Page 63 of Forgotten Pieces

“Free. Less constricted?”

He looks over at me, understanding and surprise crossing his features. “Yeah. You remember?”

“You hated that trailer you grew up in. It was dark and musty. You have all the light you need now.”

He smiles at me and I can’t help but blush. Who would have thought I would remember so much from our past?

He gives me a tour of the house and I am impressed. It’s fantastic. He said half the furnishings they purchased just to fit the cabin feel and I couldn’t agree more. It’s magazine worthy and I am kind of jealous. I wish I had something as special as this to call my home.

We spend the next few hours unpacking. We do everything together starting with the kitchen. He gave me free rein to put everything where I felt was right but it felt weird organizing a kitchen that wasn’t mine. We found a groove of me unpacking and him putting things away. Room by room we made his house feel more like a home. By the time we make it to his bedroom, the last of his boxes to unpack, night is beginning to fall.

“Want me to order some food? We’ve been at this for almost eight hours and that sandwich didn’t do it for me,” Ryder says as he opens a box marked toiletries.

“Sure. I’m starving.”

“What is there to order around here? I’ve been living off premade sandwiches and salads.”

I snort. “Not a whole lot. Pizza or pizza,” I say.

“That’s what I thought. Ordered pizza when we moved in and your sister said something about being sick of it.”

“Welcome to White Creek. The town with one delivery restaurant.”

Ryder chuckles at that and picks up his phone. “Any requests? Black olives, banana peppers, and anchovies?”

“You remember?”

“It’s not hard to forget the world’s worst pizza.”

“It’s not the worst pizza. The worst pizza is your favorite with pineapple on it. Who puts pineapple on a pizza?” I throw back at him.

“Normal people.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, let’s order a cheese and call it even.”

“With sausage.”

I punch him in the arm. “Don’t you dare put sausage on my pizza!”

He puts his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Cheese and bacon?”

“Deal.”

He walks away and I sigh as I open a new box. It feels so normal to have our banter back. The kind we always had eight years ago. And the fact he remembered the type of pizza I like; it makes my heart swell when it shouldn’t. Maybe it is a good idea to spend time together. To remember what we used to be like. What we could be again.

I look in the box I open and see women’s clothing. My heart deflating faster than a balloon. For a while I forgot he was engaged. Forgot I was here as a friend.

“You don’t need to unpack those,” Ryder says as he walks into the room.

“I—ugh—wasn’t paying attention to the label on the box.”

He grabs my arm and pulls me away from the box. “Don’t worry about it. She is meticulous. Won’t even let me touch her stuff half the time. Besides pizza will be here in thirty and I think we both deserve a beer at this point.”

“Ryder Thompson drinking a beer? Heavens, what has this world come to,” I joke in a drawn out southern drawl.

He gives me a slight push as we reach the stairs. “You’ve seen me drink a beer or two in my day.”

“Exactly two. This will be the third and I don’t know if my precious southern heart can take it.”

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