2. Chapter 2
Mackenzie
T hank goodness I can use the temperature as an excuse for my heated face and not the fact that Talmage is looking at me like I’m something special.
It’s making bees buzz in my stomach, and for the first time in a while I feel nervous around a boy.
I haven’t felt this way since… No. He has no place here. Not after what he did and how he treated me.
How did I never notice the way Talmage looks at me before? Is this a new thing for him, too?
I can’t remember the first time I really noticed him.
When my crush started digging its roots in my heart.
All I know is one day, my stomach flipped when he gave me his signature grin.
Without him and Jacob, there’s no way I would have passed that dang class.
Math help turned into messaging on Facebook, and messaging on Facebook turned into organizing a group hangout session at the city’s summer festival.
Next year, we’ll be in choir and theatre together, so we’ll be around each other even more often.
I can’t wait.
Under the lights strewn across the little patio outside of the recreation building, his hand nudges mine.
Then his pinky wraps around my own. Sparks skitter across the skin he’s touching, and my face heats further.
We stay like that, pinkies locked, as we listen to everyone else talk about what they’ve been up to this summer, what they plan on doing next year.
No fucking way.
Today has really gone to shit, and I’m ready to go home and cry in the bathtub with a pint of cookie dough ice cream smothered in hot fudge.
The day was going fine. Another tedious day in a long line of tedious days.
I work from home as a bid desk specialist for a tech company.
I spend my days clicking “copy and paste” to send quotes for companies wanting to buy bulk products.
I hate it, and it doesn't pay enough, so I work as a bartender part-time as well. Unfortunately, trying to find a job in Utah when you’re heavily tattooed and don’t have a college degree means your options are limited.
Usually, I try not to work night shifts at the bar, but my manager needed me to fill in.
The twins are old enough to be home alone, but my best friend, Lizzie, was able to hang out with them tonight, so I don’t feel as guilty about leaving them .
Except now, I have to ask Lizzie to take me to work and pick me up because some dumbass wasn’t paying attention and rear ended the SUV behind me, which sent it into my car.
Now I have a flat tire, and the suspension might have issues.
I couldn’t hear the tow truck guy explaining what was wrong with it over the rapid racing of my pulse.
I sure as hell hope it’s only the flat tire and nothing more serious, or I have no idea what I’ll do. My budget doesn’t have the wiggle room for a car payment, and I don’t have the savings to buy one in cash.
My entire body is vibrating with anxiety. My heart rate hasn’t slowed since I felt the jolt of a car hitting my bumper, and even though it’s hella cold outside, I can’t feel it with the adrenaline coursing through me.
I’m lucky it’s just a fender bender, but my nervous system can’t tell the difference between a minor inconvenience and a catastrophic accident.
Thanks, PTSD.
I’m an overly cautious driver after what happened to my parents.
I’m never on my phone unless it’s to use my maps app.
I try to avoid driving in the snow or heavy rain, and if I’ve had a single sip of alcohol, I refuse to get behind the wheel.
I avoid being around semi-trucks if possible, and I never run red lights.
Apparently, not everyone is as cautious as I am. The guy behind me admitted he was on his phone to the officer at the scene, and if he hadn’t been distracted, he would have noticed the brake lights.
Just as I finish going over my statement with the officer, I hear a voice I’d know anywhere—one I’ve heard in my dreams—and a tap on my shoulder diverts my attention.
Shivers— not from the cold—zip up my spine as I mentally steel myself for the inevitable blast from the past. A blast I’m in no way prepared for.
Sure enough, I turn around, and there he is. Talmage fucking Monson. My first real love, my first shattering heartbreak, and the one guy I’ve never really gotten over—not that anyone knows besides Lizzie.
God, if you exist, fuck you very much.
I didn’t even know he was still in Utah.
Last I heard, he was in California about to get married.
I stopped checking in on social media when he announced his engagement because…
well, life sucks enough as it is, and I didn’t need to see the man I’ve been secretly pining after for thirteen years living his best life with a woman who looks like a model.
He looks the same, but different. I can’t tell under the coat of his uniform, but I’ve seen enough firefighters on social media to infer his body has bulked up a bit since we were in high school.
His blonde mustache is neatly trimmed, and even though it should be off-putting—I’ve never found a mustache attractive—it actually makes my knees weak.
His hair is faded on the sides and slightly longer on the top, neatly gelled away from his face.
His blue eyes are still kind, but right now they’re swirling with too many emotions to name.
I realize I still haven’t answered when someone walks behind him, and he steps closer. I instinctually take a step back and almost fall into a small hole on the side of the road.
Strong hands grip my forearms and keep me from tipping over, and I mutter a quiet, “Thanks. ”
He steps back and removes his hands like I’ve burned him, and my heart sinks. It seems nothing’s changed since we graduated.
“Where’s your coat?” He looks around at all the people surrounding us.
“It’s in my car.” I wasn’t thinking about grabbing my coat when I got out right after the accident.
He nods, then nods again. “Do you have someone you can call to come get you?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Well, yeah. You should do that. Call them, I mean. You should get out of the cold. I don’t want you to get sick or something. Pneumonia or bronchitis would be terrible to deal with, not to mention the air quality isn’t great today.”
“Okay…” I don’t know why he’s rambling like he’s nervous. The boy I knew in high school didn’t get nervous. It’s barely less than thirty degrees, I’m not going to get sick from it.
“You need to get checked out by the paramedics. Make sure you’re not hurt or anything,” Talmage suggests, nodding over the ambulance.
“I’m fine, I promise. My neck hurts a little but—”
“Then you should absolutely get it checked! We want to be sure you don’t have whiplash or a sprain. It’s protocol, really. They should have checked you out already or have you on the way to the hospital.”
“I really need to get to work,” I argue. I don’t have time to be checked over, and I definitely don’t have the time to go to the hospital. I swivel my head left to right and move it up and down. “I’m fine, see? ”
“Please, just… for my peace of mind?” Talmage’s blue eyes burn with what seems to be genuine concern.
“Fine,” I grumble.
With a small smile, Talmage leads me to the ambulance where the paramedic asks me if anything hurts.
I tell him my neck is a bit sore, but I don’t think anything is wrong.
He runs through a few motion tests, and the whole time, Talmage stands there with his eyes on me like some kind of watch dog.
My entire body is tense with him so close.
“Take some pain medicine, and if you get severe headaches or the neck pain increases, see a physician straight away,” the paramedic says once he’s finished his tests.
“Got it. Am I good to go now?” I try to keep the impatience out of my tone, but more time here means less money on my next paycheck.
The paramedic gives me the all clear, and I turn to head back to the side of the road to can call Lizzie.
Talmage follows, his steps matching mine. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, really. I don’t want to keep you from your job any longer. It was good seeing you, Talmage. Have a good evening.”
His eyebrows furrow at my dismissal, and his lips tip down just a smidge before he rights them into his signature sunshiney smile. “You too, Mackenzie. Be safe out there. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
I sure hope not.
“Okay.”
He turns around and walks back to the bright red firetruck I’m assuming he arrived in, and I shake off the weird emotions that have me feeling like I’m going to puke. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I call Lizzie.
“Mack? Shouldn’t you be at work already?”
“I was in an accident—”
“Oh my God! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Lizzie. I just need a ride to and from work tonight if that’s okay?”
“Of course it’s okay! Jesus. Drop me a pin, and I’ll be right there.”
“Thanks.” I hang up and send her my location, then maneuver through the crowd of first responders to grab my purse and coat from my car.
Standing on the side of the road, I watch the first responders finish clearing up the minimal mess from the accident. My car is loaded on the tow truck by the time Lizzie arrives, and the driver gives me a card for the repair shop he’s taking it to so I can check on it tomorrow.
I hop into the passenger seat of Lizzie’s car, grateful she left the twins at home for this short trip because I can’t stop myself from blurting, “Talmage is a firefighter.”
Lizzie scans the crowd of firemen, and her lips pop open into an “o” when she spots him. “No fucking way, dude. Did he talk to you?”
“Yeah. He asked me where my coat was, then rambled about pneumonia and air quality? I don’t know. Then he said, ‘Maybe I’ll see you around.’”
“No he didn’t! God, what a douche!”
“I don’t think he was trying to be a douche, I think we were both in shock. I mean, it’s been almost eleven years since we graduated. Thirteen since he broke up with me. He’s clearly over it, and so am I. It was just… unexpected.”
Lizzie snorts. “Sure, Mack. I believe you. Not like you’ve told me about the dreams.”
I should have never fucking told her about them.
Almost every night since graduation, my mind creates different dream scenarios where Talmage finds me and declares his undying love for me.
He says I’m the only one he’s ever wanted, he regrets ever breaking up, and he’s been trying to find me since graduation.
My brain is a cruel bitch.
Lizzie and I got drunk one night, and I told her about the dreams. She’s been a good friend and hasn’t mentioned it.
Until now—the worst possible moment.
“Isn’t he married?” she asks when I don’t reply right away.
“I don’t know. I don’t follow him on social media anymore, remember?”
“Right, right. Well, good thing I have a free night ahead to do some recon. FBI agent Lizzie Mikkelson at your service.” She gives me a little salute.
“God, please don’t,” I groan. “I don’t want to see him again.
He’s probably married to some pocket-sized Molly Mormon who has a penchant for baking bread and canning in her spare time.
They probably go to church on Sundays and have regular family home evenings.
Hell, they probably have a gaggle of perfect blue-eyed, blonde kids now. ”
Lizzie pulls up in front of Great and Spacious.
A ridiculous name for a bar, but it’s a reference to Mormon beliefs.
Lehi, a “prophet” from The Book of Mormon, had a dream where the “righteous” people held on to an iron rod—symbolism for the gospel of Christ—and there were people in a great and spacious building trying to “lure” them away from the path of righteousness.
The owners are ex-Mormons, and they thought it would be funny. I can’t say I disagree.
“Well, I think everything happens for a reason, and maybe this is the universe trying to give you two a second chance.” Lizzie waggles her eyebrows at me.
It’s my turn to snort. “Yeah, right. That’ll happen when pigs fly, and the U.S. gets universal healthcare. Thanks for the ride. Can you come pick me up at eleven?”
“Sure thing, bestie. Love you!”
“Love you, too.”
I don’t know what I believe about the universe or fate, but I do know Talmage Monson and I were never meant to be, and running into him was just a weird, cruel coincidence.
He’s probably forgotten all about it by now, just like I need to.