The vibe of the space is calm and inviting, and it’s so quiet here, I’ve been able to paint like a woman possessed since I moved in just a few days ago.
It feels like home, and I don’t know if I’ve ever truly felt this way anywhere that I’ve lived. I certainly didn’t feel welcome in my parents’ house. My ex-husband made sure that I was never fully at ease when I was with him.
And the apartment, while comfortable and convenient, was above a busy garage, where it was noisy and bustling.
Finally, I have a place where I feel calm and utterly safe.
I pet Petunia and pour some food into her dish, and once I’ve rinsed my feet and dressed for the day, I walk the half-mile or so to Scott’s house. Shortly after I returned to Huckleberry Bay, June and Luna told me that Scott had bought his own home and was doing well for himself.
I’m so damn proud of him.
I turn the corner of Cherry Lane and feel the butterflies set in. The last time I came to visit him, before the fire, it didn’t go well at all. He said some hurtful things.
“It’s been a while since then,” I whisper to myself as I walk up to the porch. His truck is in the driveway, indicating that he’s home.
Hopefully, he’s alone.
I knock and step back, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, and wait.
Just when I think that he’s probably sleeping, and I should go, the door opens, and Scott frowns down at me in confusion.
“You okay, Sarah?”
“Oh, yeah.” I clear my throat. “I’m fine. I just wanted to stop by and see you because I was thinking about you this morning, and…well. I just wanted to see you.”
The last few words are a whisper, and he narrows his eyes, eyes that are so much like my own, and then steps back without a word, indicating that I should come in.
I don’t hesitate.
“Your home is so nice,” I say with a smile as I take it in. It’s small but well-kept and modern. “It’s a total bachelor pad.”
“I’m a bachelor,” he replies and crosses his arms over his chest. He’s wearing his firefighter T-shirt and jeans and looks so handsome in it. So grown up.
Because he is grown up.
“Did I catch you right before work?”
“No, I got home about half an hour ago,” he says. “I’ve been working nights. Listen, Sarah, I’m kind of tired.”
“I miss you.” I blurt the words out, stopping him. “I’ve always missed you, Scott, and I’m so, so sorry for everything.”
He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t soften.
“I told you before that I didn’t want to see you.”
“I know.” It comes out as another whisper, and I hate feeling this unsure, this uncomfortable. “I know you did. I just wanted five minutes to explain what happened.”
“You got married and left me here alone, a kid, to deal with getting Dad’s backhand on the regular. That’s what you did.”
I flinch as if he hit me because the words feel like a slap. “I know. Scott, that was never my intention. I had every intention of either taking you with me or sending money home for you. I thought that I’d be able to take care of you, but we weren’t in California for even a month, and Anthony laid down the law. He said that he was my only family, and I wasn’t allowed to even think about the life I left behind in Oregon. I begged him, but it was no use. It doesn’t change anything, but I want you to know that it wasn’t my freaking choice to abandon you.”
“June and Luna took care of me,” he says shortly, his voice laced with ice. “By the time I was in high school, Mom and Dad moved to Tulsa, and good riddance to them, and I got by. I did fine without you, and I still am. So, if you’re here because you feel obligated, you don’t need to be.”
“I know, and I’m so freaking proud of you.”
“No.” He shakes his head and looks like he wants to punch the wall. “You don’t get to be proud of me because you didn’t do a fucking thing to contribute to what I’ve accomplished. Based on where I came from, I should be in jail or dead at this point, and I’m not. I’m a decent person, who does good things for this community.”
“I know you are. You were always a good person.”
“Turns out, I was the only one in the family.”
That stings, and I can’t hold back the wince.
His hard face doesn’t soften.
“You’re right.” I nod once. “You’re right, Scott. I should have tried harder, gone behind Anthony’s back, done whatever I had to do to make sure that you were safe. I failed you in that. I can’t change it, and I can be sorry for it down to the marrow of my bones, but it doesn’t make it any different; it still happened.”
“I don’t know what you want from me, Sarah.”
“I don’t want anything from you, nothing tangible, anyway. I’d like to get to know you again, and I’d like to be your friend.”
“I have a lot of friends already, but if anyone dies, and a slot opens up, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
I can only blink at him, shocked. Did he really just say that? Scott doesn’t look me in the eye, and anger just pulses off of him. I want to hug him, but I absolutely know that any touch from me would not be welcome.
I have to go. I feel the tears threatening, and I have to get the hell out of here so he doesn’t see it.
So, I fake a smile and turn for the door. “Have a good day, Scott.”
I shut the door quietly behind me and hurry down to the sidewalk and turn toward town. The further away from Scott’s house I get, the faster I walk. This was a horrible idea.
I don’t know why I thought that I could simply apologize and everything would be okay. Just because he was worried after the fire doesn’t mean that he forgives me. It doesn’t mean that he wants us to have any kind of relationship.
I’m not going to reach out to him again. Not because I don’t want to, but because I just can’t keep hitting this emotional wall, over and over again. It’s painful.
I hope that one day, Scott will reach out and want to have me in his life. But he’s an adult, and that’s his decision.
I wipe away the tears on my cheeks and blow out a long breath.
“Enough of this. I have to go to work, and it’s going to be another long shift.” I walk right over to the diner and straight back to the break room where I stow my purse away in the orange locker with my name on it and loop a clean apron around my waist.
It’s time to set my personal stuff aside and get to work.
“Breakfast has been busy,” Angela, my coworker, says when I join her at the computer. “I have the right side of the room, so you take the left.”
“Got it.” I slip a fresh pad of order-taking paper into my pocket, along with a pen and a handful of straws. “Specials?”
“Banana bread French toast with bacon or a Denver omelet.”
“Yum. Maybe I’ll snag some of that French toast.”
“I have a plate of it over there,” Angela says, gesturing across the room. “Grab yourself a couple of bites. You’ll need the fuel.”
“Okay, thanks.” I’m surprised. Angela isn’t usually this nice to me. She’s always been distant and kind of pissy in the past. But, I don’t question it and set off to handle my tables. “Good morning. I’m Sarah, and I’ll be helping you out today. What can I get you to drink?”