Chapter 5 #2
Becca’s Diner is decorated in shades of pale blue, offset by the pops of red from the vinyl booths.
It’s pretty, but it’s hard to appreciate given how crowded it is.
Every seat is full except for those by the windows.
I didn’t realize quite how visible the store is from here.
It makes me wonder what people have seen of me, like I’m a fish behind the glass of a tank.
“What do you want?” Oscar asks when we hit the front of the line.
“Oh, hi!” calls a bright voice from behind the counter. Becca smiles as her gaze bounces between the two of us. “You didn’t like the coffee?”
“Oh—No, I…” I start to stammer, not wanting to say anything that might insult her.
“She can’t drink coffee,” Oscar answers, cutting my spiral short.
“Well, that’s too bad. Murphy was in here trying to figure out what you’d like.”
I look up at him in question.
“My last name.” He shrugs. “It’s what everyone at the station calls me.”
“Station?”
“I’m a firefighter.”
Oh. I glance over his broad shoulders and the way his biceps are tight against the fabric. Yeah, I can see it.
He nods at the menu behind Becca and I blink up at it, feeling the pressure.
I’ve been here before so I don’t know why, but the words are swimming in front of my eyes.
I must spend too long deliberating because the guy behind us clears his throat, grumbling impatiently.
I’m ready to apologize, but Oscar’s shooting him a look that has him turning red and staring down at his shoes as he coughs again, trying to pass it off as a sore throat.
“I’ll take a hot chocolate,” I squeak out, beyond ready to get back to huddling behind my desk.
“You got it.” Becca grins. “It’ll be just a minute.”
Oscar and I move to the side to wait for my drink.
“You know,” he says, leaning down to speak in a conspiratorial tone, his shoulder knocking against mine, “I once saw Elsie cycle through a puddle when Joyce was walking past. I’m pretty sure she was trying to splash her.”
His sudden playfulness forces a laugh out of me. “That sounds like her.”
“Did you keep in touch?”
“When I took over the store?”
“When you moved.” Oscar raises an eyebrow. I’m confused, not sure what he means.
“Moved here?”
“No, when you moved to Connecticut.”
Did somebody tell him I used to live here? Whatever my expression, Oscar lets out a chuckle—one that doesn’t carry much joy.
“I figured you didn’t remember me.”
My stomach drops. Oh God. I thought he looked familiar… “We know each other?” I blurt out, less gracefully than I would have liked.
“I grew up here, we went to school together,” he says with an awkward smile. My fingers curl into fists inside my pockets, guilt gnawing at me. He must think I’m such an ass for forgetting that.
Though, in fairness, I wasn’t exactly a social butterfly as a child. I can’t think of anyone who made a particular impression on me, unless they were being nasty.
“Freya, it’s not a big deal,” he says, and I nod. “I was like, two grades ahead? I just remember seeing you around.”
“Oh.” My cheeks heat, and I glance around at the other diners. People are chatting, going about their mornings. A few look over at us, some watching curiously for a moment before going back to their meals. “I’m sorry. I feel rude that I didn’t recognize you.”
“Seriously, it’s fine.” Though something in his face disagrees. “You were, what, ten? Eleven? I wouldn’t expect you to remember.”
“Okay,” I say quietly, nodding down at my shoes. Now that he’s said it, there’s definitely something there, I just can’t pinpoint it.
“So, what brought you back?”
I clam up a little, not sure what to say, how much I want to give away.
“Just wanted a fresh start.” I shrug, hoping I’m pulling off the nonchalance I’m going for.
I’ve only just met this guy. Well, re-met him, apparently.
He doesn’t need the whole sordid story of everything I left in the rearview.
“Elsie wanted to move closer to her son, so she offered to lease me the storefront.”
“Did you always want your own yarn store?”
I grin. “For a long time, yeah.”
His lips tip up under his scruff and he hums. “Are you liking being back?”
“It’s been nice, just a bit of an adjustment,” I lie, not wanting to drone on about how lonely I’ve felt, how much time I’ve spent second-guessing myself.
“Sure.”
“I’m still just settling in, getting my apartment sorted.”
“You’re at the Croft right?”
I frown. “Yeah?”
“Small town.” He rolls his eyes. “People talk.”
“About where I live?”
“Yeah, you know Mrs. Parker?” I nod, recognizing my downstairs neighbor. “The moment you pulled into the front lot she was on the phone to half the people in town, telling them about the ‘nice young lady with all the boxes of clothes.’”
I flush. Does the whole town know about my addiction to swing dresses?
“How are you finding the apartment?” he asks.
“It’s okay.” I shrug, glancing over at the counter wondering when my drink will be ready. I’ve never been good at this kind of small talk.
“You don’t like it?” There’s something in his eyes, like he’s ready to do battle with my drywall.
“No, I do,” I hurry out. “It’s just not quite home yet, you know?”
“Sure.” I don’t know if he believes me, but I’m not ready to find out.
These questions feel like they’re edging close to a bruise.
It’s a small step from talking about how I like it in Cedar Creek to me letting slip that this is one of the longest conversations I’ve had with anybody since I moved here.
Luckily my out comes in the form of Becca handing over my drink. “Hope this one goes down better.” She smiles.
I chew the inside of my lip. “Thank you, and I’m sorry to waste your time with the last one.”
She chuckles. “Doesn’t bother me, he’s the one paying.”
I look up at Oscar, ready to apologize again. I find him already moving toward the door and I take the drink with another thanks before following.
“I’d better get back,” I mumble up to him.
“Of course.” He opens the door for me and we step out into the cold. “I didn’t mean to keep you. Let me walk you over.”
“You really don’t need to.”
“Freya.” He hits me with a stare. “Let me.”
My breath stutters and I bite the inside of my cheek as I nod.
We’re silent on the walk back. Oscar’s jacket brushes against my sleeve every few steps and I have to fight not to lean against his warmth. I shake the thought away. This is nothing. I’d cuddle with a cactus at this point.
When we get to the store, he pauses, his face serious. “Look, I know I’ve said it already, but I need to make sure I’ve apologized properly.”
“That’s not nece—”
“It is.” The tips of his fingers bump against my arm.
“Not that it’s any excuse, but I was coming off a forty-eight-hour shift, and my captain has been putting me through it, so I wasn’t at my best. But that was no reason to speak to you the way I did.
I’m so, so sorry, Freya. I promise I will never treat you that way again. ”
I stand there, my feet rooted to the ground like I’m growing out of the sidewalk, utterly dumbfounded.
“Are we okay?” he asks gently.
“Um, yes. Of course, we’re great.” I don’t know how to process the intensity of his words or how much he seems to mean them.
“Fantastic.” He smiles, and the sight of it nearly undoes me. “Well, this was fun. Hopefully we don’t have to do it again.”
“Oh.” I step back, jolted by his words.
“No! Fuck, I just meant—” He sighs, running a hand through his hair as his face turns a shade of beet red. “I just meant, hopefully I won’t have to come grovel again after being an asshole. Maybe next time we can just hang out.”
Next time.