Chapter 28 Lucy
Lucy
I know before I even get out of my car that Annabelle is teetering on the edge of a breakdown or applying for a one-way ticket out of town.
She’s camped out at our usual booth at Loon Landing Café, clutching her iced coffee, three seconds away from crushing the cup like an aluminum beer can, her daily planner splayed open.
I brace for impact.
She looks up as I slide into the booth, her smile tight and wild-eyed. Annabelle pushes a muffin and coffee mug toward me. “I survived. Barely.” She leans against her booth bench, exhausted. “Okay. Do you want good news or chaos first?”
I pretend to think. “Let’s build suspense. Hit me with the good news.”
She points dramatically at her planner. “We raised eighty thousand dollars.”
I nearly choke on my coffee, sputtering over the rim of the mug. “Eighty thousand? Are you freaking kidding?”
“Nope. People really enjoy watching large men chop wood.”
I nod knowingly. “Small-town America at its finest.”
She nods solemnly. “Harris ripping off his shirt didn’t damage my eyes. Once news got out that he was performing, we had to cut the line off and stop selling tickets.” Annabelle groans. “May his abs forever fund the community.”
Amen. “They deserve a plaque. Maybe their own wing at the community center.”
My bestie clinks her cup against mine, eyes half lidded with exhaustion. “I swear, I need to hibernate for a week.”
“You deserve it.” Understatement of the year. “Are you going to tell me the bad news, or are you going to make me beg?”
She sighs, hand snaking across the table to snatch my muffin. “Someone stole one of the decorative carved bears at the hardware store. It’s . . . gone.”
I blink. “Who steals a bear statue?” Those things are seriously heavy—carved out of solid wood and probably weighing several hundred pounds. A person doesn’t casually toss one in their trunk and drive off.
Annabelle waves a hand, exasperated. “Apparently, someone with a pickup truck, questionable morals, and excellent upper-body strength. Or a group of bored teenagers?”
“Or that.” I shake my head. “Welp. I hope they at least gave it a good home.” I take a sip of my coffee, letting the absurdity settle.
There’s a pause—long enough for me to think we might be done dissecting small-town crimes. “Soooo what was up with you and that guy from last night?”
“The guy at the lodge I was flirting with?” Annabelle tears the top of my muffin off and pops a chunk of it in her mouth. Chews. “He’s from Cincinnati and is here kayaking with friends from college.”
“And?”
“And—nothing. I couldn’t figure out if he was married or not.
And too tired to find out the hard way. You know, by sleeping with him, then getting a DM next week from a pissed off wife.
No thanks. Hard pass.” Annabelle takes another bite.
“I haven’t gotten laid in weeks—like, I’ve been dry downtown since long before I dumped Tim. ”
This gets my attention. This is news to me. “You and Tim weren’t having sex?”
She shakes her head. “I mean—I take some of the blame. I’ve been so busy leading up to Fall Fest and planning the Vodgs wedding—and Tim was so busy doing . . . Tim things . . . that we just . . .” Annabelle shrugs.
I lean back in my chair, watching her pick at the crumbly remains of my muffin like it’s the last meal she’ll ever have. Her confession lingers between us. Dry downtown.
I snort quietly into my coffee cup. “You know,” I say, swirling the last sip. “Maybe after this weekend is over, you should plan to get out of town for a bit.”
She pauses, hand hovering midair with a crumb stuck to her fingertip. “What—like a vacation?”
She says the word vacation like it’s a foreign word she’s only heard spoken in movies.
“Exactly.” I sit up straighter, excited about this topic. “A real one. No clipboards, no color-coded calendars.”
She drops her hand, brushing crumbs into a napkin with a frown. “Where would I even go?”
“Anywhere,” I suggest. “Somewhere warm, with a beach. Cocktails. Sunburns. Cabana boys who can carry your luggage and emotional baggage.”
She gives me a wry look. “I have a lot of that.”
Don’t we both? “Exactly. You need two cabana boys.”
She snorts, but I can see the wheels turning. Annabelle has always been the planner, the one who keeps everyone else’s life in order while hers stays on the back burner. Tim was another project she thought she could fix. And now?
She’s running on empty.
I can see it in her eyes.
Annabelle huffs out a laugh. “I wouldn’t know how to relax.”
“That’s exactly why you need to go.” I lean forward, resting my chin on my hand. “Seriously. When was the last time you did something for yourself? Not for the town. Not for your brides. Something for you.”
Annabelle’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Her shoulders sag. “I don’t remember.”
“Babes, I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just want you to consider being selfish for a second.” I pause. “Maybe I’ll book a trip for both of us.”
Her eyes widen. “Seriously?”
“Dead serious. You, me, cocktails with little umbrellas. We can sit on a beach, complain about men. Eat, drink, have a fling.”
Annabelle’s smile softens. “Amazing.”
I grin. “We’ll wear floppy hats that say Vacation Mode. I’ll read a romance novel and pretend to be shocked by the smut. It’ll be great.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, the noise of the café buzzing softly around us. I watch her relax and know the cogs in her mind have begun spinning.
Perfect. She needs a break.
I can help her plan one.
“So what do you have going on today?” She changes the subject on me. “Doesn’t Harris leave tomorrow?”
I nod. “He does.” Swallow. “He’s got a team meeting tomorrow about defense strategy or something?” I have no idea what anything is called. A football fan I am not . . .
“And that’s it? The two of you are done? Lucy—you can’t tell me that whatever is going on between you and Harris is . . . I don’t know, a onetime thing. You’ve been glowing since you met him. And I mean actual glowing. It’s so irritating.”
My heart does this weird little flip. “It was fun,” I admit. “He’s hot, great in bed. Funny—”
Annabelle makes a gagging noise.
I ignore it. “And he’s leaving tomorrow. He was always going to leave.”
She watches me for a long moment. Taps her fingernails on her coffee mug. “So that’s it? No deep feelings, no regrets? Just a fun adventure?”
I want to nod.
Instead, I pick up my coffee and take a slow sip, stalling for an answer.
Annabelle smirks. “You’re hesitating.”
I set my cup down with more force than necessary. “I’m not hesitating. I’m . . .” I straighten my spine. “Know what? Maybe you should be focusing on your own love life instead of mine.”
Her smirk drops instantly. “Low blow.”
I lift a shoulder. “You said you haven’t gotten laid in weeks. Maybe that should be the priority—and not the fact that Harris is leaving.”
She regards me. “Can you be honest with me for a second? Be real . . . Do you have feelings for Harris?”
The question lands like a weight on my chest: period, point blank.
I open my mouth to give her a casual brush-off, to make a joke about how feelings are for people with time for drama—and neither of us have time for that. But my words catch in my throat.
I can’t say them, because they are a lie.
Instead, my gaze lands on the table, and I pick at the edge of my napkin, doing my best to ignore the sting behind my eyes.
“Yes,” I whisper, barely audible. I clear my throat and say it louder. “Yes. I do.” I exhale. “I care about him a lot.”
Annabelle listens, expression one of tenderness.
“It’s crazy, right?” Madness. “I barely know him, but I hate that he’s leaving. I hate that I knew from the start it was temporary and still let myself fall for him! How stupid am I? Like—I set myself up for this heartbreak.”
An idiot.
Stupid.
Selfish.
Annabelle reaches across the table; her fingers wrap around mine. “You’re not stupid, Lucy. You’re human. And that’s why love is hard—our hearts are fickle creatures. They want what they want despite what our heads tell us.”
I let out a shaky breath, the tears finally spilling over.
“I thought I could handle keeping things casual! I did. I thought I could keep things light. Easy breezy. But uh, Harris is so kind. He listens. He makes me feel . . . sexy. And like I matter.” I wipe at my cheeks, raw and exposed, lowering my voice.
“I didn’t realize how lonely I’ve been until he showed up.
And now he’s leaving, and I don’t know how to go back to dating the same kind of boring men I dated before. ”
There.
I said it.
My bestie reaches across the table, fumbling for my hand so she can squeeze it, her own eyes glassy. “You don’t have to go back. Maybe this is the part where you move forward.”
I laugh bitterly. “Move forward into what? He’s leaving tomorrow. He has a life. A career. One I’m not part of.”
She tilts her head. “Have you told him how you feel?”
I shake my head quickly. “Obviously not! What would be the point? It’s not going to change the situation.”
Then Annabelle’s expression shifts, eyes going wide. Her lips press together like she’s trying desperately not to laugh—surprised? Caught off guard? What is that look on her face? And why is she staring over my head?
“Wait.” I narrow my eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
She blinks rapidly, cheeks flushing pink. “Uh. No reason?”
No.
Please no.
He can’t be . . .
My stomach flips. I freeze. “He’s standing right behind me, isn’t he?”
Please don’t let him be standing there, please don’t let him be standing there, please don’t let . . .
“For sure. Yes.” Annabelle bites her lip and gives me the tiniest nod. “Totally.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and groan. “Of course he is. Why didn’t you say anything before I opened my dumb mouth?”
“Why would I?”
Life can never be simple, can it? When life gets dull, I behave like the amateur I am and fall for the first football-playing fake lumberjack that plops into my lap!
GUH!
Inhaling a deep breath, I turn slowly in my chair, heart racing.
Harris stands there, larger than life. Hands in his pockets, crooked smile. His eyes crinkle at the corners in a way I haven’t seen before, and I try to translate what the look means. Care? Concern? Is he horrified? Because I am!
“Hi,” he says gently.
“Hey,” I squeak.
Annabelle is useless to me, muffling laughter behind her coffee cup—no help at all.
I cringe, cheeks on fire. “How much of that did you hear?”
He shrugs, still smiling. “Enough.” Pause. “Have I told you today how fucking cute you are?”
No. Actually—yes. This morning before I slid out of his bed and headed home to shower so I could change before my classes.
He steps closer, eyes soft. “Why didn’t you tell me how you felt? I’ve been chasing after you like a puppy dog all damn week.”
“You have?”
He gawks at me, jaw slackening. “Let me count the ways.” Harris holds up one finger, counting.
“I lied and said I was a lumberjack to make you laugh.” He holds up another finger.
“I climbed the side of your house and landed in garbage.” He holds up a third finger.
“And I drove to four spots to find you because you’re not answering my text messages. ”
I glance at my phone, which is resting on the bench beside me. There are five notifications from Harris. “Oh.”
“So why didn’t you tell me how you felt?”
I bite my lip, suddenly racked with shyness and nerves. “Because I didn’t want to make things harder. You’re leaving, and I thought if I kept it light, we wouldn’t get attached.”
His brow furrows. “And how’s that working out for you?”
“Terribly.” I laugh, shaky and breathless. “How is it working for you?”
He reaches for my hand and threads his fingers through mine. “Terribly.”
“Welp. That’s my cue to go.” Annabelle stands up, gathering her things. “I’m gonna . . . um . . . go . . . literally anywhere else.”
She winks at me and scurries off like a rat. To be honest, I’m shocked she’s choosing not to stay and listen to our entire conversation.
Harris slides into the spot Annabelle vacated in the booth, still holding my hand like he’s afraid to let go. Honestly? I’m glad he doesn’t. I could use his lifeline right about now.
“So,” he says softly, glancing around before his eyes land on mine. “What do we want this to look like?”
Do we have to talk about this now? I’m scared.
Harris is afraid of bears. I’m afraid of reality.
Ha!
I swallow hard. “I don’t know. You’ve got workouts, the rest of the season, travel . . . your life is all over the place.”
“And you have your life here,” he finishes for me.
I nod, staring down at the table. “Right. My studio classes, the yoga schedules, my parents.”
Harris squeezes my hand. “Okay, yes—I have football. No getting around that, my career is intense. But! I also have a phone. And a car. And we have planes. And apparently, I have a growing fear of you forgetting about me.”
I snort. “You? Afraid I’ll forget you? You’re on national television. I think I’m the forgettable one here.”
He leans in. “Lucy, I could be standing in a stadium with thousands of people screaming my name, and I’d still be thinking about you rolling your pretty brown eyes at me.”
My face flames. “I don’t roll my eyes that much.”
He gives me a look.
“Okay, fine,” I mumble. “I do.” Sue me.
He sobers quickly. “Look, I’m scared too. I’ve never done the long-distance thing. I don’t know if I’m going to be good at it. But I do know I don’t want this to end without giving it a fucking try.”
I worry on my bottom lip. “I don’t either.”
“Good.” We sit in silence for a second, and then he says, “So. Logistics.” He pulls out his phone. “We set standing call times,” he says. “Even if it’s five minutes. We send each other something every day. A text, a picture, a funny meme—something.”
I nod, a smile tugging at my lips. “I can do that.”
“So. What about Friday?”
Friday? As in, “This Friday? Five days from now?”
“Yeah. Friday. Can I take you to dinner?” The way he’s watching my reaction as he says the words, “I’ll fly you out. Dinner under the desert sky, you and me.”
My jaw drops. “You want to fly me to Arizona for dinner?”
Is He Crazy? Who Does That?
Harris shrugs, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. And who knows, maybe it is. “I told you—I don’t want to wait. And I definitely don’t want to say goodbye like this and not see you for weeks.”
I press a hand to my chest to temper my beating heart. “You know most guys just FaceTime.”
“Most guys aren’t me.”
“You’re insane.”
“Only for you.” He raises my hand to kiss my palm. “Let me fly you out. We’ll have dinner, I’ll show you around the city, and you’ll see exactly where I am when we talk every day. It won’t feel so far.”
I bite my lip, heart pounding. “You’re serious?”
“Completely.” His smile softens. “Come to Arizona and have dinner with me.”