Chapter 4
Cocoon
Jenny
“You have yourself a wonderful day, now,” Maxine chirped brightly.
I flopped over the counter, my hands dangling over the far edge as I lightly banged my forehead off its polished, marble surface.
Life in a small town was not always what it was cracked up to be.
There were gems like Maggie’s mother, Laurie Raynor. Miller’s mother was also a treat. I held great admiration for Sergeant Elliott, and most of the women in the town had long ago accepted that I had not in fact seduced Miller that night nor had I scammed Ansel out of his business.
But there were still those who couldn’t resist the taste of poison on their tongues.
One of which had just left with an armload of cinnamon buns and two loaves of Ansel’s famous sourdough bread. Far colder than the current February freeze, she didn’t deserve Ansel’s bread. But her personal distaste of me didn’t stop her from indulging her culinary weaknesses.
As much as I needed every single customer, I hated ending the week with one of those encounters.
Maxine laughed and lightly scratched the back of my head.
Over the past couple of weeks, she and Maggie had taken to showing up at closing time on Saturdays for ‘girl time.’
I resisted at first, but they made it so I couldn’t say no without being unbearably rude.
A lady is never rude or outspoken.
I pushed my mother’s voice out of my head as I acknowledged the real problem: I’d begun to look forward to their visits which made me all kinds of uncomfortable.
Good things didn’t last. Even as I laughed and joked with Maggie and Maxine, even as I accepted their readily offered comfort, I grieved the end when it would inevitably all fall apart.
“You need to learn to ignore people,” Maxine stated.
I lifted my head and snorted. “Easy for you to say, lady. You’re the town cheerleader. I’m the town wh—”
Maxine’s eyes snapped blue fire as she pointed her finger in my face. “Do not say it.”
I pushed myself back up, waved my hands in the air, and squeezed my eyes shut for a moment before facing her. “You’re right, I know you’re right. I just get tired of fighting everyone.”
“Why do you need to fight anyone?” She shrugged. “Not much you can do about ignorant people.” She frowned. “And a little nookie wouldn’t hurt you in the slightest bit. When was the last time you got laid?”
I rolled my eyes.
She’d keel over if I told her.
“I can’t even prepare,” I complained, yanking my tunic top down to ensure it covered my bum. “It’s not like I can leave when they walk through my door.”
“No,” Maxine dragged the word out, her face thoughtful. “You can always prepare your response ahead of time.”
“Stop being so reasonable,” I grumbled and reached out my hand. “And give me my coffee.”
Grinning at me, Maxine passed me the tumbler she brought from home.
I took a sip and hummed. “You make the best coffee.”
She threw her little hip out and fluffed her hair. “I was a barista in another life.”
Maxine was a city girl, an import to Moose Lake when she married Miller.
She entered the scene when I was at my lowest.
Abandoned by the love of my life, betrayed by my dearest friends, and devastated by the lingering consequences of the attack, I was a ghost of my former self.
As if that wasn’t enough, I’d just begun to heal when a man I’d steered clear of from the first time I laid eyes on him, decided he’d take Deacon’s place.
Unofficially, of course.
It wouldn’t do to link his name to mine.
Through all of it, though she barely knew me, Maxine never once let me down.
And still, ten years later, I maintained a wall between us.
My heart weighed heavy in my chest. How many times had she invited me to have dinner with her and Miller and their family?
I swallowed past the grip anxiety had on my throat.
How many times had she dragged me into town to go shopping? Teasing me for my granny panties, linking her arm through my elbow, her little legs going double-time to keep up with mine, she brought me in as close as I’d let her.
For every five times she called me, I maybe called her once. The ratio of invites to visits was probably worse.
It shamed me. I didn’t deserve her, yet she persevered.
Dragging myself from the past, I focussed on the pretty blond leaning on the counter across from me.
She looked back at me kindly and murmured, “Lost you there for a minute.”
She was so lovely, inside and out, in a way I’d never been.
“Did I ever thank you?” I blurted.
Her eyebrows scrunched and met in the middle as she searched my eyes. “For what?”
“For what you and Miller did for me back then.”
“Pshaw,” she huffed. “I would have done that for anybody.” Her blue eyes widened comically. “Not that I’m not glad it was you! I mean, I’m not. Obviously. Because who would want that for their friend?”
I laughed. If there was a convoluted way to say something, Maxine found it.
She smiled. “What I’m trying to say is, if I loved you then like I love you now, I would have done it ten times over. No question.”
I blinked.
Love?
My gaze dropped to the counter like a rock.
Love was just a word people threw around. A verbal emoji that meant little more than a heart-eyed smiley face tacked on to the end of a message.
I smiled. “Well, thank you anyway. You made yourself a target with all the old biddies in town when you didn’t have to.”
She cocked a sassy brow. “Coming from the city, they already had me in their sights.” She laughed. “They deserved every shock we delivered to their mercenary little hearts.”
A small smile escaped me.
She laughed. “Come on,” she cajoled. “It was fun, and you know it.”
The front door swung open at one minute to three and Maggie Martin, Baxter’s now wife, four months pregnant with their second child, walked in.
“Lock the door,” Maxine ordered.
“Gotcha.” Maggie spun the deadbolt on the door before turning back around and making her way over, unwinding her scarf from around her face.
It still hurt to look at her.
Before my world blew up, Maggie had been my best friend.
Baxter had understood me in ways none of the others could, but our relationship was based on trauma.
Maggie? Maggie had been my first real girl friend.
Losing her hurt almost as much as losing Deacon.
I’ll try to steer clear.
It had been two weeks since I’d seen him, but his words echoed daily, pinging off the jagged edges of my heart. Did I really want him to steer clear?
I pushed the thought away. With everything that stood between us, and everything he didn’t know, there was no way forward for us that wouldn’t rip one or both of us apart.
I readily returned Maggie’s offered smile, though I suspected we both felt the tug of loss stretching between us.
While we had patched things up to the point I was her bridesmaid several weeks back, I didn’t trust her to stick with me the next time something went wrong.
And something always went wrong.
Though I still cared for her deeply, I had no wish to dismantle the wall of the past that towered between us.
Even if I knew where or how to begin.
Maxine lifted the third tumbler to show Maggie. “Hot chocolate.”
Maggie’s eyes lit up. “Thank you!”
“Here,” Maxine said, jumping off her stool and shoving it over for Maggie to perch on.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to take your seat.”
“Sure you do,” Maxine countered briskly as she grabbed hold of Maggie’s arm and manhandled her onto the stool. “There you go.”
Maggie’s astonished eyes met mine.
I burst out laughing, my spirit momentarily effervescent.
Maggie jerked her thumb at Maxine. “She’s so tiny but so strong.”
Maxine laughed. “I’ve got three boys and Miller to manage.” She flexed her biceps. “I eat my Wheaties.”
“I think you’re swallowing a lot more than that,” Maggie said dryly.
“Maggie!” I exclaimed, laughing.
She groaned. “It’s the pregnancy hormones. It’s all I can think about.” Her eyes ran over the few loaves of leftover bread on the shelf behind me. “I’ll take that phallic-shaped one.”
I laughed and slipped it into a paper bag before passing it to her. “It’s on the house.”
She was, after all, one of my best customers.
“Thank you,” she answered, ripping a chunk off the end and shoving it in her mouth. She swung it toward Maxine. “Want some?”
Maxine shrugged and ripped a piece off. “Who am I to refuse a freshly baked phallus?” She pointed to the two round calabrese loaves. “I’ll take those two tits to go.”
Maggie chortled. “Two tits and a nice, solid, erection. You have any kitty-shaped buns?”
“Stop,” I groaned, even as I started planning. Maybe an éclair with strawberries and cream inside? I snorted at the image in my head. “You both have men at home.”
Not that I’d cared up until this point.
“Speaking of,” Maggie commented, her fingers busy ripping off more bread. “I heard Deacon came into town to see you.”
I shrugged, fighting the butterflies erupting in my chest. “He agreed to steer clear.”
“Is that what you want?” Maxine asked, reaching for Maggie’s rapidly diminishing baguette at the same time as Maggie asked, “Did you ask him to?”
I looked away from Maggie’s hopeful gaze. Instinctively, I knew she’d feel better about her part in our shared tragedy if I found my happily ever after.
Especially if it was with Deacon.
But life wasn’t a fairy tale.
And I was no princess.
“I think it’s for the best,” I deflected.
“For whom?” Maxine challenged.
“Me, obviously,” I snapped.
Maxine blinked a few times then laughed. Wagging her eyebrows at Maggie, she teased, “She bites!”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course, I bite,” I griped.
She laughed harder. “I’ve never once heard you snap or raise your voice!”
A lady doesn’t raise her voice.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“I think it might be what’s not getting into you that’s the problem,” Maggie muttered, emptying the crumbs from the bottom of the bag into her mouth.
I barked out a laugh. “Maggie!”
“I know, I know. Pathetic,” she groaned, then met my eyes. “I’m not wholly joking though. You and Deacon were hot.”
“And then we were not,” I replied icily, wholly regretting my sudden open-door policy.
“I know what you’re going through, you know,” Maggie pushed. “And I know how scary it is to take a chance when you’ve been betrayed.”
“Except you weren’t betrayed,” I reminded her.
“True,” she readily admitted, flushing red though she bravely met my gaze. “But I took a chance to be with him when I still thought I was.”
I shook my head. “It’s not the same.”
Maxine’s eyes bounced back and forth between us like she was watching a champion tennis match.
“Of course, it isn’t,” Maggie retorted quietly. “But you and Deacon have a story. And with him coming back and seeking you out, I don’t think it’s finished.”
I blew out a breath. My mind flooding with everything stacked against us, I answered honestly, “I think it’s finished as cleanly as it can be.”
“I guess it comes down to how you want to live,” Maxine mused.
I gave her a look.
She pressed her lips together and smiled tightly. “I want to see you happy.”
My eyebrows flew up. “And you think Deacon will make me happy? You don’t even know him!”
She shrugged. “I have no idea what will make you happy. You live in a cozy little cocoon. Maybe it’s time to come out.”
I did live in a soft, warm, cozy cocoon, one I’d worked tirelessly to provide for myself.
I had no desire to leave it.
The strings of my heart pulled taut in protest.
“It came to a point I had to decide,” Maggie stated quietly. “Do I want to be safe, or do I want to be alive?”
“Why can’t it be both?” I whispered.
Maxine’s hand covered mine. “Who says it can’t?”