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I can’t help the“aw”that escapes me. I pat his arm. Trig sets down his toolkit to get to work on my silly problem. Trying to stay out of his way while Trig fiddles with the system, I flip open my laptop to track some inventory.
Trig’s low whistling fills the comforting silence. It’s as if selling his company lifted a burden from his shoulders, too. I can only assume some things Trig did for Jake weren’t on the up and up. It’s odd to rely on a friend of my ex-boyfriend. I’m coming to terms with the fact that Jake cutting me out of his life doesn’t mean cutting the people I’ve grown fond of out of mine.
I heard what Trig said about commitments. It’s easy to fall into a pattern of being a workaholic. That’s why I jump at the chance whenever my mother, Greer, or any of the mill girls invite me out. Not in desperation. These are the positive changes I’ve been trying to make.
I want to be happy by myself in a completely different way than I was happy alone a year ago because what I was doing was making sure that people would be content if I wasn’t around at all. And that’s no way to live.
“All set.” Trig brushes his palms over his shirt.
“Wow! That was faster than I got the box open. Now I feel dumb. What do I owe you?”
“When you’ve done it a million times, it’s nothing… And you don’t owe me a thing. First one is on the house. Except, I hoped you’d take a look at something for me?” His bearded smile fades.
“Uh-um, yeah?” I give Trig a befuddled look.
What could I help him out with besides a gift card to the boutique for Kimber? Which she’s getting if he’s not charging me.
Trig pulls his cell out of his pocket and takes a seat on my couch. “There’s something I think that you’ll want to see,” he says as I sit next to him.
Trig hands over his phone. A video is already playing. There are two men standing on the main street a few paces outside of my shop.
I’d begun to blindly trust Jake when the boutique was vandalized. I was high on falling for him and, after having Gavin’s sister throw a fit seeing Jake and me in public, low on believing that I deserved more than anyone’s contempt for moving on so fast. I blame our chemistry for addling my brain. So when Jake had Dusty fix the window, I relied on his dirty, rotten word that looking for the perpetrator was under control.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when Jake pulled the curtain back and admitted that he was responsible for the damage to my store.
And now what I’m watching in black and white on the small screen is none other than Jake. The nighttime footage is grainy, but he seems to be wearing what he had on at Royce’s. His left hand is in his pocket, and his sport coat hangs against his thigh. He’s having a discussion with another man. I recognize the back of the second man’s head because we’d spend the majority of our relationship moving in opposite directions. It’s Gavin.
Wide-eyed, I snap my face to Trig’s. “Is there any audio?”
“I wish there were. That would help the rest of it make sense.” His lips press to a flat line.
I shake my head, not understanding what Trig means, and go back to watching the surveillance footage.
I can only make out portions of Gavin’s dejected face when he turns toward the camera. Both men have similar hunched shoulders, giving me the impression that two of the most put-together people I’ve met are slumped and rumpled. Their chins dip to the ground while listening to the other, though they give the other an occasional glare. Each time their stances change, I wonder what one has said that the other reacts like they’ve been stabbed in the heart.
Gavin and Jake dance around one another, pacing to-and-fro, though neither especially leaving the individual squares of sidewalk they started out in. When Gavin gets too close to Jake, I keep waiting for a physical fight to break out. For Gavin’s anger to become visible since there’s no sound to help me comprehend what I’m seeing. I’m on pins and needles waiting for Jake to rear back and throw the first punch. I imagine him hitting Gavin in a way that makes my chest flutter.
Those palpitations aren’t in a good way either because I can’t interpret if Jake is defending me after Gavin’s sister’s tirade… Or even if I want the callous man who abandoned me coming to my defense.
Except, it doesn’t seem as if either is goading the other, and where Jake fought me on everything, none of this tense discussion makes sense.
The feed continues playing, making me nauseous. The less confrontation there is, the more confused I become. I’d hit fast forward if I weren’t in rubberneck mode, trying to glimpse the scene of an accident. I’m afraid I’ll miss a key detail. Something that soothes the sting of what I’d done to Gavin, and how Jake’s treatment of me was equally unfair.
From the uncomfortable taps of Jake’s loafers on the pavement to the way Gavin uses one hand to ward off the night chill by tucking his zippered sweatshirt closer to him, I’m lost as to what’s going on. I can’t figure out why Trig thought this was important for me to see.
Eventually, Gavin puts a large, solid object he was holding in his other hand down by the side of the road. He turns and leaves. Jake stands there pondering what I know is the rock because I’m the one that found it inside the shop after the alarm went off.
I see Jake pick up the rock. He measures its weight in his palm. His lips move in a scathing swear, creating a peculiar warmth to the trail of prickles up my spine. The split-second hangs in suspended animation. His next action is all too obvious before Jake pitches the stone through the plate glass. All of a sudden, shards fall into view, dropping and shattering into smaller pieces on the sidewalk.
My gut anticipates Jake running. He ran from my scar, so why wouldn’t he bolt from the scene of a crime? Instead, his forehead falls into his open palms as if he can’t believe what he’s done. Jake crouches on his haunches. He scrubs his face, peering between his fingers at the damage he’s caused.
The security strobe light from inside my store is spinning to alert passersby. Yet there’s no one on the desolate street besides Jake. Shadows fall left and right, casting his silhouette on the ground in tonal lights and darks.
He falls on his ass, still staring when the screen goes blank.
Bewildered, I look at Trig again. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to respond to this.”
“I don’t want you to say anything. Not to me. Hell, I don’t even care if you speak to Jake again. He’s my friend, but my automatic reaction when Kimber told me everything he did to you was that Jake’s not ready for a commitment. I feel awful. Jake dragged you into his fucked up scheme to get us off his back about settling down and finding a wife. All we wanted was for him to stop faking happy, you know? The mixed-up thing is that it hadn’t taken too long before we all had the impression that you were it for him, Paisley.”
