sick of this shit,” Cole muttered as someone gestured for his attention.
“Me too,” I said, defensive of the smaller boy. I hadn’t been here long enough to claim I’d witnessed this often, but two episodes of bullying were too much.
“Hang on. I’ll be right back,” Cole said as he went to the woman waving him down. I approached George and waved.
“Hi, Mr. Stranger.”
“Only wimpy girls wanna color with pink,” Brent teased.
I looked down at the table they were standing at. The surface was cluttered with crafty stuff like coloring pages, crayons, and pencils, and I could see where George had used a pink marker to color in the shape of a gift box under a tree.
“Oh, they do?” I pulled out a chair and sat, staring at Brent and daring him to speak. I grabbed a paper, slid it over, and started coloring a page with a hot-pink crayon. It was tiny in my hand, but I didn’t stop.
George beamed, reclaiming his seat and coloring again. Brent walked off, scowling.
“Do you like to color a lot?” George asked me.
There’s not a lotta coloring in the military… But then again, I wasn’t in the military anymore. “No. Not really.” I wouldn’t lie to him. “Do you?”
He nodded, focusing on his paper. At the top, he’d already written in blocky letters To: Mom. I Love You .
I smiled.
“Did you color a lot when you were a kid?” he asked.
“No.”
He paused, looking up at me. “How come?”
“My dad sort of had the same attitude as Brent does. He wanted me to do ‘boy’ things and thought art was too ‘girly’.”
“Oh.” He lowered his head and colored, seeming sadder.
“But he was wrong.” I cleared my throat. I’d spent a long time looking up to my dad and trying to do my best to please him, but he was old-fashioned. “Boys or girls can color. Anyone can color, with any color. I just never really gave myself a chance to be creative. Not like you. That looks good.”
He laughed lightly. “You just gotta stay inside the lines.”
I laughed at the comparison between our pictures. While I waited for Cole to come find me, I simply colored and enjoyed George’s company as he asked me more simple questions, getting to know me. It was hard not to feel like I was bonding with him, becoming less of Mr. Stranger .
As we filled in our pictures, I wondered how moving away from Vernford would affect him.
This was his home, and I hated that he’d have to be uprooted. And as I mused about the concept of home, I glanced around and had to come to the conclusion that one time, it had been mine.
Maybe it could be home again…