Chapter 2
Noah
Students will be able to repress everything.
Shay fucking Zucconi.
In my town. On my farm.
And she didn’t remember me.
That only seemed appropriate. All things considered.
“Are you wearing a onesie?” Gennie asked, finally dropping the pirate’s brogue for a moment. She circled around Shay, giving her clothes a close study. “It looks like a onesie. How do you go to the bathroom?”
Shay gave Gennie a smile that held no hint of annoyance. That surprised me. I figured she would have no use for the six-year-old who’d never once kept a thought to herself. Or she’d offer some curt remark and then ignore the child.
After all, Shay Zucconi was too good for all of this. For all of us.
“It’s called a romper,” Shay said. She sounded like she was talking to a friend.
“If you want to talk about real grown-up onesies, that’s a bodysuit, and those are a lot easier in the bathroom.
These things”—she gave a half turn, gesturing to the zipper down her back—“are a little bit of a nightmare.” She held out her hand to Gennie. “I’m Shay. What’s your name?”
She ducked behind me, suddenly shy. I felt her fingers balled in my t-shirt. “Gennie,” she whispered.
Shay waved, saying, “It’s so nice to meet you, Gennie.”
I really wanted to hate her, and for a million different reasons, but most of all, she’d showed up here after all these years and she didn’t remember me.
Not that I wanted anyone to be rude or dismissive to Gennie—the kid had been through enough—but I would’ve appreciated it if I could walk away from this exchange resenting Shay. That would really help me out.
Instead, she gestured to Gennie’s striped skirt, the one with the ragged hems because the kid was not to be trusted with scissors, and said, “Tell me about this look you’ve put together. It’s fabulous.”
“I like black and white,” Gennie said, abandoning me altogether and dancing off to give a little twirl. “It’s my favorite but Noah says I should try other colors.”
Shay reached for the diamond pendant resting at the base of her throat, zipped it back and forth several times while she blinked at Gennie.
It took her a second but then her gaze snapped to me.
Zip zip zip. “Noah?” she whispered, finally abandoning the necklace to push her sunglasses to her head and gape at me.
Heat crawled up my neck. “Noah Barden ? What? Why didn’t you say so sooner?
You are the last person I expected to find in Friendship. ”
Wasn’t that the damn truth.
“I could say the same to you,” I replied.
She glanced out at the rolling hills around us, her gaze far off and the shake of her head slow. “Yeah. I mean, this was not on my bingo card.”
We stared at each other while Gennie twirled around us, sword aloft. If Shay intended to offer an explanation as to why the hell she was here after fourteen years and a teenage vow to get the hell out, this would’ve been a fine time to do it. Would’ve been a fine time for me to do the same.
But the moment passed and Gennie stopped beside Shay to toy with the bracelet on her wrist. “Your hair is really pretty,” she said.
“Thank you. It’s new,” Shay said, lifting a hand to her strawberry-blonde hair. “I’m still getting used to it.”
“You look great, Shay. Time’s been good to you,” I said, which was stupid because we weren’t the same kids we used to be and the last thing I needed was a problem like Shay again.
Even if the years had taken that unforgettable girl with those cat eyes and that curtain of long blonde hair and transformed her into an unforgettable woman with pink hair and curves too luscious to contemplate in this heat.
She still stood on the short side of average and her skin was still peachy and clear, not even a freckle daring to interrupt all that perfection.
“You’re kind to say it but that’s hardly the case,” she said, making an up-and-down gesture in my direction.
That was when I realized the compound nature of my stupidity.
I couldn’t call attention to her appearance without making mine free game.
If there was anyone who knew what it was for their body to be a constant source of public comment, it was me.
“You, on the other hand, are barely recognizable.” She did the up-and-down thing again. “You grew, like, a whole foot.”
“Noah’s a hundred feet tall,” Gennie said, still fixated on Shay’s bracelet.
“Only eight inches.” I shoved my hands into my pockets, waiting for the rest. Ever since moving back to Friendship, the first things anyone said to me were about losing the weight and my skin clearing up.
Once they were finished recapping my history as a fat kid with enough acne for it to be memorable, they promptly moved on to whatever they needed from me.
Sponsor the softball team, buy a booth at this upcoming event, donate a basket for that charity auction, join this new committee, rescue that family’s farm before it hit the auction block.
But all she said was, “It’s really good to see you, Noah,” and I was sixteen all over again. Sixteen and awkward as fuck and in absolute awe of this girl.
And that could not, under any circumstance, continue.
“Yeah, you too. So, about those trucks down at Twin Tulip,” I said, rubbing a hand along the back of my neck.
As usual, it felt like concrete. “The guys kept seeing trespassers parking there and hiking down to that little cut-through in the woods, the one that leads to the cove. We stationed a few out-of-commission delivery trucks down there to make it difficult for anyone to park.” I lifted a shoulder, the one with the pink backpack Gennie threw at me the minute she got off the bus.
Hated the pink backpack but loved Shay’s pink hair.
Of course. Made sense. “We didn’t know anyone was coming. ”
Her brows creased and she made a face I didn’t really understand. “I didn’t know I was coming either.”
“Your earrings don’t match,” Gennie announced. “Aren’t they supposed to match?”
“Don’t see why they should,” Shay replied. “If I can’t have fun with my earrings, why even wear them?”
I reached into my back pocket for my phone. “I’ll get someone to take care of those trucks now.”
“Wait a second,” she said with a laugh, her hands fluttering while I shot off a text message. “What’s with the cow delivery trucks? And the dairy ? What happened here? What about the orchard?” She pointed to my hat. “And that. Little Star Farms? What’s that all about?”
I held her gaze, my heart in my throat. I was certain she had me nailed right then and there and I’d have an eternity of explaining to do while she handed my ass to me but—
“So much has changed,” she cried, waving at the greenhouses and the farm stand. “I can’t believe it. Didn’t that used to be a row of berry bushes? Something weird, right? Like fraggleberries.”
“Fraggleberries aren’t a thing. You’re thinking of gooseberries,” I said.
“Fraggleberries should be a thing,” Gennie murmured.
“Yes! That’s it. Gooseberries,” she said. “The gooseberries are gone!”
“No one bought the gooseberries. They were a terrible use of resources,” I said.
“Anyway. About the dairy. My dad didn’t know how to say no when neighboring farms asked if he wanted to buy them out but he never knew what to do with all those assets either.
When I took over, I consolidated the operations, including the old McIntyre dairy, into one.
We distribute across the region and offer home delivery.
Milk, produce, breads. It’s not a big deal. ”
Gennie took that moment to stab her sword at the ground and announce, “I’m bored as a motherfucker.”
To her credit, Shay had no reaction to Gennie’s outburst. She only blinked and glanced up at me.
“Imogen,” I snapped. “This is why they gave you the boot from summer school. We’ve been talking about this. You can’t—”
“But that’s how bored I am.” Turning to Shay, she grabbed her hand and said, “Can I show you the goats? They’re so funny.”
“I think,” she started with a glance toward me, “Noah’s trying to talk to you about that adult word you just used. What do you think about giving him your attention before we make plans to visit the goats?”
Gennie bobbed her head and turned to me with an expectant pout as if she’d endure the minor inconvenience of listening but only because Shay liked the idea too.
Now that I had an audience, I couldn’t remember the first thing about how to set limits with a rogue of a child. “You can’t use that word,” I said. “We’ve talked about this. You can’t use any variation of that word.”
Gennie dragged the toe of one of her sneakers in the dirt. With a shrug, she said, “I’ll try.”
I stared at her for a long moment. I knew that promise was as flimsy as they came and she wanted nothing more than to end this conversation and introduce Shay to our goats. I knew she was already halfway in love with Shay.
That was how it went with Shay. One minute of gazing into those feline eyes and it was all over.
If I was smart, I’d end this now. I’d start Gennie on her chores and send Shay on her way.
But I wasn’t smart when it came to Shay. I’d never been smart.
“I’d like you to do more than try,” I said. “And Shay is not your prisoner, Gen. She probably has things to do”—I cut a glance toward the last woman on earth I expected to find on my land today—“or something like that.”
Gennie stamped her foot once. “I promise I won’t use the m-word for the rest of the day.” Beaming up at Shay, all trace of rebellion gone, she asked, “Do you want to see the goats or do you have things to do?”
With a shrug, Shay replied, “I could meet a goat.”
Gennie grabbed her hand and damn near sprinted down the path between the greenhouses. I followed at a more measured pace, watching them laugh together and listening in as Gennie introduced Shay to the farm.