Page 9 of Mistletoe Misses
“Okay?”
She answers with an apathetic shrug, then gives her full attention to the books. I’m standing there, frozen to the floor wondering what just happened. I got schooled and dismissed by a human the size of my leg—that’s what happened.
With my confidence successfully shaken, I head out, kissing Nana on the cheek along the way. If I could, I’d put young Sadie up against any suspect I’ve ever arrested. Five minutes in an interrogation room, and she’d crack them open and shake the confession out of them like a raw egg—that’s something I’m confident in.
I’m chuckling to myself at the vision of her sitting across a scuffed metal table from a hard, tatted up high school dropout, her feet swinging back and forth under the chair, when I run into someone on the sidewalk. Not ten feet from the bookshop and an hour into my visit, and the past is already slapping me in the face.
“So sorry about—Maddox.” Carmen’s father stares up at me as if he were seeing a ghost or someone reincarnated from the dead. The description isn’t far off.
“Hi, Mr. Bennett. I’m surprised you remember me.”
“It’s been a while, but I could never forget. You were good to my girl.”
The wounds Carmen left pulse and threaten to reopen. When she walked away, I didn’t only lose her, I lost her entire family. I’d grown up at her place as much as mine and Nana’s. Our families were neighbors and best friends. We spent every holiday, summer, and Sunday afternoon together until her absence added a canyon size hole to those activities. I couldn’t continue going about my life as if nothing changed. It hurt too much.
“We loved you like a son,” he says. “Still do.”
How is that possible? I hadn’t been kind to them when they reached out after Carmen and I broke up. I ignored the letters and care packages they sent while in the Army. I never asked about them when family called. As I did with Carmen, I erased them from my life to keep the sorrow and heartache from swallowing me whole and convinced myself that they hated me for it
“You look good. Strong.”
“Thank you.”
An awkward silence takes over, and he rocks back on his heels, the round leather bag he carries draws my attention.
“Going bowling?”
“I am. Every Thursday and Saturday.”
“Is your wife tending the store this afternoon?” I point over his shoulder toward the general store his family has owned for generations, thinking of all the times I spent there growing up.
“No,” he says quickly, then chuckles. “She’s substituting at the elementary school this week.”
“Oh. Please tell her I said hello.”
“Will do.” He doesn’t waver from his stance, almost like he’s guarding the entrance. “Where are you off to now?”
“I thought I’d surprise Mom at work.”
He checks his watch. “That’s perfect. She should be getting off soon.”
“She is?” It’s not even noon yet. “Why?”
“She’s getting ready for the baby.”
“Baby? What baby?”
“Sorry, son. I thought you knew.” He taps me on the arm, closing down the subject. “I’ll let her tell you all about it. Enjoy your visit, and I hope to see you at the Spectacular. It’s going to be a good one this year.”
I couldn’t focus on anything he said afterbaby. On my way to the truck, I review conversations I had with Nana, my parents, and my siblings. I may suck at staying in touch, especially over the phone, but how could I miss someone being pregnant?
It better not be Kendall’s. She’s only nineteen. Or worse yet, Aaron’s. My little brother can barely take care of himself in college with his studies, baseball schedule, and partying every minute he isn’t in class or on the field. Cooper, my oldest brother, would never have a kid before he was married, discharged from the Army, and stable as a civilian. Unlike Aaron who goes wherever the wind takes him, Cooper has a plan for everything. Mishaps happen, but between them, Aaron is the one I wouldn’t be surprised to hear had been loose in the responsibility department. Stupid, crazy kid.
Parking in front of the Ember Falls government building in central downtown, I jog through the front courtyard and up the tall flight of old stone stairs.
“Hi, Maddox.” A woman about my age waves from the reception desk as I walk up.
“Hi …” Using my investigative skills, I check the nameplate on her desk. “Rebecca.” Am I supposed to know her? I’ve been gone too long. “How are you?”
