Page 8 of Sterling Fight

“Genie?”

3

[Genie]

Witnessing this fallout between Judd and my long-standing nemesis was not my intention.

One minute, I’m minding my business, randomly scrolling on my phone in the back corner of Curmudgeon Bakery, listening to my queen belt out “You Belong with Me” while enjoying the sweet, sticky goodness of a cinnamon roll with a thick layer of frosting, and the next minute, I’m trapped by the unexpected sight of Judd Sylver and then the entrance of Heather Remington.

My mother’s best friend’s daughter and total perfection in my mother’s eyes.

She’s a dutiful daughter. She’s appreciative of her mother. She is such a good girl.

Appearances are everything to Janet Hurley, my mother’s fourth married name, which made it difficult for her to have a daughter who couldn’t keep her mouth shut or follow rules.

“You just march to the beat of your own drum, darlin’,” my daddy used to tell me when I was a child, and he was still alive.

Mother would interject, “Let’s try to have a little less rhythm, Virginia.”

And she, being Heather, wanted to get engaged to Judd Sylver, according to her, a few minutes ago.

Apparently, Judd disagreed.

My stomach feels a little nauseous that Heather Remington almost snared Judd. I’m also disconcertingly grateful Judd had a different plan. Deep down, my heart whispers Judd is mine. I liked him first.

The idea is ridiculous. Judd made it abundantly clear he was never available to me.

Still, I feel sorry for the guy covered in something light brown and saturating his white shirt beneath a flannel one.

I heard what Heather said. They made a beautiful couple. They’d even been dressed complementary to one another in flannel shirts, each a shade of blue, like Judd’s eyes.

Since seeing Judd a week ago, he’s continually crept into my thoughts. The look in his eyes as he stood near me in that Knoxville parking lot. The flare of his nostrils. The width of his shoulders. The electric energy between us.

Snap-crackle-pop!

Despite those melancholy eyes, there was an edge to Judd I’d never seen when he was a boy. And he isn’t a boy anymore but all man. And I shouldn’t be thinking about him at all.

He just broke up with someone.

In the recesses of my mind, I probably knew Judd and Heather were dating. My mother most likely told me the small-town gossip, but after the sixth retelling, I tune out her stories. Maybe I shut down on the details because I didn’t want to believe Judd Sylver could end up with someone as cruel as Heather Remington.

My mother could never understand that being the daughter of her best friend did not automatically make Heather my best friend. Friendship was not by osmosis; it was earned. It was fostered. It was a rare find. I have few friendships but the ones I have are tight.

Handing Judd a stack of paper napkins, I’m reminded I once asked him to be my friend on National Make a New Friend Day, and he shot me down.

“Guess you heard all that?” Judd mutters after thanking me for the wad of napkins I held out to him and swiping in a circular motion around his face. He flicks at ice cubes collected near the zipper of his jeans and shrugs out of the flannel which didn’t catch as much of the drink as the front of what turns out to be a white wife-pleaser tank top.

Sucking in air, I hold my breath at the glorious sight of tattoos covering both his muscular arms. I hardly noticed them when I saw him at the boxing match, where I did my best not to look at him and his opponent in the ring. But up close and in his personal space, I cannot ignore the colorful designs decorating his lean muscles.

My eyes narrow at what looks like a unicorn beneath faded lines like old-school notebook paper on his bicep.

Strange how another memory related to Judd hits me hard. Didn’t I have a notebook once that looked like that unicorn?

“People in Rogue River might have heard that finish,” I tease about the next small town over.

Judd glances up at me, those eyes warm but sorrowful, while he dabs at the hopeless wreck of his white shirt.

“What are you doing here?” His voice isn’t cruel but curious.