Chapter Ten
Mila
In what feels like an unfair move by the universe, Everett McKean is even hotter than he was ten years ago.
He’s bulkier through the shoulders and chest, and his brown eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs.
His jaw is covered with scruff rather than the smooth skin of a teenager, and his face and neck are burnished from the time he spends working in the sun.
He still wears his thick, wavy hair a little long, and I like the way it curls around the edges.
My fingers itch to touch it.
At the bottom of my drink, I find the courage to ask about his sister. “How’s Gabi?”
“She’s great. She lives in Detroit, but she comes up here quite a bit. Our mom has some health problems, and a lot of that has fallen on Gabi since I’m so busy. Our dad’s been gone about three years now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He frowns. “Sorry, that sounded harsh. My feelings about my father are complicated.”
“I get it,” I say quietly. My memories of Mr. McKean are hazy. He wasn’t around much when I was at the house, but Gabi told us about the drinking. I certainly understand what it’s like to have conflicting feelings about a parent. “So, do you live in your old house?”
“No. I live in a cabin at the back of the property, a safe distance away from my meddling mother.”
“Smart.”
“I’m sure Gabi would love to hear from you,” he says.
I set my empty glass down. “I don’t know about that.”
“Why not? You guys were so close—that whole group of girls was always running around the farm, getting in my way.”
The memory brings a sad smile to my lips. “Yeah. We were close.”
“So reach out.”
“It’s been so long,” I say hesitantly.
“So what? There’s no statute of limitations on reconnecting with old friends, is there?”
“I guess not. But…”
“But what?”
I search for an excuse. “I don’t even have her number anymore.”
“Give me your phone.”
I unlock the screen and hand it to him. “Are you putting her number in there? Don’t you want to ask her first if it’s okay?”
“I’m putting my number in here,” he says. “Text me if you want Gabi’s contact info. Or if you have any questions about the date.”
“What date?”
“The date we’re going on tomorrow night.” He places the phone on the table between us again.
I glance at it, then at him. “We’re going on a date tomorrow night?”
“Shit. Did I forget to ask you? Sorry. According to the town biddies, I’m a little rough around the edges.” He shrugs. “Anyway, I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“You still haven’t asked me,” I point out with a laugh.
“Is that really necessary? I mean, I’ve saved your life twice now. Remember? The tree and then the fire?”
My laughter turns into a groan. “I remember.”
“So I feel like one date is the least you can do to repay me.”
From across the table, I take in the lopsided grin, the cocky set of his shoulders, and I know I don’t have it in me to resist.
“Okay.” I hold up a finger. “One dinner. But it’s not a date.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not dating right now.”
“Fine, we’ll just call it dinner.” He leans back in his chair again, a twinkle in his eye. “I don’t know why you have to make things so difficult.”
Everett insists on walking me to my car, even though I tell him he doesn’t have to.
“Listen, I have a reputation as a gentleman around here,” he says as we stroll down the sidewalk, a little slower than when we walked the other way. “I can’t have you ruining that for me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
We reach my mother’s car, and I take my keys out of my pocket. “Thanks for the drink. I had fun catching up.”
“Me too.” He tucks his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I hope you’re feeling better than you were earlier.”
“I am.” The eye contact is doing swirly things to my insides, so I look down at our feet. His leather boots are dark-brown and well-worn, creased with age and hard work. They shouldn’t turn me on, but they do.
“What are you doing the rest of the weekend?”
“Helping my mom prepare for Monday. Mostly moving furniture around and trying to convince her to let me install the bathroom grab bar and the other safety equipment the doctors recommended—not that I’m very handy.”
“Do you need help? I can come a little early tomorrow and lend you some muscle.” He flexes one bicep. “Look, I have plenty.”
My insides swoosh at the sight of his bulging arm. “That’s nice of you, but I’m sure you’re busy solving more important problems. Root rot and all.”
“I don’t mind. And that way, when I ask you for help with the Founder’s Day celebration, you have to say yes.”
I laugh. “What kind of help?”
“Well, the thing I really don’t want to do is judge the Best Pie Contest.”
I’m shaking my head before he even finishes the sentence. “No way. That competition is cutthroat, and those bakers are ruthless. I already have a bad reputation in this town. I don’t want to make it worse.”
“Hmm, true.” He rubs a hand over his jaw. “What about something that shows off your artistic talent?”
“Like a poster or something?” I offer, wondering what that scruff would feel like against my face.
“Yes!” He snaps his fingers. “That’s perfect. The person in charge of promotional materials is a nice lady, but she’s not exactly a creative genius. She reuses the same flyer year after year, and I’m pretty sure it was created some time in the last century. It has this tragic font.”
“Oh, dear. Comic sans?”
“Worse. Papyrus.”
I hold out a hand. “Stop. Can you get me all the information that needs to go on it?”
“Yes.” His brow creases, and he touches my shoulder. “But I just added something to your plate, and it’s pretty full already.”
At the moment, I’m not worried about my plate. I’m worried about the way my heart is racing. The way my palms are sweating. The way Everett McKean has things flowing in me that have been frozen solid for a year.
But being able to do something for him will feel really good.
Nothing will ever make up for what happened, but even a small gesture might ease some of the guilt I’ve carried for ten years.
“What you’re talking about really won’t take me long, and I already have an idea,” I tell him. “Just give me a few days.”
“Perfect. It’s good to see you, Mila.” Damn, that grin hits hard. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“I’m not back.” I get behind the wheel and smile up at him, because it’s impossible not to. “But it’s good to see you too.”
My mother has gone to bed by the time I get home. I try to be as quiet as possible as I wash my face and brush my teeth, but the moment I snap off the bathroom light and open the door, she calls out from her bedroom.
“Mila? Is that you?”
“Yes. I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“Where were you?”
I hesitate, reluctant to tell her anything about my night, because I enjoyed myself and she’ll find a way to chisel away at it. “The Axe & Barrel.”
“Alone?”
“I ran into people I knew.”
“Like who?”
“Everett McKean. Gabi’s older brother.”
“He’s the mayor now, you know.”
“I heard. I accidentally parked in his spot.” I figure I might as well cough up the rest. “We’re having dinner tomorrow night. And he might come over a little early to help me with a few things.”
“He’s coming here?”
“Yes. Is that okay?”
“Of course, darling. What time is he coming?” The excitement in her voice sets off alarm bells in my head.
When I was younger, she often put on a sort of show when I had friends over.
The kind of performance that made my friends think she was the coolest, prettiest, nicest mom around.
The kind that made me feel like my perception of her must be warped.
“I’m not sure.”
“Just make sure the rugs are back in place, please. And put the furniture back where it was. We’ll also need to go to the store to make sure we have refreshments to offer.”
“Mom, none of that is necessary.”
“Of course it is. You want to make a good impression, don’t you? Tomorrow, we can talk about what you’ll wear.”
I clench my teeth. “Good night, Mom.”
“Good night, darling.”
Upstairs, I strip off my clothes and put on my pajamas. After slipping between the sheets, I reach for my phone.
I gasp. Novel Vine has followed me back and hearted a bunch of my posts. Not only that, but I have a message from the account.
Mila!!! Hearing from you made my day! How are you? There’s a rumor going around that you’re in town. I moved back to HL to open Novel Vine last year and I would love to see you.
Also, your ART! It’s incredible!
Relief overwhelms me, and my eyes fill with tears. She’s not angry, even though she has every right to be. I was the one who cut her off—cut them all off. I was the one who tried to bury the guilt by shutting out my friends. Who let shame convince me that I didn’t deserve kindness.
Everett’s words come back to me. There’s no statute of limitations on reconnecting with old friends, is there?
I decide he’s right, and I message her back.
OMG Yasmine, I’m so happy you reached out to me.
I’m in HL now, and I walked by Novel Vine yesterday.
Saw you through the window. I wanted to go in so badly, but I was too scared.
I feel so bad that we lost touch. Can you ever forgive me?
I’m here until mid-October taking care of my mom. I would love to get together.
I plug my phone into the charger and switch off my lamp, hopeful that I’ll hear from her tomorrow.
Maybe not everything burned That Night, and something can be salvaged from the ashes.
The next morning, I wake up early—it’s barely seven. I check my phone and find a new message from Yasmine.
I can’t believe you’re here! I wish you would have come into the bar!
! I would have given you the biggest hug.
Of course I forgive you. Looking back, I can understand how it happened…
That last year was just so hard on all of us.
And everything that happened That Night… It felt like the friendship apocalypse.
Anyway, let’s get together as soon as you can! I’m working all weekend, but you’re welcome to come into the bar any time!