Page 26 of Trick or Tease

It wasn’t like I didn’t know better. I’d watched him walk away from Greenleaf once before, watched him choose his big city dreams over everything and everyone here. And now, seeing his life, it was crystal clear that nothing had changed.

If anything, the divide between us had only grown wider.

I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out all thoughts of the one that got away.

10

GARRETT

Idrained my third beer and immediately regretted it. The cheap stuff they served at these town gatherings always went down too fast and left me with a bitter aftertaste. I grew up drinking this shit, though. In a way, I almost missed the skanky taste.

I scanned the room and watched as more people came in carrying dishes, gifts, and the occasional tool someone had borrowed and needed to return.

A lot of people had shown up to honor my folks. Greenleaf Hall was packed wall to wall with what looked like half the county. Three generations of the same families clustered around tables with checkered blue tablecloths. Kids laughed and ran around while the hum of conversation filled the room. There was a live band butchering “Sweet Caroline.” The lead singer was enthusiastic, I’d give him that, but his voice cracked on the high notes in a way that made me wince.

No one else seemed to mind, and I found my head bopping along to the drums after a while too. Things didn’t have to be perfect to enjoy them.

The air was thick with the smell of potluck casseroles and the promise of grilled meats that wouldn’t be ready for another hour or so. My stomach growled, but I was too on edge to eat any of the covered dishes that lined the folding tables against the far wall.

I wore jeans and a T-shirt with my ankle boots, but all of it was just a little too clean and new. I didn’t fit in. Normally, that fact was comforting, but not today, surrounded by people I hadn’t seen in almost a decade.

“Well, paint my bottom red and call me a stop sign! Is that little Garrett Hogan?”

I turned to find Harold and Alicia Peterson bearing down on me, both wearing matching grins that made my chest tighten with dread. Harold owned the hardware store, had for as long as I had been alive. His hair was gray but his corded forearms still looked like he could loosen a lug nut with his bare hands. Alicia taught third grade at the elementary school. Nice people. Salt of the earth.

I forced my mouth into a smile I hoped seemed genuine. These were good people and the least I could do was be polite. “Mr. and Mrs. Peterson. Good to see you.”

“Look at you in those clean boots,” Alicia said, reaching up to pat my arm like I was still twelve years old. “Don’t you look successful.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Harold crossed his arms and studied me with the same expression he’d worn when I’d accidentally broken his front window with a baseball twenty years ago. “So when are you planning on coming home to do some real work?”

There it was again. Small talk seemed to require people to ask predictable, annoying questions that sounded a lot like insults. As if I didn’t do real work. As if clean boots were something to be embarrassed about.

I reined in my frustration. “Well, sir, I’ve got plenty of real work going in New York. Corporate law keeps me busy.”

“Corporate law,” Harold repeated, like the words tasted sour. “That mean you help big companies screw over the little guy?”

My jaw tightened, but I kept the smile plastered on. “That’s not my department. I handle contracts, real estate deals, and mergers. It’s more about making sure everything’s legal and above board.”

“Hmm.” Harold nodded but didn’t look convinced. “Well, sounds like you have a head for business. Your brother could use some of that business sense, with all his new projects up at the farm. You ever think about sticking around to lend him a hand?”

“Harold,” Alicia chided, swatting his arm. “Don’t badger the boy.” She turned back to me with concern written all over her kind face. “But really, honey, aren’t you scared living in that city? All that crime? I saw on the news just last week about someone getting robbed right in broad daylight.”

I took a steadying breath, knowing that would never make the headlines. She had probably seen some made-up nonsense online. “It’s really not as dangerous as people think. You just have to be aware of your surroundings.”

“But surely you’ve been mugged at least once,” she pressed. “A nice-looking young man like you? You must be a target.”

“No, ma’am. Never been mugged. Although a coffee shop charged me twenty dollars for an iced coffee the other day. Talk about highway robbery.”

Alicia laughed and shook her head. “I’ll take the cheap stuff at Caroline’s Diner, thank you very much.”

“Good to see you, kid,” Harold said. “I hope you get to spend some time with your parents while you’re here. They’re always talking about how much they miss you.”

With that, they said their goodbyes and went to talk to the Hansons at the next table over. The band launched into an off-key version of “Don’t Stop Believin’” and I had to resist the urge to laugh at the irony. What they lacked in talent, they made up for with enthusiasm, and the crowd was loving it.

I went to hunt down another beer, even though the last thing I needed was more alcohol on an empty stomach. Anything to ease the uncomfortable feelings churning in my guts. I was dying inside. Slowly suffocating on the relentless judgment.