Chapter 7
I stare at the text I received from Mallory last night. I haven’t responded yet because I know better than to argue with the force that is my sister. But I have some serious concerns about her message, starting with the fact that I have no clue what she’s roped me into.
MALLORY
Hi, Con Con! Just a little FYI that I signed you up to help Shayna with something.
I heave a sigh and type out a response.
ME
Why?
It’s Mallory’s planning period at school, so I see the three dots signaling that she’s typing back almost immediately.
MALLORY
Just come over to our house today.
ME
What if I’m busy?
MALLORY
You’re not.
MALLORY
Shay always leaves the front door unlocked, so you can just walk in.
I clench my free hand into a small fist, trying to ignore the fact that sounds like a Dateline episode waiting to happen. Not my problem. It goes against all my protective instincts, but she’s an adult and can make that decision on her own.
ME
Why?
MALLORY
Because she’s the kind of girl who still believes the best in people.
ME
I meant, why do I need to go over?
MALLORY
I already told you, I volunteered you for something.
ME
Already covered that, Einstein. What did you volunteer me for?
MALLORY
I think it’s better if you see it with your own eyes.
ME
Fine.
MALLORY
You’re the best brother ever—love you!
I run a hand over my beard. The scruffy feel of it usually grounds me, but right now, it has me feeling self-conscious about seeing Shayna.
I know she already saw me like this—twice.
And she stared at my lips. I push that thought far from my mind.
But I let myself go a little while living out in Seattle.
I mean, I still worked out every day to keep my body in shape for my job, but I stopped caring about other things like shaving or cutting my hair.
Before I can think twice about it, I shoot another text off to my sister.
ME
Isn’t Alyssa a hairdresser?
MALLORY
Yes! Are you finally going to remove that monstrosity you call a beard from your face?
I roll my eyes. Can’t a guy just need a haircut?
ME
Thought it was time I part ways with my rugged look.
MALLORY
Rugged is saying you look like Noah from The Notebook after the breakup. I would say you look more like a recluse emerging from a cave after five years.
ME
Don’t know what any of that means.
MALLORY
Is it impossible for you to ever put the word “I” at the beginning of a text?
ME
Why use more words than necessary?
MALLORY
Maybe so you don’t actually sound like a caveman, too?
ME
Are you going to answer my question or not?
MALLORY
I already did. YES, Alyssa is a hair stylist.
ME
She free today?
MALLORY
*woman face-palming emoji*
MALLORY
I’ll text her, but only because a haircut will make Mom happy. I’m pretty sure she thinks you’re going to live in solitude forever.
ME
…
MALLORY
I’m just speaking the truth. It’s what family does.
MALLORY
And also elementary schoolers.
MALLORY
I have this one kid in my class, Aiden, who can totally tell you the truth about your caveman ways if you need a rude awakening.
ME
…
MALLORY
I’ll take that as a maybe.
MALLORY
Ooh, Alyssa had a last-minute cancellation. She can squeeze you in at one.
ME
Where?
MALLORY
Belleza Salon.
ME
A chick place?
MALLORY
Do you want the appointment or not?
ME
I’ll take it.
MALLORY
Wow, ladies and gentlemen, he can form a complete sentence!!!
MALLORY
Alyssa has you marked down for one. You better get going so you’re not late to help Shayna.
“Don’t remind me,” I mumble. Hopefully whatever she needs help with will be a quick, one-time thing.
MALLORY
I’ve gotta go, my students are coming back from art class.
ME
Sounds good.
MALLORY
No “thank you”?! We’ll have to continue rectifying your caveman ways another day. A sister’s work is never done.
I lock my phone screen and slide it into my pocket as I get up from my couch. I grab my wallet and keys from the kitchen countertop before heading to my truck.
The things Mallory says have gotten more ridiculous ever since she went and fell in love with an actor.
The sister I grew up with would never reference a romance movie in a text message.
But Griffin seems to make her happy, so I’m choosing to accept this new version of her, even if I don’t understand all the mushy things.
I spend the drive to the barbershop—I refuse to say I’m going to get a haircut at a salon—psyching myself up. I’m sure Alyssa will try to talk to me the entire time, which will exceed the limit of my social battery today.
The barber I used to go to was great. He would ask me if I wanted my usual, I would nod, and then he’d get to work. No awkward small talk. But he moved away while I was in Seattle, hence my current predicament.
I park and head inside, where I’m hit with a strong scent of girly shampoo and enough hairspray to light this building on fire with a single match.
All the eyes in the building turn to me, all very female and apprehensive, seeing as I’m the only man in the shop.
Unless you count the little boy who is running around holding a fistful of cut hair that I hope is his mother’s.
I shove my hands into my jeans pockets, wanting to look as nonthreatening as possible. Although, I’m not sure it says I promise I’m not a creep.
I’m pretty positive I hear a woman gasp in horror as she turns away from me, pulling the baby on her lap closer. Maybe my sister was right about me looking like a caveman. I’ll never admit that to her, though.
“Hey, Connor.” Alyssa walks out of the back of the salon and waves me over.
Finally. I rush toward her and sit in the chair at her station. She drapes a black cape around me, buttoning it at the back of my neck.
“It’s great to see you.” Alyssa smiles at me in the reflection of the mirror. “Mallory said you had a hair emergency?”
I frown. Of course, she did. “Not an emergency. Just need my hair cut and beard trimmed.”
“Well, that’ll be”—she runs her fingers through my hair, but they get stuck in the back—“easy.” The inflection in her voice makes it sound more like a question, and I don’t blame her.
I’m not sure I even own a brush. If I do, it’s somewhere long forgotten in a box from the move. “How much do you want cut off?”
“Like the way I used to wear it. Shorter. Easier to maintain, but still long enough up top—”
“To run your fingers through,” she finishes my thought. “You always used to do that, even back when we were kids.”
I nod. Alyssa carefully untangles her fingers and grabs a spray bottle, holding it up like it’s the answer to all her problems. She spritzes water all over my hair until I see little rivulets dropping down the front of the cape.
“How’s your new job? I haven’t seen you since you moved back.
” Alyssa runs a comb through my hair, tugging harder to get it through the worst knots, while I do my best not to wince.
“Well, except at the hospital.” She blows out a long breath.
“It’s crazy you already saved a life in your first week back, and it’s even crazier that it was someone you knew. ”
Alyssa is nice and all, but having one of my sister’s best friends cut my hair and ask me questions while I’m stuck in this chair isn’t my idea of fun. More like forced torture while wearing a cape. Her weapons of choice: hair shears, electric clippers, and an onslaught of questions.
“Good,” I mutter.
She reaches for the hair shears with a laugh. “I see you’re still a man of few words.” When I don’t respond, she continues. “I’m sure your mom is thrilled to have you back.”
I nod when she’s not making a cut. “That’s an understatement.”
Alyssa continues to snip away, clumps of my blond hair falling to the black floor. “If you don’t mind me asking, what made you move home?”
I’m quiet for so long that I’m sure she thinks I’m ignoring her.
In reality, I don’t know the full answer to her question.
It’s partly because I was tired of having everything Jillian said to me when she ended things dredged back up whenever I ran into her in town.
Also, my dad would call me just about every week, reminding me to call my mom because she was worrying about me.
Flying home during the holidays was also more expensive than I’d estimated, and definitely not a tradition I’d be able to uphold on a firefighter’s salary.
While I liked the peace and quiet whenever I wasn’t on shift, I never felt settled in Seattle.
Even if my family can be a bit much at times, I know their overeager involvement in my life is out of love, and I missed them. I missed home.
“I, um…” I let out a slow exhale, mulling over my answer. Trying to figure out how to not bungle my words.
“It’s okay.” She places her hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to tell me. Just know that everyone is happy to have you back.”
She stays blessedly quiet the rest of the time. Maybe she doesn’t know what to say, or she sensed my need for silence, but either way, I appreciate it.
“Okay, take a look and let me know what you think.” Alyssa spins my chair around, and I look in the mirror, seeing a younger version of myself.
She left my hair long enough for me to run my fingers through, but short enough that it’s no longer tickling the back of my neck.
It looks really good, honestly—better than my barber ever cut it.
I clear my throat. “Looks great. Thanks.”
“Great, I’ll just get it styled, and then we can figure out”—she gestures to my beard—“this whole situation.”
After she’s finished styling my freshly cut hair, Alyssa holds up her electric trimmer as she moves in front of me with a smile. “Now, time to clean up this beard.”