FOUR
Austin
Driving back to Sweetkiss Creek from the family farm today, I had to tip my hat to my mother: she had gotten me out of the house for breakfast this morning. Only she could trick me into coming out to see her so she can check on me. If I asked her outright if that was her plan, no doubt she’d deny it. That’s fine. In retrospect, I know her well enough that I should have caught on to what she was doing.
Her ask? If I could help move a few pieces of furniture that she’d sold to the porch. Only when I arrived—surprise!—she didn’t need my help any longer. Like magic, the people she was expecting had already stopped by and picked up the items. So, of course she invites me to stay for breakfast instead.
The drive back had taken me a little longer than the drive there. I’d had one of those weird moments like I wasn’t sure I knew where I was. It was disorienting, to say the least, but made me slow down and err on this side of caution.
It had started with the potholes in the road. I don’t remember them being this bumpy. I know these roads like the back of my hand, so I’m curious why today they feel harder to navigate. As if when I look at the road ahead, I don’t know what is coming around the next turn, even though it’s a familiar stretch of road that I grew up on. Kind of like my life right now, isn’t it? No wonder my own mother has taken to trickery to get me over to visit.
Coming over a small rise, I can see my property ahead, alerting me that I’m home. Slowly, I let my gaze slide over to my new neighbor’s home. There’s a bright yellow van parked in her driveway, making me wonder what’s already broken down that she needs to have fixed.
That house was, at one time, part of my grandparents’ property. They’d built it as a rental, but it had come in handy when they needed money to help because crops weren’t their best one year. The house was there for them to sell off so they could put the cash into savings.
The nostalgic part of me always thought I’d be in a position to get it back one day. Truly. I’d thought when I hit it big that I would be the one: the member of the family who could swoop in and save my people. Not that anyone needs saving, but you know, I wanted to be the caretaker for once. The son who when their mom says, “I need to pay a bill,” he’s the one who pays it.
Slowing down, I put on my blinker to turn into the lane, keeping my focus on my end game of getting home. However, it only takes one word on the side of that van to draw my attention and set off an alarm.
Landscaping.
Slamming my foot on the brake, I throw my truck into reverse, backing up at a ridiculous rate of speed so I can pull into Bex’s driveway. I’m going so fast, my truck all but slides to a stop behind the van. I hop out, and when I look across the back lawn, I find Bex standing near the hedge that separates our properties with a large workman beside her.
“Hey!” I call out, marching to where they stand huddled together. “Are you looking at that hedge?”
I swear I see her bristle from here. As Bex stands up taller as I approach, I realize I haven’t seen her—likeseenher—since before my injury. I’d forgotten how utterly drop-dead beautiful she is. Her face breaks into a huge smile when she sees me, taking me off guard.
There’s a stab at a distant memory, reminding me that at one time, I thought she was really cute. Like, I wanted to kiss her cute…not that it matters now.
No one wants a defect like me.
“Hey, Austin,” she calls out. She turns and says something to the man before she jogs over to me. “It’s really nice to see you. Crazy we’re neighbors, huh?”
“Yeah, it’s nuts.” I point to the hedge. “Are you thinking of doing something to that?”
“Well, yes,” she says, parking her hands on her hips. “I’m having it trimmed back.”
“Trimming it.” Threading my arms across my chest, I pull myself tight in the center as I narrow my eyes and stare at her. “You need to ask my permission, Bex. It’s on my property.”
“Actually, Austin,” Bex says, shaking her head as she pulls out a piece of paper from a folder she’s holding and hands it to me, “I’m the kind of person who does my due diligence. I checked the country records this morning so I could find out where the property lines are.” She flips to a page with a sketch of our section on it, pointing to a red line. “That line there, the one that’s on the other side of the hedge, is an indication of where my property boundary is.”
Holding the paper in my hands, I begin to feel uncharacteristically full of rage. My hands begin shaking and, out of the corner of my eye, I notice Bex taking a step away from me.
“This,” I say, holding the paper in the air, “is from your realtor?”
She nods. “I’m happy to put you in touch with Kaci, but she’s on vacation visiting her best friend.”
“I know who Kaci is.” She’s the local realtor I tried to talk into selling me this house out from under Spencer, but she wouldn’t do it. That’s a smart woman right there.
“Sorry, Austin,” Bex says. “I was going to come over to see you about this once the landscaper left.”
“Well, this is the first I’ve heard about this hedge being an issue. This land has been in my family for a long time, and I know this hedge was put in by my grandparents.”
“I get it.” Bex nods, her face morphing as she takes on an expression like she’s dealing with a toddler. “I want to find a compromise if we can.”
“Okay.” I drop my arms to my sides. “Will you consider not trimming the hedge in some way?”
She sighs, flipping her hair over her shoulder and treating me to a whiff of some kind of citrus fruit. I do love oranges. “I really want the view, Austin. I want to be able to sit in my backyard and see the pretty pond that’s between our homes.”
