There are no Ubers in Blue Beech.
Twenty-five minutes before hitting Blue Beech, I stop for gas. As I step out of the car, a woman walks out of the gas station. I halt in step, dropping my arm that’d been reaching for the gas pump, and my stomach twists.
That hair—I’ll never forget those dark-as-midnight strands. The strands blow in the breeze, and she swats them from her face. She struts across the parking lot so casually wearing a too-thin jacket and black yoga pants. The apples of her cheeks and the tip of her nose are the tint of apples. There’s a water in one hand, a coffee in the other, and she’s heading toward her car.
Mariah Thomas.
She’d once been my dream girl.
Now, she’s the woman who turned her back on me over shit I couldn’t control.
Gritting my teeth, I debate talking to her.
Should I yell her name?
Sprint over to her?
Flip her off?
I hadn’t prepared for this because I’ve acted like she doesn’t exist. There’d been temptation to look her up a few times or ask my parents about her, but I always held back. The only information I’d been given by my parents is she moved to California. They know our history, our drama, our heartbreak.
At times, I see the guilt on their faces.
The remorse about the situation.
Instead of approaching her, I bow my head and snatch the gas pump with too much aggression. I don’t start pumping until she gets in her car and leaves. She’s all I think about on the drive to my parents’. It doesn’t help that I occasionally spot her car in traffic—a confirmation that she’s headed the same place as me.
Do I want to see her again?
Do I want to talk to her?
I should’ve known she’d never leave my system. No matter how much time has passed, my heart still aches with what we’d lost. These feelings—these damn heart-wrenching emotions—are why I’ve never returned home. Blue Beech is nothing but a reminder of what I’d once had.
How can you tell someone you love them but let them go?
When I arrive into town, nostalgia joins me. I pass the circle where I’d hung out with friends, my old elementary school, and the cemetery I was dared to sleep in one night. There are also some new developments: shops, restaurants, and a new housing addition that hadn’t been here before.
My parents no longer live in the house I grew up in. After purchasing the company from them, they bought a new one. I lost my goal of persuading them to move to New York and get out of a town that shunned them.
“Our home will always be Blue Beech,” they said.
It’s where they grew up. Where their parents grew up. It’s where I grew up, and where they expected me to stay.
I called their decision to stay stupid, but now, I’m beginning to understand. New York does have more opportunities, but it can get lonely without family. I have business partners, friends, associates, but none came from the small-town life like me—where people help people and can be trusted.
Parking in their driveway, I gaze at the home. It’s larger, and in the wealthy neighborhood as some call it. There are Christmas lights—white and shaped as snowflakes—on the house and lit-up reindeer in the yard.
Today is my first time seeing it in person, but my mother has provided plenty of FaceTime tours. I’m happy as hell they got their dream home—especially after some of the shit they’ve gone through. They went from being loved by everyone to gaining enemies in the snap of a finger. Some, like me, understood their actions. Others, like Mariah, didn’t.
I step out of the car, grab my suitcase, and walk in without knocking. That’s the thing with small towns—people don’t even bother locking their doors. You could never do that shit in New York.
“Look who’s finally home!” my father calls out.
My mother rushes down the hallway to wrap me in a tight hug. “I’m so happy you’re home, sweetie. As much as I love the city, it’s nice having you here.”
“Miles!” my little sister, Nicole, squeals, jumping up from the couch and hugging me next.
I was an only child growing up. After I moved seven years ago, my parents had Nicole. I love my little sister and am happy they have her, but I think they had her to fill the loneliness in their lives. There was a time when my parents were somewhat isolated from the town.
In the beginning, I was a part of that isolation. I’d been furious, blaming them for my breakup, for my friends turning their backs on me, for me no longer wanting to live in Blue Beech. I moved to New York, got involved in real estate, and my parents reached out for help with their company. I eventually turned it into a multi-million dollar empire.
After giving me an in-person tour, my mother doesn’t hesitate to point out the bedroom is mine for as long as I want to stay. Then they give me time to get settled.
Damn, does it feel good to be home.
Chapter Three
MARIAH
When the Welcome to Blue Beech sign comes into view, I smile.
Nothing ever feels as comfortable as home.
It may not be my home now, but it’s the only one I’ve ever loved.
I drive to my sister’s, where I’m staying. When I pull up to the house, Evie and Ethan, my twin niece and nephew, are playing outside in the snow. My sister’s favorite holiday is Christmas, and she goes overboard on the decorations. Christmas lights—the old-school colorful bulbs you see in the movies—are up, her yard is filled with small Christmas trees, and snowflake decorations cover every window. When I walk in, I already know there will be a mistletoe hanging at the front door, the smell of cinnamon wafting in the air, and a Christmas tree adorning every room.
“Hey, Aunt Mariah!” Ethan yells, holding up a snowball. “Do you remember what this stuff is? They don’t have it where you live now!”
My family never neglects to remind me what I’m missing by not living here—even the kids are in on it.
“Nah, I’m sure she’s already forgotten about it,” Spencer, Phoebe’s husband, says, coming into view in a full snowsuit that matches Ethan’s.
I send him the dirtiest look I can manage, and he replies by flinging a snowball in my direction. It whacks my shoulder, and Ethan follows suit—hurling his snowball at me too.
Jesus, what’s with people throwing stuff at me?
Do I look like a damn target?
“Rude,” I say, brushing off the snow from my jacket before doing the same with my hair.
Since I don’t keep winter clothes in LA due to lack of space and snow, Phoebe lets me store them in her guest bedroom. I can’t wait to get into clothes I won’t freeze to death in, especially if these hellions will be launching snowballs at me.
“Hey!” Evie yells, coming to my rescue. “Maybe she doesn’t want her hair messed up!”
I hug her to my side. “Exactly! And for that, you boys can carry my luggage in.”
“Ah, man,” Ethan groans. “That’s not fair.”
I point at Ethan and look at Spencer. “Kid has good aim. Better sign him up for baseball.”
He chuckles. “Already have.”
Evie and I walk inside, and the guys grab my bags before following us. Phoebe, my mom, and my dad are in the living room, awaiting my arrival. Ethan and Spencer take my luggage upstairs to the guest room while I greet everyone with hugs. My parents hate that I don’t stay with them during the holidays, but I also like spending time with Phoebe. We stay up late, drink spiked eggnog, and watch Hallmark Christmas movies. We make a game of it. Anytime something cliché happens—it snows on Christmas, the person mocking Christmas finds their Christmas joy, when we see a mistletoe, when the main characters fall in love—we take a drink.