Page 26 of Cherry Picked
“Because moneyisimportant,” I said, my own patience fraying a bit. “As anyone who’s ever done without could tell you.”
“But you’re not doing without! Panini Jack’s is doing great,” Hawk insisted, “just like Sunday Orchard has done fine for centuries, so why—”
“The orchard does just fine because Webb—and now Knox—work their asses off to make sure it does, just like I do with the diner. But it’d be nice not to worry, come November, if I have enough to make it through until the tourists come back.” I exhaled sharply and went on in a more measured tone, “And it’s not just about me, Bird. There are a lot of Hollowans who’ve had to turn to online sales to make money through winter. Nan and Len at the yarn shop. Mrs. Cleeward with her candy. We’re doing as much as we can, supporting each other and creating our own local network. You know I’m committed to making the diner as farm-to-table as possible. But how much business do you think Scoops does on a given day in January? Barely enough to keep Frank Bediako’s lights on.”
I bit my tongue against the other truths I could tell him—about nights I’d gone to bed hungry after my dad died because there simply wasn’t money to pay for his medical billsandour rentandenough food for a growing teenager; about how I’d woken up in a cold sweat at least twice a week after buying the diner, worried I’d made a mistake and my mom and I would end up back in a tiny apartment again—but I’d never wanted to burden Hawk with those stories, especially now when he was dealing with his own shit.
“There are other ways,” he insisted. “If folks are that worried, let’s think up another business concept…”
“Sure. But I don’t have any great ideas, do you? If there were another easy solution just sitting there, don’t you think someone would have figured it out already? Evola is the business that’s here with their wallet out, and they’re saying all the right things. Hollowans don’t need nebulous future ideas; they need moneynowso they can pay their rent and fund their kids’ schools and keep their roads plowed in the winter. It’s easy to say, ‘Let’s stick to our ideals,’ when you’re not the one paying the price for them.”
He scowled. “You make it sound like I don’t care about the people of this town.No onecares more about—”
“Of course you care about the Hollow,” I agreed. “Just like I care about preserving this mountain as much as possible. That’s what I mean when I say it’s a complex issue. It’s not black or white. We all need to be willing to compromise. But when it comes down to it… I believe the development needs to move forward. It’s really the only way to achieve both objectives.”
Hawk chewed on his lip for a long moment and was quiet for most of the hike back down the trail. When we got to the final half mile, he spoke up, and I could tell by his firm jaw that he’d thought himself around in circles until he’d ended right back in the angry place where he’d started.
“I understand what you’re saying about the money. I know that’s a very real issue. But you’re letting that blind you. You talk about oversight, but it feels like I’m the only one who’s bothering to look closely at this while everyone else is telling me to sit down and be quiet. Letting Evola move forward with a proposal that has the wordclear-cuttingin it isn’t the right way to save the townorthe mountain. The development needs to be stopped before it ruins this place that my dad… and lots of other people… love so much.”
I tried to hide my sigh of resignation. It was clear he was going to dig in and pick this as the literal hill to figuratively die on. He was expectingmeto rethink my position but refused to rethink his own.
“Okay, then,” I gritted out.
His nostrils flared. “Don’t patronize me, Jack Davidson Wyatt.”
“Oh, we’re middle-naming now?” I ran my tongue over my teeth. “Fine. You’re spoiling for a fight, and I’m not gonna give it to you, Henry Hawkins Sunday. You can’t just keep things the way they are indefinitely because you’re scared that something bad could happen. That’s not how life works.”
“Well, I say it is.”
“And I saidokay.”
Hawk lifted his jaw mulishly, and I wished I didn’t notice and appreciate how gorgeous he was even when he was being a stubborn ass, but I did. It seemed I couldn’t help noticing anymore, damn it.
I could tell Hawk wanted to argue until I agreed with him, but I refused.
Hawk was stuck in his own head. By his own admission, angry about everything on Earth. And with our rock-solid friendship suddenly seeming incredibly fragile, getting into a rip-roaring debate was the last thing I wanted. The town would make their decision one way or another in a few weeks, and maybe then Hawk could accept it.
“You heading home?” I asked when we reached the trailhead. “I’m planning to go back to the house and chill for the rest of the day. I thinkDeath Comes to Pemberleyis on tonight, and if you want to come over, we could—”
“Thanks, but I have plans.”
“Oh.” I stewed over this for several paces, then asked, “Date-type plans, or…?”
“Better.” Hawk paused long enough to give me a wide smile. “Crys and I are throwing knives.”
I nearly stumbled over my own feet and caught myself on the hood of my truck. “At each other?”
He snorted. “No! Honestly, your face right now. At atarget. Crys knows a guy who knows a guy. He teaches courses and stuff. Should be fun. Even better than jiujitsu. Get that aggression out, like you said.”
“But…” I blinked. “You’re a pacifist. You hate weapons. You cringe at the sight of blood. You cried atHunger Games. During the knife-throwing scene inDivergent, I thought you were going to vomit up the Skittles and popcorn you’d scarfed down while drooling over Theo James. In that onePride and Prejudicevariation, Wickham held Lizzy at knifepoint, and it took two pints of mint chocolate chip to calm you down.”
“Yeah, but this time, I’m the one with the knives, and that feels… different, somehow. It’s calledbroadening my horizons. About time I did that in lots of ways, don’t you think?” Hawk bumped his knuckles on the side of my truck twice before heading toward his own car. “See you tomorrow, boss.”
I watched uneasily as Hawk got into his car and drove away. I didn’t want to be Chicken Little about the situation, but I couldn’t help thinking Hawk was having some kind of quarter-life crisis. Picking fights? Planning to lose his virginity, possibly to a random stranger on a hookup app? Turning down a viewing of aPride and Prejudice-related movie so he could goknife throwing?
Someone needed to keep an eye on him. Someone besides me.
Someone like… Webb.
