Mistletoe Misses

Chapter 7

Maddox

I can still smell manure and hay as I rip out rusty appliances in the apartment above the bookshop the next day. The special scent seems to leak out of my pores as I sweat through the work. My body also aches in places I never find with regular workouts. Each task on the farm is physical and demanding, but knowing me like he does, Jamie didn’t take it easy on me.

After our horseback ride set the I’m going to feel this tomorrow threshold, we hurdled it by completing more of the farm’s endless chores. We fed and watered the pigs, chickens, goats, and a random llama. I have no idea why Jamie has a llama. He wouldn’t give me a straight answer. Then, we returned the dozen horses we corralled earlier to their stalls and did the same nightly care for them.

We worked side-by-side, talking when the task allowed and letting the farm provide the entertainment when it didn’t. Through it all, he understood how immersing myself in something constructive was exactly what I needed. The familiar environment, mindless manual labor, and animal therapy soothed me in a way nothing else could.

While rewarding ourselves with a cold beer afterward, he avoided any topic that might lead back to Carmen. His ridiculous stories rolled from one to the next, making me laugh more than I have in the last decade, and I didn’t give her one thought. It may be difficult for others to recognize at times, but his heart is the size of a tanker truck, and I hope I’ve been the friend to him that he’s been to me.

Getting my hands dirty with the apartment demolition, keeps the relaxed mood I found at Jamie’s flowing through the morning. Nana has been quiet, which probably helps. After opening the shop, I expected her to follow me up here and make her complaints known, but she’s left me alone. She could be plotting against me, organizing my next mistletoe encounter, or calling in reinforcements for her mission to fix my life, but I feel too good to think about that. I plan to ride this wave for as long as I can before life’s little surprises drag me under again.

Moving on to removing the old electrical, the simpler task is quieter, allowing the light rustling happening downstairs to register. I ignore it until the muted hum grows into the definition of commotion, piquing my Nana paranoia.

Speaking of little surprises and the instigator herself, she calls for me from the base of the stairs, surely poised to deliver another surprise to make my toes curl with annoyance. It’s like she knew I was thinking about her.

“Maddox! Can you come here?”

I don’t bother hiding my dissatisfaction since she’s not here to call me out on it and use the adrenaline it provides to pull the last of the old telephone wire out of the wall.

“It wasn’t a request,” she yells.

“Isn’t that what can you implies?” I grumble, giving the wire one last yank. The end coils into a dusty pile at my feet like a sleeping snake—not quite as satisfying as I hoped.

Wiping my dusty hands down my jeans, I lean out over the top of the stairwell. “What’s up?”

“I know you heard me say come down here . Not stand at the top like you’re scared to face the firing squad.”

“That’s how I feel.”

“Shut up and get down here. I need you to try my pie options for this year’s contest.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you say that?”

She grins and that should have tipped me off to something afoot, but I ate breakfast too many hours ago not to allow my empty stomach a say. It takes charge of my brain, and my feet take off.

“I need your honest opinion.”

The sweet smell of cinnamon, fruit, and buttery crust grows stronger the closer we get to the shop. I’m salivating just thinking about sinking my teeth into each flavor until human-shaped shadows appear on the floor ahead.

“And the opinion of my most trustworthy pie-loving friends,” she adds, proud of herself for tricking me.

I freeze, rallying my limbs to make an escape, but her hand on my back pushes me around the corner. That’s when the whole set up unveils before me. Gathered beside a table of pies, waiting to start Nana’s game, are Mayor Whitacre, Wally, some people I haven’t met yet, and … Carmen.

Muscles in my neck constrict and shoot more than just annoyance down to my toes.

Damn it, Nana.

I haven’t recovered from my conversation with Carmen two days ago. Having to face her when I’ve yet to determine my opinions on the matter makes me want to throw a pie like a disgruntled clown at a party.

“Thank you all for coming,” Nana says to the group, ignoring the heat of irritation rising off my skin.

She walks away to slice the pies as if I’m not a flight risk. Funny. She’s forgotten how good I am at running away and avoiding situations I find uncomfortable, which is almost everything that doesn’t require a uniform. My escape plan is already formulating in my mind when Carmen’s eyes find me over Nana’s head. Her searching eyes say more than she did the other night, erasing my exit map and relocating the temper I misplaced this morning. I don’t know what to do with any of it.

“Mayor, you get the first bite honors.”

“Music to my ears.” His dark mustache wiggles above a smile as he accepts a plate of samples and takes a bite.

From the others digging into their samples, compliments and moans sound off while my body goes numb with resentment. I beg my legs to take me anywhere else, but they stay put, giving me no choice but to accept the full plate and fork Nana passes me with my usual obedience. But she can’t control everything. Scooping bites into my mouth like it’s an eating contest, I empty the plate in record time. The flavors smelled so good earlier, it’s a shame I didn’t taste a single bite.

Utilizing my SWAT techniques, I rid myself of the dish on the counter behind Nana and slink away … almost.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Nana’s voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard at this point. Guess I’m not as covert as I thought.

“I have work to do.”

“That can wait. The mayor needs help.”

I survey Mayor Whitacre, and he looks perfectly content and in need of nothing. His belly, the same round shape as Santa’s, bounces while he bellows a laugh that rivals the man himself.

“I know you’re busy, son, but we could sure use your skills to help hang the lights today,” Mayor says, dusting crumbs off his dark sweater, and irritatingly corroborating Nana’s story. “The Spectacular Committee is too small for the job this year, and we’re getting older.”

I nod, understanding I’m about to install string lights over Main Street with a crowd of people who’ll want to get into my business, instead of experiencing the bliss I found working in the quiet solitude upstairs.

Thank you, Nana .

“Enjoying award-winning pies and recruiting young volunteers for the Spectacular,” Mayor Whitacre continues despite his full mouth, “it’s been a productive outing to everyone’s favorite bookshop today.”

Volunteers? Plural? I didn’t hear anyone else get guilt-tripped into helping. Gauging the group, the only youngish people I see, ones capable of climbing ladders anyway, are me and Carmen.

“Can you be there in half an hour?” the mayor asks her first.

She nods, then all eyes cut to me. I’m trapped. “Sure.”

The mayor refocuses on Nana and her pies, and I dart upstairs. With her scheming complete, Nana no longer seems to care if I escape my entrapment. Frustration pours out of me with every clash of the sledgehammer against crooked, wooden cabinets in the kitchen. Since they’re not in good enough shape to salvage, they get the brunt of my pent-up anger.

Twenty minutes later, I plow through the shop to get to my truck out front with my toolbox and ladder in hand—begrudgingly, of course. In my befuddled state, I’m more than startled to find Carmen leaning against the side. I’m flustered and furious, and alarms are going off inside my brain. Her long hair is now braided into pigtails, and she’s added one of those winter, knitted hats with the furry ball on top. It gnaws on my nerves how good she makes that ridiculous hat look.

“Hi,” she says sweetly as if we haven’t spent a day apart.

With a grunt, I stalk to the tailgate and slide the tools into the bed.

“I thought I could hitch a ride with you if you’re okay with that.”

“Do what you want.” What a shame the lightness I woke up with didn’t last. I could use that zen to get me through this unsolicited encounter. I don’t like how she keeps popping up and catching me off guard.

“Is it me?” she asks cautiously after we climb inside, and I start the engine.

“What?”

“Your mood. Is my being here upsetting you?”

“No. It’s my being here that’s upsetting.” More came out than I intended, and I’m internally cursing myself as I back out of the parking spot.

“Because of me.”

My head whips to her without permission, and the friendliness she greeted me with at the shop is now cautious remorse. Good. That I can deal with.

“It’s complicated.”

“If it helps, I’m glad you came.”

It doesn’t. It feels more like an ice pick to the back of the neck. “Why?”

“You may not be willing to accept this, Maddox, but I think of you fondly. Something inside me still flutters when I see you, and I will never forget what we had or how much we loved. What we had was special, and the worst mistake I ever made was throwing it all away.”

“Carmen—”

“I know this is a conversation better suited for another time, but in case you can’t give me that, I wanted to tell you while I have you captured.”

She attempts a half-smile to soften the sharp edges of her confession, but they feel more like jagged slashes across my tender scars. Wounds both from her ripping out a piece of my heart and too many years spent longing for someone who didn’t want me.

And now, the thought of forgiving her or stitching together the pieces of me she severed with the force of a blowtorch seems damn near impossible. I doubt that was the intent behind what she said, but if we were to try being friends or more again, I wouldn’t survive losing her a second time. And I would lose her eventually. If I wasn’t good enough for her then, when my heart was whole and wide open, I’m far from worthy now.

“Maddox.”

My arm jerks from the sudden punch of heat her touch sends through me, and the truck swerves.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine.” I say that a lot, and it’s still difficult to believe.

“No, it’s not. Talk to me.”

With a hard push on the brake, I shove the truck into a parking space and shut off the engine. “We’re here.”

◆◆◆

Carmen

Maddox jumps out of the truck before I can get a full read on his state of mind. From what he did allow me to see, it wasn’t promising.

Of course, he’s not ready to hear about my regrets and feelings. I don’t blame him for hating me, but I wish he’d talk to me. I miss the inner light that once fueled his joy and brought the same out in others. Whether or not I had something to do with dimming it, he doesn’t deserve to live in that dark world. Even if it means having to love someone else to find himself again, I plan to help him get it all back.

Grabbing the handle, I sling open the door with newfound energy and jog to where a few remaining volunteers had gathered. I must have missed a few things while I lingered in the truck with my thoughts because Maddox is already setting up a ladder at the starting point.

“There you are,” Veronica, the mayor’s wife, says, waving her black-gloved hands in the air as she sashays toward me. “I was told you’d be there, but I didn’t see you during the kickoff.” Her Pilates-toned arms circle me for a light squeeze.

“I’m sorry. I needed a minute to gather myself.”

“Why, dear? Everything okay?”

“I rode here with Maddox.”

“Oh.” She leans back to observe my mental state.

In the truck, where I could talk myself up without distractions, I felt infallible. Having him in my sights again with all his muscled glory and morning stubble, I’m back to hanging on by a thread and all gooey inside. Whenever he’s near, I turn into a lovesick kid again. Not the stupid one who thought she could be a famous actor if she left everything behind and went to L.A., but the girl who was fortunate enough to be loved by Maddox Henderson.

“Is he not willing to talk?” Veronica asks, bringing my attention back to her.

We both glance over at him securing the end of the first string with big, color bulbs to the top of the light pole.

“No. He’s not ready.” My voice cracks as I say it, realizing he may never be. “And he has every right.”

“Don’t give up. If talking it out will help, you have to try. Life’s too short.”

“You’re right.” With a sniff, I pick up a box of garland to take to the light pole, but Veronica’s hand gently folds over my arm to stop me.

Her eyes narrow in on something behind me. “Do you want him back?” she asks, throwing me completely off kilter. Wasn’t she just talking about getting closure? Doesn’t closure mean letting go?

“I … I …”

“Honey, you better figure it out soon or he might move on without you.”

“What?” I follow her gaze and find Maddox off the ladder, talking with Jada—the striking single mom, who moved into town last year.

She’s perfect for him, and my entire body twists with jealousy. Her deceased husband was a Boston cop and military man. Maddox may even have known him, giving them more in common. Her silky, caramel-colored hair shines, despite the gray, winter sun, and she’s as sweet as they come.

He lowers to speak with her five-year-old son and both beam with adoration for each other. Maddox has always loved children, and he’s never met one he couldn’t connect with. Or at least he hadn’t when I knew him.

Jada inserts herself into the tender exchange, watching Maddox with her own adoring eyes, especially when he offers a friendly grin meant only for her. A fresh surge of envy blazes through me, and I can feel my face scrunch from the effort it takes to cool it with supportive thoughts.

I want him to be happy. He deserves to be happy. He seems happy in her presence. I’m happy for him. Happy. Happy. Happy.

“You better go before—”

“I can’t.” The response slips off my tongue before I can stop it. Didn’t I promise to help him find happiness, even if it came from someone other than me? Would Jada make him happy? The mere thought of him holding her, kissing her, and loving her—or anyone else—burns deeper than I care to admit. I want to be selfless. I want to be the one to fix all that’s broken for him and for us, but I fear even my best efforts would fall short. Too much has changed, and the gap between us feels insurmountable when it hurts him to simply be in my vicinity. “He doesn’t want to talk to me. And Jada is—”

“Stop getting in your way.” She nudges my back to get my skeptical feet moving. “Go.”

Before I know it, I’m bounding up to them like I have something to say, but I must have left my brain somewhere along the way. Words and sentences don’t populate when Maddox’s gaze finds me, confusion and agitation clouding his eyes. Is that aggravation for interrupting their sweet moment or from our earlier one-sided conversation?

Jada stands to greet me, ending his glare. “Hi, Carmen.”

“Hi,” I manage, despite my brain lagging behind in Maddox’s proximity.

He steps back to make his exit, suddenly on edge. No more grins. No more easy conversation. Way to go, Carmen . “I should get to work.”

“Wait.” Jada reaches for her son’s hand and holds it between hers. She spares me a glance, her nerves showing for the first time, and I can already tell I won’t like what she’s about to say. She turns back to Maddox with a smile. “This is our first Spectacular, and Easton wants to sign up for the rubber ducky sled race. We’ve never done one before, and I was hoping you could show him how it works. I heard you’ve won it a few times.”

“Six, actually, but who’s counting?”

Was that a joke? Jealous over how effortlessly Jada uncovered his playful side, I fight the urge to sulk outwardly. Inside, I’m throwing a bratty toddler tantrum.

Maddox’s eyes cut my way before ruffling the boy’s matching light brown hair. “There’s not much to it, but I’d be happy to pass along what I’ve learned over the years. Sign him up, and I’ll be there to help.”

“That’s so kind of you. Thank you, Maddox.”

We both admire the view as he walks across the street, ignoring our awkward presence together.

“I’m sorry, Carmen,” she says, putting on an innocent smile. I can’t tell if it’s genuine or if she’s showing off for securing private time with Maddox in front of me. Either way, jealousy continues to pierce through me with the force of shooting arrows. “Did you need something?”

Maddox. I need Maddox in my life again, any way I can get him. There it is. No more denying it.

“I was …” Thinking fast, I shake the box I carried over. “Hoping for help with this. Hanging decorative garland on a light pole is a two-person job.”

“How about two and a half? Easton is a great assistant.”

“Deal.”