LOOKING OVER THE skeleton of the house that was his current job site, Cole unlocked his truck and tossed his hard hat onto the passenger seat. It felt good to take the thing off and let his scalp feel some air. A breeze—now, that would be even better. Too bad this was July and today’s temp had soared into the nineties. Given the typical Pacific Northwest humidity, he’d sweated buckets. If he wanted a breeze, he’d have to find a fan.
Rico Sanchez walked past toward another guy’s truck. “See you at Mickey’s?” he asked.
“Probably.” Cole lifted a hand to a couple of other men, then got in. He grimaced. The cab felt like a preheated oven. His attempt to let the heat escape—by rolling down the windows—hadn’t done any noticeable good. Since the air-conditioning was defunct, that was the best he could do.
A popular local tavern, Mickey’s was air-conditioned, which right now was its main appeal.
Cole had made himself socialize. He even managed to enjoy himself for short stretches of time. Being the odd man out with a crew like this could be uncomfortable. Phillips hadn’t been around much this week; he had crews working on four houses at once. But when he did show up, he seemed to watch Cole more closely than any of the other men, probably assessing his ability to work with them, as well as his skills. The month he’d been on the job wouldn’t be enough for the boss to let go of a degree of wariness. Cole couldn’t blame him; the recidivism rate for ex-cons was high. Still, feeling that extra scrutiny, knowing he had to prove himself, kept him on the razor’s edge.
He felt pretty upbeat in general, but he wasn’t in the mood to join a crowd tonight. He’d want to flatten his back against a wall and stay where he could see everyone. Too many people around sent prickles down his spine.
At the back of his mind, always, was a question. What would happen when these guys found out about his history, as they inevitably would? Even if they didn’t join the jury in condemning him, they’d look at him differently. Fear him, on some level. They wouldn’t want their girlfriends or wives around him. Would Phillips get rid of him if the rest of the crew became uncomfortable working with him?
No matter what, he stayed conscious of the gulf between him and everyone else. They didn’t know him, and he didn’t want them to.
He was surprised his stay at Walla Walla hadn’t already been exposed. Had whoever filed his application not even glanced at it? If she had—and he’d seen the bleached-blonde who ran the office in the trailer currently parked here in this development—could she really have resisted the impulse to gossip with the next employee who wandered in? Maybe, because he’d filled out an e-application, Phillips hadn’t ever printed it. Cindy, the blonde, might not have access to his computer files. Still, if Cole wasn’t outed any other way, he would be the first time a cop came by to accuse him of the latest crime.
While he was living at Erin’s, he hadn’t fully appreciated what it meant to have a boss and landlady who did know him. Not through-and-through, but close enough. This past month, he’d become quieter, reverting to instinct, which meant double-checking every word before he said it.
Finally preparing to pull away from the curb, he glanced in his rearview mirror. Speak of the devil, a big black pickup was about to pass, the driver none other than Tom Phillips. Seeing Cole, Phillips tapped his horn. Cole waved and started down the street behind him.
He hadn’t reached the main road when his phone rang. Dani, he saw. Smiling, he steered to the curb and answered with “Hey.”
“How’s it going?” Before he could answer, she raised her voice, but somehow muffled it, too. “No, you cannot go to Damien’s to hang out. It’s almost dinnertime. No argument.”
Cole laughed. “Tough love.”
“Sure, I’m going to let my kid go knock on his buddy’s door just as Damien’s mom is putting dinner on the table. She’s thinking, Oh, God, do I have to invite the kid to stay? Doesn’t his own mother ever feed him?”
Still laughing, he said, “Does Damien ever knock on your door at five thirty, looking hopeful?”
“Of course he does. I swear, both of them could eat dinner here, then go down the street and have a second one at Damien’s house with barely a burp in between. And go rummaging for a snack two hours later.”
“I remember being starved all the time when I was that age.” He had been in the joint, too, until he’d resigned himself to eating whatever he was given.
“I suppose if I come down to see you now, it’ll have to be on a weekend.”
“Afraid so. When I’m working, I only take half an hour for lunch.”
“Maybe we could invite Erin this time.”
“You know I don’t live at her place anymore.”
“But you see her, don’t you?”
His sister had no idea her casual question was equivalent to smacking him with a bat.
He’d assumed he would catch sight of Erin around town occasionally, say, at the grocery store. Every now and again, he’d drive by the hardware and lumber stores, even the plant nursery, not because he was looking for her, but keeping an eye out for her Cherokee nonetheless.
He hadn’t realized that in a town this size it was possible to go for long stretches without running into someone you knew.
“No,” he said.
“What? Why not?”
“It wouldn’t have been good for either of us, and that’s all I’m going to say.”
His sister responded, but he tuned her out.
He’d been thinking about going by Erin’s house, just to see if it looked like she was still living there. Or, damn, whether she’d rented out his apartment yet. So far, he’d talked himself out of it.
“...an idiot.”
Cole could fill in the part he’d missed. “So, when are you planning to drive down here?”
She huffed out an annoyed breath at being ignored, but said, “Maybe a week from Saturday?”
“Sounds good.” Wasn’t like he had any plans. He found the weekend hours tough to fill.
“The job still going well?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“So it looks like it’ll be permanent?”
She just had to tap into one of his worries.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “New construction will slow down in a couple months, once rainy weather hits. The contractor I work for is big-time enough to keep some projects going year-round, but I’ll bet he throttles back. And that means letting some people go.” Cole didn’t want to be one of those. Being laid off might be inevitable, since he was a new employee, but his level of determination had to count for something. He didn’t make expensive mistakes. He was never late; he didn’t slack off when Phillips wasn’t there. He didn’t have a beer at lunch, he didn’t bad-mouth the boss. “You know how it is. I’m the new guy,” he finished.
“Jerry has relented,” she said abruptly. “Worse comes to worst, you can move here.”
That would be a cold day in hell. He’d bet good money that Jerry hadn’t so much relented as been bullied into shouting, “Fine!” just to shut his wife up.
“Tell him thanks,” Cole said.
The short silence gave him warning.
“Cole, would it kill you to call Dad?”
He bumped his forehead against the steering wheel. “Because he’s finally convinced I got screwed? And, wow, I’m worthy to be his son, after all? Got to tell you, after ten years of silence, I’m not overflowing with forgiveness.”
“Maybe you should think about someone besides yourself,” she snapped. “My dinner’s almost ready. Goodbye.”
She’d been a bossy little girl, too. He grinned at her snotty tone, even though her accusation rankled. His father had had over ten years to write him a letter. To visit. But no. So now Cole was supposed to call and say, “Daddy, I’ve missed you”?
He swore, dropped his phone on the seat beside the hard hat and put the truck back in Drive.
* * *
SINCE SHE REALLY needed groceries, Erin decided to shower in the high school locker room instead of waiting until she got home, like she usually did.
She’d taken to swimming laps at the pool here at least three days a week. Usually she came earlier, but she’d worked at the library until seven this evening.
A voice echoed in the big, concrete space. “It’s fun playing, but Mr. Whittaker doesn’t know any more than Mrs. Fisher does.”
“I don’t think I’m going to play this year,” another girl said.
Walking from the shower room to her locker, Erin saw a bunch of preteen to teenage girls filtering into the locker room from the gymnasium. Oh, no. They had to be taking the more advanced of the two volleyball sessions she’d read about on the Recreation Department website. How had she let herself forget? This session met twice a week, Tuesday and Thursday evenings, six to eight o’clock, allowing for teenagers who held summer jobs.
She reached her locker, only to have two girls saunter after her, stopping just a few feet away to open lockers of their own.
“If we all suck at setting the ball,” one of them grumbled, “how are we supposed to spike it?”
Good question. And sad, because what everyone enjoyed most was slamming the ball over the net.
Voices rang out from every direction, echoing in the big, concrete space. Dressing hastily, Erin couldn’t help listening to the two girls talking.
The dark-haired girl started pulling clothes out of her locker. She had to untangle panties from skinny jeans. “You’re really not going to play?”
The other was a tall, athletic blonde with hair cut short. “Why waste our time? Anyway, you know Mrs. Fisher doesn’t even want to coach volleyball. She only did it last year because Mr. Hoffer leaned on her.”
“They get paid extra, you know.”
“I heard her telling Mr. Ellis she didn’t care about the money.”
It took as little as this conversation, seeing two younger girls snapping towels at each other outside the shower room, the sound of a high-pitched giggle from nearby, to pierce Erin’s heart. It was all so painfully familiar.
She hurriedly fastened the buckle on her sandals and shoved her suit, goggles and wet towel in the tote. She had to get out of here.
Since she was apparently invisible to the girls, they kept talking. “Last year, she said she’d watch films and, you know, study skills. So maybe...”
“Oh, sure.”
A shriek of laughter came from the other side of the bank of lockers. Erin slammed hers shut. The clang was achingly familiar, as were the bits of other conversations drifting her way.
I miss this.
Forcing an apologetic smile, she slipped by and went to the row of mirrors. She was lucky to get one. The younger girls headed out with wet hair, like she was planning to, but the older ones waited in line for outlets to plug in their hair dryers. Some were carefully applying makeup, because God forbid a hot guy should see them without.
The ache she felt was bittersweet. She could help the girls who really did want to play the game well. Memories flickered like a campfire leaping to life. The laughter, the frustration, the childish moments and the graceful, mature ones. Even though it hurt, Erin was glad. She didn’t want to forget the girls, ever.
She hadn’t thought in a long while about the good times with her team.
If she coached at the high school level, she wouldn’t drive to games; the district would provide bus transportation.
It’s too soon.
In another year, she might think about applying to coach. Or even teach a class or two at the community college. Not too big a commitment.
But not yet.
Given the emotions that had pummeled her, Erin’s enthusiasm for grocery shopping had waned by the time she reached the parking lot, but the pickings in her kitchen were getting skimpy, and she couldn’t imagine she’d jump out of bed in the morning and think, Wow, I can hardly wait to go to the grocery store!
Plus, she was working tomorrow afternoon.
So get it over with, she decided.
Sad to say, she never walked into Safeway without looking for Cole. Which was totally stupid, when she didn’t even know where his apartment was or if he was still working at that development between West Fork and Arlington. He could be living and working on the other side of the county by now.
Tonight, she nabbed a cart and started in the produce department, barely glancing at the checkout lanes. It wasn’t as if they’d be that busy after nine in the evening.
Except...there was Cole Meacham, unloading the contents of his cart onto the belt.
Was she hallucinating? Erin closed her eyes and opened them again. No, that was definitely him. She couldn’t mistake those shoulders, the muscles moving under a thin cotton tee, the power in the arms bared by short sleeves.
Transfixed, she stared hungrily. His hair had grown enough not to be spiky anymore. Instead, it was rumpled, as if he shoved his fingers through it. She would give anything to slip her fingers into his hair, feel the texture of it now. Have him turn, his sharp blue eyes locking on her, narrowing purposefully...
Dear God, what if he saw her gaping?
Her cheeks flamed with humiliation and she moved fast enough to make her cart wheels squeak, not slowing until she was mostly hidden behind a heap of bananas. Even then, she kept her back to him.
Erin grabbed bananas and red grapes. By the time she reached the lettuce, she knew he wouldn’t be able to see her if he happened to turn. Nobody was close enough to hear her whimper. Her heart hammered so hard and fast her head swam.
As much as she’d wanted to see him, she suddenly realized she couldn’t afford the stress. Maybe she should start driving farther away to do her shopping. The hours she worked at the library should be safe, except she’d have to decline shifts like this evening’s. She’d be smart to buy gas in the middle of a working day, when there was no way she’d run into him.
And here she’d thought she was doing so well.
She pulled herself together enough to continue shopping, although her choices were more random than they should have been. Usually she maintained a mental list of what she needed. Today, she found herself putting a bottle of extra virgin olive oil in her cart, even though she didn’t remember whether she needed it or not. And never mind pausing to make price comparisons.
She had to backtrack four aisles to get a carton of eggs she did need before she went to check out.
This was close to the longest day of the year, so the sun still hadn’t set. But the purplish-gray of dusk had deepened the color of the sky by the time she pushed the cart to her Cherokee. Thanks to her remote, the hatch door had already lifted when she stopped the cart. She started to pick up the first bags of groceries...and saw the man leaning against the fender.
“I thought that was you in there,” Cole said.
* * *
SEEING HER JUMP six inches, he regretted not waiting in plain sight. What, had he assumed that if she spotted him out here, she’d lurk inside the store however long it took for him to go away?
“I’m sorry,” he said, retreating a step. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s not dark yet, and...” And what? “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
Erin pressed a hand to her chest. “No, I should’ve seen you. I guess I was preoccupied.” She smiled, although he wasn’t convinced it was genuine. “How are you?” she asked.
“I’m good.” When she didn’t move, he took over the job of putting her groceries in the back of her SUV. “The job’s going well. Uh, I have an apartment not far from here. I could have walked, but I felt lazy.”
“That’s great.”
“How are you doing?”
“Oh, I’m fine.” This smile looked a little more...real. “Lottie drove over the other day to bring me a coffee cake, which even I have to admit was better than Nanna’s.”
“Lottie drove?” Guilt poked at him, because he’d never followed up on his concern. He’d meant to talk to Ryan and Michelle at least, and ask if they’d offer to pick up groceries for Lottie, or give her a lift. He knew Erin would’ve been willing if he’d said something.
“Well, it’s not as if she could walk that far. It was kind of scary to see, though. And when she backed out—” Erin’s shudder was theatrical.
“She’s afraid she’ll lose her independence if she has to give up driving.” Cole shook his head. “I told her the neighbors would take her to the store if she asked, and there’s Dial-A-Ride, but I understand her fear.”
“I do, too,” Erin said. “I’ll see if she wants to hitch a ride next time I shop. I’d be glad to drive her when she needs to do other errands, too.”
“That would be good.” He lowered the hatch door as she maneuvered the cart out of the way. Should he back off now? But he hadn’t gotten her out of his head in the five—no, almost six—weeks since he’d seen her, and he didn’t like that she hadn’t mentioned anything she was up to. Lottie, he thought, had been a diversion.
So, ask.
“You doing any more work on the house?”
She wrinkled her nose in that familiar way. “Not really. I’ve pretty much finished painting—yes, ceilings, too, which was an awful job—but I haven’t done anything about the moldings or the floors.” She hesitated, looking shy. “I’ve actually started a part-time job. Not so much for the money, just...to get me out. I’m clerking and helping with reference questions at the library. Only about half-time so far, but I feel useful.”
Even as he smiled and said something that must have been close to right, Cole felt things he didn’t totally recognize. Jealousy—but not quite. All he knew was that he wanted her to take those steps, but he hated that she’d done it all on her own. He’d have liked to hear about the jobs she’d applied for and why, her hesitations and hopes. He could’ve told her about his days, too—the occasional frustrations, the awkward attempts to make friends, his apprehension about possibly being laid off when the weather turned.
But his basic fears remained. He didn’t let himself ask whether she’d kept her promise to him. He didn’t say the words I miss you.
And he didn’t want to know if someone else was living in his apartment.
“Guess we’re both...” Cole paused, not sure how to finish what he’d started. Doing okay?
But Erin said, “Moving on?” This smile was definitely fake. “You’re right. We are. It was good to see you, Cole, but I’d better be getting home.”
When she reached for the cart, he took it from her. “I’ll take care of this. See you around.”
He had a softball-sized lump in his throat as he pushed the cart toward the closest return lane.
* * *
THE NEXT DAY, Cole made a point of getting to work fifteen minutes early. Tom Phillips’s truck was already parked outside the office trailer. Cole knocked lightly and stepped in.
Alone inside, Phillips sat scowling behind a computer. He looked up in surprise. “Meacham.” He rocked back in his chair, the frown lingering. “What can I do for you?”
“I need to take a couple hours off sometime in the next week or so.”
“Family?”
“No. I told you I want to take some classes at the community college.” At the other man’s nod, he said, “I’m way past the application deadline for fall quarter. I can’t figure out from the website when I’d have to apply for winter quarter. I need to sit down with an admissions officer and start the ball rolling.”
“You might be able to appeal and still get in for fall.”
“That’s my hope.” He smiled wryly. “I was out before the May deadline, but I didn’t have tuition money or transportation yet. That was a little too far ahead for me to plan.”
Phillips grimaced in apparent sympathy. “You have a good excuse.”
“A new and improved form of ‘the dog ate my homework’?”
He laughed outright, then said, “Just give me some notice of when you’ll be gone.” Then, humor absent, Phillips said, “You aiming for full-time?”
Cole shook his head. “An evening class or two. I need to work.”
“Fair enough.”
Should he ask about winter layoffs? The possibility had been preying on his mind, but this was too early to say anything, Cole decided. He should be grateful if Phillips just gave him a good recommendation if he laid him off.
Before he could leave, the boss said, “Since you’re here, anyway, let’s talk for a minute. Have a seat.”
Oh, shit. He managed a nod and lowered his butt onto a straight-backed chair.
“Been meaning to tell you how happy I am with your work.”
That was the last thing he’d expected to hear. “Thank you, sir.”
“You’re probably aware I downsize my crews over the winter.”
“I guessed.”
“You willing to stay on?”
“I’d...hoped to.”
Phillips smiled. “Excellent. You know most of the guys look up to you already? You have a quiet way of taking charge without anyone noticing that’s what you’re doing.”
Cole did know. Even in school, he’d ended up masterminding group projects. He didn’t think of himself as a leader, but he really wasn’t a very good follower. “All I do is put in a word when I see a way to do something easier or better.”
Keen eyes studied him. “You’re a bit of a puzzle.” Phillips shook himself, like a dog changing moods. “You keep on like you have been, and you’ll be one of my foremen before you know it.”
Cole was almost as stunned as he’d been when Erin offered him a job. He stared at the other man for longer than was polite before he got out a husky, “Thank you,” and excused himself.
Walking back to his pickup to get his hard hat and tool belt, he ached to call Erin. Share his good news. Knowing he couldn’t left him feeling hollow—or maybe just expanded the hollow place that was always there now. The one that had him second-guessing his decision to walk away from her, even though he was still convinced he’d needed to do it.
I miss you. If he’d actually said the words, how would she have responded?
But he knew. Guess we’re both moving on. She’d soon find herself bored working at the library. Eventually the grief would soften, and she’d want her real life back.
Buckling on his tool belt, Cole gave a helpless shrug. Had Erin resigned from the college where she’d taught? Or had they extended her a leave of absence, and expected her back in September? If that was the case, next time he drove by the house, he might see a For Sale sign in front.
When that day came, he could quit looking for her whenever he went out. Damn. Had he really held any hope? If so, he’d be smart to let it go.