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I laugh a little. I suppose I could see it like that. A rebound screw that’s come years too late. ‘Yeah.’
‘I better get back.’ Molly takes a few sips of her tea before swilling her mug and setting it on the drainer.
‘Sorry it was a wasted sprint,’ I quip lightly, and she laughs, going back through to the shop and collecting her bag.
She looks back at me, her grin poorly hidden. ‘I have a feeling this isn’t the end of you and Ryan.’
‘Trust me, it’s the end.’
‘If you say so.’ She waltzes out and I follow, standing on the street, pondering what to do with the rest of my day. I see Mrs Hatt head into the shop and Father Fitzroy wandering down the high street. I smile as I watch him, now familiar with his daily routine. It’s one thirty. Time for his lunchtime pint of ale.
‘Mind your feet.’ A broom hits my ankles, and I jump out of the way of Cyrus as he sweeps past me.
‘Afternoon,’ I say, dipping and collecting a sweet wrapper that he’s missed. I drop it in the bin on his cart and dust my hands off. ‘Ever thought about getting into painting, Cyrus?’
‘And why would I do that?’
‘Something different.’
‘I like what I like. Have done for years. Not much call for change around these parts.’ He slips his broom into the cart and pushes it into the road. ‘Good day to you, miss.’
‘Good day, Cy—’ My goodbye is cut short when I see a truck at the top of the high street. Ryan’s truck. Heading this way. ‘Shit.’ I dive into my shop and slam the door, quickly locking it and running out the back. It’s only when I’m on my way up the stairs to my apartment that I wonder what on earth I’m doing. Avoiding him? That’s assuming I was his intended destination, and why would I be? Surely he’s avoiding me.
I go to the window and look past the curtain, seeing him pull into one of the bays outside the shop. Alex jumps out first and runs into Mrs Heaven’s café, and then Ryan appears. My face bunches in disgust. Just look at him, all outdoorsy and hot as sin in his ripped jeans and shirt. Wait, I recognize that shirt. It’s the one he wrestled me into this morning and buttoned up all wrong. Why’s he wearing that shirt in particular?
He wanders around the front of his truck, heading in the direction of the café, following his daughter. Then he stops and looks down the street toward my shop. My heart begins to pound, getting faster every second he remains a statue, staring this way, until he continues on to the café and I start breathing again. But then he slows to a stop, reverses his steps, and turns, stalking down the street. I can’t see his expression, but his pace tells me he’s determined. Determined to do what?
He reaches the shop door and tugs on the handle a few times before stepping back and looking up, and I quickly dive away from the window, my stupid heart back to pounding, my stomach performing cartwheels. I hear him trying the door again.
‘I’m closed,’ I mumble, inching forward a little and craning my neck to see him. He’s just standing there, staring at the shop front. ‘Go away,’ I order quietly, and as if he has heard me, he starts up the street again, looking back a few times as he goes.
I deflate and take a seat on the couch. And now what will I do with myself?Chapter 14RYAN
She’s avoiding me. It’s now Saturday, and it’s been nearly three days since I saw her. I’ve been to her shop every day twice a day and each time it’s been closed. I asked Molly when I saw her in the café yesterday if she’d seen Hannah, and all I got was a shake of her head before she scuttled off with her blueberry muffin. I didn’t believe her. Everything about her behavior was shifty.
What’s going on?
Has Hannah had a change of heart? Has she decided a man with a kid isn’t for her? Or is she truly going to let her trust issues get in the way? I don’t know, but I can’t stop thinking about her. Every second of every damn day, she’s on my mind.
Alex and I have been busy; I’ve made sure of it, but it hasn’t helped. We’ve nearly finished the bridge; all that’s left to be done is paint it, and we’ve also fixed Hannah’s bike. I listened to Alex rattle on the whole time about Hannah and how cool she is, and all I could do was offer the odd hum or one-word answer. Hearing my girl sing Hannah’s praises at every opportunity only cemented my previous worry. It isn’t just my heart on the line here, and given Hannah’s apparent flightiness, it’s probably a good thing it ended when it did, not that I knew it had ended. I’m a big boy. I can take rejection. But I can’t expose Alex to it.
