Chapter 5 #2
Rain pelted the car, and the wipers swung furiously, a metronome gone wild. Willa glanced at the fuel tank. “We should get gas.” This was camping and hunting country. The farther along 191 they got, the fewer stations they’d find. “Keep your eyes open.”
“Up ahead.” Decker pointed out the window to lights blurred by water. “There.”
As she entered the parking lot, her headlights flashed on a sign that read: Gas.
Groceries. Ice Cream. And Say Hi to Hal—Or You’ll Hurt his feelings.
“Oh, my God, I remember this place.” Out front was a larger-than-life carved bear standing upright.
“My dad took a picture of me standing right there.”
When she pulled into a parking spot, Decker sat up. “I thought we were getting gas?”
So uptight. “We are. But we have to grab a few things first.”
“We don’t have time.”
“Ten minutes won’t change anything. Come on. You’ll love it here.”
“I’ll wait in the car.”
“You’ve been sitting on your butt for hours. You’ve got to move. That’s what the article said.”
“Movement, yeah. Not laps around a gift shop.”
“Then, wait here. It’s up to you, but I’m going inside.” She dashed out into the rain.
Puddles soaked her leather heels, the cold water a shock to her feet.
When she swung open the door, the bell jangled, and she stepped into her childhood. She got a blast of warm, sugary air—freshly made waffle cones and the mix of grape and cherry from a bin of stick candy.
Decker came in right behind her, his ball cap covering his eyes. “What is this place?”
“A wonderland. Now, grab a basket, and let’s go shopping.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He looked around. “I’ll just sit on this bench over here.”
“Okay, Wilbur. Did you take your Metamucil this morning? Do you want me to pull your slippers out of your satchel?”
He gave her an annoyed shake of his head and shoved aside the stuffed animals that covered the wrought iron bench. Fluffy bears, bison, elk, moose…even a unicorn. Picking one up, he examined it. “I should get one for Cody. Do seven-year-olds like stuffed animals?”
“What do I know about kids? You were seven once. Did you?”
“I never had one.”
She might’ve dismissed the comment—he was just being ornery—but there was a hardness to his tone that made her pay closer attention. “Because you’re a manly man? Were you born with all those tattoos?”
He looked away, hiding a smile.
“Well, now’s your chance.” She pulled down an adorable one. “You can’t go through life without a teddy bear.”
He scowled. “I don’t want one. And Cody’s probably too old.”
“Then, you know what? Get him a Jackalope.” She headed over to the wall of the mounted creatures. The rabbits were all different sizes, but each had the distinctive elk horns. “That’s what I’m getting.”
He sprang up, staring at the wall with hands on his hips. “You’re getting that?”
“Yep.”
“Why? That’s a stupid thing for kids.”
“It’s a wonderful memory of our vacation.”
“We’re not on vacation. We’re trying to make my brother’s rehearsal dinner.”
Why did she love agitating him so much? “Good point. Let’s get one for Fee and Jude. A housewarming present.”
“They’re not putting that thing in the house they just built.” He sounded appalled.
And she loved it. He was so hard, so closed off. Riling him up cracked him open, and little bits of his true self spilled out. “Everyone’s looking for décor when they move into a new house. Which one should I get?”
“I want no part of this.” He sat back down and pulled a fluffy white bear onto his lap.
“Is that the one you’re getting for Cody?” she called.
“He’s a big boy. I’m not getting him a stuffed animal. Just get your jackalope so we can get out of here.”
She reached for a larger one and pulled it off its hook. “This one’s the best. He’s got a mischievous smile.”
“Rabbits don’t smile.”
“This one does.” Carrying it, she headed to the door to grab a basket.
“What’re you doing?”
“How many arms do you think I have? I can’t carry my jackalope and the popcorn and hot drinks.”
“Jesus. We don’t need more food.”
“Said no one ever.” Breezing past him, she grabbed a jar of huckleberry jam. She couldn’t stand the stuff, but her dad liked to put it on the sideboard for the guests.
On her way to the beverage counter at the back of the store, she passed camping supplies, hoodies and T-shirts, and bins of inflatable tubes and floaties. The smells of sunscreen and rubber flip-flops brought her careening back to her childhood.
Shoved into the corner of a shelf of T-shirts, she spied a white, floppy-eared snowshoe hare. Her breath caught in her throat, and her chest tightened.
She’d forgotten all about that.
“What?” The deep, gravelly voice surprised her. She didn’t know Decker had followed her. “Why’d your face get all…” He made a mopey expression.
She pulled it down. “I used to have one of these. It looked exactly like this.” Her heart raced, and it didn’t make sense.
Why was she reacting like this to a toy she’d owned for maybe four days?
“I think I was ten the last time I was in this store. Too old for a stuffed animal, but still, I begged my dad for it.”
“Why’d you only have it for a few days?”
“I must’ve lost it at a campsite or something.” Her chest filled uncomfortably with affection for her dad. He’d been so kind. So loving. Never impatient. “He’s a really good guy.”
Oh, my God, you’re not tearing up in this stupid store.
But she was.
It had been a long day, and she still hadn’t recovered from the betrayal. She’d waited nearly eight hours to hear from her mom—that was torture. But she hadn’t gotten an apology. And nothing from Nate or Kendall.
And now that she was on her way home, getting closer to her dad, she could feel herself softening, breaking down.
Which was interesting, wasn’t it? It was like she’d built a partition between the New York version of herself and the Calamity one. One stayed strong and held back emotions, and the other —this one—collapsed at the sight of a stuffed animal that reminded her of the comfort of her dad.
And she needed that. Needed him.
Because he was the one who’d held her every time her mom had canceled her flight or forgotten about a promised phone call.
It was her dad who’d taught her to tie shoes and had gotten the wad of gum out of her hair when she was trying out for cheerleader. It was her dad who’d loved her unconditionally through every season of her life.
Decker’s warm fingers cupped her chin, and she looked at him through a veil of tears. “What’re you thinking?”
“Nothing. It’s just been a rough day.” Pulling away, she shoved the rabbit back on the shelf. “Coffee, tea, or cocoa?”
“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend with me. I can’t stand when people do that. You’re upset. Talk to me.”
“I don’t know.” She let out a deep breath.
“I guess this store, this road trip, makes me remember my past. In my busy life, I forgot about these moments.” She gestured at the rabbit.
“And they were good, you know? Really good.” She felt stupid crying in front of this successful guy, so she plastered on a smile. “Anyhow, we should get going.”
“It sounds like you have regrets.”
“I guess I do. My dad and I aren’t as close anymore, and that’s on me. I’ve been so driven that I…I guess I left him behind. We used to talk every Sunday night, and I don’t know when that stopped and turned into when I get a chance. He deserves so much better than that.”
He watched her for a moment, as if reading her all the way down to her soul.
“In sports psychology, we talk about emotions as mirrors. They show you what’s going on under the surface.
Stuff you don’t want to face.” He shifted.
“Thing is, if you let yourself feel it, that’s how it loosens.
Gets unstuck. And then, you can release it—get it out of your body—and if you want, make amends.
” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans.
“It’s never too late to tell your dad you love him and to make more time for him. ”
A crush of warmth for this grumpy quarterback overwhelmed her. “Can I give you a hug?”
He took a step back. “No.”