Chapter 14
14
“You got back late last night,” Jenna remarked as Zach strolled into the kitchen the morning after his and Maggie’s kiss. She was sitting by her laptop as usual, sipping coffee and looking tired.
“Yep.” He couldn’t keep a satisfied smile from spreading across his face, and his sister, of course, noticed.
“Oh, boy.” She shook her head. “Who is it this time, Zach?”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand, although her weary tone annoyed him. “None of your business.”
“Oh, really?” She let out a huff of laughter. “You’re usually a little more forthcoming than that.”
He shrugged and reached for the coffee. He wasn’t about to talk about Maggie, at least not until they’d spoken to each other and clarified the nature of what had happened last night. Then he’d shout it from the rooftops… assuming Maggie was on the same page he was, and he was pretty hopeful that she was.
Jenna took another sip of her coffee as she eyed him over the rim of her mug. “Don’t you get tired of trying?” she asked, and this time there wasn’t the spikiness he usually heard in her voice when she talked about his dating life, just a jaded resignation that bordered on sorrow.
He regarded her uncertainly, surprised by her tone. He’d never heard his sister sound like this before, like she was struggling against a tide of despair. “What do you mean?” he asked.
Jenna sighed and looked away. “Aren’t you tired of trying to have what Mom and Dad have?” she asked bleakly. Zach simply stared at her. Why on earth were they talking about their parents ? “What they have is unique,” Jenna continued, “and frankly pretty unhealthy. I mean, it’s more than a little co-dependent, don’t you think? The way they’ve always been so wrapped up in each other? They have no emotional space in their lives for anyone but each other. Not even their own kids.”
Now he heard true bitterness in her voice, and he marveled at it. They’d never talked about their parents like this before; like everyone else in Starr’s Fall, he’d assumed his parents were a great couple, because clearly they were , even if they hadn’t been the most hands-on mother and father. Slowly Zach lowered himself into the chair opposite Jenna’s as he cradled his coffee mug between his hands. “Did you feel… neglected growing up?” he asked curiously.
Jenna gave him a belligerent look. “Didn’t you?”
Zach considered this. Had he? He’d taken his parents’ relationship at face value—intense, loving, and yes, maybe a little overwhelming. But he’d seen it as something to aspire to rather than feel left out of. Everyone in Starr’s Fall marveled at the Millers, what a great couple they were, what perfect partners, running their store together, starting it from scratch, working so hard, never a cross word between them.
“I mean, don’t you remember how it was?” Jenna pressed. “Really? Mom and Dad never went to any of your baseball games, but even with the store they still had time to take a two-week vacation to Hawaii by themselves for their anniversary.”
“It was their twentieth,” Zach protested. “And we were teenagers.”
“You were twelve. I was eighteen.” Jenna gave a twitchy kind of shrug. “I don’t begrudge them the trip, but still—why didn’t they come to your games? Why didn’t they care about what we were doing? Do you remember when I gave that assembly my senior year, on the importance of small businesses?” He did, only vaguely, but he nodded because it was clear his sister was on a roll. “It was a big deal to me,” she stated, “and they didn’t even show up.”
All right, yes, Zach remembered his parents not showing up to a lot of things, but it hadn’t bothered him that much… had it? “They always had the store…” he protested, because that had always been their reason.
“Until they didn’t,” Jenna cut across him, “like when they went to Hawaii for that trip, or when they decided to retire to Florida four years ago without even asking if we’d like to take the store over, just assuming we would.”
“But we did,” Zach reminded her. “And they knew that was what we wanted. I mean, it was what you wanted, wasn’t it, Jenna?” He certainly hoped so, considering how much control she exhibited over it.
“Yes…” she admitted, “but maybe for the wrong reasons. I don’t know.” She shrugged unhappily. “It just feels all kinds of seriously messed up, but maybe that’s just me.”
Zach was silent, trying to view their childhood through this new, unwelcome filter, and yes, he supposed he could see where Jenna was coming from, sort of. His parents had certainly been wrapped up in each other, with Jenna and him both treated more or less as afterthoughts; they’d always valued date nights but not so much family meals. They spent hours talking to each other but seemed distracted or disinterested whenever he and Jenna had anything to say.
The store had been their baby, their golden child, and Zach and Jenna had always been expected to help out while not being allowed any input, which was probably where Jenna got her control freakery from. Zach had been shocked when they’d handed the whole place over to them so abruptly; he certainly had not anticipated them moving to Florida the way they had. Truth be told, just about everyone in Starr’s Fall had been a little shocked when the Millers had just left .
But maybe that was because once again they’d only been thinking about what they wanted. It felt weird, as well as wrong, to think about his parents like that. But the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if what Jenna was saying made sense… which was kind of uncomfortable to consider, because it never had even crossed his mind before, and what did that say about him?
“I know they knew we were willing to take over the store,” Jenna told him, “but it was never about what we wanted. Only what they did.”
Zach was silent again, absorbing this, accepting it. Certainly, he reflected, when his dad had called him up in the middle of freshman year and asked—commanded, really—that he come home and take care of the store while he supported their mother through cancer treatment, he had not been thinking about what Zach might have wanted or even needed. But truth be told, Zach had felt honored to be asked, had wanted to be needed by his parents. Was that part of it all? Because, he realized, even then he’d felt separate from them; they’d been in their own bubble through all the chemo treatments, essentially shutting him out of the whole difficult experience, which was how he’d turned to online gaming, for some social connection. He hadn’t really thought about all that before, just accepted that was how it was with his parents. How it always had been. But as he’d told Maggie, it had been a long, lonely year.
“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I mean, yeah, they did their own thing?—”
“Zach,” Jenna cut across him, sounding impatient, “it’s been four years since they moved to Florida and we’ve only seen them twice. Don’t you think that’s weird?”
“We’re in our thirties, Jenna. It’s not like we’re kids anymore?—”
“But neither of us is married,” she pressed, “with other families to go to at Christmas or Thanksgiving. They don’t visit. They don’t invite us there either. Why shouldn’t we see them more?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “It’s because they don’t really care. They never did, not that much. Do you know, Mom let it slip once that I was an accident? I’m guessing you were, too, especially considering there are six years between us.”
“ Whoa .” Zach held up his hand. “Way too much information.”
“Well, it’s the truth,” Jenna stated belligerently. Her eyes flashed with both anger and hurt; it was obvious this had been eating her up for a while. And maybe it would have been eating him up, too, if he’d thought about it. He’d told Maggie once to credit him with some emotional astuteness, but now he wondered if he actually had any.
“They just were never into being parents,” Jenna stated flatly. “I mean, they fed and clothed us, and they weren’t cruel or anything. When it came down to it, they just weren’t all that interested.” Zach couldn’t keep from wincing a little as Jenna plowed on. “And fine, I get that, I can accept it, because that’s just how some people are.” She took a deep breath as she gazed at him squarely, her expression bleak. “But I realized a while ago that I was basically trying to replicate in my own life what they had with each other, and that trying to do that was toxic. For most of my adult life I’ve been looking for an ideal that shouldn’t exist. Mom and Dad aren’t the gold standard, Zach. No one should be that wrapped up in another person, and when you’ve held that up as something to aspire to… well.” She sighed unhappily. “You’re bound to be disappointed in your relationships, like I was. It took me a long time to realize that, and the reality is I’m still working it out… but I’d rather be single than have what Mom and Dad had.”
Zach simply stared at her. They’d never talked like this before, and all these revelations were kind of blowing his mind. Making him wonder about himself in a way he didn’t want to have to. “And you think that’s what I’ve been doing?” he asked. “Trying to find what Mom and Dad had together, by dating so many different women?” It sounded kind of pathetic.
Jenna raised her eyebrows. “What do you think? I mean, I know I’ve treated you like some kind of womanizer, and that’s my emotional baggage. I had… a bad experience with someone like that.”
“In San Francisco,” Zach surmised.
She nodded, her face tightening with remembrance. “It’s been a long time, and I need to get over it, and I think I mostly have, but… I’ve started to see things differently with you, and I wonder, Zach… all these dates you go on? Are you looking for this great romance like Mom and Dad had? Because trust me, you’re going to be disappointed. People are just people, pretty flawed, and that fairy-tale romance? It doesn’t exist, and even if it did, it won’t satisfy you.”
Zach looked away. He’d woken up this morning thinking about Maggie, feeling so happy and hopeful about that kiss and their potential relationship, but now…? Now he felt like he had to reassemble all the scattered pieces of his history and figure out who he was and why he did the things he did, which sounded like a lot of work, and maybe none of it was worth it, because could people even change?
“Jenna, you might not be looking for some romantic ideal, but… aren’t you trying to replicate what Mom and Dad had with the store? Is that why you’re not willing to change anything?”
Jenna’s brows snapped together. “Don’t psychoanalyze me,” she barked, and Zach almost laughed.
“What have you just been doing with me?” he demanded as good-naturedly as he could.
“Fine. Let’s just stop this conversation.” Clearly she didn’t want the spotlight turned on her, and Zach understood that. Still, it gave him a lot to think about.
“I get where you’re coming from,” he told her. “But just because Mom and Dad might have been a little too intense in their marriage doesn’t mean we can’t be healthier about our own relationships and work lives.” Hopefully.
“I know, but you’ve got to be aware ,” Jenna replied. “Are you?”
Zach decided not to parrot the question back at her, although he had a feeling Jenna wasn’t as aware as she seemed to think she was. But was he? Zach felt an uncomfortable prickle of dawning realization that in every relationship he’d ever been in, no matter how short-lived, he’d been the one doing the heavy lifting. Determined to make it work, and not just work, but be the answer to everything, and it never was.
As for him and Maggie… in the last six weeks, he’d basically dropped everything in his life to help her with the café. To be a friend to her son. To do whatever he could to make her life easier and better—and make her see how she needed him. Which, frankly, maybe was also a little messed up. To be fair, he’d enjoyed it all and she’d been appreciative, but… maybe it wasn’t a healthy way to go about things. Maybe their relationship—if they even had one—wasn’t meant to be so one-sided.
“Just think about it,” Jenna said, and Zach nodded. He certainly would, but right now his head hurt with all the info his sister had just dumped on him, and he needed to do something that didn’t involve his brain.
“I’m going to go out to the barn,” he told Jenna. “We had a delivery yesterday that needs to be shifted.”
“Okay.” Jenna’s expression softened. “And thanks, Zach. I know I’ve been a control freak about the store, and you’re right, that’s part of my issues. I’m… I’m trying to be better.”
He smiled, appreciating her saying as much, even if her trying wasn’t all that obvious yet. Maybe it would be soon. “Thanks.”
“How’s it going with the boardgame café?”
“Yeah, pretty good.” He wasn’t about to say more than that until he’d seen Maggie again and they’d had some sort of discussion about what their kiss had meant. Although… considering everything Jenna had just told him, Zach didn’t know what it should mean, or even what he wanted it to mean, anymore. He felt like everything he’d thought about himself and what he wanted out of life had been upended.
“You think a place like that will take off in Starr’s Fall?” Jenna asked, sounding skeptical.
“I hope so.”
She nodded slowly. “It would be good to have some more business in town, anyway. Is Maggie settling in? And Ben?” The questions sounded so innocent that Zach knew his sister didn’t suspect anything between him and Maggie. Maybe the age gap really was a thing for some people. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Good.” She nodded and then turned back to her laptop, and Zach headed outside into the kind of dark, dank, frigid morning that only February could bring. Spring was on the way, but it didn’t feel like that right now.
His mind felt too full of everything Jenna had said and he had thought, and he was relieved to empty it out as he started hauling boxes. He didn’t want to think, wasn’t ready to second-guess every decision he’d ever made, wondering why he’d been searching for the love of his life for so long and never had come close to finding her. Did his parents really have something to do with that? Was he stuck in his past?
And, while he was thinking about it all, what about why he’d always wanted to stay in Starr’s Fall? Jenna had branched out for a little bit, and most of his high school friends no longer lived here. Admittedly, a lot of them had only moved as far as Torrington or Litchfield, but still . Why hadn’t he ever thought about moving on? Doing or being something different? Was there something wrong with him?
He pushed the pestering questions away as he grabbed a heavy box of hardware supplies, his arms aching with the effort, some part of him glad for the distraction of pain. He didn’t like thinking this way, like everything he’d ever done was because of some stupid childhood trauma. Besides, everyone had some kind of trauma in their past, right? It wasn’t like he was different, and no matter what Jenna said, his parents hadn’t been that bad. And wasn’t everyone looking for love, in one way or another? That was the human condition.
In the distance, he heard the sound of a car coming up the drive and then parking. It was too early for customers, only a little after nine when the store opened at ten; it was probably someone for Jenna. Annie Lyman sometimes stopped by pretty early. He reached for another box.
A few minutes later, he heard the sound of footsteps crunching on gravel as someone walked up to the barn. He straightened, one hand going to the small of his back, as he turned around. A ripple of surprised pleasure went through him at the sight of Maggie standing in the doorway, dressed in a black turtleneck sweater, puffer vest, and jeans, the weak wintry sunlight filtering from behind her and giving her dark hair, pulled up in a messy bun, a golden halo. He drank in the sight of her as he smiled his greeting.
“Hey,” he said softly. He’d been planning on heading over to the café later today, but he was glad she’d made the effort to see him. Really glad, even if his thoughts still all felt jumbled up from his conversation with Jenna.
“Zach,” Maggie said, and her voice sounded hard, unlike anything he’d heard from her before. “I need to talk to you.”
* * *
Maggie had been doing her best to control her temper as she’d driven over to Miller’s General Store, but just the sight of Zach looking gorgeous, giving her that lazy, knowing smile, was enough to send her blood back to boiling. He was so sure of himself, so arrogant, and so reckless. How could he have told Ben to do such a thing?
“Okay,” he said, and now he sounded cautious, the smile sliding from his lips as he regarded her warily, his hands resting on his lean hips.
Maggie clenched her hands into fists at her sides and then forced herself to flatten them out. She wanted to sound reasonable, but she was just too angry and afraid to moderate her tone or her temper. “How could you have been so… so stupid , with Ben?” she burst out.
Zach stilled, his eyes narrowing as he cocked his head. “Care to elaborate?” he asked in that mild way that Maggie had once liked but now just seemed like craven thoughtlessness. Did he even care about Ben? About her? Or had it all—the gaming, the helping out, the kiss —just been a way to amuse himself?
“The meme,” she practically spat. “Suggesting he make a meme and send it to the whole school? Hack into the school’s computer system? You didn’t think that might come back to bite him? That maybe telling an impressionable fourteen-year-old to do something illegal is not the best idea?” Once she started, she found she couldn’t stop, the words spilling over, filled with both hurt and rage. “You didn’t stop to consider that telling Ben to hit back at his bullies might not be the best advice, especially in today’s climate where it seemed as if the police might knock on your door if you so much as like something on social media? That not only is doing such a thing immature, irresponsible, and unwise, but it could actually hurt him?” She shook her head, filled with bitterness. “You’ve acted so understanding with Ben, but you’re still that high school jock inside, aren’t you? You have no idea what it’s like to be bullied, what Ben went through, what he’s still recovering from. He was hospitalized, you know,” she continued shrilly. “Those kids made his life such a misery that he… that he cut his own wrists.” Maybe she shouldn’t have admitted that, but right now she needed Zach to know.
Something flared in his eyes and his mouth tightened. “I didn’t know that.”
“I didn’t tell you, because it felt like something Ben should share.”
“You didn’t think that maybe I should know, since I was spending so much time with him online?” His voice was mild, but Maggie heard latent anger underneath it. She knew he had a point, but she was too angry to acknowledge it.
“You knew he was vulnerable,” she argued, her voice turning ragged as she tried to hold back her tears. “And yes, maybe I should have told you all that before, but Ben didn’t want people to know. But even so, you knew he was vulnerable. You told me so yourself. Why would you do this to him?” she cried. “Or were you just not thinking?” She shook her head, unable to stop the torrent of words, of feelings. “Maybe you really are that thoughtless. And maybe it’s my fault, for thinking someone like you was mature enough to—to be a friend to my son?—”
“Someone like me?” Zach interjected quietly. He arched an eyebrow, looking nothing more than curious. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
“You know what I mean,” Maggie cried. “All the signs were there, and I just ignored them. Everyone in town warned me what kind of man you are, and I chose not to believe them?—”
“Oh?” he interjected again, and now he almost sounded amused. “And what kind of man am I, Maggie?”
“You’re just a player, aren’t you?” she exclaimed on something like a gasp. “You played with my emotions, and you played with my son’s. I can forgive the first, because I’m old enough, way old enough, to have known better, but I can’t when it comes to Ben.”
Zach was silent, his expression impossible to read, although to Maggie’s eyes he didn’t look remotely apologetic or remorseful. A growl of frustration escaped her. “Aren’t you going to say something?”
He shrugged, seemingly indifferent. “Why should I? You’ve made your mind up already.”
Maggie stared at him. “Are you saying I’m wrong?”
“Would it matter if I did?” Zach countered. “You didn’t ask me anything, Maggie. You just barged in here with all your assumptions and accusations and didn’t even let me speak.”
“The school was going to call the police ?—”
“Is Ben okay?” Zach asked quietly, and Maggie blinked, discombobulated by the sudden shift in his tone, the apparent evidence of his concern.
“Yes,” she replied, drawing a steadying breath. “I mean, he will be. I made some calls, and the whole thing is hopefully going to be dropped. But Ben was freaking out, and he’s so fragile, and it all could have been really, really bad for him?—”
“Yes, it could have,” Zach agreed. He turned back to haul another box, and Maggie gaped at him.
“That’s it?” she demanded. “No explanations? You’re not even going to apologize?”
“I’m sorry Ben got in trouble,” Zach replied evenly. “That must have been very difficult for him.”
He made it sound as if the whole episode had absolutely nothing to do with him. Maggie shook her head slowly. “I can’t believe you?—”
“No,” Zach cut her off, his voice hard as he swung around to face her. “You can’t.” He stared at her for a suspended second, his blue-green eyes sparking with what looked alarmingly like anger.
Maggie stared back, a sliver of doubt slithering its way into her certainties. Had she gotten him so wrong? Had she stormed in here and jumped to way too many conclusions like he’d implied? But Ben had said … and Zach hadn’t.
“Why won’t you tell me what happened?” she asked, her voice wobbling.
“I don’t recall you asking me to,” Zach replied coolly, and then he turned away, effectively dismissing her.
Maggie stared at him for another long moment as he returned to shifting boxes, his taut back to her. She wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what. She almost felt as if she should apologize, but he was in the wrong.
Wasn’t he?
And even if he wasn’t, she realized slowly, surely it was better this way? That kiss had clearly been a mistake. She knew now absolutely that neither she nor Ben was ready to have someone new in their lives. Someone like Zach.
But if she’d misjudged him…
“Zach…” Maggie began. She could tell he’d heard her by how his shoulders tensed, but he didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at her. Maggie waited another few seconds, but Zach didn’t break his stride as he worked, stacking heavy boxes on top of each other. Frustration filled her, along with something like fear. What if she’d gotten this—him—completely wrong?
No. Even if she had, it was better this way.
Without a word, Maggie turned and left the barn.