37. Training Time
37
TRAINING TIME
Mara
I pushed open my door and Zephyr greeted me, jumping up and down on spring-loaded legs.
“Hi, sweetie. Miss me?” I grabbed his leash and a small pouch from the table. “I need to take him out,” I told Ford. “It won’t take long. Want to join me?”
“Sure. Do you still want to watch Sean’s movie together?” he asked, glancing at the Blu-ray sitting on my table.
“Absolutely,” I said. I lifted the pouch to eye level. “Training treats. I’m teaching Zephie to stop when we come to a crosswalk. He has the habit of darting onto the road, which terrifies me.”
Ford leaned over and scratched Zephyr on the top of his furry head. “Hear that, little guy? Mara wants you to learn to look both ways before you cross the street.”
“Exactly.” A sensation of lightness swelled in my chest. Ford was so easygoing. Doug would have been irritated if I’d wanted to train my dog while he was around. He’d never liked Zephyr, and the feeling had been mutual. That should have clued me in.
Stop it.
I’d successfully banished Doug from my mind for several days, but here he was, popping up again in my brain-space.
When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I turned toward the nearest crosswalk.
Ford held my hand. “I can tell something’s on your mind. Want to talk about it?”
I shot him a sidelong glance. “There’s a lot of stuff tumbling around in my head right now. Are you sure you want to hear it?”
He kept his gaze fixed on me, making me believe he really wanted to know what I was thinking. “Always.”
Maybe talking would help. “I think this situation with your dad is bringing back echoes from my past. Maybe I’m projecting my own family dynamics onto your relationship with your dad.”
Even after all this time, my dad’s words haunted me. The way he dismissed Chance—like all his dreams were just childish fantasies. And now, I had to face the same doubts about my store. Was I doing the right thing, or was I just fooling myself like he always said Chance was?
Ford stopped, wrapped his arm around my waist, and pulled me against him. “My dad can be a lot to take in. He wanted to impress you tonight, and he works in a world where first impressions matter. A lot. When you get to know the real man behind the persona, I know you’ll like him. He’s a good guy. I’m sure we’ll work well together on Ghost . If I wasn’t, I’d never have agreed to partner with him. I’m sorry if either of us did anything tonight to upset you.”
I shook my head and let out a heavy sigh. “Lately, I’ve let too many things upset me. I think I must have some seriously unresolved crap complicating my life. My ex-boyfriend is mixed up in there too, but most of my angst centers on Chance and my dad.” I paused. “And my store and Stel-Wood.”
“That’s a lot. It sounds like you need someone to talk things over with.”
“Are you offering?” I tensed, realizing how much his answer mattered.
His clear blue eyes seemed to take in every nuance in my expression. “Sure. Isn’t that my job as your boyfriend?”
The streetlights around town winked on at precisely that moment, and my heart stumbled a beat. Had I heard that right? “Is that what you are? My boyfriend?”
He moved closer. “Is that okay?”
I leaned into him, touching my forehead to his. “More than okay.”
Overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, I closed my eyes. Something seemed to ease within me. A solid thing—a thing I hadn’t even been aware of—felt as though it softened and shifted to make space for Ford. The two of us being together was a good thing. The right thing. The inevitable thing.
I opened my eyes to find him watching me, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You have amazing eyes,” he said. “Did you know that? Their cognac color is gorgeous, but it’s more than that. When your eyes soften this way…” he shook his head, “…I don’t know. It gets me right here.” He slid his hand over his heart, and mine thumped hard in my chest.
Damn. This guy was making me fall for him even more.
Too much, too fast.
So, what did I do? I retreated to think, like some frightened airhead who didn’t know how to relate. Was I afraid of where our relationship was headed, or did I simply have too much other stuff going on tonight?
“Let’s finish up with Zephyr.”
He peered at me a moment, and then squeezed my hand. It felt as though he understood I needed to change the subject and was giving me space to breathe, and I really, really liked that about him right now.
I set off for the corner as I interlaced my fingers with his, keeping him close.
My thoughts went back to dinner at Don’s. Something about tonight still bothered me. “You know, watching you with your dad reminded me of all the times my own father tried to control my life. Your dad is pretty subtle about it. Mine is more like a Border Collie, always poking and prodding and herding us to make us go where he wants. Grayson and I always did what he wanted, but Chance balked. Dad focused all his heavy-handed manipulation on him. For some reason, my younger sisters got a pass.”
“Dad had his own ways of manipulating us,” Ford said, his forehead tight with this uncomfortable topic. “I think all parents do.”
I arched one eyebrow. “Did he constantly berate and demean whoever wouldn’t comply? My dad seemed to love that part. He mostly focused on Chance, but since we’re twins, his digs really got to me.”
Ford winced as he shook his head. “My dad was more into quiet befuddlement rather than outright disapproval. He was supportive, even when we made decisions he didn’t agree with—unless we were doing something genuinely bad for us. When Sean was seventeen and wanted to go skydiving, Dad did everything he could to stop him, including refusing to sign a waiver, but as soon as Sean turned eighteen, he went on his first jump. Dad was royally pissed.”
“Did he ostracize Sean? Demean him?”
“Ostracize? Nope. That wasn’t Dad’s style.”
“It was my dad’s style. Especially with Chance. Grayson was Dad’s favorite—probably because they had so much in common. They still do, since Grayson does cancer research. Chance was Grayson’s polar opposite. Dad shut Chance out entirely. When he died, they hadn’t spoken in over a year. I’m still angry about it.”
We came to a crosswalk. Zephyr remembered his new training and immediately sat. He looked up at me for approval. I fished a treat from the pouch and gave it to him, and when the light changed, we crossed.
“Chance was never into the sciences,” I said. “He was a pure artist. He took after our mom that way. I’ve never understood how Dad completely accepted Mom’s dancing and choreography, but refused to support Chance’s art. My sisters got a pass from him too. Maybe it was because they’re performers, like Mom.”
“In my family, we’re mostly the creative type,” Ford said. “My big sister Hailey is the exception. She’s the accountant of the bunch.”
I cracked a smile. “No accountants in my family tree. Only science nerds and artists—and me, the shopkeeper. I’ve been thinking about it ever since you made that comment about me being logical. Scientists and artists have two key attributes in common. Creativity and grit.”
“Creativity and grit,” Ford repeated. “I like that. You’re right. You couldn’t make a name for yourself in a creative field if you didn’t have both.”
“Add some inspiration into the mix and you have something pretty special. That was Chance—pretty special. I just wish my dad hadn’t been blind to it.”
A couple stepped out of a restaurant, and the scent of wood-fired pizza wafted out along with them. The man, one of my regular customers, tossed me a wave as he headed for a nearby car. I waved back.
I squeezed Ford's hand and then let go. “Give me a minute while I work on something with Zephyr.”
I walked to the edge of the street. Zephyr changed course and hurried to the curb where he promptly sat down and then looked up at me.
“Good boy.” I grinned as I leaned down and scratched between his ears. I gave him another treat and then turned back to Ford. We continued on down the sidewalk.
“Our dream of opening a comic book shop started when we were kids. We planned. We prepared. Yes, I majored in computer science, but I minored in business. Chance studied fine arts as well as marketing. His dreams were to write his own comic book and run the store. My plan was to create awesome video games and handle the store’s back end. Chance was supposed to chat with customers about comic books, handle day-to-day sales stuff, and stock the shelves.”
“It sounds like your brother had a practical side. Even if he never found an audience for his comics, he could have supported himself with the store.”
“That was the idea. Chance wasn’t some vague wishful thinker. He had plans. Big ones. Dad could only see him as a dreamer though, and he hated the idea of our store. Even when Chance started having some success, Dad never believed in him. It was heartbreaking. The things he said—they were downright cruel.” My throat grew tight, and I had to stop talking.
“Where did all that come from? Why was your dad so against your brother’s choices? It doesn’t make sense considering your mom is a choreographer.”
I shrugged. “I think it has to do with Mom’s sister. Aunt Jackie couldn’t support herself as a painter and ended up becoming a bank teller. She wasn’t happy though. She got evicted a couple of times and ended up staying with us. I liked having her there, but Dad didn’t. He’d always use her as an example of how hard it was to make a living off of art.”
I focused on a house ahead of us. We’d reached the end of Sewickley’s business district, and ahead a tree-lined street with houses beckoned us. I could see a family through the window of the house as they gathered in their dining room. A toddler in a highchair happily stuffed something into her mouth. The other kids and the parents sat down, looking happy to be together.
Mom had always had us sit down to dinner together, too. Sometimes she’d have each of us tell everyone about something we were thankful for that had happened that day. She’d say it was a way to get us to focus on the good things in life rather than always worrying about things that went wrong. Huh. I guess she did that to combat Dad’s constant criticisms.
No one was allowed to complain during dinner. She was always there for us, in her own subtle way. When dad broke the rule, she’d always call him out on it, but sometimes the damage had already been done.
I shook my head and turned away as I brushed tears from my cheek. I hated showing weakness. Maybe I shouldn’t have started talking about this.
Ford tugged at my elbow, not giving up until I relented and turned to face him. When I met his gaze, I only found sympathy there. He cared. My feelings mattered to him.
I could feel my heart melting into an even bigger puddle.
Ford pulled me into his arms and held me close.
This. Being in his arms. This felt so good. He held me until my breathing steadied once again. I tipped my face up and gazed into his eyes. I liked this. I liked being able to trust him. To have him hold me.
“How about one of my famous back rubs?” he asked, stroking my back.
“I’d love that. I don’t think we ever got to it last time.” I changed course and pulled him toward the street. I fully intended to jaywalk, but when I reached the curb, Zephyr sat obediently, waiting for my signal. I stopped and let out a laugh. Clever dog.
If only I could teach myself to stop—really stop—before diving into the road ahead. Maybe I needed that same kind of discipline. To wait. To figure out what direction I wanted to go in, instead of being pulled in so many directions at once. “He’s better at crossing the street now than I am.”
“The student has surpassed the teacher.”
I looked both ways, then we crossed. “I have to admit, when Chance was killed by that drunk driver, I kind of lost it. He died right as things were finally coming together for him. We were almost ready to open the shop.” Where was all this coming from? It was like a dam had broken and all these thoughts and feelings were pouring out. “Chance would run it, and I would stay in Boston and handle the orders.”
“You lived in Boston? I don’t think I knew that.”
“I went to MIT. Destiny was my roommate.” The chorus of crickets dimmed momentarily as a car drove past us, then resurged. “When we graduated, we started our own video game company. At first, Dad was nervous about Stel-Wood. He thought we should work for a bigger company to ‘learn the ropes’ before we started off on our own, but after investors began handing us money, he changed his mind. Then, when Chance and I decided to open a comic book store, he thought the idea was too risky. We ignored him. When Chance died and I sold my half of Stel-Wood back to Destiny, he freaked out and said I was gambling everything on Ghost of a Chance.”
“I still think that’s a clever name for your store.”
I gave a wry smile. “Chance and I had been brainstorming ideas, but we hadn’t settled on one. When he died, I realized this one was perfect on multiple levels. It also had the added benefit of irritating my dad.”
The corner of Ford's mouth twitched in a smile. “How’s that?”
“Because he always told Chance he didn’t have a ghost of a chance of making a living with his comic books.”
Ford let out a laugh. “I love it even more.”
“Switching careers and moving here were big decisions. My dad thought I was overreacting, but I knew I was doing the right thing. I still do. I never could have lived with myself if I’d made any other decision.” I shrugged. “Dad still pushes me to go back into the video game industry.”
The sun was barely visible now, coloring the clouds with waves of orange, red, and pink. Gorgeous. Peaceful. I let out a heavy sigh. “I have so much more respect for Chance now—with the way he stood up to Dad for so long. The man is relentless.”
“You’re strong and intelligent. Hardworking, too. I’m impressed with everything you’ve achieved.”
“Thanks.” My chest swelled with pride. Ford always made me feel better about myself.
When we turned at the next corner, I could see the awning of my store a couple of blocks ahead. “The decision to leave Stel-Wood was hard. I hated leaving it, but I couldn’t abandon Ghost of a Chance either. It’s probably why I’m so conflicted about starting another business with Destiny.”
“And now? Are you any closer to deciding if you’ll accept her offer?”
I slumped next to my front door, wishing things could be more straightforward. Wishing I could somehow divine the future and see how things would turn out. “I really don’t know. I feel more confused than ever. How can I give up on my store? It would break my heart.”
His gaze swept over my face, taking me in. It was as though he could see something there no one else could. “Success can come in other ways, too. Maybe you need to take another look at the goals you want to achieve with your store and decide if there are other paths to get you there. You might see something new now that a year has passed. I know you’ll figure something out. I have faith in you.”
His words hit home, but part of me bristled at the thought. Sure, success could come in other ways, but Ghost of a Chance wasn’t just a business. It was all that was left of my brother’s dream. Could I really let that go? I was quiet for a moment as I entered the code on my front door keypad. “That’s something to think about—” I said as I pushed open the door, “tomorrow, though.”
“Tonight, I want to focus on you and help you relax.” He wrapped an arm around my waist, nuzzled my neck, and placed a lingering kiss below my ear that sent tingles of delight coursing through me
I wasn’t sure if I was ready to let go of all my worries. But tonight, maybe I could set them aside—just for a little while. Ford’s faith in me was reassuring, but I still needed to believe in myself. Tomorrow, I’d take that fresh look. Tonight, I just wanted to feel his arms around me.