Page 10 of Last Slice of Pie

“I would say it’s nice to see you, but I’m not so sure yet.” She smirks a little.

“I guess that’s fair.”

We stare at each other for a beat longer until her eyes flit to the table, travel over the homemade barbecue sauce someone brought me, and land on the glossy eight-by-ten photos of me in action throwing the ball. She reaches down and slides one toward me to sign, so I uncap the marker and slash my autograph across it. I pick it up, our eyes meeting and holding again as she takes it from me and hugs it to her chest.

“So, yeah, speaking of James . . . if you hurt her again, I’ll be sure to tell him, and this right here”—she taps the back of the photo—“it will look lovely on the dartboard at The Roundup.”

With that she gives me one more smile, albeit a sarcastic one, and then saunters off.

All I hear echoing through my mind is the word ‘again’.

Again.

Damn, she hit mark, and I’m not sure she even knows it.

Hearing that word felt like being struck in the chest with a rock from a slingshot, and the discomfort lingers with me long after the last person walks through the line to meet me, while I pack up and say my farewells, and as I climb into my truck to drive the familiar path back to the house of my childhood.

What did she mean by ‘again’?

It could be a number of things. So many times I’ve imagined what seeing Lexi again would be like, but that one word makes me acutely aware that this may not go like I want it to.

Well, no turning back now.

The town looks good, not that I didn’t think it would, but it looks well-loved over the last ten years and not run-down in the slightest.

Over and over, I pass places I had forgotten about, smiling at the memories that come flooding back. From the diner to the coffee shop, the post office, and even the urgent care, all of them have stories to tell, and I realize all of my stories have Lexi in them.

Letting out a deep breath, I shake my head.

I am an idiot.

I’ve known this for years, but she knows me, too, and she has to know why it’s been this way. If anyone will understand, it’s going to be her.

Pulling onto the driveway, I stop at the entrance to scan the property and immediately spot changes. Most noticeable is that the driveway is now lined with a split rail fence, and it’s covered in a green leafy vine I’m certain is honeysuckle or jasmine. I saw she sells honey on her website for Firefly Kitchen, so I’m not surprised she would plant this.

As I roll down the window, an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia hits me as I breathe in the humid summer air. It smells like grass, warm and fresh, like home, a home I never wanted to recognize as such. Now that I’m here, though, I do.

Glancing to the right, I see she’s replaced the mailbox. It’s oversized and black, and there are fireflies painted down the side of it. Next to it is an old tree stump. It was our bus stop, and it’s also the place where I first met James and got to see Lexi, I mean really see her in the light of day. I knew then that she was someone who was going to be important to me, even though I didn’t want her to be.

I was sitting by myself on the stump, waiting for the school bus, when I heard them approaching. I glanced up and watched as a woman walked with the boy I knew was James and Lexi, the girl who’d sat with me while I cried. I said nothing, and I couldn’t help but notice how pretty she was.

“Hey, Bryan,” she said to me. My eyes flashed to hers as all three of them stared at me. I didn’t really understand the expression on her face, but thinking back, I’m certain it was wariness mixed with hope . . . hope for a new friend.

“Hey you,” I said quietly before looking down at my shoes—old shoes that were dirty and had a hole in the toe.

“Bryan!” James said next to her. “This is going to be awesome! You can sit next to me on the bus this year.” He started jumping around, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey, what about me?” Anger and disappointment flashed across her face.

“Oh, Lexi, us boys have to stick together,” he taunted, smirking at her while I still said nothing, and that’s exactly what we did.

James and I became inseparable after that day. We were placed in the same class, and our fate was sealed. We rode the bus together, sat together at lunch, played together after school, and all the while there was Lexi sitting off to the side. I wanted to include her, and sometimes we did, but he was my best friend and I didn’t want to do anything to change that.

It was always just James and me, at least that was what I told myself, but after all this time, I know it wasn’t.

As the bus pulled up that day, GiGi reached into her apron pocket and grabbed her camera. Every year on the first day of school, she took their picture, and this year was no different, except now and every year after, I was in the photo too.

Taking in a deep breath, I let go of the memory, ease up off the brake, and begin to make my way up the drive. It’s funny—I always knew I would see Lexi again, knew our paths would cross, most likely because of James; I just never thought it would be here.