26. Hux
26
HUX
“Here you go, Mrs. Phillips,” I say, stepping around Pongo and handing her the plate of food.
The fire department pup looks up at me expectantly, and for a split second I wonder if I should have snuck him a plate too. Oh, who am I kidding, half of what is on the town matriarch’s plate is going to end up being snuck to him. Despite what Mrs. Burch might have implied about him bothering the ninety-seven-year-old woman, these two are buddies. Everyone in town knows it.
“Oh, thank you, dear,” she coos.
Almost immediately, she breaks off a piece of biscuit, slipping it to Pongo. Not even bothering to try and hide it. Yup, called it.
Looking up at me, Mrs. Phillips tilts her head, as if she’s silently asking a question. I smile politely, already one step ahead of her.
“I’m Huxley.”
At ninety-seven, Mrs. Phillips is truly the town matriarch. Her late husband was the police chief for decades, and their four children went on to all either hold prominent positions in town or marry someone who did. Her youngest son is still the town fire chief. Not to mention then all her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I think there might even be a great-great-grandchild now. Honestly, I’ve lost track.
Which is why I don’t hold it against her that she has a hard time telling my brothers and me apart.
“I know which one you are,” she scolds. “You’re the one who took Opal for a ride.”
That’s me…
I nod, holding in my smirk. The night Dolly and I borrowed her grandfather’s T-bird in high school is one of my favorite memories. To the point where if Tinker Bell and Peter Pan really did show up with pixie dust and told me all I had to do was think of a happy memory so that I could fly, that would be the one I would go to. I can still hear her laugh as we rolled down the streets of Hickory Hills, the sweet high of independence coursing through us.
Or maybe that was the thrill of thinking we got away with something.
Either way, that same exhilaration rushes through my veins at the mere thought of that moment. I would give anything to be able to recreate it.
“The one keeping our Dolly’s wild child alive.”
Yeah, that’s me too…
I nod, her words feeling like a knife being driven into me and then twisted. There’s a part of me that wants to be proud of fostering Dolly’s spirit—it’s part of what I love about her. But then I think better of it. That’s probably not something I should be proud of.
Because that’s a major part of why I’m not good enough for her.
After all, it was Grandma Dolly who said so.
“I am, ma’am,” I confirm, owning up to it.
The reminder that she deserves so much better than me is salt in an open wound, stinging deep within me. All I can do is hope that someday I can prove to them—to this whole damn town—that I am going to do everything I can to be worthy of her. That the boy they once wanted to pair her with is now the man they should still want for her. That my feelings for her are real.
“Well, every girl needs a rip in her jeans…” She winks, taking a bite of her biscuit and then handing another piece to Pongo.
I have no idea what that is supposed to mean. But I also don’t think I’m supposed to question the town matriarch as she exposes what sounds like words of wisdom. Maybe Dolly will know. Hopefully she has some sort of great-grandmother decoder ring. If not, well, here’s to never knowing.
“I should get going, ma’am,” I say, excusing myself as I back away.
I glance down at my watch, doing some fast math that the parade is finishing up and that they will start the program soon. Which means it’s about to be go time.
“Now there is trouble! Oh, followed by more trouble!” Mrs. Phillips exclaims.
“I didn’t do it!”
I spin around, my father’s voice ringing out under the tent, his thick Georgia accent hanging on each one of those four words proclaiming his innocence as if they are the last life raft in a storm.
“Auggie Hayes, I highly doubt that.” My father nods, accepting the comments, as his best friend Jack snickers behind him. “What are you laughing at, Jack Keller?”
Straightening himself out, Jack clears his throat. “Nothing, ma’am.”
“Hmmmmm…”
Good to know two of the men I respect the most are just as afraid of this old lady as I am.
“Was comin’ to find you, actually, Hux,” Jack says. “Mayor Barbour is getting ready to greet everyone. He’s gonna have Reverend Terry say the remembrance prayer, followed by the children’s choir doing their performance. Then you’re up. So, this is your fifteen-minute warning.” He gives me a knowing wink and could not be more obvious if he tried.
Then I’m up…
Oh boy.
A mix of excitement and nerves hits me, forming a knot in my chest. I’m ready for this. I know I am. I lay awake last night watching Dolly sleeping, going over everything I want to say. There’s no way I can say it all—partially because of time, but mostly I know I’ll forget it. Doesn’t matter how many times I’ve rehearsed this in my head, I know once it’s just her and me in front of those plans, my mind will go blank.
More than anything though, I’m excited for it to all be out in the open. The project, the plans, everything. The playground has needed a makeover for a while, and this summer it’s finally going to happen.
“I’m ready.”
Excusing myself, I trot back over to the food tent, the crowd having finally thinned out enough that Emily and Alice are sitting down in folding chairs behind the buffet line chatting. I look around for Dolly, but don’t see her. My stomach flips, nerves taking over the longer I can’t find her.
“Aren’t you needed up front?” Milo asks, appearing by my side.
“Yeah, just looking for Dolly.”
Out of the corner of my eyes, a flash of blonde catches my eye. I wave my older brother off, running over to my girl.
“Hey, got a sec?” I ask.
“What? I’m fine.”
Not what I asked…
I take Dolly’s hand, pulling her to the side of the sidewalk so a family with a stroller can pass us. There’s a frantic look in her eye. Like she’s on the verge of tears and barely holding it together. The same look that she had as she processed that Jeff wasn’t showing up to the wedding.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
Liar…
“Try that again.”
“Sorry, just a frantic morning and Aunt Hattie being her normal charming self.” She sucks in a deep breath, taking both my hands and squeezing. I give her a moment to center herself, knowing how hard she’s worked since the second we rolled out of bed this morning. “You were saying?”
“Come with me.”
I tug her toward the church, feeling her opposition kick in. “Umm, aren’t you a part of the program that is about to start?”
“Yes, but there is something I need to do first. Just…trust me.”
“Okay…”
She follows me inside, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is off. That she’s not quite herself. She should be smiling, and giggling, and badgering me about what this is all about.
At least that’s how this went in my head.
I try to convince myself that I’m overthinking this as I lead her inside. That I’m too in my own head. Which I probably am. I want today to be perfect. For her to know that Project: Second Star is about her and everything she means to me. About our past and our future.
Stopping just inside the lobby, I swallow hard, my heart starting to race. I take a moment to drink Dolly in—realizing for the millionth time how incredibly lucky I am that she wandered into my life. Wild strands try to escape from her ponytail, and there is a smudge of grits across her left cheek, but her glow is just the same. That perfect, ethereal glow.
“So…errr…you’re probably wondering what…errr…” I stumble.
So much for having my speech planned out.
Dolly smiles, her blue eyes lighting up. “Are you letting me in on the secret early?”
“I am.” I chuckle. “Because Project: Second Star…it’s not just for this town. It’s…it’s for you.”
“For me?”
I nod. Letting her hand drop, I step over to the easel holding a large poster containing a rendering of the design, pulling off the sheet that covers it. My pulse picks up, that knot in my chest twisting and tightening all over again.
“You’ve been saying for years that the playground over at Newton Field has seen some better days and is in desperate need of an upgrade. So, I designed a new one for you. I present Neverland Park.”
Dolly gasps, eyes going wide, hands flying to cover her open mouth. Stepping in closer, she runs her hand over the rendering.
“The new layout is set up to resemble the current footprint, with a swing set, jungle gym, and slide. But now, there is also a climbing wall, see-saws, and tunnels. Plus, my favorite part—a treehouse,” I tell her, unable to hold it in any longer. “The two-story climbing structure, designed to look like Peter Pan’s abode—complete with a little offshoot for Tinker Bell—has a silhouette of Peter and Wendy on the side, hands clasped together as they fly, a set of twin stars to their right.”
“Second star…” she mutters.
I nod. “All the equipment is made from composite or recyclable materials, meaning that they will withstand the Georgia weather better than wood, plus are safer for the kids to play on. Less risk of splinters. We’ll also make sure that sustainable, safe materials are set up surrounding the equipment in case of falls.”
“Hux…”
Taking her hand again, I pull her into me, needing to look her in the eye for this next part. Wanting her to know this is all for her.
“This was going to be your wedding present. A way to honor you. But…it’s become more than that. It’s about us. The town is going to think it’s a Hayes Cares initiative, inspired by my love of Peter Pan. But this is for you, Dolly. From me. Because you’re my Wendy.”
Time slows as I wait for her to respond. Each ticking second takes longer and longer, and I swear the clock might actually stop at one point, the torture of waiting worse than anything I’ve ever experienced.
That is, until she speaks.
“I…I…” she chokes out. Tears form in her eyes, those gorgeous blue irises turning a muddled shade, hidden by the glassy fog. Choking back a sob, she pulls away. “I have to go.”
She…what?!
“Do you not like it?” I ask, confused by her reaction.
Did I say something wrong? Did I do the wrong thing? I’ve been so sure that she was going to love this. She’s commented for years that the playground needed an update, so it seemed like the obvious choice. And Peter Pan—that’s our thing. Or so I thought.
Apparently I was wrong.
“I can’t do this. I…I can’t.”
Can’t do what?!
“Dolly, what can’t you do?”
I move toward her, trying to take her hand again to pull her close, thinking that a kiss will help calm her. But apparently I’m off the mark. She pushes me away, shaking her head even more.
“Just…no.”
“Dolly, tell me what’s wrong. What’s the matter?”
“I can’t lose you. And I can’t risk you changing your mind. I love you too much.”
She loves me…
“I lo?—”
“No, don’t say it. Just let me go.”
She turns, picking up the pace and heading for the door. I’m paralyzed, unable to do anything but watch her go. My feet feel like cinder blocks, my legs like they are strapped to wooden beams, preventing me from breaking free. My heart shatters as the door slams, a million little pieces skittering across the floor.
Fuck!
Turning around, I pace, trying to figure out where I went wrong. What I could have said different. If I could have done something differently.
Or was this the moment that Dolly realized that I’m not worthy?
I suck in a breath, trying to make the stabbing pain subside. I don’t have time to dwell. I don’t even have time to try and piece any of it together. I have to go show off these plans to the town.
All while pretending that my heart isn’t breaking.