I swing by the bakery just as Julie is closing. She steps outside and locks the door behind her as I’m walking up.
“Hey, look at you!” She sends an approving smile my way. “Ready to go?” She tucks the keys away in her purse.
“Yep.”
We both pile into her car and she drives us down the street to the diner, where we talk and catch up while eating greasy food.
“You remember that time we all went to that monster truck show just outside of town?” she laughs as she chews on a French fry.
I giggle. “I do remember that. I remember Mark getting so wasted that we had to stop driving every five minutes for him to puke. Wasn’t all that funny at the time.”
“You should go see him. I mean, I hate him now, but I’m sure he’d like to see you after all this time.”
I cock my head to the side. “Is he still in town?”
She nods. “Yeah, he still works down at the old saw mill. He rented a small place over on Cherry. And he frequents the bar quite often. If you’re driving by and notice that old blue Mustang, be sure to stop in.”
My eyes double in size. “He’s still driving that hunk of junk?”
She laughs and nods. “Oh yeah, he’d marry that thing if they’d let him. He always said it did what he told it to and never talked back, making it a better wife than I was.”
I shake my head. “Sounds like him.”
“So, what have you been doing since high school? Date any sexy guys?”
I roll my eyes. “There have been a few, but no one worth talking about.”
“Speaking of sexy guys, I saw Wyatt today. He came in and grabbed a coffee and some breakfast.”
My mouth drops open. “You what?”
“Wyatt. He’s here. Funny, isn’t it?”
“How is that funny again?”
She shrugs as she continues to eat her fries. “It’s just that you ran off long ago. It seemed like he waited around a bit, working at the brewery and building his house. Then it was like he realized you weren’t coming back. So he left and has been gone . . . until you showed up. It’s fate. I mean, how else would you explain it?”
I grunt. “If it’s fate, then I think that bitch has a fucked-up sense of humor.”
My words cause her to bust out laughing. Her fit of giggles prompts one in myself.
When our laughing dies down, she takes on a more serious edge. “You haven’t talked to him at all since high school?”
“Nope.” I shake my head once.
“You haven’t even looked him up online?”
I bite my lower lip. “That I have done. Seems to me he’s better off. I mean, if we’d stayed together, where would we be right now? We probably would’ve gotten married way too young, had kids way too young, learned we actually hated each other, and gotten divorced. But look what happened. He went off to travel the world, and I . . . I went to college, got a degree, and lived in Seattle for a little while. Point is, we managed to get out of this town, see some of the world, and become independent. Things worked out for the better.”
She gives me a sidelong glance. “Or you two could’ve done all those things together.”
I shrug. “Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve. None of that matters.”
“So if you happen to run into him while you’re both in town, what do you see happening?”
“That won’t happen,” I state matter-of-factly.
She smiles. “I don’t know. It might. It is a small town after all.”
“Other than tonight, I plan on being at my parents’ place most of the time. I doubt I’ll run into him there.”
“It could be the market, the doctor’s office, the post office. Fate always finds a way.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, do me a favor. If you see him coming, point him out so I can run away. I don’t have it in me to deal with him.”
Even though I say the words, I know I don’t mean them. Wyatt is intoxicating. He’s charming, smooth, and sexy as hell. He knows how to play me. If he had his sights set on me, he wouldn’t give up, and I know I’d eventually give in. I never could deny that man. Even when I found him kissing Julie during prom, I nearly forgave him, but my broken pride wouldn’t allow it. It’s been so long now that all that remains is the way I feel about him. Sure, I’m still pissed at the whole situation and I’m not sure what to believe, but that’s pushed to the back of my mind. Since prom, my life has been a constant struggle between my head and my heart. The decision was made for me when I left for college. And now, the decision is back on the table and I have no idea how to choose.
Julie and I finish our dinner and head for the bar. Friday night means the place isn’t completely dead, but it’s a small town, so there still isn’t much of a crowd. There are a couple of guys in the back, playing a game of pool, and a group of middle-aged men crowding around the dartboard. The bar has a few stools occupied, but no one’s together judging by the random empty stools between them. There are also a few couples sitting and having drinks at the tables. Loud country music fills the building, and the bass makes my chest vibrate.
Julie grabs my wrist and pulls me up to the bar to place our orders. “What’s your poison?” she asks.
“Just a beer,” I reply, certain they don’t have any of the ingredients for the drinks I’d normally have in the city.
“Two beers and two shots of tequila,” she orders.
“Tequila?” I ask, bumping my shoulder into hers. “You remember our last tequila night?”
She laughs and nods. “Well, you know what they say . . .”
“What?” I ask, suddenly confused.
“The song. ‘Tequila makes her clothes fall off,’” she quotes.
I giggle. “Really? That’s a song?”
She nods. “Yes! Where have you been, under a rock?”
I laugh so hard I snort. “No! I’ve been in the city, where country music makes our ears bleed.” I’ve never been a fan of country music, despite the way I was brought up. Most people in this town have country music and beer running through their veins. That was one thing Wyatt and I always agreed on: rock music, the harder the better. I have to admit, I was completely jealous when I saw he was a roadie for The Screaming Elephants. They’re not a big group yet—not mainstream—but they’ve been on the indie scene for years.
Our drinks are handed over and we pick up our shots. “To years of friendship,” she says, clanking her glass on mine.
We both toss the shots back, chasing them with our beer. She lets out a squeal like she’s a drunk girl on spring break. I glance at her as heat floods my cheeks.
“What? Someone needs to liven this place up,” she laughs out.
The bartender comes over and points at her. “You cause another riot in here and I’ll kick your ass myself.”
Julie shows her the palms of her bands and sits on the barstool.
“What? How did you start a riot?”
“It was years ago. And I mean, riot?” She frowns. “Look at this place. How big a riot could it have been?”
She’s got a point there. “Either way, what did you do?”