Chapter 25
Hayes
My phone dings with an incoming text, and I peek one eye open to look at it.
We lost another game last night.
The varsity team stood murderous on the sideline while they watched the younger team play their game. I don’t think they took me seriously until they stepped onto the sideline to play last night, and I stuck to my word.
Then, this morning, Tanner didn’t show up for our practice.
MJ was devastated when the kid didn’t show, but I told her he was probably licking his wounds from our loss—at least, I hope that’s what it was.
I’m still not sure I’m doing the right thing—leading them in a direction that helps them. I feel like I’m grasping at straws and praying it works–only I’m not praying.
It’s not from lack of trying, either. Since that day on the football field, I’ve tried over and over. But the words won’t come.
Silas says I’m worthy of redemption, but it doesn’t feel that way.
The stress of this team is piling up, and it feels like I’m one mistake away from ruining someone’s life again—especially Tanner’s.
The team needs a leader, and I’d hoped that by helping Tanner, he might turn out to be that leader—but after the game last night and his absence this morning, I’m not so sure.
MJ’s name pops up on my screen, and I swipe my thumb across it to read the text. It’s been a week since she declared we should be friends, and I would say that, at least, is going pretty well—besides the fact that each time I’ve been in her presence, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss we shared—or all the things she’s not telling me.
What loss did she suffer that sent her running back here when she vowed to never come back again? Did she have to deal with it alone?
The never-ending questions have me tugging at my hair, pulling hard enough that my scalp aches, but at least for a moment, the pain distracts me from the regret I have for not chasing her down when she left.
She spent six years on her own. What did she have to face with no one there to stand beside her?
MJ: Would you like to take a break from sulking about your loss and do something fun with me?
Hayes: I’m not sulking.
MJ: *side eye
Hayes: Aren’t you the one who told me about emojis?
MJ: I was trying to use the language of your people—the elderly. Anyway, you’re getting distracted. Focus on the question.
Hayes: What do you constitute as fun?
MJ: Furniture shopping.
Hayes: Do you need to look up the definition of fun?
MJ: It’s with me so that automatically makes it fun.
Hayes: Fine. I’m in.
Twenty minutes later, I’m pulling up to the Harrison household, and MJ is waiting for me outside. I nearly swallow my tongue at the sight. It’s impossible not to think about kissing her when she looks like every dream I’ve ever had. She’s wearing cut-off jeans and a baggy t-shirt. Her auburn hair flows down her back, the red brighter in the sun. When she sees me pulling in, she waves her hand excitedly like I could miss her standing there. The woman doesn’t realize it, but she would be impossible to miss from space.
Pulling to a stop, I lean over and push open the passenger side door for her. I debated getting out and opening the door for her for all of two seconds before I realized that she wouldn’t wait for me—her impatience wouldn’t let her. So, I settled for the next best thing.
When the door is open, and she can hear me, I say, “If I’d known you were this excited to hang out with me, I wouldn’t have let you leave practice earlier.”
She climbs up in the truck, shoving her purse in the passenger seat and sliding over to the middle bench seat before punching me in the arm.
“Shut up and drive, old man.”
“You’ve really got to stop with the old man stuff, MJ. You’re killing my ego.” I throw her a wicked smile, and her laugh fills the air. The sound is whimsical, and I wonder how I’ve survived the last six years without hearing it.
“Somehow, Hayes, I think your ego will survive.”
She reaches forward, flipping on the radio. An old voice croons through the speakers, taking me back to the first time MJ sat in my truck, only that time she sat as far away from me as she could. Now she’s tucked in beside me, our thighs brushing against one another as she sings along with the song.
A different image flashes through my mind—this time, one of the future. One where life was different, Langston is still alive, and I’m married to the woman beside me. That’s the future I’d dreamed of having in the house I’m in.
“Where did you go?” MJ asks, slapping my leg and pulling me back to the present.
I shrug, “Just thinking.”
“Well, try not to do it so loudly. You’re giving me a headache.”
The dimple on her cheek dips in, and I can’t resist poking it with my finger. She swats my hand away.
“You’re a brat. Do you know that?”
Her smile grows more prominent. “Never claimed to be anything else.”
The furniture store is in the next town over, and it takes thirty minutes of driving time to get there. By the time we arrive, I’m on the edge of losing my mind from the amount of times MJ’s leg has brushed against mine. I had to grit my teeth and tell myself to breathe at least ten times so I didn’t pull the truck over and get a taste of her lips one more time.
We pull into a parking space, and MJ hops out on the other side, apparently not as affected by our closeness as I was. I take a minute to gain control before slinging my door open and joining her in the sunshine.
“Do you know what you’re looking for?” I ask, falling into step with her as she walks towards the store.
“Mostly just a bed to start with. If I find a good deal on a couch, I’ll take it, but it’s not necessary right now, especially because I’m not sure if they will deliver.”
“I see now. You only invited me for my truck.” I mean it as a joke, but MJ must think I’m serious because she places her hand on my arm, pulling me to a stop.
Once I’m facing her, she says, “No, Hayes. I invited you because I’ve missed being your friend.”
The moment stabs into the light mood that was between us, shredding it to pieces. It’s the second time she’s told me she missed me, and just like the first time, a flame of hope burns in my chest. But as quick as it burns, I douse it, preventing it from turning into an all-out wildfire of hope. I can’t afford it.
If I’m going to manage to be just friends with this woman, I desperately need that joking mood back, so I wrap my arm around her head and pull her along with me, walking as I say, “Yeah, yeah. I’ve missed you too.”
She’s still giggling when we walk through the doors side by side.
But as the doors slide closed behind us, she stops, pulling me tighter to her side. Her muscles tense beneath my arm. I tilt my head to where she’s staring straight ahead, confused by the apprehension marring her brow.
A man stands with his back to us. I can’t tell much about him from where we are standing besides the fact that he’s tall and has dark hair, but MJ seems to know him—and their interaction must not have been pleasant based on the way she’s tugging on my waist, leading me in the opposite direction.
I let her pull me away, my body on edge. I don’t know how she knows the man, but if he did something to her—made her feel anything less than comfortable—I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk out of this store without ripping him limb for limb.
“Who is that?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm. If MJ notices the undercurrent of anger burning on her behalf, she won’t answer my question. She’s too independent.
But I’ve watched her take care of herself and everyone else her whole life. It’s past time someone took care of her—even if it’s just as a friend, putting men into their place so they treat her the way she deserves.
Her smile is bright—too bright—when she shakes her head. “Nothing. Just a guy I met when I came back to town. Mom says he’s one of the new firefighters.”
My brow furrows, and I offer a non-committal “Hmm.”
As an officer, we work pretty closely with the fire department on some of our calls, especially wrecks. For years, I’ve been able to tell you every guy that worked there. But the fire chief retired recently, and I heard a new guy was coming in from out of town. I haven’t had the chance to meet him yet, but if the way MJ glared at the back of his head is any indication, I’m not sure I’ll like him.
Although, I’m pretty sure MJ was glaring at me like that the day she came back into town, too, so really, who am I to judge?
With her arm still around my waist and mine slung around her shoulders, we take a right toward the mattresses. I hold my breath, praying she doesn’t realize she’s still letting me hold her because as soon as she does, she’ll pull away, and I’ve missed the way her shampoo fills my lungs with each step we take.
I might savor the moments I can rile her up and watch the heat creep up her neck into her eyes, but I’m also lost to moments like this, too—moments where I can bask in just the quietness of her presence. It’s moments like this that I made myself believe I didn’t deserve. I still don’t know that I deserve them, but MJ does. She deserves all the moments that leave her with that soft smile she’s wearing on her lips as we walk.
“What does ‘hmm’ mean?” MJ asks, pulling away just enough to let me see all of her face. I tighten my hold on her shoulders, afraid that she’s pulling away, but she stays right where she is, a constant weight in my arms that feels right.
“Nothing. Just hmm,” I say, pleading innocence.
Her brows flatten. “Don’t pretend I don’t know what every single one of your grunts means. I learned to translate barbarian a long time ago.”
My lips tick up.
“Fine. Tell me what happened when you met him to make you look at him like he is enemy number one when I’m the man usually holding that title.”
MJ throws her head back, her hair tickling my arm as it falls down her back, and laughs. I could spend a hundred lifetimes watching her like this.
“First, you’ve never been my enemy—gotten on my last nerve? Sure. My enemy? Never. Not even when you broke my heart.”
Her words aren’t sharp. They are filled with the laughter that bubbled out of her seconds before, but they pierce my skin anyway.
Dipping my head, I meet her gaze, and in it, I see a lifetime of disappointment hidden behind a woman who had to learn to be strong for herself. “I would have rather ripped my own heart out than to have broken yours. I’m sorry I was so lost in my guilt and grief that I let you slip through my fingers.”
Her hand finds the scruff on my cheek, fingernails scraping against my skin. I close my eyes, getting lost in this feeling—getting lost in her.
“I was lost too, Hayes. I still am. But I’m not too blind to realize I broke you, too. We both made mistakes, but I’m glad we can be friends.”
I hide my wince behind a smile.
Friends.
I hate that word, but if it’s all she can ever offer me, I’ll gladly take it just to keep her in my life.
“Are you avoiding the question?” I ask, poking her in the ribs to ease some of the pain in my chest that word inflicts.
She smiles again. “Maybe.”
Before she realizes what’s happening, I spin her so her chest is pressed against mine. My hand stays on her lower back as I dip her back, my nose grazing hers. Her gasp is like music to my ears, so I repeat the motion just so I can hear it again.
“What about now? Are you going to avoid the question now?” I ask, and everywhere my breath fans over her face, goosebumps appear.
Fire and light and laughter all dance in her eyes.
Her lips tilt up in a mischievous smirk. Her chest rises, brushing against me as she starts to answer, but a male voice interrupts.
“Well, isn’t this a cozy scene?”
MJ is still dipped in my arms, both my arms wrapped around her when I lift my head to take in the interruption.
The man from earlier stands at the front of the aisle, and when I meet his stare, he smirks at me. My jaw locks.
“Here I was thinking we had something special, darlin’,” the guy says, winking at MJ.
My nostrils flare as I lift MJ so she’s standing upright and tuck her to my side. I never let my gaze leave the man in front of me as I place a chaste kiss on her cheek.
It’s stupid, staking a claim on a girl that isn’t mine, but there’s an invisible string pulling me to her. She leans in close to me, the heat of her skin seeping under my shirt, right over the tattoo of her name.
“Seeing as we didn’t even exchange names last time we met, I don’t think you’ll be too heartbroken,” MJ says, her temper bubbling just below the surface.
“Theo,” he says, sticking his hand out. “But I already know your name.”
I step forward, offering him mine instead of MJ’s. “Well, the women of Benton Falls do like to gossip. But don’t believe all the rumors you hear about me.”
I’m not stupid. I know he was talking to MJ, but I hate how he presumes to know her because he knows her last name.
His smirk falls, and he reluctantly slides his attention away from MJ to me. His gaze is sharp, assessing—a competitor sizing up their competition.
MJ’s hand slides around my bicep, and it’s pure male pride that causes my chest to puff out. She may not be mine, but she’ll at least let this guy think she is.
Theo watches the movement, his dark eyes revealing nothing.
“Can’t say that I’ve heard any of them.”
I shake my head. “Such a shame then because the only way you’ll get to know MJ here is if you get to know me first.”
Theo’s eyes narrow, his lips pulling back to show his white teeth. “I think she can decide for herself. If what I hear is true, she’s quite—feisty.”
“You’re right, I am.” MJ looks bored, checking her nails as she speaks to him, but the way her hand tightens on my arm says otherwise. “But let’s be honest, you probably couldn’t handle me.”
His lips pull back more, revealing more of his teeth. He’s enjoying this game—this chase he thinks he will win—but I’ve played this game with MJ. She will shred him to pieces.
“We’ll see,” Theo says, then turns to me. “May the better man win.”
My fingers curl into fists, and if it weren’t for MJ’s hand on my arm, holding onto me, I would have decked the guy.
With one final wink at MJ and a salute to me, Theo saunters off, not bothering to look back.
MJ’s hand falls from my arm. The good mood from before Theo showed up dissipated.
“Come on,” MJ says, keeping distance between us. “Let’s go find my furniture. I’m ready to go home.”
“Don’t let him get to you, MJ,” I say, reaching for her arm, but she pulls it away, tucking it behind her.
With a shrug, she says, “I’m tired of people assuming they know me because of my last name. But I knew what I was getting into when I moved back here. I knew that the identity I have fought tooth and nail for would disappear when I set foot back in this town.”
“That’s not true.”
Another shrug. “Isn’t it?”
“No, MJ, it isn’t. Do you want me to tell you what I see when I look at you?”
Her fingers tap against her leg, just below where her shorts meet smooth skin. I take one step toward her, but she retreats. It’s a game of cat and mouse, but she underestimates my need to catch her.
Another step forward, and her back is against the shelf with nowhere for her to go. I rest my hand on the metal behind her shoulder, trapping her in so she has to hear what I have to say.
“I see a woman who had to overcome a tragedy but never crumbled under it. I see someone who cares about the people in her life so much she’s willing to lose herself in helping them. You’re someone who fought to find the person you wanted to be after that tragedy nearly knocked you down. You’re smart, and kind, and beautiful. You’re all those things—the only thing I can’t say is that you’re mine. But one day, MJ,” I say, leaning forward so our mouths are a hairsbreadth apart. “One day, I want to be able to say that too.”
Her eyes flash, confusion and gratitude swimming in the blue pools of her irises. With what little self-control I have left, I shove off the shelf, giving her space to breathe and take in what I said.
Clapping my hands together, as if I didn’t just lay all my cards on the table, I grin down at her. “What kind of mattress are we shopping for today?”
______________________
After spending three hours furniture shopping with MJ, I’m surprised I’m not bald.
The woman couldn’t make up her mind to save her life.
We are in the truck on our way back and pretending that earlier didn’t happen. After Theo left and I dropped my little truth bomb on her, we went back to shopping, and she shoved me squarely back into the friend zone.
I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t sting.
Now she’s pressed against my side, just like on the way here, and her voice floats through the air, singing along to whatever song comes on the radio.
I have one hand on the steering wheel, and the other is slung across the back of the seat, gleaning any closeness I can gain with the excuse of the confines of my truck.
One song ends, and another begins when MJ leans forward, turning the knob and shutting off the music. She turns her body toward me, lifting her legs and tucking them beneath her so that her knees rest on my upper thighs.
It’s a dangerous move because I’m entranced with the smoothness of her skin and the way her tan looks darker against the light denim shorts she’s wearing.
MJ clears her throat, and I realize I’ve been staring, so I flick my eyes back to the road, still taking short glimpses out of the corner of my eye.
There’s a smile playing on MJ’s lips. She knows exactly what she’s doing. With the hand lying across the back of the seat, I reach forward and pinch her shoulder. Laughing, she shoves it away.
“I was thinking,” she says.
“That’s dangerous.”
She flicks my earlobe, and I grab it, pretending it hurts.
“Shush and listen to me.” I press my lips together, and she continues, “If we’re going to be friends, I think I should get to know where you live since you know where I’m going to live.”
I nearly choke on my tongue. This was not what I expected. I’m not trying to hide where I live, but—I don’t think she’ll be happy when she finds out, and not just because it’s close to her either.
“Uh—don’t you need to get back and pack?”
“Nope. I’ve already done it.”
“Oh—” It’s not much of a response, but I don’t know what else to say. Our friendship is new—breakable. If I show her my home, will the pieces that we’ve managed to put back together shatter?
She dips her head, heat creeping up her neck. “I mean, if you don’t want to show me, that’s fine. I just thought—”
Her legs start to pull away from mine as she scoots to the other side of the truck, but I lay my hand on her thigh, stopping her. Her tanned skin is a contrast to the callouses on my hand.
Smooth and rough.
Sweet and grumpy.
It’s the distinction between us that has me coming back for more over and over again.
Her eyes linger on where my hand rests on her legs.
“Don’t pull away.”
“I’m not.” The words are whispered—scared.
“Yes, you are. That’s what you do. You pull away when you’re scared of putting yourself out there. But I’m right here, MJ. I’ve wanted you to see my house since the day I bought it. But—I need you to promise this won’t change anything. I don’t want to go back to a time when I don’t have you in my life. You might drive me crazy, but I must be glutton for punishment because I love every minute of it.”
She lifts her head to meet my stare, searching for the lie. I keep my eyes on the road but turn my head so she can see my face.
“Do you really think we can do this? Be real friends?”
I shrug. “We both feel guilty for Langston’s death—we might as well face it together. As long as you don’t black my eye again, I don’t see why we can’t.”
Rolling her eyes, she smacks my chest. I won’t tell her how much she looks like her mom when she does that. She might smack me harder, so I smile and enjoy the ride to my house, hoping she understands when she gets there.