Chapter 1 #2
The space between us crackles with years-worth of tension until an annoyed grumble echoes from the floor, and Theo’s attention snaps in that direction. He reaches around me to fist the collar of Philip’s shirt. “What the fuck?” he growls sharply. “You could’ve hurt her, you fucking asshole.”
“Let go.” Philip tries to swat his hand away.
My heart rate jumps at the flicker of Theo’s jaw. The flare of his nostrils. The darkening of his eyes.
“Hey.” A calm voice murmurs from across the table. Theo’s best friend, Maddox, places a hand over Theo’s fist. “She’s all right.”
Maddox’s eyes don’t leave Theo’s as a silent conversation passes between them. It looks like one they’ve had before, no words necessary. Then, slowly, the fist in Philip’s shirt loosens.
Theo blinks a few times and tugs me closer, as if to keep me from falling. His chest rises with a deep breath. “You okay?” he asks softly.
There’s a commotion beside us as Chad/Brad/Ben helps Philip to his feet, but I can’t pull my attention away from Theo.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly, because right now I don’t know much of anything. Basic math skills would be a challenge. One plus one equals Theo’s dimples.
His gaze sharpens, and he wraps his free hand around my elbow. “Are you hurt?”
I open my mouth to answer, but my focus drifts to Philip as he stands beside the table.
Chad/Brad/Ben barks a laugh. “Dude, you got something on your pants.”
Philip whips around, checking his slacks. “Dammit,” he spits, pushing his friend and storming away. “These are new.”
My lungs squeeze as I watch his retreating form. That asshole didn’t even acknowledge me. Literally ran into me, and I still wasn’t worth a glance.
Warm fingers settle on my chin, and Theo turns me toward him.
His proximity has my mind spinning. I haven’t seen him since he moved back to town two months ago, and even before that, when he showed up to a get-together with our families, we were never this close.
We’re barely even in the same room if I can help it.
But tonight, I’m close enough to see the tiny flecks of gold in his deep brown irises and the small scar across his eyebrow from a bike wreck when he was eleven.
His smile lines have deepened over the years and a dark five-o’clock shadow now dusts his jaw, but everything else is exactly as I remember.
His eyes hold the same playfulness they did when I met him on the first day of fifth grade. I took my assigned seat in math class beside him, and an hour later, he sent over a folded note: Do you want to be my best friend? Check yes or no. [ ] yes [ ] no
We were always together after that, comparing answers and sharing a pencil sharpener for the entire year.
He introduced me to his sister, Mia, a fourth grader, at recess one day, and our mothers became friends shortly after, weaving our childhoods together in intricate ways.
Along with my sisters, Millie and Tessa, we built forts in the woods behind my parents’ farm, spent summers swimming in the pond and picking thimbleberries in the back fields.
The five of us were inseparable.
Until everything changed.
“Hey,” he whispers. “Want me to track him down? You say the word. I’m ready.”
I shake my head. “He’s not worth the jail time for murder.”
His chuckle is easy and rich. “I was thinking we could spill something else on his fancy khakis, but by all means, I’ll let you take the reins on this.”
I feel a smile curve my lips, which is a completely foreign sensation when it comes to Theo. And it’s enough to snap me out of whatever trance I’ve fallen into.
Sucking in a breath, I stand abruptly and busy myself with straightening the hem of my T-shirt, needing something to concentrate on other than the man before me.
Theo blinks up at me. “Chicken tenders night?”
I need to put some distance between us, physical and otherwise, so I quip, “Obnoxious lumberjack night?”
Those dimples are on display again, some inside joke I’m not privy to dancing through his eyes. “Is it the flannel?” He looks to his best friend. “It is, isn’t it?”
Maddox snorts. “Definitely the flannel. Every time I see you, you’re a little more lumberjack. If you have an axe under the table, Fable and I are calling an intervention.”
“Lucky for you”—Theo gives him a withering look—“I left my axe at home.” He turns to me. “How are you, Fabes?”
“Fine,” I reply quickly. It’s a generic, boring answer, but it’s as much as we’ve given each other over the years. Between his sister and our mothers, I’ve gathered bits and pieces about him, but fine and good are as deep as our responses usually go.
“Everything going okay at the hardware store?” Theo tries.
Either my shirt’s giving me away, or he’s been told a few things about me as well. “Yep.”
“And how about at the farm?”
“All good.”
“How’s your grandpa’s A-frame?” Maddox wonders. “Are you still working on fixing it up?”
“It’s a learning process.” I bare my teeth in what I hope can pass for a smile. “But I’m figuring it out.” Currently, “figuring it out” means “watching endless YouTube videos and trying not to break anything,” but I leave those details out.
Theo folds his arms over his chest. “You’ll give him full sentence answers, but not me?”
“Yep.” I look around for Ethan, hoping to find a way out of this conversation.
Maddox huffs a laugh. “I get the feeling she really hates flannel.”
“On second thought, I do have that axe. I just wasn’t expecting to have to use it on my best friend,” Theo says, eyes narrowed on Maddox.
Against my better judgment, I’m grinning. I try to bite it away before Theo notices.
“You’ll back me up, right?” Maddox asks me. “I think the two of us could handle him. When we’re done you can take the axe to the flannel if you want.”
“Deal.” I reach out to shake his hand, and Theo blinks back and forth between us, that classic smile still plastered in place.
“Here you go,” Ethan interjects, setting a paper bag on the table. “Fable’s chicken tender special. Extra ranch.”
“Thank you.” I fumble into my back pocket for my debit card.
“It’s on the house tonight.” He tips his head toward Philip’s group. “About to ask that crew to leave. You okay?” Concern pinches his expression.
Gripping my bag of food, I assure him, “I’m fine. Thank you.”
“If you want to stick around, someone just ordered soft pretzel sticks,” Ethan says with a fond smile. “We’ve got Billy Joel all cued up.”
Last year, he started a tradition to honor his late wife. When someone orders her favorite appetizer, Ethan plays her favorite song, “Just the Way You Are,” by Billy Joel, and everyone flocks to the dance floor to celebrate her.
Theo stands and reaches out a hand, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Come on. Those chicken tenders can wait four minutes.”
My pulse whooshes through my skull, panic racing in my veins along with it.
I can still feel the imprint of his palm on my hip and smell his woodsy scent, and it’s all too much.
If I spend any more time with him, I’ll start missing him.
And if I start missing him . . . well, my heart already hurts too much for that.
“I’ve got, uh . . . I have to go,” I blurt and beeline for the door, not looking back.