Falling For Us Again

6. McCORMICK’S PROPHECY

Chapter 6

McCORMICK’S PROPHECY

Jenna

I tie my hair in a ponytail as I slide into my car, the elastic band snapping into place. Excitement bubbles within me as I start the engine. Lola has invited me to her art studio and I'm excited to see her work.

As I drive, I note the changes in town. The once-familiar streets are now peppered with new storefronts and freshly painted houses, yet some landmarks remain untouched, like the old general store with its creaky sign, and the ancient oak tree that marks the town square.

The sun filters through the trees lining the streets, casting dappled shadows on the pavement. I drive by the school where I spent my childhood; its brick walls looking smaller than I remember.

A sleek coffee shop stands where the old diner used to be. I can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia for the greasy burgers and milkshakes I used to enjoy there with Lola and Dylan. The grocery store has expanded, and its parking lot is now bustling with cars. I see familiar faces mingling with new ones, and I wonder how many of them remember me.

My phone rings on the dashboard. It’s Lola calling; I’m late as usual. I swipe to answer the call.

“Hey. I’ll be at the studio soon. I got carried away writing.” I say as I answer the phone.

“Jenna,” There’s a catch in her voice, and she let out a heavy breath. “Jenna, I’m going to be a little late. Something happened with Brian, and I just…”

My brows creased together with worry. “Lola, are you ok? What’s wrong with Brian?”

“Yes, I'm okay.”

“Are you sure? You don’t sound okay. What do you want me to do? Should I come to your place? You sound really upset.”

Lola sniffles. “Can you wait at the cafe for a few minutes? I’ll take you to the studio and tell you everything when we get there.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

The line goes dead.

What could have happened?

I haven’t met her fiancé, Brian, yet, but Lola told me that they’ve been together for a few years and recently got engaged. A sigh escapes me. I’m anxious to know what going on.

The Hartlow House Café comes into view, and that’s when it registers that it is Dylan’s Cafe. My muscles immediately tense, and a pit forms in my stomach.

Oh no…

I press the brakes, tempted to turn the car around. I don't want to run into Dylan, and there's a big chance that he’s somewhere behind those doors. What if he thinks I’m there with the intention of seeing him? That I'm after him? Or worse, that I haven't been able to get that day in my house out of my mind?

A blush rises to my cheeks, and a knot forms in my stomach simultaneously. I refuse to admit to myself that I can’t stop thinking about his hands on me. I find my mind drifting to thoughts of him when I try to write, and at night, he creeps into my dreams, leaving me weak and wet with longing.

I hate that he made me feel more sexually alive that day than I’ve felt in an entire decade. Perhaps the curse of having your first love being the best sex of your life and haunting you forever is a real thing.

Dylan was my first love and the first boy I had sex with. We were young, but it was mind-blowing. The kind that you read about in romance novels.

I’ve dated a few other men since, came close to getting engaged once, but no one ever made me feel half as alive as he did, and I refuse to settle.

There were many nights when I would think of him and wonder if he missed my body as much as I did his. Then, I’d open a bottle of wine or two to drown that thought away.

A car honk blare behind me, jolting me back to the present and forcing me to make a decision. I find myself pulling into the small driveway of the cafe. I take a deep breath to steady myself.

I already told Lola I’d be here, so I don't have much choice but to wait for her. Let Dylan think whatever he wants; I could care less.

The aroma of sweet pastries, freshly brewed coffee, and fragrant flowers envelope me in a warm embrace as I step inside. My gaze is immediately taken by a display case filled with an array of delectable treats.

I stride to an empty table in the corner of the room, trying to ignore the curious glances from the few patrons inside. My heart skips a beat as I see Dylan standing behind the counter, engaged in conversation with his co-worker, who had introduced herself as Maggie the other day.

She seems captivated by what he is saying, leaning close to the counter hanging on to his every word. He runs a hand lazily through his dark hair, his easy smile and relaxed attitude causing a surge of irritation to course through me.

I click my teeth together as a sharp, unexpected twinge of something that feels suspiciously like jealousy shoots through me.

No, I’m not jealous. I just think it’s unprofessional for them to act this way when they have customers they should be attending to.

He reaches out to tuck a lock of auburn hair behind her ear and her smile deepens.

Wait, are they... together?

I tear my eyes away, embarrassed by my reaction to seeing him act like that with another woman. I really don't care. I have no reason to. After all, we haven't had anything to do with each other in years.

“Hello!” A young lady with a bright smile greets me. “What can I get for you today?”

I return her smile, brushing away my annoyance. “Hi. I'm waiting for a friend, but I’ll take a latte and two donuts while I wait. Thank you.”

“Of course. Just a moment.”

I steal a glance at Dylan, who is still talking to Maggie, watching as his green eyes crinkle when he smiles, and his laughter fills the small space, stirring up a rush of emotions I’d rather keep buried.

I look away preferring to take in the atmosphere, the soft hum of conversations, the clinking of coffee cups, and the faint sound of a local radio station playing in the background.

There’s a scent that hangs in the air that’s uniquely Hartlow. The Hartlow I loved before my mother died and my father became abusive.

The knot in my stomach returns.

I close my eyes briefly to slow the riot of emotions that comes with thinking about my parents. When I feel the moment pass, I open my eyes. My gaze latches on a bulletin board filled with community notices and flyers. There’s a poster for the upcoming Hartlow Art Fair, a reminder of the small-town traditions that still endure.

My eyes dart to Dylan once more; he looks up, and our eyes meet. I see a flash of something—surprise, curiosity, I can't tell. Maggie also turns, and she whispers something to Dylan as she sees me.

He walks towards me, and my palms become clammy under the table.

“Jenna, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

I don't look up at him, afraid he might see how nervous his presence makes me feel.

“Lola asked me to wait for her here.”

His presence constricts the space between us, making it feel smaller as his tall figure looms over me. My body is hyper-aware of his presence; a warmth rests between my thighs at his closeness. I cross my leg over the other.

“Welcome then.” He gives a small smirk. “Has your order been taken?”

“Yes, it has.”

A notification chimes on my phone. It’s an email from my publisher, requesting some documents. Luckily, I’ve got my laptop with me.

“Do you mind if I use your Wi-Fi?” I ask Dylan, pulling my laptop out of my bag.

“Sure,” he replies, scribbling the password on a piece of paper and handing it to me. “Got work to do?”

“It appears so,” I reply dryly.

The young woman returns with my latte and donuts, and I thank her. Dylan leaves with her, and I release a breath I don't even realize that I've been holding.

I connect to the Wi-Fi, burying myself with work. I focus on the screen, the outside world fading away as I sift through piles of emails and documents.

“Jenna Goldberg?”

A familiar voice calls, drawing me out of my work haze. I look up to see Ms. McCormick, one of my former high school teachers, standing before me with a warm smile. Her hair has grayed a bit, but her eyes still sparkle with the same kindness I remember. She was always my favorite teacher.

“Ms. McCormick! I exclaim, rising to give her a hug. “It’s been ages.”

She envelops me in a tight embrace. “It’s so wonderful to see you, Jenna. I heard you were back in town. I’m so thrilled to see you dear. You look lovely.”

“Thank you, Ms. McCormick. You look fantastic as well.”

“When did you get in?” she asks as we step back.

“Just last week.”

Ms. McCormick’s gaze shifts to Dylan, who is attending to customers a few tables away. “Dylan! It’s so nice to see you as well.”

He approaches with a friendly smile. “Ms. McCormick, it’s always a pleasure.”

She hugs him warmly. “Look at you two, all grown up and still as close as ever.”

I feel a slight pang at her words, knowing the distance that has grown between us over the years. Dylan and I exchange a glance, and I can tell he’s thinking the same thing.

Ms. McCormick continues, oblivious to the tension. “You know, I always thought you two were meant to be. You made such a lovely couple back in school.”

Her comment hits me like a jolt. I force a smile. “Well, things change, Ms. McCormick.”

“Of course, dear,” she says, patting my arm. “It’s so good to see the two of you together. Are you staying long?”

“Probably not.” I shake my head immediately. “Just trying to get some things sorted.”

“Poor dear. The word around town is that you’re selling your parents’ property to Croft Real Estates,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t mean to overstep, but Croft is known for his underhanded tactics. It might be wise to do a thorough investigation before making any decisions.”

It’s remarkable how quickly gossip spreads in this town. How does everyone know about my plans to sell the property when I’ve only been back a week?

“Well, thank you for the heads-up.”

She nods, glancing between Dylan and me. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out. And please, don’t be strangers.”

I give her a small, appreciative smile and nod.

“We won’t,” Dylan assures her warmly.

After a few more pleasantries, Ms. McCormick finally leaves. Dylan returns to attending to customers, but I can feel his eyes on me occasionally.

I focus on my work, trying to push away the awkwardness of the encounter and the thoughts of him. It’s not long before work demands pull me back into the zone, and I lose track of time as I respond to emails and edit documents.

An hour passes by, and I am finally done with work. I wonder if Lola is okay and why she hasn't arrived yet. I pull out of my phone to send her a text.

Hey Lola. I’m still waiting at The Hartlow House Café. I’m getting worried. Call me back.

The café has quieted down, and my eyes trail to the counter, but Dylan isn't there. I hadn’t even notice him leaving. Only Maggie remained, and she’s reading a book. She glances up as if aware that she’s being stared at, and our eyes meet. She gives me a small smile.

“Are you looking for me?” Dylan says behind me, his voice deep and rich.

My heart skips a beat, but I maintain a blank face.

“Why would I do that?” I lift my cup of latte to my mouth; it has turned cold now. “Although it seems like you're stalking me.”

He scoffs as he takes a seat in the empty chair on my table. “You think too highly of yourself.”

“I thought you liked that about me.”

“That was before I knew it was only a cover for how heartless you can be.” He says without missing a beat as he leans against the chair. “I suppose some would still call it brave, though, like I naively did. God help them when you get tired of them.”

My hands clench on my knees at his sharp words. He’s never going to let me live down what I did, and this is why I’ll never allow myself to be vulnerable in his presence.

“I can't believe you're still angry over what happened a decade ago. We were teenagers.” I click my tongue.

Dylan laughs. A short, mirthless laugh that grates on my nerves.

“It’s so interesting to see how these words affect you even when you're trying not to show it.” I say.

He takes the cup from me. “Your hands are trembling, Jenna, why is that?”

I refuse to let him get under my skin. That’s what he wants, and I refuse to give him that satisfaction. A thick blanket of silence descends between us, and I can feel him staring at me as I shut down my laptop. The only sound around us is the clicking of cups on the table by the other customers and the shuffling of feet from Maggie.

I finish my cup of latte. “Thanks for the Wi-Fi, by the way,” I say, effectively changing the topic to something less tense.

“No problem,” he says, leaning against the table. “Also, about what Ms. McCormick said...”

“It’s fine,” I interrupt. “I don’t remember her being that much of a yapper though.”

“I was just going to say I found it funny. But yeah, I guess that's what old age and retirement does.”

My lips curl into a smile before I catch myself. “I guess. She was an amazing teacher, though. Only a few good ones like her.”

“Yes, she was. She was your favorite teacher, wasn’t she?”

“She was.”

"Anyway, I was going to ask, did the carpenter and groundskeeper come by?"

I set my coffee down, nodding. “The carpenter did come around; thank you for that. But the groundskeeper is out of town.”

"That's a shame. I can come over later this weekend to help with the lawn. If you like."

“No, thank you,” I say immediately.

I’m not sure I can handle being alone with him. We’d either end up fighting or wake up to find ourselves tangled in bed sheets. There was a high chance that it would end up being both. I try to put the thought away.

Dylan taps his fingers on the table; a look of impatience crossing his face. “I’m just trying to help Jenna.”

The jungle, I mean grass in the yard flashes in my mind. He’s right, I’m being childish. With a sigh, I nod. “Okay, thank you. I could use the help.”

“Great. I’ll see you on Saturday then.” He turns to leave.

“Why do you keep hanging around me?” The words pour out before I can stop myself.

He chuckles. “Just want to make sure that my customer’s comfortable.”

A text pings on my phone. It’s from Lola who said she’s nearby. I gather my things, eager to leave. Our hands brush against each other as we both reach for my tote bag. The simple touch sends a jolt through my body, reminding me of the deep connection we once shared. For a moment, our eyes lock, and it feels like time stands still.

I snatch my hand away as if I’ve been scalded.

“See you on Saturday.” He says it like a challenge, a promise, and then he turns away without another word.

I watch as he walks out of the cafe, car keys dangling in his hands while my hand is still tingling from the brief touch. My fingers curl tightly around the mug in my hand until I fear that I might break it.

I can’t prevent my traitorous eyes from following the confident sway of his hips, admiring the way his jeans molded to his tight buttocks and grip his muscular thighs.

The door chimes as it closes behind him, and the sounds of the café rush back in to fill the space he’s left—clattering cups, low murmurs of conversation, the soft hum of background music.

My fingers are still tingling from the fleeting contact, the sensation crawling up my arm like a live wire. I grip the mug tightly the cool ceramic a stark contrast to the heat racing through my veins.

“Jenna?” Lola’s voice cuts through the fog in my mind, bringing me back to the present. I glance up to see her approaching, her eyes downcast, lips pressed into a thin line.

There’s something off about her, something I can’t quite place until she’s standing in front of me, close enough that I can see the redness around her eyes and the way her makeup seems hastily reapplied.

“Lola,” I murmur, pushing the mug aside and rising to meet her. “What happened?”

She glances around, as if the café’s small but cozy space is suddenly too public, too exposed. “Let’s go to the studio first,” she suggests, her voice tight.

Without waiting for my reply, Lola nods at Maggie, who’s busy behind the counter, and I can’t help but notice the subtle exchange of glances between them—something that feels significant, but I can’t place right now.

I make a mental note to ask Lola about Maggie and Dylan later, but for now, I simply grab my bag and follow her out the door.

The drive to her art studio is short, yet it stretches on, filled with an oppressive silence. Lola keeps the windows rolled down, letting in the crisp afternoon air, but it does nothing to dispel the knot of anxiety tightening in my chest.

My mind races, leaping to conclusions, each one worse than the last.

Lola’s always been the cheerful one, the one who faces problems with a bit of optimism, but today, something’s different. There’s a sadness in her that I’ve never seen before, and it makes my heart ache.

When we finally arrive at the studio, Lola’s hand lingers on the door handle, her fingers trembling slightly as she presses them against the worn denim of her jeans. I don’t take time to admire the studio; my worries about her are at the forefront of my mind.

We settle into the chairs by the large windows, the light filtering through in soft, golden streams.

Lola’s eyes are glassy, filled with tears she’s desperately trying to hold back. She takes a shaky breath, and I can see how much effort it takes. Her voice is strained when she finally speaks, barely above a whisper.

“It’s Brian.” The words hang in the air like a storm cloud, dark and heavy. My stomach clenches instinctively.

“Is he hurt?” I ask, my concern spilling out as I reach for her hand. But Lola shakes her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips—an unsettling sound so out of place and so unlike her.

“No, Jenna. He’s not hurt. Not physically, at least.” She swallows hard, her fingers curling around mine as if drawing strength from the contact. “He cheated on me,” she says, her voice cracking under the weight of those four damning words.

I blink, struggling to process what she’s just said. “What?” My voice sounds distant, detached from the chaos inside my head. “Oh my God.”

She nods, the movement stiff, as if admitting it aloud makes it all too real. “I saw a suspicious text on his phone—At first, I thought I was imagining things, but... when I confronted him, he admitted it. He didn’t even try to deny it. I almost wish he’d denied it," she whimpers.”

My heart plummets into the pit of my stomach. I feel sick, anger bubbling up inside me, but it’s mixed with a profound sadness for my friend.

“Lola… I can’t believe this. I’m so sorry.” The words feel inadequate, but they’re all I have. I reach out and pull her into my arms, and she collapses against me, her body shaking with the force of her sobs.

I hold her tightly, hoping that somehow, I can absorb some of her pain and ease the burden she’s carrying.

For a long time, we sit like that, the silence only broken by Lola’s ragged breaths as she fights to regain control. When she finally pulls away, her face is streaked with tears, but there’s a flicker of resolve in her eyes.

“What are you going to do?” I ask, my voice gentle.

Lola looks down at the engagement ring on her finger, the diamond catching the light in a way that feels almost mocking now. “I was so happy when he slipped this ring on my finger,” she says quietly, her voice tinged with sorrow and disbelief.

She rubs the band with her thumb, as if trying to erase the memories it represents. “He cried, Jenna. He cried and told me he was sorry and that he loved me. I saw it in his eyes—his regret. It makes me think maybe it wasn’t his—”

“Lola, he cheated on you,” I cut in, my tone firmer now. “He’s engaged to you, and he cheated. There’s no forgiving that.”

“I know,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “But I love him. I’ve loved him for so long. We’ve built a life together, a future... I’ve imagined everything with him, and now... I don’t want to lose that because of one mistake.”

I take her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Lola, love is important, but so is respect. Brian didn’t just make a mistake; he made a choice that disrespected you and everything you’ve built together. You deserve better than that.”

She looks at me, tears brimming once more. “But what if our love and our history, everything we’ve been through... what if that’s enough to forgive him?”

I shake my head, my heart aching for her. “I understand why you feel that way, but you need to ask yourself if this is truly the future you want, and whether you can trust him again after this.”

Lola nods slowly, as if absorbing my words, though I can see the battle raging inside her. She’s torn between the love she feels and the hurt she’s enduring, and I know it’s a decision only she can make. I pull her into my arms again.

But no matter what, I’m here for her, ready to catch her if she stumbles.