Chapter 2 Annika
On a scale of one to ten, with one being burn everything to the ground and ten being shit can’t faze me, I’d say I’m currently sitting at a solid three.
“Dre, so help me God. You could’ve warned me about all of this but chose not to. I had a thirteen-hour flight which is more than enough time to give me a little heads up.”
My twin blinks, and I can practically see his mind whirring at high speed, trying to figure out how to talk himself out of the shit storm he just found himself in.
“Nik, I had no idea Nan was gonna dump the bookstore on you then jet off in her RV to that weird-ass holistic retreat.”
My eyes roll so hard I’m worried they’ll get stuck. “And my new pal, Hemingway?”
“Okay, fair. I should’ve warned you about him.” With a grimace, he runs a hand through his dark hair. He might be my twin, but he’s taller by half a foot, broader, and more of an asshole than I could ever be. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
My hands find my hips as I straighten my shoulders, my eyes narrowing dangerously.
The pleasure I feel when he shrinks back a little is something that brings a small smile to my face.
Which, of course, he notices. Doesn’t matter if he’s bigger and tougher.
I’m the smarter one, and he’s learned that lesson too many times to count.
“What else are y’all keeping from me?”
His neck cracks as he shifts his head from side to side, then cracks his knuckles. “Have you met your neighbor yet?”
“Noooo…” An unsettling feeling sparks to life in my gut. “Oh, for the love of God. Who is it? It’s not Gertie, right? Y’all wouldn’t be that cruel.”
“It ain’t Gertie…”
“Oh, thank fuck.”
“It’s Owen Maddox.”
The relief that had barely begun to manifest explodes into a fiery ball of tension, knotting itself in my gut.
“I’m sorry. It sounded like you just said that our old high school nemesis is now my next-door neighbor.”
I remember the embarrassing encounter from this morning, and involuntarily, my traitorous body responds.
It doesn’t matter if over five years have passed or that my hatred doesn’t have the same harsh twinge it used to carry all those years ago.
He is still the one man I will never forgive…
and the one who has a piece of me I can never get back.
So what if he’s fucking hot as hell now?
It doesn’t faze me at all. Or so I tell myself… repeatedly.
“Did you forget his uncle is the doc in town? He gave him the apartment above the clinic when he started at CVU.”
Son of a bitch!
“I can’t live beside that man, Andre. Can’t I just move in with you?”
His nose scrunches up, and he shudders. “No fucking way am I letting you move into the bachelor pad with me and the guys. They’ll ogle your ass and talk about your tits, and I’ll end up punching my best friends and ruining team unity.”
“But—”
“Shit, that reminds me…” He glances down at his watch.
“I’m gonna be late. Coach wanted me at the rink and on the ice twenty minutes early.
” When he looks back up at me, a nervous twitch shifts his lips.
“Just promise me you’ll stay out of Maddox’s way.
I don’t want you to end up as collateral damage. ”
Collateral damage is an interesting choice of words, but he’s already backing toward the exit. His nerves have been replaced with something that looks a lot like worry.
What the hell is that about?
Owen “Ox” Maddox is a jackass, but he’s not a serial killer.
Or at least he wasn’t before I left. Surely, not even Cedar Vale could change a man that much in a measly few years?
We had just barely managed to update our lone gas station to pay-at-the-pump before I left.
Regardless, I make a note to ask Dre later.
I also decide he doesn’t need to know about my little run-in with the man he seems overly concerned about.
Dre’s always been the over-protective big brother, and honestly, I’m too damn tired to deal with that right now.
“I was thinking about ordering pizza for dinner. Wanna come over and catch up?”
He pauses at the doorway to the back hall. “Maybe. I’ll text you after practice and let you know if I can still walk. I might be wallowing in a bath full of epsom salt, wishing Coach had killed me instead.”
My laughter echoes through the empty front room of the bookstore. “Fine. Raincheck if you’re gonna be a whiny baby. I’ve got enough problems of my own and don’t need to deal with yours too.”
When he smiles, those bright blue eyes that are a perfect match to mine go soft. “I’m glad to have you back home, baby sis. I missed you.”
My sigh is heartfelt, a pang of nostalgia hitting me square in the heart. “You’re lucky I missed you too, jackass, or I’d be giving you hell about that baby sis comment.”
“I mean, I am one minute and forty-seven seconds older.” His dimple appears as his lip quirks up. “I’m honestly not sure what I missed more. You or being able to give you hell.”
Picking up the stuffed book beside me, I chuck it at him. He laughs like a loon and runs down the hall toward the employee entrance.
“I hate you!” I shout.
I hear “I hate you more!” just before the clang of the backdoor closing hits my ears.
“Dumbass.”
As I stare around the store that I know like the back of my hand, I’m hit with a wave of…
I’m not even sure how to explain it. Can’t be homesickness because I’m already here.
It’s not relief because—let’s be honest—my anxiety is through the frickin’ roof.
No, this odd hollowness exists near the vicinity of my heart.
Being home has somehow soothed and amplified it at the same time, which doesn’t make a damn bit of sense.
Of course, I’m also suffering from jet lag, so maybe it’s just that.
My mind zings back to Owen and the way his fingers felt on my bare skin.
Frederick never made my blood burn the way my enemy can with the faintest touch.
Hindsight is such a weird and wonderful thing.
I spent over three years with a man that I barely liked because I kept trying to tell myself he was the perfect match.
Now, I can admit he was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me—and that’s saying a lot considering my history with the cocky jock.
Every prank, every thinly-veiled insult, chipped away at my already fragile self-esteem until the woman I became by his side was nearly unrecognizable.
In under twenty-four hours on familiar soil, those fractures have already begun to heal.
The plan is simple: figure out the rest of this shit show I’ve been handed, avoid my new neighbor, and take the next steps in what will hopefully be a future that I can remold into something great.
When I was young, my dreams had been focused on a normal life outside of Cedar Vale, the small Northern Arizona town founded on pride and conflict with its population of nosy citizens and a gossip tree stronger than Nan’s right hook.
But having lived abroad and gotten a taste of what normal looks like—whatever that even is—I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that maybe I’m not cut out for it as much as I thought I was.
Certainly, this town’s in my veins, but is it the cure to what ails me.
Sure, maybe it’s more like an enema than a vaccine, but a little cleansing might not be such a bad thing, ya know?