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Behind us, we hear Avery laughing. We both look over to see her standing in a small group, including Clay’s mom. Ash moved in with them when he was thirteen, so while she doesn’t have baby stories to tell, she has plenty of him and Clay in their teenage years. She loves talking about the two of them, and Avery loves every single story.
“Does he know who your brothers are? Your friends?” I ask Juliet, hoping for her sake that this guy will be able to deal with the spotlight that will inevitably come her way after a new album is released or when a tour is kicked off.
“Not yet. Or at least I don’t think so. It’s possible someone said something to him, small town and all, but he hasn’t uttered a word.”
“Do you think he’ll be able to handle it?”
“I do.” She smiles, then her gaze switches to one of contemplation. “Have you ever had one of those moments when you’re looking all over for something, say like your phone, but then it turns out it was right in front of you the whole time, like in your hand?”
“Yes, I’ve done this.” But I’m not following her train of thought.
“I feel like that’s what’s happening with Briggs. We’re missing something that is right in front of our faces. What he said doesn’t make sense. Especially after the way Emma came home and talked about the two of you.”
“I don’t know. I tried to get him to talk to me, but he was completely shut down and closed off. He was the guy I first met when I moved into the house.”
“Grumpy asshole?”
“Yeah, that one.”
“Well, I wouldn’t give up on him yet. Things always have a way of surfacing. Whatever it was that flipped his switch off. Eventually, he’ll get tired of sitting in the dark.”
“Easier said than done. He broke my heart, and I don’t want to relive that or hang on to the possibility if there’s nothing truly there.”
“Well, maybe it’s because I’m happy at the moment, but I think you should see the possibility and not the problem. If he’s worth it, he’ll be back.”
“I’d like to say, ‘I hope so,’ but we’ll see.”
I also have to ask myself, do I even want him back?
31
BRIGGS
With every day that gets further away from that awful night on my porch, my heart feels less wounded and more longing. I’m not really mad at her, and I don’t even know if I’m hurt anymore, but I do know that I miss her. I’m not sure if absence makes my heart grow fonder or weaker, but I know within a day or two, we need to talk again. It’ll have been a week, a week too long.
“Plans tonight?” Cole asks as we’ve just finished for the day and are sitting in the barn enjoying a glass of cider. It’s almost November, and apple season is almost over. I’m ready for it. Plus, the cider currently in the tanks from the June drop of Heirloom apples is ready to be bottled, canned, and racked.
“Nah, I’m just glad things are about to slow down for us. I feel like this season has been really long.”
“Long for you because you’re dragging around like a lovesick fool.”
“Maybe.” I don’t even have it in me to argue with him.
“Do you hear that?” Cole asks, angling his head toward the door.
“Yep,” I tell him, making no move to do anything about it.
Distress creeps onto his face as the sound doesn’t stop.
Just like last time, the echoing sound of her smoke alarm screaming into the early evening has my skin crawling. I have no idea what’s going on over there, but she’s repeatedly made it clear she doesn’t need or want my help, so she can figure this out on her own.
But it’s when we hear the sirens, and our eyes lock with the realization that they’re getting closer, that panic overrides every other emotion I have. I take off as fast as I can and run past my house, over the road, and down her driveway.
Tendrils of black smoke have started to rise from the back of her house, and I damn near stop breathing as I see she isn’t outside safe where she should be.
“Oh God.”
My head whips in all directions, looking for her, but she’s nowhere to be found. With my heart pounding and my stomach in my throat, I head for the house and burst through the front door. This time instead of seeing her fanning out the smoke, she’s surrounded by it and waving the hose of a fire extinguisher as a white foam spews from it and lands on the fire, which is doing its best to take over the back cabinets in her kitchen.
