CHAPTER SIX
Nick had only been able to tolerate another couple of days with his parents. He loved them, and they were just trying to be helpful, but the nonstop doting was killing him. He’d called Tess and begged her to come and rescue him. That had been a week ago.
In that week, he’d been walking as often as possible and even circled around the block a time or two. Physical therapy started soon, and he wanted to be ready.
Rain all day yesterday had trapped him inside. But today, the sun was shining, and he couldn’t wait to get out, determined to make it to town. He’d been practicing and gotten more adept at using the cane. He still loathed it but had to admit it helped immensely.
Tess’s place was closer to civilization than his folks’—another reason he wanted to stay with her. Two blocks to freedom. He arrived at the Rise and Grind and ordered a celebratory Americano. The girl at the counter—Hope, according to her name tag—took his money and told him it’d be ready in a minute.
“You need a name?” he asked.
“Nah,” she said. “I gotchu. What happened to your leg?”
“Don’t be rude,” Hope’s coworker hissed.
“It’s not rude,” Hope said. “I’m just wondering.”
“I got shot,” Nick said.
“Oh, you must be Tess’s brother. Does it hurt?”
He’d forgotten how it was here—everyone knew everyone, and secrets weren’t a thing.
“Sometimes.”
“Too bad,” she said. “Hope you get better soon.”
Someone had left a newspaper on one of the tables, and while he waited, he sat and skimmed. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a real newspaper. It was the Green Valley Falls Gazette , which was essentially an amateurishly thrown-together gossip rag. At least, that’s how it compared to the Globe .
The journalistic quality hadn’t improved in the last decade. Then again, there wasn’t much to work with. The above fold headline was that school started next week.
He opened the paper and scanned through information about a fundraiser at the hospital and a few articles concerning the upcoming Fall Festival. The “crime” section was an interview with the sheriff regarding recent vandalism. It screamed small-town. He chuckled at the cliché.
“Gimpy!” the barista at the end of the counter yelled. Nick looked around. When no one moved to take the order, she tried again. “Americano?”
It didn’t take him long to puzzle out that he must be gimpy. Using his cane, he hobbled over to the counter. “I guess that’s me,” he said dryly. He shot Hope a glance, and she winked at him.
He wanted to stay and rest for a minute but felt like everyone was staring at him. And to be fair, they probably were. Local-boy-comes-home-broken would be in the gossip grapevine until something new came along.
Desperate to escape the prying eyes, he took the cup and headed for the door. But managing the coffee and the cane turned into more of a struggle than he anticipated. He’d quit wearing the sling, but to avoid chest pain, kept his arm voluntarily pinned to his side. And since he needed his “good” arm to use the cane, that left him holding the hot coffee awkwardly close to his body.
On his way out, he ran into an old friend.
“Long time no see, Walker,” Max Hargrove said. They had been pretty good friends in high school, but lost touch after Nick left. “Heard you were back in town.”
“Just for a while,” Nick said. “How’s it going? You still running the show at The Three Bears Inn?”
“Yep. Actually, I bought out Mr. Frey and own it now. Planning some renovations soon.”
“Nice. And this little one?” The toddler in Max’s arms started to squirm, clearly bored with the jaunt down memory lane.
“My pride and joy,” Max said. “This is Lilly. How old are you, sweetie?”
The girl produced a pudgy little fist and showed him two fingers. She used her other hand to hold down a third that kept trying to pop up.
“She’s a cutie,” Nick said.
“Daddy, I want a cookie.”
“Well, duty calls,” Max said. “Great to see you, man. Maybe we can grab a beer sometime and catch up.”
“Sounds good,” Nick said.
In the few minutes they chatted, his leg began to really ache. And, like an idiot, he’d left his pain meds at Tess’s, thinking he’d be fine for a quick walk. Having just said goodbye to Max, it would be awkward to sit back down here, but he knew his limitations and needed a rest.
Tess’s store—The Outdoor Outpost—was close. He could catch his breath there. Between the cane, the coffee, and the “pull” sign, he wore himself out just opening the stupid door. Who knew doors could be so vexing? As he fought his way through, he noticed a poster advertising an upcoming Weekend Warrior camp out.
“Hey, you made it to town,” Tess greeted. “Good job. How’s the leg?”
“I walked a couple of blocks,” he said. “Let’s not make a big deal over it.”
“Progress is progress. You look like you’re in pain. Did you take medicine this morning?”
“Don’t make me sorry I came in here,” he grumbled.
“Whatever,” she said. “I’m kind of busy. You just stopping in to say hi?”
He shrugged. “I thought maybe I could sit somewhere for a second?”
“I knew it.” She rolled her eyes. “Heaven forbid you admit weakness. Why didn’t you just stay at the Rise and Grind?”
“Too many eyeballs. I don’t like everyone watching me.”
“Ah, yes. I’m sure you’re big news.” She held up a finger to a man who’d waved for her attention. “There are some camp chairs set up in the back by the tents, but that might be hard to get in and out of. Can you make it to the park?”
“It’s across the street,” he said. “I think I can manage. Actually, that’s a good idea.” A sturdy bench would be better for his leg and lack of mobility.
“Don’t act so surprised. I’m full of ’em. Seriously, though. Call me if you need a ride home.”
She left to help the customer, and he limped outside into the cloudless late-August day. Relaxing wasn’t his forte, but his leg hurt too much to walk home, and his pride hurt too much to ask for a ride. So, sit and chill, he would try.
He sat gingerly on the first park bench he came across, heaving a sigh of relief that he’d made it. The time it took to drink his coffee would be the perfect amount of rest.
Thirty minutes later, his cup was empty, and he’d tired of doom scrolling on social media. The thought of walking all the way back to Tess’s was daunting, but the pain had eased enough that it should be doable. As he stood, he noticed a store on Main Street he’d never seen before, a bookstore. Page Turners.
A good book was just what he needed. Maybe even two. He got the cane under him, threw the paper cup in the nearest trash can, and headed over to check it out.
Bells tinkled, announcing his entrance. It was about what he expected from a small-town bookstore. Several rows of bookshelves took up most of the space. The perimeter was also lined with shelves, breaking only for a checkout desk. Behind which sat a gray-haired woman, head down, engrossed in a three-inch tome. At the bell chime, she glanced up.
“Hello,” she greeted. “Welcome to Page Turners. Let me know if you have any questions.”
He tipped his head in acknowledgement and went straight to the section marked “Nonfiction.”
“Ruby,” came a voice from down a narrow hallway. “Do we have any big binder clips?”
Nick looked up from the book jacket he was reading as Faith Sullivan glided into the room. Their eyes met, and she abandoned her search for clips.
“Nicky!” She approached him as if going in for a hug. The look on his face deterred her from actually touching him. “I mean Nick,” she said in a deep, serious voice, clearly mocking him.
“Faith. What are you doing here?”
“I work here,” she said.
“I thought you cut hair.”
“She owns the place,” the woman at the counter said without looking away from her book.
Nick raised an eyebrow, and Faith shrugged. “Technically, that’s true, I suppose. It was my mom’s. She left it to me.”
“I was sorry to hear about your mom. I remember her from high school. Everyone loved her.”
“Yes.” Faith nodded. “She was everyone’s favorite.” A hint of sadness skidded over her face, but she rallied quickly and smiled. “So, how’s rooming with Tess?”
“Fine.”
“She can be kind of bossy sometimes,” she stage-whispered behind her hand.
“That is true. Thanks for letting me crash there. It’s nice to have a little quiet time.”
“Is that why you’re looking for a book? Hey. You don’t look so good. Are you all right?”
Sweat broke out on his forehead, and the room began to sway. Or was that him? The pain in his leg had gone from dull to searing. And with no pills to tamp it down, his body was revolting.
“Is there somewhere I could maybe sit for a second?” he asked through gritted teeth.
Alarm flashed in her eyes. He must look as green as he felt. “Ruby, can you bring a—”
That was the last he heard before the ground rushed up to kiss him. Well, that, and the thump of his head hitting the floor.