Chapter Five
Roman
Roman,
I have business to attend to and your mother is travelling so I’ve arranged for you to stay with the Fords again over Christmas.
Regards,
Richard Banks
- Email to Roman, age 16, from his father
The hardware store is right in the center of Main Street nestled between Tea’s Bookshop and the red bricked town hall.
I park at the curb, nodding back as Tea waves at me from inside her shop.
I’ve spent so much time in that store, scouring the non-fiction shelves, Tea’s taken to leaving a book she thinks I’ll like behind the desk for me each week.
This week’s read is on how plants communicate with each other.
So far, they seem to be better at it than people.
Lola climbs out of the truck and stretches up on tiptoes to rifle through one of the pockets in her backpack. She finds what she’s looking for and steps back, a sparkle in her eye and a set of keys in her hand.
I lean against the truck and cross my arms, letting her have this moment.
The door has seen better days, more gray now than white, and the glass windows are boarded up, but Lola runs her fingers over the flaking paint like it’s pure gold. She slides the key into the lock, joy lighting her face as it turns, and the door opens with the ring of a bell.
I find myself smiling, just happy to be an observer, but when she looks over her shoulder at me, my heart flips.
“You coming in?” she asks.
I push away from the truck. Stand up straight. “Do you want me to?”
She lifts a shoulder. “Hey, you signed yourself up to carry my bags. But if you’ve changed your mind, I’m sure I can get some other guy to help me out. I find most people will do anything if you offer to show them your—”
“Careful, Lola.” I step forward, narrowing my eyes at her until she hides her smile, her eyes gleaming.
Before she can say anything else I turn back to the truck and lift out both her bags in one go.
I don’t need to, but I can, and the caveman part of me likes it when Lola’s gaze gets caught on the way my muscles flex.
Days of working outside has turned me from the sleek businessman my father wishes I was into the country farmhand I feel at heart.
I flash her a knowing smirk and Lola blinks before fixing her gaze firmly past my shoulder as she holds open the door for me.
The place is half gutted, most of the shelves that were in here before are gone or stacked up against the wall and the large glass panes at the front of the shop are covered with a thick layer of dust. Shards of a formerly ceramic something crunch under my foot as I move farther into the space.
It’s going to take a lot of work to turn this into a coffee shop, but Lola doesn’t look fazed. In fact, she’s humming with excitement.
“Come on, let me show you upstairs.”
I don’t think I even knew there was an upstairs. Lola leads me behind the beaten-up counter and through a door that opens onto a set of narrow stairs. I hike the backpack onto my shoulder and carry the case up in front of me.
I thought the shop was in bad condition, but when Lola opens the door at the top of the stairs it takes all my restraint not to drive her back to her parents’.
No, scratch that, they don’t deserve her right now, I’ll take her back to my place.
Anywhere but this shithole of a room that I’m pretty sure Lola’s about to tell me is her new apartment.
She takes her backpack from my numb grasp and places it on the bed, or what would be the bed if it wasn’t stacked high with left over stock from the hardware store. Jesus, it’s not even covered with a dust sheet.
The rest of the space is no better. Flat packed shelves stacked against the walls, surfaces littered with cords, and tools overflowing from damp cardboard boxes and plastic containers. I have to shove what looks like a computer from the 80’s out of the way just to put down Lola’s case.
She must read the dismay on my face because her smile wavers.
She points a purple nailed finger at me.
“Don’t even. It just needs a bit of a spruce.
Gregor used it as a storage room, but it used to be an apartment.
It’s all hooked up to the water and electrics.
” She flicks a switch and a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling flickers to life. “See?”
I shake my head. “You’re not living here.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Lola—”
She rolls her eyes and gets to work uncovering what I think is a sink from under piles of debris.
“Relax, Roman. Just because you’re a neat freak it doesn’t mean we all are.
You should have seen some of the hostels I stayed in while traveling.
One place had literal vomit on the walls.
And then there was the time I stayed in this guy’s bike shed because my booking fell through.
Trust me, compared to that, this is a palace. ”
I may like things ordered but this place is no palace. “Little tip, Firebird, listing off all the dangerous situations you’ve put yourself in isn’t making me more inclined to leave you here.”
She goes still for a moment, but then she cocks her head at me, sparks playing in her eyes. “Huh, funny. It’s like you’re imagining you have any say at all in what I do.”
I work my jaw, holding back a smile. How can her sass make me simultaneously want to spank her ass and cheer her on?
I sigh. As much as I don’t want Lola staying here, I can’t bring myself to ruin this for her, so I get to work lifting the heavier items off the bed.
“You don’t have to do that.”
I lean a stack of shelves up against the wall and dust off my hands. “I signed up for the heavy lifting, remember?”
Lola crosses her arms. I can practically sense her independence bristling.
“Fine. But just the heavy stuff then you go. I knew what I was signing up for. I’m not out of my depth here.
” Sparks ricochet. The words are defensive but her eyes glisten and the way she folds her arms over her chest feels like she’s holding herself together.
“I know.” I wait till her eyes find mine. “Mase and your parents, they shouldn’t have said what they did.”
Lola lifts one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug, her gaze turning playful. “At least they didn’t send me halfway across the world to get rid of me.”
Laughter huffs out of me. “Yeah, there is that.” I’ve made no secret over the years of how I feel about my parents.
Part of me wishes they’d loved me enough to keep me at home but then I wouldn’t have met the Fords.
I might never have stepped foot in Pine Rock, the place I now call home. Might never have met Lola.
She tugs on the worn strap of her backpack, rubbing her thumb over the material before lifting it off the bed.
“I guess I did the going halfway across the world bit all by myself.” She takes the backpack over to the corner then grabs one end of an old door.
I take the other end and we lift the door off the bed, moving it over to the far side of the room.
I straighten up and wave my finger in a circle. “So does all this mean you’re done with the traveling?”
Lola nods. “Yeah. I mean there’re still places I want to see, it’s hard to shake the traveling bug but I’ve been dreaming of this for years now. Did you know Black Ivory coffee is made from beans passed through an elephant’s digestive system?”
I blink. “That’s… disgusting.”
She laughs, and the sound rolls through me. “I know right. Costs three thousand dollars per kilogram and tastes like it.”
I’ve never met anyone as passionate about the things they love as Lola is and I decide I could listen to her tell me weird facts about coffee for days.
We keep moving boxes as we talk, pushing everything to the very edge of the room in an attempt to make the rest of the space habitable.
Eventually the bed is clear aside from the iron headboard lying flat on the mattress.
We stand on either side of the bed and each grab one end.
“So why now?” I ask as we slot the headboard into place.
The metal feet clunk against the worn wooden floor.
Lola shrugs and turns her back on me. “I got scared and I wanted to come home.”
The little hairs on my arms prick and I narrow my gaze as she picks up a box from the floor and rounds the bed.
I reach out, stopping her with a hand on her bicep. She has a bracelet clasped just above her elbow and my little finger traces the gold band.
Lola goes still.
“Scared of what?”
One of the purple strands has fallen loose from her ponytail and she glances up at me from behind it, a teasing smile on her lips. “You going to offer to beat up the sea for me, Roman?”
I remember doing just that when we were younger but I’m not about to let her distract me so easily. “Scared. Of. What. Lola?”
She chews on her lip, her gaze dropping to the scuffed-up floorboards. She pulls away from my hold and puts the box down. “Some guy attacked me.”
My chest heaves and she holds up her hands. “I’m fine. It was fine. My friend pulled him off before he could do anything.” Her shoulders drop. “Honestly that was the scariest part, Scott went ape shit on the guy, I thought he was going to kill him.”
“He would have deserved it,” I bite out through gritted teeth.
Her hands settle on my shirt, and I realize I’m shaking. “I’m okay, Roman. I’m really okay.”
The pulse in her neck flutters. I draw my gaze away from her soft skin and pull her into my arms. “God, Lola.” Forget beating up the ocean, I want to beat up the whole world for the things it’s done to Lola.
The trauma it’s put her through. But Lola’s a fighter and I hold on to that like I’m holding on to her.
Mase and I were prepared for her to break after what happened on her eighteenth and maybe she did, in her own way, but Lola packed her bags and took the world by storm.
I bring my hand to the nape of her neck and for a moment we just exist together, the echo of her heart beating against my chest.
When she pulls back, her fingers curl a little around my checked shirt. I don’t move my hand. My thumb brushes over the baby hairs at the back of her neck and she shudders.
The weight of what could be hangs in the room until Lola’s phone pings. She jerks away from me, and I screw my hand up into a fist, scolding myself for even daring to want what I can’t have.
Lola checks her phone. “It’s Scott.”
I squeeze my fist harder. “Scott, the guy you were traveling with?”
Lola nods and I bite my tongue hard enough to taste iron. I don’t like the idea of her out there with some other guy but if he hadn’t been there, Lola could have been hurt all over again.
I breathe through my nose and tell myself that she’s okay. That she’s home now and Scott is still halfway across the world.
Lola looks up at me. Tucks a purple strand behind her ear. She glances around the room. “Well, thanks again for your help. I, uh, officially relieve you of your heavy lifting duties.”
The space still looks more like a fly tipping spot than an apartment but the bed’s clear and I don’t have any more excuses to stay. “Make sure you lock up after me.”
Lola grabs the keys off the side and spins them around her finger. “I’ll even blockade the door.”
I chuckle under my breath, forcing myself to go down the stairs and leave the shop before my body convinces my mind to never leave Lola’s side.
I go through the list of why we can’t be together in my head, like I do every time we say goodbye. She’s too young for you. She’s your best friend’s little sister. You’re the reason she got hurt.
I climb into my pickup, my limbs moving on autopilot as I try not to think about how I’m not sure any of those reasons are enough to hold me back.
Not when she’s right here.
Not when I can still feel her nails scraping my chest.
Not when she looks at me like me believing in her gives her life.