4. He Didn’t See the Possibility
He Didn’t See the Possibility
Aiden
The town hall was a furnace.
Bargain hunters crowded stalls selling everything from rusty old junk to dinky jars of handcrafted strawberry jam. Who the hell bought those? Two scrapes on a bit of toast, and you’d need another trip to the village markets. No thanks.
Then again, no one else was stumbling around, tugging at their collar, pretending sweat wasn’t dribbling down their neck, and searching for the nearest exit. That honour was mine alone. The other shoppers milling around the stalls looked happy. Normal.
How had Ruth talked me into this?
Saturday morning stuck at the village markets was my worst nightmare.
Too many people. Too much noise. My mind played tricks on me in crowds like that.
Like every other week, the faces blurred, but I clenched my jaw and pushed on, shoving one foot ahead of the other.
Thankfully, the cardboard box filled quickly with everything on Ruth’s list.
Harry shot from nowhere, weaving through the horde like a pro rugby player, a box of jam drop biscuits tucked under his arm. He dodged. Sidestepped. He only missed the woman shuffling behind a walking frame by the skin of his teeth, but he was all smiles when he pulled up to a stop in front of me.
“Got ’em!” he panted. “Miss Ruthie’s favourite.” Triumphantly, he held the box of biscuits over his head and chanted, “Harry! Harry! Harry!”
I’d done a damn good job shielding him from my problems over the years.
He had no idea about the mess going on inside my head in situations like this, and I wasn’t about to start freaking him out now.
The thumping in my chest—yeah, I ignored it.
The spiralling thoughts warning me that one noise might set me off got pushed away, too.
I forced a smile and mumbled, “Thanks.”
“That’s all I get?” Harry scoffed. “That sorry excuse for a smile and thanks ?” His lip curled. “I had to sweet-talk Yolanda for these. A group of tourists cleaned out their whole stall. This was the last box, you know!”
“Thank you very much .”
Harry waved at me to keep going with better praise for his effort. If he hadn’t saved me from an interrogation by the old crows from the church, I would’ve told him to shove it.
“Thank you very much, Your Majesty .” I hooked the box of groceries under my arm, and with a flourish of my free hand, I bowed.
Harry tipped his head back and laughed. “That’s more like it.” He dropped the biscuits onto the bunch of celery sticking out of the box but tapped the top, giving me a hard look. “I want credit for these. You tell Miss Ruthie I got ’em for her.”
“You’re not coming to lunch today?”
“Nah, better not. Mum…” He shrugged.
Suddenly, his sneakers needed a thorough inspection, and he was done talking.
I didn’t push him. Harry’s mum had good days and bad.
Depression was like that. She plummeted quickly, and when she hit rock bottom, she stayed down in the dark for days.
He shouldered a lot of weight that shouldn’t have been his at only twenty-two.
“If you need a break, come up to my place,” I said, making the offer sound like no big deal. It was easier for him that way. “You can crash in my spare room if you want.”
“Thanks. I might drive up later.” He still refused to meet my eyes. “I should probably”—he jerked a thumb over his shoulder—“head off.”
“Drive safe, kid.” I slapped a friendly hand on his back before he disappeared in the crowd.
Digging Ruth’s shopping list out of my pocket, I scanned the items and tallied everything in the box. All the fruit, most of the vegetables… I squinted. The words shook. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the noise. My hand tugged at my collar, but I still struggled to force down a breath.
Soft fingers touched my arm. “Aiden?” Her voice was soft too.
My eyes snapped open.
The nightmare had somehow become my favourite dream.
Lola’s hair was pinned back, a hint of makeup warming her cheeks and lips. I would’ve thought she was the most beautiful creature in the world—except for the frown she aimed straight at me.
“You doing okay?” she asked. “You look…” Her hand squeezed my arm as she scanned my face with slightly narrowed eyes—doctor’s eyes. “Can I help?”
“Uh, n-no—” I cleared my throat. “It’s just a bit crowded here.”
Lola’s nod was firm, as if she knew exactly how I felt about being squashed half to death in the cramped hall.
“Doing some shopping?” I asked her, desperate to get my thoughts on anything but the ricochet of dread shooting up my spine.
I snuck another look at her. A pile of books was stuck under her arm, and her slender fingers wrapped around a jar.
My brows shot up. “You bought the jam?”
“Rose makes and bottles it herself.” She twirled the dainty blob of glass and pressed it against her cheek. “Isn’t this the dearest little jar?”
“Little” being the key word. I’d demolish every last drop in one bite. My eyes lingered too long on the freckles dotted along Lola’s collarbone that disappeared under the strap of her dress. I’d demolish her in one bite.
“I actually came here hunting for eggs.” Lola huffed enough to blow one of the loose tendrils off her cheek. “Did you know the village store can run out? Ashley said there might be some eggs here, but they sold out, too. Hours ago, apparently.”
“You need eggs?” Maybe I’d finally have an excuse to drop by her place…
“I always need eggs. It’s the hazard of being an amateur baker and gluing my eyeballs to too many inspirational videos when I should be doing my laundry.” She laughed. “It’s so easy for me to get sidetracked these days.”
I wasn’t blinking. My mouth had fallen open. I was staring at her. I knew I was, but I couldn’t stop myself even when her hand fluttered to her throat and the corners of her lips tugged up in a nervous smile.
This woman.
When she wasn’t so guarded… When she was just… her …
She was…so…so…
Beautiful .
If I were a normal man, that would have been the moment I got all nervous, stuffed my hands in my pockets, and bumbled my way through asking Lola on a date.
I’d never been on a date. Well, maybe as a teenager, but certainly not by the time I was in the police force. Duty, small towns, and relationships didn’t mix. I’d had enough female company to get by. Relationships had never mattered as much as my career in those days.
Where would I take Lola? The bar?
My skin prickled in a cold sweat when I imagined sitting across from her in a claustrophobic corner with no escape. Too noisy. Too many variables I couldn’t control. Nope.
Maybe I could ask her over to my place…
The back deck still needed a coat of paint, but it had views over the Coal River Valley and no tourists or interfering church ladies to distract me from my girl.
I’d cook Lola dinner, pour her a glass of wine, and fuss over her.
The fireplace would crackle in the background.
I could risk some music and ask her for a waltz under the stars.
Before it got too late, I’d walk her to the door and lay one of those TV kisses on her that looked all sweet and innocent, even though the thoughts running through my head would be anything but.
Maybe Lola thought it was the moment I was going to ask her out, too.
A blush crept up her neck, and she only darted her eyes up every so often to peek at me.
She had the prettiest smile on her lips—pink like the roses I’d hand her if she came over for dinner.
I’d bet those lips were softer than a petal.
I wanted to run my thumb along the crease and feel all that sweetness before I kissed her.
The question waited to tumble out of my mouth. Join me for dinner? I just needed to spit it out.
“I’d better…” I lifted the box. “Yeah…”
“Oh, of course.” Even I could see the smile Lola plastered on her face took some effort. “I didn’t mean to keep you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And because…”
She couldn’t leave me hanging there. “Because?”
“I like talking to you.”
I like talking to you too.
No.
I love talking to you. I can’t get enough of looking at you. I’d give anything to call you mine. Come over. Now. Tonight. Tomorrow. Every night. Please.
Instead of saying any of the thoughts desperate to spill out of my mouth, I nodded goodbye like it didn’t tear at my guts to walk away from her.
No question. No date. No goodnight kiss.
Impossible dreams weren’t meant for men like me.
“Ruth?”
It was the second time I’d knocked on the yellow door, but only silence answered. There was no flurry in the house or uneven steps to greet me. The box of groceries balanced on my hip dug into my skin when I knocked again.
Still no answer.
Fear gripped around my throat, but I shook my head, urging myself to calm down. I always overreacted when it came to Ruth. No need to panic. She was probably working in the garden and didn’t hear me. It wouldn’t be the first time.
I hauled the box under my arm and barrelled my way off the porch and down the stairs.
Everything’s fine .
My boots crunched in quick steps down the gravel path, and rusty hinges squealed when I pushed through the gate. I added it to the mental list of things I needed to fix.
“Ruth?”
A floppy straw hat popped above the wall of pea shoots edging the vegetable patch.
“Aiden!” Ruth’s good hand clutched around the small trowel that she waved at me across the yard. “Is it that late already? I must have lost track of time.”
I made my way over, crouching beside a mound of fresh soil, the box of groceries balanced awkwardly on my knee.
“How’s the veggie patch coming along?” I asked her.
Most of Ruth’s face stayed hidden under the shadow of her hat until her chin tipped up.
Her familiar crooked grin flashed my way.
“Good.” She huffed with frustration as she stabbed her trowel upright in the soil, done with her gardening for now.
“But some days, I feel like I’m growing an all-you-can-eat buffet for my archnemesis. ”