Rachel Lawrence
The bell above the door announces my arrival. Very few things could have persuaded me to step foot inside this hardware store, but my beloved Granddaddy’s request was one of them.
“Lottie Beth!” The beautiful woman behind the counter beams. “It’s been too long since we’ve seen you!”
Surely she knows that’s been intentional on my part. Ever since her son left town for college and took several pieces of my shattered heart with him, I’ve avoided his parents’ shop like the wasp nest that used to appear every summer out behind Grandaddy’s garage.
Justin and I found the angry insects’ home the day we’d shared our first kiss. Sipping on Cokes he’d bought us with salted peanuts poured into the bottles, he’d flashed me a heart-stopping grin and told me he loved working on cars and learning from Granddaddy, but spending time with me was his favorite part of the job. When he leaned in and our lips met, a bubbly feeling that had nothing to do with my carbonated drink spread all the way down to my toes.
And then a wasp landed on my shoulder and stung me. I should have taken it as some kind of bad omen, a sign to stay far away from Justin Hayes, but I was young and stupid.
“What can I help you find today, honey?” Mrs. Hayes’ voice drags me out of the memory.
I muster my best casual expression. “I just need to pick up a spray can of oil, but I think I remember what aisle they’re on.”
“I’ll grab it for you, LB.” The voice behind me ushers in an onslaught of emotions, the first of which is shock. Thankfully, the minute it takes him to retrieve the oil gives me time to gather myself.
“Thanks.” As Mrs. Hayes rings up my purchase, I keep my sight trained on the counter for fear I’ll have more than a squeaky door in need of repair if I let myself look into Justin’s brown eyes again. Of course I knew he still came home to see his parents from time to time, but in a town of this size, I’ve always had plenty of warning he’s around before I might accidentally bump into him.
I reach for the bag, but he picks it up. “What are you working on?”
“Fixing up some things at the garage before a potential buyer comes to take a look this afternoon.” The words taste bitter. “Granddaddy hasn’t been able to keep up with things like he used to since he got sick.”
“I heard.” His tone is gentle and kind and everything I want to hate. “I tried reaching out, but I’m not sure if you got my messages.”
I almost feel guilty as the handful of emails and DMs along with a solitary voicemail that I deleted on the spot shuffle through my mind. “I’ve been busy. Actually, I should probably get going.” I gesture for my bag. “I have a lot to do in the next few hours.”
“I’ll help,” he volunteers. “Let me grab my stuff.”
Before I can protest, he disappears with my purchase into the back room.
“He still talks about you all the time.” Mrs. Hayes offers me a sad smile. I swallow the lump in my throat.
He’s back at my side in no time at all, a messenger bag on his shoulder and coat over his arm, looking much older and more mature than the boy I knew six years ago.
“Ready?”
I walk through the door he’s held for me on hundreds of occasions, and it feels as if we’re stepping back in history as we start the familiar route from here to the garage. My hand almost anticipates his taking it, and I refuse to acknowledge any disappointment when it doesn’t.
“You really don’t have to come with me,” I suggest. “I’m sure your parents are keeping you busy while you’re in town.”
“Nah.” He lets his arm swing dangerously close to mine. “I have an appointment on this side of town later, but I have a little while. It’ll be nice to see the place again and work on a project together. Like old times.”
I bite my tongue. I know it isn’t fair of me to resent him for going off to get a fancy business degree. If he hadn’t made me all those promises about a future together—if I hadn’t believed them—it wouldn’t have hurt so much. We were both naive, and I guess he deserves the same grace and understanding I’ve given myself.
As soon as I open the garage door, Justin hears the problem and gets to work solving it.
“What else?” he asks as he pulls the plastic straw from the spray can and sets it on the office counter next to his bag and coat. “Should we check out back for wasp nests?”
My eyes sting. “Just the door,” I manage to choke out.
“I brought you something.” He rummages in the bag and pulls out two glass bottles, knocks the caps off on the side of the counter before pouring a bag of peanuts into each.
I meet his gaze for the first time all afternoon.
“I was hoping I’d run into you.” He winks, and I forget every unkind thought I’ve ever had toward him.
As we reminisce over our drinks, I note how the hint of salt only enhances the sweetness.
Eventually, he reaches for my fingers. “I’m sorry, LB. I know I didn’t handle things well when I left. You were so upset, and I didn’t know how to fix it. But I still want everything we dreamed about.”
“I didn’t handle it so well myself,” I admit, heart pounding. My watch beeps. “Can we keep talking about this later? Over dinner maybe? This buyer should be here any minute.”
Justin smiles and squeezes my hand. “He already is.”
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