13. Ian
THIRTEEN
IAN
I don’t get nervous. I’ve faced twenty-thousand-foot climbs, staggering snowstorms, and vertical walls of ice without ever getting jitters. So tell me why all these butterflies are careening through my stomach when I’m only wandering around town?
I intended to head straight to Tess’s bakery and tell her not to restart the cupcakes of mercy. Just rip that bandage off and put a stop to her guilt-induced generosity. Instead, I veered off at the last minute. I’ve been walking up and down Maple Street for half an hour, neatly doing an about-face whenever I get within twenty feet of Blackbird’s purple awning. It’s ludicrous.
But I can’t bring myself to go inside.
I want the fresh start Tess offered. Maybe I want it too much. This brand-new want stings like a foot that’s fallen asleep and is struggling to wake up again. At the same time, its newness excites me, too, a sensation I haven’t let myself experience in a long time.
But the legitimate concern I’ll get everything all wrong with her—yet again—keeps me out here on the sidewalk.
In jeans. On a day that’s well past seventy-five degrees. If I don’t get my butt in gear soon, I’ll have to head home to shower before I even consider crossing the bakery’s threshold.
I’m well aware I shouldn’t cross that threshold. It’s a terrible idea, and at least two steps outside my commitment to being a better neighbor. Every interaction I’ve had with Tess has only made me want another. Yes, even when I thought she’d stared at my prosthetic leg out of morbid curiosity, a down-deep part of me still had a hand out, pleading for more.
I’m a grubby little beggar when it comes to that woman.
It’s an unfamiliar feeling. My relationship history is patchy at best. I’ve wanted women before, enjoyed the thrill of the chase. But this isn’t about trying to catch something shiny and new. She intrigues me. I want to solve all her mysteries. I want to carefully peel back each of her layers until she’s laid bare to me.
I scrape one hand down my face, exhaling hard. That line of thought is unhelpful.
She offered to be a good neighbor, and I’m dreaming up “laid bare” scenarios. I do enjoy a challenge, but in this particular case, pretty sure I’m setting my sights too high.
As I wait to cross Maple Street on my umpteenth circuit of Sunshine’s downtown district, my phone buzzes in my back pocket. I should have silenced it when Pierce started sending me a string of links to articles on how to flirt. “Become the Player, Win at the Game” isn’t something I ever want to read, but the links keep coming.
This particular buzz is a phone call, not a text. I quickly check who it is. Not sure if it’s better or worse that it’s my middle brother, Steven.
“Hello?” If I sound wary, it’s only because I know those two better than anyone should. I’ve got a good idea of what’s coming.
“Pierce says you’ve got an emergency situation out there. Patient assessment says subject doesn’t know how to talk to a woman. Sounds critical.”
I curse under my breath as I cross the street. I should have dumped my phone and got a new number when I moved to Oregon.
“Pierce needs to mind his own business.” Along with everybody else I know.
Except Tess. She can do whatever she likes.
“You’re picking up women in the grocery store now. Have I got that right? Making meaningful eye contact in the frozen food aisle?”
“I’m going to hang up.”
His laughter grates on my last nerve. “How did the second half of that conversation go? You got her number, at least?”
I didn’t. If I wanted to ask her out, I could take ten steps east from my apartment and knock on her door. Which I haven’t and won’t.
“Did you call for anything else?” I take back everything I said about deserving some of the flak I used to give out to my brothers. No way was I ever this bad.
“Come on.” He puts on his peacemaking persona, as if I’m the one causing trouble. “Can’t blame us for being curious. It’s been a while for you.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
He laughs some more. “You know what I mean.”
Obviously, I do. I haven’t dated since my accident. I had too much going on to consider it when I was in rehab learning how to walk again, and later…well…I haven’t thought about it.
I continue to not think about it now. Mostly, I think how if I were in a dating mood, I know exactly who I’d ask. And then I think what a disaster it would be, so I don’t.
“You could stand to have someone help you out with your frozen foods ,” he says.
I groan, rolling my eyes to the cloudless sky. I never should have answered his call. Finding a bench in some shade just off Maple Street, I drop onto it.
“I need you to change the subject.”
“Mom’s in town.” Steven switches gears easily enough, but I’m not so innocent to believe he’s dropped it for good. “She’s waiting around for Pierce’s baby to be born so she can claim first visitation rights.”
“How’s Mom doing?”
“You don’t talk to her?”
“I do.” But I wince as I say it. I don’t avoid her calls, but I don’t initiate many, either. “Too loving” is an absurd criticism of my mother, I know, but talking to her leaves me aching. It’s like she shines a light on everything I was and should be, leaving me feeling even worse for what is. “I’m just asking how she is.”
“She’s good. Last I heard, she was helping Bonnie wash and ready all of the baby’s reusable diapers.”
“Reusable diapers?” On paper, I know diapers haven’t always been disposable. In practice, I can’t understand going back to the Stone Ages to care for your kid. They’ll be doing laundry every day for the next three years at least.
“Better for the environment, I guess.”
“What’s Mom’s take on that?”
“She’s enthusiastic with Pierce and Bonnie. With Iris and me, she gives it two months, tops.”
“I’d put my money on her prediction.”
Steven laughs again. “No kidding. She was telling us about this thing called blowouts, and how the baby gets completely covered in?—”
“Absolutely not. Don’t say another word.” I’m not prepared to even hear about another person’s bodily functions, let alone be the one responsible to clean them up. I want zero details.
He chuckles. “You get my drift. This is why we’re perfectly happy with our dogs.”
“How is the herd?”
“Rowdy as ever. Bruce has finally stopped peeing in the house, so we’re lightyears ahead of Pierce already.”
My ridiculous brother and his wife named their dogs Bruce, Jeff, Dave, and Bill. Going to the dog park with them is endlessly amusing. The really strange part is every name exactly fits the dog it’s attached to.
I stretch my legs in front of me, watching people walk up and down Sunshine’s shopping district. I haven’t been down here much, but it’s not a bad little town. A surprising number of frilly shops and more new restaurants than I expected, but comfortable.
“So,” Steven says. “About this woman…”
Somewhere on the other end of the line, his wife, Iris, gasps. “Does Ian have a woman?”
The situation just got worse by a factor of ten. “I don’t have?—”
“Iris says women like it when you ply them with produce. You should offer her an eggplant.” He snickers at his little joke.
“I’m not an idiot, Steven.”
The phone line goes muffled for a second before Iris comes on. “Ignore him, Ian. Now tell me about this woman.”
I love Iris, I really do. She speaks her mind, and her take-charge attitude is perfect for my brother. But I’m not about to let her steamroll me into divulging information about my dating life. Not even when I have so little to tell.
“There’s no woman.”
“I know what you should say to her.” Steven’s practically shouting into the phone to make sure I hear him. “Say, ‘Hey, baby, want to see what this industrial-strength leg can do?’”
I burst into laughter in spite of myself. That’s one way to get Tess’s attention.
“What’s her name?” Iris asks. “What’s she like? How did you meet?”
My mother didn’t raise me to be the kind of guy who would hang up on his sister-in-law, but I’m tempted. “I’m not saying anything.”
“But there is a woman?”
Did I just walk into a trap? How does she do this? Anything I say to them will be used against me, so I do what I do best when it comes to my personal life. Deflect. “How’s the photography business going?”
“We’re in the middle of peak wedding season. I’m booked every weekend. It’s exhausting, but I love it. Is this your attempt to change the subject?”
“It is.”
“We only ask because we care about you. You can’t shut off your emotions forever.” Her voice grows way too soft for my taste. “You know we’re always here for you. Whatever you need.”
“I know.” I haven’t always acted like it, but I do know it’s true.
“Even though he left with barely a week’s notice,” Steven adds in the background.
“We want the best for you,” she goes on, ignoring my brother. “Whatever that is. Maybe it’s this woman you won’t tell us about. Maybe it’s something else. Your brothers tease you, but they’re always cheering for you, too.”
Why does something as simple as that make my throat stick? Pierce and Steven were there for me after my accident in every way I’d let them. They visited me in the hospital and in the physical rehabilitation center, even in the early days when I barely acknowledged their presence at my bedside. They eagerly welcomed me back to our business even though I couldn’t do my old job in the same way and might never get there. The choice to leave wasn’t for any lack on their part. It was all me.
“Are you still rocking that cave man look?”
That’s another thing I like about Iris—she makes her point and moves on.
I twisted my hair into a bun today, but I draw my fingers through the ends of my beard. “You don’t think it’s rakish? Like a pirate?”
I might be too proud of that, to be honest.
“More like a guy who claims to be a wizard, but he just wanders around town wearing robes and scaring kids.”
“Way to knock my ego down a peg.” That’s even worse than Gandalf. That’s faux-Gandalf, and I would never.
“You know who Ian looks like?” Steven says in the background. “That big red-haired guy from Game of Thrones . The one with the crazy eyes.”
I know the character they’re talking about, and I don’t love the comparison. This is the kind of person I remind them of now? The weirdo? He was a good fighter, too, but they didn’t lead with that part. Nope. Went right for crazy eyes .
I’m sure there are plenty of non-unhinged, non-wizard heroes with long hair and full beards. Just can’t think of any at the moment.
Iris starts laughing. “He really does.”
I glare so hard an elderly woman passing in front of my bench makes a little squeak of distress and scurries away.
“Is that the look you’re going for, Ian?” Steven calls out with a laugh.
I wasn’t going for anything. I just haven’t bothered to cut my hair or beard in a while. More accurately, I haven’t cut them since I was in the hospital almost two years ago, and they were both on the long side even then.
“It’s not that funny,” I grumble.
Iris swallows down her laughter. “If you like how you look, that’s all that matters.”
Do I like how I look, though? Do I really think I look good with hair a foot past where I used to keep it and a beard that could house a whole flock of birds? Or do I like that my unkempt appearance makes people give me extra elbow room on the rare occasion I go into town?
What if I don’t want people to keep their distance anymore? At least, not everyone.
Fine. One specific person.
I shift on the bench so I can catch my reflection in the shop window behind me. Dragging my free hand down my beard, I admit to myself it’s not my favorite thing to deal with. It was just easier. Easier to let my hair go wild, easier to avoid talking to people, easier to scare everyone away.
When did I become the guy who looked for the easy route?
Call it fate, call it luck, call it a staple of small towns everywhere, but my gaze lands on a barbershop pole farther down the street. It’s got a sandwich board out front. Antonio’s. Walk-ins welcome.
“Iris,” I say, “how would you like to see an epic set of before-and-after pictures?”