Chance
Ahardware store is so not where I want to be on my Saturday afternoon, but the shitty little house I’m renting needs some serious work. The kitchen faucet barely gives out a trickle, and I can’t take it anymore.
So here I am, looking for a new faucet in the tiny aisles, which barely have enough room for an entire person to fit between them.
I’m minding my own business when I hear voices from the front of the store near the cash register. “I hear LeAnn Asher is back in town,” one of them says, and my ears immediately latch onto the conversation.
He has a daughter in college.
That’s crazy to me. He had to be young when he had her. Like really young. And to think I thought she was a hot hookup. It made my blood heat last night when I watched them together. I didn’t like it.
And I don’t know how I feel about that.
Finding out it was his daughter was a shock, to say the least.
“Yeah. I can’t believe she even shows her face around here anymore after what she did,” another voice replies.
What? After what she did?
I can’t help but be entranced by the conversation, moving a little closer toward the men talking but trying not to be obvious.
“Well, I’m not sure we can blame the kid. Watching her parents give up on their marriage. Her mother just running away.”
Divorced.
I knew that part already, but I also know small-town gossip and how wrong it can be. I heard the divorced part from the man himself, but who knows what the townspeople have talked it up to be?
“We need us a nice wholesome coach. One who’s married and stays that way. One who doesn’t let his teenage daughter marry a damn teacher.”
Wow. Interesting. His daughter is married? To her teacher? I don’t believe it for a second. My blood runs cold as I think about my own battle with gossip and all the bullshit lies spread about me.
I refuse to believe anything they say about Coach Asher, even if he was a total shithead to me this morning. All in all—grumpy or not—he seems to be a good man.
I shake my head. The small-town politics never change, do they?
Wholesome?
As if getting a divorce when things aren’t going well is so damn terrible. And then making up lies about the man’s daughter? That’s just sick. I swear, I grew up in a small town, but I’ll never fully understand this kind of shit. Why everyone is so concerned about everyone else.
“I know. I thought for sure the school board would be done with him the moment his wife left him. He must have done something bad for sweet little Nancy Hopkins to just up and leave her husband and child.”
I try not to roll my eyes and find the faucet I want. Small-town gossip can ruin lives. There’s no way I’m buying into any of this shit. I approach the counter with a bright smile on my face. “Well hello, gentlemen.”
Both of the older men sneer in my direction, no doubt having already had their fair share of gossip sessions about me. I’m sure my coming into Kensley from Big Bend—and all the rumors about me—have been the talk of the town.
Still, I put the faucet on the counter, keeping the smile on my face and my chin held high. “Coach Leighton,” the man behind the counter says as he rings up my faucet and eyes me suspiciously.
“Fixing up your kitchen?” the other man asks, sizing me up. No doubt, thoughts are running rampant in his head.
“Just the faucet for now. I’m renting a place on Miller.”
The man nods as he listens to me, the wrinkles around his eyes bunching. “You rented that piece of junk? You should do Tom a favor and bulldoze that place now, not fix it up,” he grumbles, and I’m not shocked at all that he’s offering his opinion.
Like I said, I grew up in a small town.
“I think that would be up to Tom.” I only met the owner once, a quiet older man who lives out in the country. The house apparently belonged to his brother, who passed away, but he couldn’t bring himself to sell it.
“Holding onto his brother’s memory,” the opinionated customer says, taking his ball cap off his head and scratching his hair.
“It’s sad, is what it is,” the man behind the cash register adds as he tells me what I owe.
I pay, accepting the extra charge for using a debit card instead of cash, and he bags up my purchase. I’m ready to be on my way, but the older man takes forever to make that happen.
“You boys going to win on Friday?” he asks as he finally hands over the bag.
“That game last night was too close for my liking,” the other man pipes up. “That Coach Asher needs to get on those boys and do his job.”
My jaw clenches tight, and I feel the need to defend Noah, despite him being a great big grump. “I’d say he does a pretty good job. They’ve been to state twice under his coaching.”
Both men grumble.
“Well, you gentlemen have a good day,” I say, and they continue to grumble and wave me off.
I’m sure they’re thrilled as I leave the hardware store so they can go ahead and talk about me.
The coach from Big Bend, who was fired for having an inappropriate relationship with a student.
I cringe, just thinking about all the talk around here and try like hell not to let it bother me as I make my way to the house and repair the sink.
I can’t control what they think.