Charlotte
I'm sitting on the counter of the guest bathroom wearing Ryder's shirt and nothing else, watching him rip out the last of the ruined drywall, and I have never in my life found something so distracting.
“You're staring,” he says, without turning around.
“I'm supervising.”
“Uh huh.” He glances over his shoulder, and whatever he sees on my face makes one corner of his mouth tip up. “Keep looking at me like that and this bathroom's never getting finished.”
“That would be a real tragedy for my resale value.”
He laughs and goes back to prying a strip of soaked insulation away from the studs.
“So,” he says. “I've been thinking.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“I want to take you on a date. A real one. Not you standing around watching me demo your bathroom, and not whatever happened in that shower an hour ago, which I'm not complaining about, for the record.”
Warmth unfolds in my chest, unexpected and a little embarrassing in how much it excites me.
“There aren't exactly a lot of places to go in Forge Creek for a date,” he says.
I think about it for exactly two seconds. “Kincaid's.”
He stares at me like I've lost my mind. “Kincaid's?”
“Yeah.”
“You want to go to Kincaid's.”
“Can't a girl love a burger and a milkshake?”
“You lived in New York. You're telling me you had that city's entire restaurant scene, and what you actually want is a diner milkshake.”
“New York has incredible food. But nothing, and I mean nothing, beats a chocolate milkshake from Kincaid's.”
“Then we'll go tomorrow night.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I'll pick you up at seven.”
Kincaid's hasn't changed since I was in high school, which is either comforting or depressing, depending on the day. Same vinyl booths, cracked in the same places. Same menu.
Ryder reaches for my hand the second we step through the door, and I let him take it, feeling the thrill of it all the way up my arm. He notices me smiling and something in his own face shifts in response, like he wasn't entirely sure I'd let him.
We slide into a booth near the window. Marlene ambles over with two menus we don't need and an expression that is doing absolutely nothing to hide her interest in what she's looking at.
“Well, look at this,” she says, glancing between us like she's already composing the version of this story she'll tell at the register later. “What are we having?”
“Cheeseburger, no onions, and a chocolate milkshake,” I say. “Please.”
“Same,” Ryder says. “Extra crispy fries. Thanks, Marlene.”
Marlene writes it down slower than necessary, still glancing between us, and finally wanders off toward the kitchen, presumably to report her findings to whoever's back there listening.
“We're going to be the talk of the whole town by morning,” I say.
“I think we already are.”
The door swings open a few minutes later, and I watch Ryder's whole posture change before I even turn to see who it is.
Eddie “Wrench” Morales. Everyone in Forge Creek knows Wrench, owner of Callahan Auto, and the man whose house Ryder broke into all those years ago, the reason for the arrest that sent him to juvie in the first place.
Eddie's eyes land on Ryder for exactly one second. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't nod. He just slides into a booth on the far side of the diner and leans over to say something to Marlene when she comes by.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Ryder's jaw is tight, and his eyes stay fixed on the table for a second before he manages to look back at me. “Just never stops being awkward, I guess.”
“You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.”
“No, it's fine.” He exhales, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders. “I've spent years trying to better myself. Doesn't matter how much I change. To Eddie, and probably half this town, I'm always going to be the kid who broke into his house.”
“That's not fair to you.”
“Maybe not. But I get it.” He glances toward Eddie's booth, quick, before looking back at me.
“My own dad never really forgave me either. Died a few years back still thinking I was gonna end up right back where I started. Guess some people just decide who you are once and never bother updating the file.”
“I'm sorry,” I say.
Before I can say anything else, the door swings open again, and a woman I recognize instantly beelines straight for our booth.
“Oh my God. Charlotte Hayes?” Kristen Abbott, who sat two seats behind me in AP Chemistry and once told the entire junior class I cried during a pop quiz, which I absolutely did not. “I heard you were back in town.”
“Hi, Kristen.”
Her eyes flick to Ryder, then back to me, delighted in the specific way that means this is going straight into a group chat. “What are you doing with him?”
“We're on a date,” I say, more sharply than I need to, mostly because the question annoys me.
“Oh. So why'd you leave New York, anyway?”
Marlene arrives at that exact moment with our food, sliding the plates onto the table with a knowing look at Kristen that suggests even she thinks this is overstepping.
“It's complicated,” I say.
“Come on, everybody already has theories.”
“Our food's getting cold,” Ryder says with an edge underneath it that makes it very clear this isn't actually a request. “If you don't mind.”
Kristen's mouth tightens, clearly not used to being dismissed. She walks away with a huff.
“Thanks,” I say, once she's out of earshot.
“Did it for the fries. They get sad when they sit too long.” He steals one off my plate, and I laugh.
We eat for a minute in comfortable silence, and then he sets down his burger.
“Why did you leave New York, though? For real. You don't have to tell me, but I'd like to know.”
I take a breath, because I've given the shorthand version of this story to so many people since I got back that I've almost forgotten what the full version sounds like out loud.
“I was engaged. His name is Daniel. About three months ago he decided that he wanted something different. Someone different, apparently, since he was already seeing a coworker.”
“I’m sorry. What an idiot that guy is.”
“It's fine. Or it's getting there.” I push a fry around my plate.
“And then, almost right after that, the private school I taught at back in Brooklyn had budget cuts.
My position got eliminated. Not performance related, they were very clear about that part, but it didn't matter much once I was standing there with a broken engagement and a lease I couldn't afford on my own.”
“That's a lot to have happen at once.”
“It really was.” I glance up at him. “But honestly, I don't think it was even the breakup or the job that got to me the most. It was the idea of saying out loud that I failed.
New York is so expensive, and I didn't want to be around Daniel flaunting his new relationship all over, and my mom had been guilting me to move back here for years anyway. When the teaching position opened up at Forge Creek, it just felt like the best option, so I took it.”
“How do you feel about it now?”
“At first it felt like the biggest mistake of my life.
Like I'd failed so completely that the universe sent me back to the one place I swore I'd never live again, just to really drive the point home.” I look at him, feeling something warm and a little reckless move through my heart.
“But lately, now that I've reconnected with you, maybe it's not so bad.”
“Not so bad, huh.” His mouth curves into a satisfied grin.
“Don't let it go to your head.”
“Too late.”
He reaches across the table and steals another fry, and I let him, while a diner full of curious eyes keep watch.
“Everyone's staring,” I say, glancing around at the handful of tables clearly not paying attention to their own food.
“Let them.” He nudges my foot under the table with his. “Not so bad, remember?”
“Not so bad,” I agree, smiling.
By the time Marlene comes back to clear our plates, most of the diner has stopped pretending not to watch us, and Kristen is very obviously typing something on her phone from her booth across the room.
I find, surprisingly, that I don't care.
There's something almost funny about it now, being the evening's entertainment in a town that's whispering about both of us separately, only to end up whispering about the two of us together.
“You want dessert?” Ryder asks.
“I feel like I should say no on principle, because I've had a milkshake already, but I've also had a very long month, so.”
“So yes.”
“So yes.”
He waves Marlene back over and orders a slice of marionberry pie with two forks, and when it arrives he pushes it toward the middle of the table instead of keeping it to himself, letting me take the first bite before he even picks up his fork.
It's a small thing, but after my last relationship, there's something overwhelming about a man who saves you the first bite without even being asked.
“Good?” he asks.
“Really good.”
He finally digs in himself, and for a while neither of us says much of anything, just trading bites of pie while half of Forge Creek pretends not to watch.
We pull up in front of my house a little after nine. Ryder puts the truck in park but doesn’t shut off the engine right away. Neither of us moves.
“I had a really good time,” I say.
“Yeah. Me too.”
He kills the engine. I reach for the door handle, but he’s already out and walking around to my side. He opens the door for me and I step down.
We walk up the path together. At the front door I dig for my keys. When I finally get the key in the lock I turn to say goodnight, and that’s when he kisses me.
It starts soft. Just the press of his mouth against mine. I lean in and the soft edge disappears. His hand comes up to cup the side of my face, and the kiss deepens until I’m pressed back against the door and my keys are dangling forgotten from my fingers.
When we break apart, we’re both breathing harder.
“Come inside,” I whisper.
He follows me in. I close and lock the door behind us. For a second we just stand there in the dark entryway looking at each other. Then he steps closer, frames my face with both hands, and kisses me again.