11. Tess
ELEVEN
TESS
My cheeks hurt from fake-smiling all day, my stomach tied into so many knots I want to double over. I can’t stop thinking about every dumb thing I said to Ian yesterday. The way I shamelessly—and shamefully—stared at his body. The relentless fire in his eyes when he’d glared back at me.
His scowl stayed with me all night, a bad omen I can’t shake. Whatever hopes I had of being friendly neighbors with him burnt to a crisp beneath that heavy gaze.
Any thought I might have entertained of anything more, well…those were never going to happen anyway.
“Okay, girls, do you need anything before I go?” Mom still talks to us like she’s leaving us alone in the bakery for the first time instead of roughly the five thousandth. She’s got her small purse looped over her shoulder, ready to head out for the afternoon.
“We’ve got it,” Wren says next to me behind the counter. “Are you meeting friends for dinner?”
The question seems to take Mom by surprise, and she stops on her way to the door. “Yes, actually. Just a friendly get together.”
“You look very pretty.”
I hadn’t thought about it before, but she’s wearing a dress. It’s not totally unusual for her, but we mostly keep it business casual in here. Now that she’s slipped off her apron, the embroidered details on her navy mini dress stand out.
Mom smooths her blond hair over her shoulder. She’s brushed it out of the up-do she usually wears for work, and the gentle waves suit her. “Thank you, honey. I’ll see you girls at home.”
It’s a tiny thing, but it still sends a shard of guilt under my skin. One more reminder of how I shook things up by moving out.
She winces but smiles brighter to cover it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tess.”
Mom waves and heads out. I turn away, ready to clean. Organize. Do anything to stay occupied and keep my thoughts from spinning Ian’s direction. A big goal, since they’ve been stuck on him all day.
Wren nudges me before I can find something productive to do. “Okay, spill. Why are you so squirrelly today?”
I’ve debated this all day, too—do I confide in my sister? While I don’t love what I have to share, I’m not in the habit of keeping secrets from her. On the other hand, chances are high my story will lead her to a cliff perfect for jumping off into various romantic conclusions. Wren loves a good leap.
But I have to get it out. I’m too racked with regret to keep this to myself.
I sigh, sagging against the back counter. “I’m a horrible person.”
“Wow, okay. Dramatic. Who’d you murder?” She clasps her hands in front of her chest. “Please say it was Callahan.”
“Not murder.” I slaughtered every last ounce of my pride, but there aren’t any laws against that. Self-mortification is perfectly legal.
She groans. “Is this like that time you ran a red light in Bend and freaked out for weeks because you thought you were going to get a ticket in the mail?”
I still get nervous when I find anything official-looking in the mailbox, just in case their ticketing system was delayed. By eighteen months.
“Worse.”
She sidles closer. “You have to narrow it down. There’s a lot of options between traffic violations and murder. I can’t guess all day.”
My gaze cuts to the pass-through leading to Hope’s store next door. “You can’t tell anybody about this.”
I love Hope and trust her with my secrets, but not all of what I have to say is about me.
Instead of sobering Wren, this excites her. Of course she’d love the idea of me sharing anything secret or potentially scandalous. “I wouldn’t.”
I weigh her words, but if I can’t trust Wren, I can’t trust anyone.
“I saw Ian yesterday.” I let my ominous tone convey it was more than a neighborly visit.
She grins as if she can’t help herself. “Tell me more.”
“We were on the trail behind the duplex, and August and I came across him finishing a run…while he was shirtless.”
Her eyes widen, and I can tell she wants to combust from this news. But she manages to nod and hum agreement, my indifferent therapist mildly encouraging me to go on.
“I stared at him. A lot. Obviously and embarrassingly. I was like a cartoon character with my eyes stretching out of my head.” Hopefully, my tongue stayed in my mouth, but I can’t be sure.
“That picture I saw was pretty impressive. I can only imagine what it was like seeing it in person.” She fans herself exactly the way I did on the trail.
“I tripped over myself trying to talk to him and sound normal, and instead I just made my stupid crush completely obvious.”
My heart sinks even as Wren’s face shines like a beacon. I should not have said that specific word. It’s the match to the fuse for her joy explosion.
She splays her hands in the air as though any of that was worthy of celebrating. “Finally! You have a crush! Oh, I love this.”
I knew she wouldn’t take it as hard as I did. I’m tempted to point out she hasn’t been in a rush to jump into feelings, either. Jumping into everyone else’s is much easier.
“The story isn’t over.”
“I would hope not.”
I drop my voice. “He has a prosthetic leg.”
I hate that I’m even bringing it up. I want to be that person who doesn’t mention differences, who’s welcoming and accepting no matter what, but my behavior yesterday proved I’m not living up to it.
That, at least, makes Wren settle. “Did you know?”
“He’d never mentioned it, and I’d never seen him in shorts before.” I don’t know him well enough to guess whether that was intentional or not. Maybe he just likes being extra warm, even in summer. Or maybe he didn’t want to invite stupid comments and open stares from weirdos.
Hi. It’s me. I’m the problem.
“Does it bother you?” Wren’s voice goes flat, and I can tell she’s trying to hide her disapproval. I love that she can’t quite conceal her disappointment, even if it casts doubt on me.
“No. I was just surprised. But the way I stared at him, and all the dumb things I said probably made him think it bothers me. August wanted to talk to Ian about it, and I practically hauled him away.” The memory makes my stomach lurch all over again. “I’ve spent the last two years afraid people would say mean things to August about his diabetes, and then when I was faced with someone with a slight difference, I behaved like a child.”
Worse than some children. August was curious and interested, but I’d escaped as quickly as I could. After, you know, blabbering about Ian tackling an easy trail, and something about wanting to see more of him. I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed my shock made my memories of the conversation fuzzy.
The unexpected heat that coursed through me as I looked him over, though? That I remember in vivid detail. Echoes of it linger even now.
“But it wasn’t really his difference that made you act that way, right? It was his…” Wren mimes massaging something in front of her. “Extremely attractive body.”
I roll my eyes and slap her hands away. “It’s not like I can say that, though.”
“Pretty sure you could.”
Maybe Wren could just go up to a man and say, “Sorry I stared, I wasn’t looking at your leg, I was memorizing the muscles in your chest.” Personally, I can’t do that. But what I have planned doesn’t feel any easier.
“I have to apologize to him.” I need to prove I’m not really the kind of person I behaved like yesterday—someone who stares and says obnoxious things. First with an apology, and then by treating him exactly the same way I always have. He’s not a different person just because I know about his leg, and I refuse to treat him like one.
“Yeah. I’m sure it will be okay.”
I have less confidence. Nothing about that fiery glare felt very forgiving. But I still need to be a decent person and get the words out. What he does with them isn’t in my control.
“Please don’t say a word about his leg to anyone. I don’t want to add spreading gossip to the list of ways I’ve offended him.”
“I wouldn’t say anything. Sheesh. But are we going to talk about the more important part of that story?”
I brace myself against the counter, knowing exactly what she’s fixated on. “We already covered it.”
She leans in close to whisper in my face. “You. Have. A. Crush.”
I put my palm on her forehead and push her back a step. “Stop.”
She shakes off my rejection. “This is exciting. You didn’t even want to admit when you thought Thor was hot, and he’s imaginary. This is a big development for you.”
“I didn’t want to talk about it because I knew you would mention Thor every chance you got. Which you do.”
Since learning that tidbit a couple of years ago, she’s plastered my bedroom in Thor posters, photoshopped me into romantic poses with him, and gave me a Thor action figure complete with hammer. I passed the action figure on to August, but the point remains: Wren doesn’t let things go.
She pauses a second, thoughts swirling behind those mischievous blue eyes. “Is that what’s doing it for you? The giant beard and the long hair? Is he bringing your Thor fantasies to life?”
Ignoring her, I grab napkins to refill the dispensers on the front counter. Couldn’t I have explained what happened between me and Ian without mentioning my ill-advised crush? Probably not well, since the “ogling him like a goon” part was pretty key.
Wren tails me through the bakery, grinning away. “Obviously, the muscles don’t hurt.”
“I envy people with no siblings,” I grouse.
“Maybe it’s the climber thing. You like a guy with a dangerous job.”
I stiffen, but my hands keep moving, taking the top off one of the dispensers.
“Sorry,” she says softly, her gloating smile gone. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay.” I take a fortifying breath. “It’s a good point. One more reason I can’t take this seriously.”
I need to be Ian’s friendly neighbor only —this interest in him isn’t remotely realistic. But Wren doesn’t see it the same way. She grabs my arm so I have to stop tinkering with the napkins and look at her.
“That’s not a reason to write off Ian,” she says gently. “ He doesn’t deserve that kind of power in your life.”
He being He-who-must-not-be-named—the charismatic ski instructor I fell for during my fateful six months living outside of Sunshine. Pro tip: when a guy says he’s not looking for anything serious, believe him. Me unexpectedly getting pregnant didn’t turn him into a romance book hero who was suddenly invested and ready to be a dad—it made him cut all contact and run.
I’ve never been blocked across all possible platforms so quickly in my life.
“I’m not giving him power. But when I learn a lesson about getting burned, I’m careful to stay away from fire.”
Wren flips my hand over, revealing the shimmering lines on the inside of my arm. “Says the woman covered in oven-burn scars.”
A brittle laugh rattles out of me as I pull my hand away. “That’s the only risk I’m willing to take.”
A few burns on my hands and arms are just part of my job. I can take that kind of pain. But putting my heart on the line? That’s never happening again.