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“Still single?” he questions, his brow arching once again.
I shake my head. I don’t need to know the answer to that, and I definitely don’t need the temptation—not that Nick would want anything to do with me after the way I left things. God, I’m sure he hates me for breaking his heart like that. The best thing for me to do is to stay holed up in Nana’s house, not disturb the peace, and get out of here as soon as I can.
Oxley turns down Nana’s street, and I find myself sitting up in my seat, my eyes wide as the memories crash over me in waves. Learning to ride my bike with Pop. Gardening with Nana. Sneaking out my bedroom window for the first time while Nick waited down the street for me.
God. I always loved it here.
Oxley parks along the curb, not bothering to pull into the snow-covered driveway. “Here,” he says, pulling out a small business card and scrawling his number on the back. “Call me if you need anything while you’re here. Or if you just need a little company.”
“Thanks, Oxley,” I say, taking the card from him and sliding it into my handbag. “I owe you.”
“Just Ox,” he says with a nod.
He gets out to help me with my suitcase, and a moment later, I’m standing at the end of the driveway, staring up at the beautiful cottage.
“I’ll take a shot in the dark and assume I’ll be seeing you around,” Ox says, striding back to his driver’s door as I palm the front door key in my hand, turning it over and over as though too scared to actually use it.
“For some reason, I don’t doubt that,” I tell him, feeling as though I just made what could possibly be a really great friend. And with that, Ox hops into his truck and takes off, leaving me to face this all alone.
4
NICK
Leaningoverthenewstorage shelf at Hardin’s Hardware, I tighten the final bolt before stepping back and surveying my handiwork. Pretty fucking good if you ask me.
Not going to lie, building a shelf for a hardware store isn’t exactly what I had planned for my day, but when you have a particular set of skills in a small town, you quickly turn into the local maintenance and handyman. I don’t mind it though.
People who know me well will usually call me directly and hire me for a job, but those who don’t exactly appreciate my less-than-friendly demeanor tend to call the hardware store, hoping John could help them out. But it’s unlikely, and lately, those jobs have been coming straight to me too. Can’t complain, I like money.
John Hardin has been running the hardware store since before I can remember. It’s been in his family for six generations—a fact he’s always sure to remind me of—and if he had found the time to start a family of his own when he was younger, I’m sure he’d have a middle-aged son here doing this for him and demanding he quit being such a stubborn ass and retire already. But it’s never going to happen, John will be here until he physically can’t get up in the morning. Hell, I don’t think in the last fifty or so years he’s even taken a day off.
A few years ago, John would have told me to fuck off and insisted that he could put the shelf together himself, but lately, things are starting to slip. He doesn’t have the strength in his hands to work the way he used to, and when stock started piling up on the ground, creating hazards for him out in the back storage area, I couldn’t take it anymore and ordered the stubborn asshole a new set of shelves. Someone’s got to look after him, right?
As I grab boxes of stock and shove them onto the new shelves to tidy up the mess around me, I hear the familiar chimes of the bell over the door of the hardware store. Shuffling footsteps move through the store, shifting across the old wooden floorboards before a familiar tone cuts through the silence. “Nick out back?” I hear my cousin ask.
“Being a menace, as usual,” John mutters in response.
Oxley laughs, and as I continue stacking shelves, I hear him creep through the store until the footsteps are right at my back.
Glancing over my shoulder, I find Ox leaning against the doorframe of the storage room, his gaze shifting around at the mess at my feet. “Fuck me,” he grumbles, pulling off his backward cap and running his fingers through his untamed hair. “It’s a mess in here.”
“Why do you think I’m back here? Knowing John, he’ll probably fall and break a hip, only to tell his hip to harden the fuck up and keep working through the pain.”
Ox laughs, a smirk playing on his lips. He knows I’m right. “Fuck. He’s a stubborn bastard.” Ox shifts nervously from one foot to another, and my brows furrow, pausing as I hover over the next box. It’s not unusual for him to spot my truck around town and stop to say hello, but it sure as fuck is unusual for him to hover nervously. He’s not the kind to mince his words. If something’s on his mind, he says it. He doesn’t give a shit about someone else’s opinion. But this right here, this isn’t him.
Something’s going on.
“Spit it out,” I grunt, scooping up the next box and shoving it onto the shelf, doing what I can to keep everything in order, but let’s be honest, John will be back here the second I leave to reorganize every single shelf.
Ox cringes, and his hesitation only pisses me off. I’m not the kind to give a shit about other people’s lives. Their drama and bullshit doesn’t interest me. Hell, people in general don’t interest me, but for some reason unknown to me, Oxley does. He’s been a pain in my ass my whole life, and after my mom passed a few months ago, he’s made it his personal mission to check in on me every fucking day.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the asshole, but not that much. Oxley Stone is an acquired taste.
“You have two fucking seconds to say what you’ve gotta say,” I murmur, knowing damn well he’ll take my warning seriously. After all, we grew up together, and he knows I don’t fuck around. If you want to piss me off, you’ll find your head shoved through the drywall. Oxley has always joked that I’m the definition of fuck around and find out. Though, I’ve certainly mellowed from those reckless teen years. There was one person, one reason that pushed me to be better. I wanted to be her everything. I wanted to be the reason for the smile on her face every fucking day, and then she was gone, and I was left with a gaping hole right through the center of my chest. It’s a wound that’s never been able to heal. No matter how hard I try, nothing has been able to mend the hollowness inside of me. So instead, I live my life just like John, two kindred spirits barely making it through the day.
Oxley inches toward me, fixing his cap back onto his head. He lets out a subtle sigh, his only indication that he’s trying his hardest to be gentle with whatever bomb is about to fly out of his mouth. “She’s back, man.”
My back stiffens, my heart thundering wildly in my chest.
