I knew I hurt her. Fuck, it hurt me too. But seeing her standing there, hating being near me when for my entire life all I wanted was to be close to her, fucking kills me.
“I’m sorry,” she repeats and then pushes her hair behind her ear, letting her arms fall to her sides instead of crossing them over her chest again. “It’s just, the car won’t start. I didn’t want to bother you with it … I know we don’t talk or … I just … it’s a small—”
This time I’m the one to cut her off.
“I’m aware you moved on, Bri. I’m only here for the car,” I tell her as easy as I can, not letting an ounce of emotion in. As if there’s nothing to be emotional about. As if she doesn’t have to feel guarded around me. I even manage a smile that feels fake as hell.
Swallowing thickly, I open up the door and grab the keys from where she left them on the passenger seat. I’m more than aware that the two of them are staring at me. I’m sure Bri’s head is filled with a million thoughts right now. A million things she’d like to say to me.
More than half riddled with profanity, I’m sure.
But all I can think as I prepare the car to tow it away is that somewhere deep down, maybe she does miss me. Maybe there’s a piece of her that feels the way I do.
That thought is the only thing that keeps me moving after I look up and see both of them gone.
Brianna
If I’m constantly working, then I don’t have to deal with all of these thoughts that badger me. During the week I’m the new secretary for my parents’ realty office on the outskirts of town and on the weekends, I’ll work here. At Tammy’s Salon. Aptly named after the woman who opened it two generations ago. Although her granddaughter Sarah now runs the business.
That’s the way it works here. My grandfather opened the realty office and now I’m working there. The lakeside fishery has always been run by the Johansens and their family. John’s great-grandfather started the funeral home … I suppose someone’s got to do it. Everything passes down from generation to generation.
“I think, just a trim,” Kimberly says, pursing her lips as she stares at her brunette hair in the floor-length mirror in front of us. She’s a kindergarten teacher who only ever cuts her hair whenever there’s a wedding, but she comes in regularly for a style. Her father was a high school teacher and he retired just last year. Her mother still runs the floral shop. When people say everyone knows everyone in a small town, they aren’t exaggerating.
“Right around two inches?” I ask, her thick hair between my pointer and middle finger as I hold it up for her to see. It’s like déjà vu. Kimberly was one of the first clients I ever had, although the chairs were different back then.
With a bright smile she nods and says, “That’ll do it.”
This part-time gig was easy to fall into. I worked on the weekends when I was in high school too. It’s almost as if I’ve never left.
With one obvious exception.
Asher. With a quiet yet deep inhale, I give the nylon cape a couple of flaps and then wrap it around her chest, snapping it shut in the back.
“So, how are you settling in? Is it nice to be back home, or do you miss the big city?”
Big city. I don’t miss feeling alone while surrounded by so many people. I keep that thought held back as I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from speaking.
“It’s good to be back,” I tell her with a smile and lead her back to the sink to wash and condition her hair.
The sound of the running water competes with the hum of chatter in the salon. A genuine warmth floods through me. It really is good to be back. I missed my family. My sister especially and my mom too. They came up to visit often while I was in college, and my sister would call me almost every other night just to chat. Still, it’s different.
There’s something about the place you call home that’s comforting. It’s the things that are familiar maybe, but really it’s the people.
This salon is the perfect example. It’s changed. The main room is the same size it’s always been, with the sinks in the same place, but the entire space has been given a fresh paint job. Creamy purple covers all the walls except the one with the stations and mirrors, which is a complementary shade of darker purple. Sarah said it’s called Soulmate. She also outfitted the booths with antique white carved wood drawers and copper finishings. It’s both high end and quaint at the same time.
The decor is nothing like the old salon that was here when I was in high school. In that way it’s different, but they’re just superficial changes. It hasn’t changed a bit when it comes to what really matters. Mrs. Harding still demands her hair be permed in rollers. And gossip still fills the salon. It’s still a place for low-key therapy sessions too. Although I should be the one seated in the chair if that’s what I’m after.
Given the dead weight in the pit of my stomach, that’s exactly what I need right now.
“You good?” Amber questions before chewing her gum in the corner of her mouth. She’s busy drying her client’s hair with a towel but her eyes don’t leave mine.
“Fine,” I answer a little too high pitched. She gives me a half smile and a knowing nod that I am anything but fine.
That’s what I tell everyone. I’m fine. Fine is a good place to start, isn’t it?
“So Magnolia’s got a new man, I’m sure your sister filled you in,” Kimberly tells me as I massage shampoo into her scalp.
“Oh, I heard.” I heard all right. It’s all Autumn could talk about for weeks. When I was just a kid hanging out with my older sister, Mags would often be there too. They liked hanging out with me and Asher because his place always had beer. His parents didn’t mind if we were drinking, so long as we stayed the night. So I got to be friends with people in the classes ahead of me and that included Magnolia Williamson. When her father passed after embezzling money from investors, it was all anyone could talk about for the better part of a year. I have to admit, hearing she got her happily ever after feels like this town got its just deserts. “The scandal of the century,” I murmur with a touch of humor.