Chapter 11
eleven
MAC
With the farmers’ market season over, it was easier than I thought it’d be to avoid Brady. I just had to skip weekly trivia at Trailview Brewing, beg off attending Friday night bonfires with Larry, and wait ten minutes before I walked down the drive at Grandpappy’s to latch the gate after closing.
Some things made ignoring him more difficult, though. His text messages, for example.
The first one had come through the morning I’d snuck out of his apartment with my underwear in my pocket and a sinking feeling in my gut. Hey, Mac Attack. Want to grab a drink after trivia on Monday?
The next one arrived Monday night after I’d skipped out on my team. Can we talk?
Finally, five days after the plan to get it out of my system had failed spectacularly, I got the last text. It was sitting on read in my message app, and for some masochistic reason, I kept making myself look at it.
Brady: Mac, please.
All this unexpected freedom from social engagements gave me plenty of time to catch up on all the travel blogs I followed. I’d planned out a hypothetical trip to Thailand (two stops), started a new horror novel that was keeping me up at night, and cleaned out the pantry.
Brady had left me alone after that final text. There’d been no swipes on social media, no mentions or replies on Chatter. No impromptu appearances at Grandpappy’s to pick up tools or anything else.
I should have been relieved. I’d made myself scarce, and Brady hadn’t challenged me on it. But instead of relief, I felt unsteady. That same roiling-on-the-bow-of-a-ship feeling. A nagging disquiet that my world was off-kilter, everything shifted over a foot. Not quite sufficient to upend my life, but enough to have me jumping at shadows and stubbing my toes on what used to be there.
Yet, I persisted. I made it through Thanksgiving a month later, even when Larry pulled me aside and asked what the hell was going on. I’d given her the same bullshit excuse, saying I was fine, just busy, and not interested in socializing. I couldn’t very well confess that I was miserable and it was my own doing. Will was being a grumpy asshole, too, since Becca the tourist had gone back to Detroit. My aunt Maggie had threatened to make the two of us eat our turkey and fixings at the kids’ table by ourselves.
But I’d survived the event, and, eventually, Larry had given up on me and joined everyone else for dessert while I sat on the porch and contemplated what a big fucking chicken I was.
As painful as it was to admit, I missed Brady. For years, I’d had his undivided attention. And then briefly, his affection and his sweetness. Everything was all mixed up in my head. I wanted him to tease me and then kiss it better. But I didn’t know how to make myself vulnerable and admit the truth to the one person I’d always had to guard myself against.
Instead, I let my bad mood carry me through. I went to work and I saw my family. I went through the motions, and I resisted the urge to show up somewhere I knew Brady would be, just to see his face.
However, six weeks after I had my first and last date* with Brady Judd, Larry and I were on shift together in the tree lot at Grandpappy’s, and she cornered me. The farm was all decked out for the holidays. We decorated it every December to within an inch of its life, and the tourists ate it up. We transformed the General Store into a giant gingerbread house that had locals and leafers alike stopping by to take photos .
However, I was not particularly in the holiday spirit when my cousin made her way back to the booth after helping Trudy Caswell to her SUV with a six-foot Fraser fir in tow.
I’d just finished running the credit card payment for the customer waiting when Larry cleared her throat at my side.
I glanced over to see her looking pale.
“What’s wrong? Did you hurt your back getting that tree up on the roof of Trudy’s Suburban?”
Larry frowned. “No, I’m fine.”
She was silent for a moment while I rang up another tree purchase, and then when we were finally alone again, she blurted out, “I need a favor.”
My eyes narrowed. “What is it?”
Larry blew out a breath that reeked of reluctance before saying, “I know you’re going through”—she waved her hands vaguely about my person—“something. But I really need you to come to the bonfire with me tonight.”
Immediately, I opened my mouth to protest. The chances of running into Brady there were extremely high, and I was messed up enough.
But my cousin cut me off. “I don’t ask for a lot, Mac. But I’m asking you to come with me. Kayla will be there, and she’s bringing some guy she’s been hooking up with.”
I stared at Larry’s face, trying to discern her meaning. She rarely looked unhappy or frustrated, but she was both of those things right now, visibly. And she was right. She didn’t ask me for much.
Everybody should have someone they could ask to help bury a body. This girl would have showed up for me with a tarp and a shovel, no questions asked. Larry hadn’t called on me for anything so criminal or dramatic, but this request felt just as serious for some reason.
“I’ll come. Of course, I’ll come if you need me,” I said.
She sighed, but this time in relief. The lines on her pale forehead smoothed, but the tightness around her heavily made-up eyes remained. “Thank you. ”
“What’s wrong?” I asked gently. “Do you not like the guy Kayla is bringing? Is he an asshole or something?”
“Or something,” Larry murmured as she stood from her stool, already reaching for the door of the booth to step back out into the cloudy, cold December day. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
And then she was off to help a woman and her three kids select the perfect tree.
I stared after my cousin for a moment, questioning what was going on and then figuring it was only fair that I had to wonder because I was hiding things from her, too.
Larry’s secrets didn’t reveal themselves during the drive to Abby’s property later that evening. Nor was I able to deduce the reason behind her panicked invitation once we arrived. Everything seemed fine on her end. I, however, was a hot mess as I kept an eye out for Brady. Nerves made me fidgety and distracted. I told myself I didn’t want to see him, but the truth had my heart rate climbing into my throat.
When Brady failed to materialize, I didn’t bother with a sigh of relief. Instead, I tried to focus on running interference for Larry and playing the role of buffer. But for her part, Larry laughed and joked as she sipped her beer around the bonfire like she didn’t have a care in the world. And like she hadn’t begged me to be her backup here tonight. I was confused about why she needed me. She wore a smile for everyone—Kayla’s new hookup included.
The guy had to be six five, and he was built like a tank. His name was Adam and he seemed nice. He followed Kayla around like a puppy and looked at her with stars in his eyes.
Maybe Larry was nervous for her friend. Kayla had been in a long-distance relationship with her high school boyfriend for many years. They broke up probably six months ago, and since then, it seemed like Kayla was making up for lost time, regularly bringing home guys from the tourist bar where she worked. Could be that Larry didn’t want to see her friend get hurt again if things with Adam were progressing past the one-night-stand phase .
I wasn’t sure why Larry wanted me by her side, but that was where I stayed. Even when Brady finally made an appearance. He caught sight of me and stumbled into the back of Jase Wilcox. I forced myself to look away and focus on whatever Kayla had been talking about.
Brady’s bonfire attendance wasn’t unexpected, but there hadn’t really been a way to prepare myself for it. The temptation to look his way was strong, but I kept my gaze resolutely on my companions. I stiffened as the breeze carried snippets of his voice or his laughter my direction. Whatever gravitational force that had pulled us together in the first place was working its magic tonight, too. I was overly aware, waiting for the moment he appeared at my side with a teasing jibe or a challenging look.
But that moment never came.
With three ignored texts burning a hole in my pocket, Brady continued to give me the space I hadn’t really asked for but had demanded all the same.
It was nearing eleven when Larry elbowed me and asked me to grab her another beer from the coolers.
“You sure?” I said quietly, still looking for any sign of distress.
Her eyes narrowed playfully, the winged liner sharp enough to sting, as she said, “Yes, Mother. I’m sure.”
Kayla and Adam laughed, and Larry turned away from me.
Swallowing down my confusion, I stood and made my way toward the picnic tables beneath the awning.
In my distraction over my cousin and her strange behavior, I failed to check my surroundings. Brady was already digging through one of the coolers when I approached.
He glanced up and stilled momentarily before removing his hand from the ice and rubbing it dry on his jeans.
We watched each other for a long moment, and I fucking hated how I was acting—like I was scared or cautious, when I’d never been either of those things in my whole damn life. But more than that, I hated how Brady was being with me. This tentative version of himself. It was like watching him in his truck that time, in the grip of some unseen panic right before I’d kissed him to snap him out of it .
Brady felt distant, out of reach and miles away. Even when we’d hated each other—or I’d thought we did—he’d been someone I couldn’t ignore. Present in a way that punched me in the gut. A firework in brilliant, sparkling colors that demanded my attention.
This version, here and now, was dull and hazy around the edges. And knowing I’d made him that way just compounded the distance between us and the shame squeezing my heart.
I didn’t want things to be so off . I didn’t want to feel this way. I liked routine and expectation, normalcy and comfort.
But what version of normal did I even want?
The one where we fought like cats and dogs, or the alternate timeline where Brady ate me out on his kitchen counter and I wanted to fall asleep in his arms.
“Hi,” I finally managed, voice rough and uncertain, knowing I couldn’t keep standing here just so I could look at him.
“Hey,” he returned softly.
Suddenly, the image of that final text flashed before my eyes. Mac, please.
I could hear it now in his voice, see it all over his face, and I felt sick with regret as a result.
Brady shifted, his hands going into the pockets of his brown winter coat. “How’ve you been?”
“Busy,” I replied automatically. The same answer I’d been peddling for over a month now anytime anyone asked.
He nodded slowly, expression closed off. “Well, glad you could make time for your neighbors tonight.”
I couldn’t decide if he was making fun of me or accusing me of something, but his narrowed gaze made me think it was a challenge all the same.
“No one cares if I’m here or not,” I said truthfully. “The bonfires just keep on going no matter who shows up. Nothing ever changes.”
Brady snorted. “Some things change. ”
My eyes sharpened, searching his face. I was taken aback by his tone. I’d done that, I thought. I put that wounded look on his face, that sharp edge in his voice when Brady Judd had never been cynical a day in his life.
The weight of my guilt sank deep in my chest. I didn’t know what I wanted from Brady, but I knew it wasn’t this. While I’d been wary and nervous to set eyes on him tonight, I couldn’t ignore how good it felt to see him after going weeks without. How something had slotted neatly into place behind my ribs.
Abruptly, Brady took in a deep breath and gathered himself. A mask slipped over his features, jovial and light. And if I didn’t have the reminder of a Mac, please text swallowing me whole, I probably would have bought the act.
Then he was grinning and saying, “Well, I heard Eloise Carter went vegan, so I guess not everything stays the same.”
I frowned. Why was he talking about Eloise Carter? Why was he playing nice when he should have been telling me off?
I wanted him to be angry. That was what I deserved, and, at least, that would be real.
I wanted him to yell at me for sneaking out of his bedroom. To call me out for ignoring his texts and hiding from him like a coward for weeks.
“That’s not what I meant,” I managed.
His mask slipped. I could see a spark of indignation in his bright blue eyes, and I thought we were getting somewhere. “No? What did you mean, Mac? You want a new-and-improved Friday night activity to keep you entertained?”
“No, I just meant, it’s always more of the same. These people, this place. Locals are born here, and they die here, and they never try anything different.” I didn’t know why we were talking about this or why I was voicing these thoughts aloud. I was angry with myself, yet these were the words crawling out of my mouth. It was like a trigger engaging or a switch being flipped. I’d gone from making painful conversation with someone who had recently seen me naked to whatever the hell this was.
Brady looked surprised momentarily before reining it in. “There’s nothing wrong with staying in Kirby Falls. People are content here. It’s home.” He said it slowly, like he was testing out a theory he’d long suspected .
“Yeah, but how do they even know they’re content if they never get out and do more?”
“Look at my sister,” he countered immediately. “Candy left to go be successful or whatever in the big bad city, and now she’s back, and I’m pretty sure she wished she’d never left. I went away to college. I traveled to other countries. And I came back because I wanted to.”
I didn’t know Brady had traveled anywhere. The part of me that was greedy for information wanted to ask where he’d been. I wanted him to describe it all, to leave nothing out. But I couldn’t do that. I didn’t have the right, and this wasn’t the time.
Brady’s eyes searched mine. “Everything just reinforced that this is where I want to be. Kirby Falls is where I belong. I don’t need to be embarrassed about it. I’m happy here. And news flash, Clark, you’re a townie, too. You were born and raised here. You’re still here. Maybe you should stop being so judgy about the tourists who visit and find something about this place that they love. Maybe you should stop acting like Friday night bonfires are so beneath you.”
“They’re not,” I argued, but Brady kept right on talking.
“Living in your hometown doesn’t make you less than. It doesn’t mean you’ve settled.”
The word settled lodged itself in my windpipe. I thought of the farm and my work there. How my cousin Will thought I half-assed everything and barely trusted me with basic tasks. And how maybe I deserved that.
I had settled. I’d worked for my family since I was a teenager, and then I just kept right on, never asking for more or proving I deserved it. Doing just enough to get by and pay my bills. I’d never even considered going to college or doing anything different, like moving out on my own.
I wanted to criticize my hometown, but I was just like everyone else. A hundred tabs saved on my laptop for places I’d never visit.
“So you think I’m what? A loser?” Brady’s words cut through the thoughts crowding around my head like an angry mob. “For coming back after college, working at the orchard. For being content with my life. Same friends, same job, same Friday nights. ”
“I didn’t say that,” I said softly, even though I’d implied it. I hated how defensive Brady sounded. “What kind of hypocrite would I be? Like you said, I’m a townie in the exact same boat.”
“Yeah, but you’re ashamed of it. Think it’s embarrassing or weak or whatever the fuck you’ve convinced yourself you believe.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I defended once more, but I could feel the heat in my cheeks and how my tongue stumbled clumsily over the words. This conversation was going down a path I hadn’t intended.
Brady took a step toward me—just one—and my body leaned forward in answer. “I’m happy with my life, Mac. Maybe it’s too small or too familiar for you, but it’s just right for me. I like this town and these people. I love my family and working with them. Not everyone is meant for more.”
I had to swallow twice before I could speak. “I know that.” The words were a whispered confession filled with shame and self-loathing.
How did you explain to someone that the same choices could be wrong for one person and right for another? That I was happy Brady had a place he belonged while also feeling like I didn’t quite fit. My life—the current shape of it—wasn’t enough for me. Or maybe it wasn’t what I’d thought it would be.
He watched me like he was waiting for me to say something—admit something. But I couldn’t get any of the words out. Not about our hometown. Not about my life here. And certainly not about how I was so mixed up over my feelings for him.
Our shared history, so faded and yet somehow raw, wouldn’t let me admit that I couldn’t stop thinking about him. That I wanted his hands on me, his sweet affection, his teasing. Whatever argument we were in the middle of was a casualty of my own cowardice. It was easier to avoid the real issue—simpler to fight. We’d been doing that for years.
This current battle didn’t make me forget, but it kept me from making a fool of myself. I’d agreed to one night with Brady, and I couldn’t go back on that. It didn’t matter that I’d been wrong and I still wanted more.
How did you turn your life upside down for someone you never saw coming? Brady had slipped past my defenses, and that only made me want to lash out. The simple truth was: I was scared. Terrified to tie myself further to this life and this place in one more quantifiable way. Fall for the boy who used to tease me on the playground. I was a walking Hallmark movie. A hometown cliché.
“I’ll see you around, Mac.” Brady brushed by me and went back to the fire. Abandoning me and the conversation, likely knowing it was a lost cause. I couldn’t say I blamed him.
I closed my eyes and called myself every kind of idiot.
When I eventually made my way back to Larry, she didn’t even question why I hadn’t returned with any drinks. Kayla and her guy were gone, and my cousin was alone, staring moodily into the fire.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she lied, without looking away.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No. Not right now.”
I nodded, hoping she’d find it within her stubborn nature to seek me out when she was ready.
Distraction felt like the way to go, and I was rattled enough by the conversation with Brady that I actually wanted her opinion.
“Larry, do you think Will is right about me?”
She glanced at me and frowned. “What do you mean?”
“How he’s always checking up on me, making sure my work gets done, assuming I’ll half-ass everything.”
Larry looked thoughtful, and I appreciated that she didn’t immediately throw out some bullshit to pacify me. “Well, it’s not like you really go out of your way to volunteer for things. I think he knows you don’t want any more responsibility.”
My mind went through a film reel of the past several years. Will asking me to trade shifts or stay late and cover for someone. How I never offered to set up early for the festivals or handle the committee meetings and represent our family or the farm. The way I contributed the bare minimum for the most part.
When I remained quiet, Larry rushed to add, “I don’t think Will thinks he can’t trust you. It’s not that. He just knows you’re not invested. It’s just a job to you. Nine to five, you know?”
I nodded, knowing she was right. That was how I viewed things.
After dedicating his life to a sport and his subsequent injury, Will had been forced to come back to Kirby Falls, but he’d made the best of it. While I wasn’t sure he was capable of being happy without baseball, he was doing what was important. He was intense and obsessed with being the best at everything all the time, but maybe I could use a little more of that in my life. Some motivation. A bigger role.
Like Brady had said, it didn’t have to be settling. I could let myself be happy here.
Grandpappy’s was my family’s legacy. The Clarks were leaders in this town. I’d been content to keep right on keeping on. A selfish teenager turned aloof twentysomething. It was probably time I grew up and took some responsibility for my place in all this. And if it was Brady Judd’s voice in the back of my mind urging me on, well, that was my own problem.
I got to work early the next day. And the next.
When I passed Will grabbing some coffee in front of the Bake Shop, I told him to put me down to work the Holiday Market. It was a weekend street fair that was part of Kirby Falls’ annual Holiday Jamboree. There was a tree lighting and parade and everything. Similar to at the farmers’ market, Grandpappy’s had a booth on Main Street alongside other local businesses and artisans, selling items from the bakery. It was the second biggest tourist event, behind the autumn Orchard Festival.
My cousin gave me a funny look but nodded and said he’d add me to the schedule.
It felt like a step in the right direction.
Another opportunity arose the following day when Will called a staff meeting. It wasn’t unusual to have everyone get together, but it didn’t happen very often. Typically, only at the beginning of apple season when we were inundated with seasonal and part-time employees who needed information and training. But we were well into December now, and it was mostly family present along with some of our regular full-time employees who knew the lay of the land.
Will shifted uneasily in front of us. We were gathered at the picnic tables by the Bake Shop prior to opening. The outdoor heaters lined the perimeter, but it was still cold.
I rubbed my hands together and gave Larry a look, but she seemed just as confused as I was about the reason behind the meeting.
Finally, Will stood and cleared his throat before the small crowd. “I’ll keep this short. I’ve already spoken with some of you, but I’ve decided to take a step back from the farm.”
I nearly toppled off the bench seat in surprise.
“We’ll be hiring a general manager for Grandpappy’s to handle the day-to-day tasks I’ve absorbed over the years. Someone to run point, make the schedule, and handle issues that crop up. I’ll mainly stay on in a support role and to manage the accounting.”
“And,” Aunt Maggie added loudly from the front, “he’ll be working remotely for the most part.”
Larry elbowed me sharply in the side, and we shared a holy shit look. Will had been miserable since Becca left. I didn’t know precisely what had gone down between them, but I knew they weren’t talking. Larry and I had kept in touch with Becca, texting often. She was our friend, after all. I definitely hoped this change—Will stepping back—meant good things for them in the future. It was long past time they figured their shit out and Becca made her move to North Carolina official.
When I glanced back to Will, I could tell he wanted to roll his eyes at his mother, but he knew better. “Right. So that’s it. We’ll post the new position and begin interviewing in a few weeks so that we can have someone in place by January first.”
Will was so fucking stubborn. It ran in the family. I never thought I’d see the day he recognized his own happiness and put himself first.
Maybe things could change .
The meeting dispersed, and I could tell Larry wanted to break down everything that had just happened, but my heart pounded in my throat as I watched Will make his way back to his office.
I stood quickly. “Sorry, Larry. I’ll catch up with you. I need to talk to him.”
By the time I opened the door to Will’s office, he was just settling down at his desk. His dog, Carl, ignored me in favor of his heated pet bed and a stuffed avocado squeaky toy he rested his head on.
Will’s dark eyebrows jumped high on his forehead when he saw me. I might have actually slammed the office door behind me in my exuberance.
“I want the job,” I blurted.
“Really?” My cousin frowned. It was a good frown, severe and effective. He’d practiced it a lot.
I swallowed my nerves and explained, “I want the manager position.” Will still looked unconvinced, so I went on, “I’m ready for more responsibility here on the farm. And this would be a ... different kind of challenge.”
I felt like I was already interviewing, trying to throw around big words and make my weaknesses sound like strengths. I wished I was wearing a blazer or something instead of nervously sweating inside my winter coat.
Will regarded me skeptically. “A challenge?”
I nodded. “Yep. I mean, yes. One I’m ready to take on.”
Will crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “But you hate the tourists.”
“So do you,” I accused on instinct. “But I wouldn’t be dealing with them the same way, right?”
“I suppose,” he agreed. “You’d be handling the complainers and the troublemakers, though. But you wouldn’t have to see them every second of your shift like you do now. Do you still want to handle social media?”
“Yes!” I practically shouted. “I like that part.”
“What brought all this on, Mac? I thought you didn’t want to be here.”
Shame felt like a knot in my chest, twisting me up and making it hard to breathe. I knew why Will assumed that, the way my actions had supported it .
I didn’t want to tell him about the conversation with Brady. How I’d felt like a disgraceful chicken and criticized my neighbors and this town when I was really unhappy with myself.
I didn’t know why it was so hard to admit that I’d allowed myself to be unfulfilled and figured it was easier to do nothing than to accept some responsibility for my actions.
“I’m ready for a change,” I answered. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was honest nonetheless.
Will nodded like he, maybe, understood. “Me too.”
After a long moment, he said, “Okay. But we’re still holding interviews. You’ll have to apply like anyone else. But I’ll back you if this is what you want, Mac.”
“It is,” I assured him, feeling my heart rate gallop as if to confirm my words.
He leaned forward, gray flannel straining across his shoulders as he rested his forearms on the desk. “No more changing the prices by a penny.”
“Right,” I said, dipping my chin in shame-faced agreement. That had been dumb.
“I mean it. That shit is annoying. You and Judd need to grow up.”
I swallowed hard, thinking he was probably right.
When I wandered out of Will’s office a few minutes later with a spring in my step, I found Larry waiting on me with a coffee in one hand and one of Chloe’s pastries in the other.
“Well,” she said, eyes huge and expectant. “What the hell was that all about?”
We were on shift at the tree lot in ten minutes, so I tilted my head in that direction. “Let’s walk and talk.” Plus, I didn’t want Will to overhear anything and change his mind about supporting me.
As my boots traveled over the worn path, past the fencing decorated with warm white lights, I admitted quietly, “I told Will I want to be considered for the general manager position.”
“You did? Why?” my cousin asked, slightly horrified.
I frowned. “It seemed like it was time, you know, for me to step up and take on more. Stop acting like the high schoolers we hire for the summer. ”
Larry pulled me to a stop near the ticket booth. “Does this have something to do with the other night? When you asked me if I thought Will was right about you? The nine-to-five thing? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
I shook my head. “You didn’t hurt my feelings. I asked you because I trust you to be honest with me. And, I think, I needed to hear that. It was the truth, but I didn’t want it to be. I need something different. I don’t know. I don’t even have my own place. I still live with my grandparents, Larry. I need to grow up and stop coasting by.”
“That feels like a gross oversimplification, but okay,” she murmured, then took a huge bite of almond croissant. When she’d finished chewing, she said seriously, “But is taking over for Will—being general manager of the farm—something you actually want?”
I took a deep breath and considered her question. I did love the farm. And I loved working with Larry and seeing her every day. She was my cousin, but she was also my best friend. I think I’d done the easy thing for so long because it felt safe. Stepping into a new role would be scary, but in a good way.
“Yeah, I think it is,” I finally replied.
Throughout my shift, I thought about what the future might look like. I let the giddy feeling of something new on the horizon fill me up. This could be a chance for me to put down roots instead of just hovering on the surface.
The excitement bubbled up in my chest the more I thought about it. I realized I wanted to tell Brady so I could get his opinion. Then I smiled to myself, thinking how he’d probably try to invent a manager position over at Judd’s Orchard to even things up.
My smile faded just as quickly when I remembered the way he’d looked at me on Friday. I needed to talk to him. Sex clearly hadn’t simplified anything. And it definitely hadn’t made me want him any less. Maybe I could fix what I’d broken between us.
“Hey,” Larry said later when we finally had a lull in foot traffic. “You think Will stepping back at the farm has anything to do with Becca? I am ready for him to get his head out of his ass and go get that girl.”
“Me too.” I grinned, considering once again, that stubbornness was a family trait, and I had some cranial extraction work of my own to do.