I step further inside and hit the light switch.
“Shit,” I audibly sigh.
The place is clean—but the years I’ve been away show in the peeling paint, faded tablecloths, and dull wooden tables.
I knew it was a lot for my gram, especially since Dad can only do so much, but I hadn’t expected this. Has it really been that long since I’ve been home?
“Macey Romano, that you?”
I smile and turn at the familiar voice. A thin woman stands just outside the door, her bright blue hair pulled up into a bun on top of her head. Thick black lines both of her bright hazel eyes, pink blush livening up her cheeks. When she smiles, both of the dimples I was always jealous of show on either side of her pale pink mouth.
“Hey, Charlie!”
“Girl!” she exclaims and rushes inside, setting down her giant purse and wrapping her arms around me. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?”
She releases me and steps back, resting her hands on her hips.
“It was last minute. Dad called last night.”
Her face falls, and she nods in understanding. “We’ve been cycling over to the hospital the last twenty-four hours to see if he needs anything.”
At her words, my throat constricts, tears burning in my eyes. This small town is one hell of a community, and when someone needs it, they rally together like nowhere else. Everyone matters here, which is one of the many reasons I can’t imagine living anywhere else in the long run.
“I appreciate that.”
She smiles. “I know you do, sweetie. We have to grab a drink while you’re here. How long are you in town?”
“Open-ended,” I say. “Could be a few days, could be longer.” I don’t tell her that I might drop out of school, that based on what I’m seeing here—I may need to look into online classes to finish out my master’s.
All of that is just too real for me to visit right now.
“Well, we have to grab a drink.”
“Absolutely.”
“So, have you seen him?” she asks, and I know without a doubt who she’s talking about. Charlie Miller has been my friend since we were in middle school and is one of two people—not blood related to me—who knows just how much Lincoln’s rejection hurt.
“He picked me up from the airport.”
A perfectly plucked eyebrow raises, and she studies me. “How was that?”
“Peachy,” I reply and lean on the hostess stand. “He’s living with them, Charlie. In my room.”
She grins. “I know. He’s been renovating the apartment up there for about a month now.” She gestures to the stairs in the corner.
“How long has he been in town now?” I ask. She told me once, but I’d been so focused on what Patricia had put him through that I’d forgotten that piece of information.
“I’d guess about six months? He stayed out in California for a few years even after Patricia left. My momma thinks he was embarrassed to come back.”
Someone clears his throat, and a deep voice rumbles in from behind. “Your momma would be right.”
Even as annoyance flurries through me, my heart stumbles at the sound of his voice. Charlie’s cheeks flush, but she recovers quickly and throws a grin at Lincoln over her shoulder. “Hey there, Linc.”
“Charlie,” he says, his gaze never straying from my face.
I hate the way my body reacts, the way my heart still yearns for his affection. After all this time, all the ways I’ve tried to move on, why the hell does he still have this effect on me? How does he still have the power to break me down with one look?
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask.
“Renovating the apartment, remember?” He holds up a bag from Al’s Tools and steps inside the restaurant.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” Charlie says as she wraps her arms around me. “Good to see you, Macey. Let’s have that drink soon.”
“You’ve got it,” I tell her as she steps away.
The door shuts softly behind her, and Lincoln walks past me toward the stairs in the back.
I glare after him. I can’t believe I’m going to have to share a working space with him in addition to a house. A house! The fact that he’s living with my family is enough to send me spiraling into pure rage. “You’re sleeping on the couch,” I tell him, crossing my arms. I could let him have my room—it’s not like Gram is using hers right now—but I want him to be uncomfortable. I want the couch to be a constant reminder to him that he is not welcome.
He stops and turns to me. “I’d expect nothing less, Macey. Though, you’ll remember this isn’t our first sleepover.”
The heat rushes to my cheeks. “We were kids.”
“We were,” he agrees. “Most of the time. I remember a few camping trips when we were a bit older.”
Before I can reply, he opens the door and enters the stairwell, letting it shut behind him. I can see his form retreat through the frosted glass. Those camping trips were some of my best memories, and I’m pissed that he’d taint them now. Because that’s what he just did. He tainted them by mixing them with the array of angry emotions running through me right now.
“Asshole,” I murmur and close my eyes. Get it together. I can do this.
My phone rings, and I reach into my pocket to pull it out, lifting it to my ear, my eyes still closed. “Hello?”
“Hey Macey, how are things?”
Son of a crackerjack. I should have checked the ID. My stomach sinks even further, and I’m pretty damn sure this afternoon couldn’t get shittier if it tried. “Things are fine. What do you want, Jace?”
“Nothing, I just wanted to check on you.”
My blood boils at the sound of his arrogant voice. His tone holds no trace of acknowledgment about our conversation last night. It’s just like Jace to not give two shits about what I want. “I told you never to call me again.”
“We both know emotions were high. I shouldn’t have asked for a quickie.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
“Can you forgive me?”
I stare at the frosted glass long after Lincoln’s shadow disappears. “Sure. I need to go.” I end the call before he can say more and decide—even if the accusation is incredibly childish—it’s all Lincoln’s fault I answered in the first place. After all, if he hadn’t come in and riled me up, I would have checked before answering.
Turning away from the stairs, I survey the space, mentally making a list of the things that I want to replace before reopening. Sighing, I fold my arms.
It’s going to take a lot, but if I can get this up and running as though it is new, I’ll be able to pull a lot off my gram’s plate while also fulfilling a lifelong dream of mine.
Lincoln
Embarrassed. That’s the understatement of the year. I was mortified, terrified of returning to a place where everyone knows everything about every-fucking-one. You can’t cough in this town without it being newsworthy. And with Pops being the mayor now? I knew I would be front-page worthy. Hell, they still talk about what happened to me. Even now that my return is six months in the past. Truth is, they don’t know the half of it. Patricia bailing was only the tip of my self-spiral.