Chapter 6 #2
“What do I tell Simon?” I asked once we were seated with our snacks. “He’s nice, but…”
“But you don’t want him, you want Jack. I know.
” Her mouth twisted. “Sadly, Jack’s not on the menu at the moment.
He’s either gonna get right with himself, or he’s not.
And in the meantime, you go with the runner-up.
” She bit off the end of her scone and smiled slyly.
“You could really benefit from a good fuck.”
“Crys!” I glanced around the small cafe and bent closer to whisper-hiss, “You can’t say fuck when Millicent Bowdoin and her little girl are right there! Say ‘tup.’ Then she won’t understand you.”
“I won’t understand me.” Crys sucked down the last of her drink with a loud slurp. “You’re so weird, boo.”
“Anyway, Simon isn’t a runner-up,” I informed her. “He seems very nice. We have lots in common. Under other circumstances…”
“You’d be tupping him to kingdom come?” Crys guessed.
“Exactly. So why not go out to dinner with the guy? Not to make Jack jealous, because seriously, tup Jack, am I right? Go with the guy who wants you. The one who sends you cum-leaf emojis when you chat him up because he’s adorably awkward when it comes to you. ”
She meant Simon, but I couldn’t help remembering Jack making his strangled erk sound whenever I said something that flustered him.
“It’s not that easy,” I whispered. “You know, when Jack and I met—”
“You were seventeen and a half, he was both smoking hot and heroically friendly, and you fell head over heels instantly.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I know. But that was a long time ago.”
“That’s how it started,” I corrected. “And if that was all it had ever been… shit, Crys, I’d have gotten over him in a matter of weeks, no matter what I thought back then.
But it wasn’t. Instead, Jack was all in with me, in a way that hardly anyone in my life ever had been.
Like…” I shook my head and stared at the table.
How did I explain all that Jack had become to me?
I took a deep breath. “Okay, for example… when I was trying to decide whether to go to college, everyone in my family had opinions about what was best for me, right? But Jack was the only person who asked me what I wanted out of life, without judgment or coddling. Oh! And this one time, maybe four years ago? I had a bad day, and he knew I didn’t want to talk, so he conveniently came up with something at his house that needed to be demolished and asked me to do him a favor by coming over and swinging a sledgehammer.
” I chuckled at the memory. “And then he kept having me over to help and basically let me choose all the fixtures for his house because he said he trusts me. Not my muscular, power-tool-savvy brothers, Crys. Me.”
“Ah, boo…”
“And also,” I went on after taking a sip of my drink, “there was this incident that happened two winters ago now, I guess, where I caught a ride to Montpelier to meet up with a friend of a friend and see a show. Kind of a date thing, you know? And I was all excited. Except the guy never showed up. So there I was, stranded an hour and a bit away from home, embarrassed as fuck, freezing cold, no place to sleep, hardly any money, the whole deal. I called Jack, he drove two and a half hours roundtrip to get me, brought me cookies, took me back to his house to crash on his sofa so I didn’t have to explain things to my family, and—this is the key part, Crys—he’s never said a single word about it.
Not once. Not even now, when he’s determined to cockblock me and could totally turn that incident against me. ”
Crys sighed. “He’s a good guy,” she admitted.
“He is,” I agreed. Then, more softly, “So good. And I guess… I mean, maybe none of that is like, ‘Oh, wow, Hawk, so romantic, I can see why you’re on fire for this man!’ But, like…
it is romantic, you know? To me, it is. He trusts me.
He gets me. He appreciates me. He cherishes me.
He’s always made me feel—even when I’m spouting off the intricate details of a Pride and Prejudice retelling that would make anyone else fall asleep—like I’m the most interesting person in the room.
He is so protective of the things and people he loves.
And… he lets me take care of him, too. I know when he gets the little furrow right here—” I pointed to the spot between my eyes.
“—it means he’s tired and needs an excuse to leave a party.
And I know he is a fucking child when he gets a cold.
And I… I love him, Crys. All of him. Unreservedly.
Even the annoying bits. Which is why he’s kinda breaking my heart right now.
Because I don’t understand why he’s so hell-bent on getting this resort pushed through or why he’s refusing to take a chance on us and he’s pawning me off with tissue-thin excuses like none of my feelings matter. Like I don’t matter.”
“But you didn’t say any of this to him, right?”
“God, no.” I shook my head. “I can’t tell him I love him. I only asked for sex, and he already assumes I want us to exchange vows.”
“So if he knew you actually did want to exchange vows—”
I snorted. “He’d probably freak out. While still simultaneously attempting to cockblock me.” I rolled my eyes. “Everyone and their mother is out there having sex except me.” I frowned and considered my words. “Wait, that didn’t sound right—”
“Hawk Sunday!”
Ah, crap. I glanced over to see Luke’s mom shaking some sugar packets at the cream-and-sugar station. Please, god, don’t let her have heard what I said.
“Mrs. Williams! Hey. Hi. How are you today?”
“Invigorated! Sue and I just finished a marathon charity crochet Hook Up with Betty Ann and Melanie and Helena and the other Hookers. Nothing like eighteen hours of stitch and bitch, am I right? What about you? Were you out with the kids today?” Her eyes flicked past me to Crys, whose mouth was mysteriously covered in crumbs from my blueberry scone.
“Uh, no. The Mini Nature Scouts’ summer camp is only on the weekdays. Mrs. Williams, this is Crystal Hardin. She’s new in town, too, and works with me at Panini Jack’s. Crys, Mrs. Williams is Luke’s mom. You know, Webb’s Luke.”
Crys nodded and smiled. “Ah, right. Nice to meet you. I recognize you from the yarn store.”
Mrs. Williams’s face lit up. “You knit? How wonderful.”
“No, ma’am. But I heard a pair of their handcrafted double-pointed needles make a great—”
“Sock-making tool!” I blurted, suddenly 100 percent convinced my friend was going to reveal more of her mysterious obsession with weapons. “DPNs are great for those pesky toe closures. Heh.”
Both women looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
Crys looked back at Luke’s mom. “—gift for people who knit charity hats for babies,” she finished calmly. “And several of us at the Bugle chipped in to get some nice ones for Andrea.”
I felt a bead of sweat run slowly down my temple. “Oh. Ha. Yeah. That, too.” I was still pretty convinced Crys had purchased herself a pair of handcrafted old-lady shanks.
I couldn’t quite imagine someone using a set of double-pointed needles to take down an enemy, but if anyone could do it, it would be Crys.
Mrs. Williams smiled back at her. “Well, nice to meet you, dear. Hawk, I’m off to see your uncle and his beau for an early dinner. Drew’s making his special brownies.” Her eyes twinkled. “Too bad Webb and Luke are… otherwise engaged.”
I smiled grimly. Uncle Drew was particularly uninhibited under the influence of his special brownies, and when Webb and Luke were otherwise engaged, it usually meant everyone else in the farmhouse should sleep with noise-canceling headphones. “That’s… great. Just great.”
“Newlyweds!” she said with satisfaction I wished I could share. “Take care.”
She bustled out of the cafe, and Crys burst into giggles. “You crack me up, Hawk Sunday. Pesky toe closures.”
“And you stress me out,” I grumbled under my breath. “Even more than thinking of my previously straight brother fucking his new husband does.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “Keeping you off-balance is a gift, my friend. And it brings me joy.”
I couldn’t help but allow a partial grin. “It brings me something. Not sure what yet.”
She leaned over and ruffled my hair. “I like you. I didn’t expect to make a friend like you when I moved here.”
I wanted to ask why the heck she’d moved to a small town like the Hollow if she hadn’t planned to make friends, but I didn’t want to seem judgy. Not when her friendly affection warmed my heart and helped mitigate my recent rejection just a little bit.
“Want to come over and watch a movie or something?” I offered. “I heard Death Comes to Pemberley was on tonight, and I can make Marco’s chicken salad recipe—”
“No can do,” she said, standing up and chucking her empty cup into a nearby receptacle. “Got a hot date with a chick I met at the knife-throwing thing.”
I stared at her. “What?”
“You heard me. Just because you are determined to overthink Simon’s offer until you’re old and gray doesn’t mean I’m gonna be sleeping alone tonight.
” She winked. “Look, I get what you’re saying about Jack.
You have hashtag real-feels. But you also need relief.
And you were willing to make do with a friends-with-bennies thing for Jack, right?
So why not with cute Simon? Think about it, okay? See you tomorrow!”
I scrambled after her. “Wait, I need details. How the heck did you meet someone at the knife place? I was with you the whole time!”
“Ladies’ room,” she said with a shrug. “She said if I wanted more practice, her family has some dead trees on their property we could throw things at. Texted me her number and added a shit ton of emojis.” She grinned. “In like Flynn, baby. I don’t know why dudes need to make stuff so complicated.”
I wrinkled my nose. “She asked you to throw things at dead trees… and that’s an invitation for sex?”