Page 12 of Passing Notes
Clearly, he’d had no idea I lived here. The laws of small-town living had failed us both. Normally, information like where your exes lived and what they’d been up to since your breakup was easily obtainable, as people loved butting their heads in with helpful warnings about such things.
“Dad, it’s Gracie!” The little girl grinned at Gracie then introduced herself to me with a smile and wave. “I’m Sasha, and this is Ethan.”
His daughter was gorgeous. She was the spitting image of Nick; his son was too. All three had wavy dark brown hair, big golden-brown eyes, and perfectly matching noses—straight and slightly upturned at the tip. It was uncanny. I could tell they were both tall for their ages. Nick had hit six feet in middle school, and had finally topped out at six-foot-four.
“This is Clara and Everett,” Gracie introduced us.
“Nice to meet y’all.” Sasha’s huge grin and friendly, wide-open expression were unmistakable indicators she was an extrovert. “Do all of you live there?”
Gracie was already off the porch swing and halfway to their driveway. “No, just my sister, Clara. But I’m here all the time?—”
“We know Everett already too,” Ethan interrupted. “He’s our dad’s friend.” He turned and looked at me. “You’re the only one we don’t know.” Probably because I’d made avoiding Nick an art form since I got back to town.
“I’d better get to work on y’all’s deck,” Everett chimed in. “Eat that spaghetti, Clara.” His head dipped in my direction. “You can’t live off coffee and angst,” he said under his breath.
“I will. Thank you for bringing it over.”
“I’ll drive Gracie home when I’m done. I shouldn’t be too long. Thanks for picking her up from school.”
“Of course,” I murmured.
He lifted his chin with a grin and headed to his truck.
He was more of a father to Gracie than our own father had ever been. I almost felt bad for keeping the pudding incident from him, but not quite. I’d been her sister since she was born, and I had been protecting her the entire time, which meant I’d take her secrets to the grave with me if she wanted me to.
The kids’ voices blended into background noise as they chatted about Gracie’s ankle and their new house. Nick and I locked eyes, his hands shoved into his pockets and his shoulders hunched forward as he took a step toward me. I stared wordlessly across at him with my heart pounding.
Those should be my kids.
Startled, I flinched at the unexpected thought.
We should be moving into that house together.
Maybe then I would have been happy all these years. I bit my lip as intrusive thoughts anchored me to the porch swing. The shock of the images running through my mind rendered me helpless to escape them, so they just kept coming: me and Nick married, having babies, laughing together, just being together out in the open like we had intended to be after graduation.
I swallowed the lump of despair in my throat, choking it down before it obliterated my ability to disguise my feelings and I ended up bursting into sloppy tears in front of everybody. I had to get away from him.
“It was nice to meet you all.” I held up the cooler bag from Everett and smiled at Nick’s beautiful kids. “I have to get this put away.” My fingers twisted anxiously around the handle as I stood, yet I didn’t move from my spot in front of the porch swing. I couldn’t seem to look away from Nick.
The tenderness in his expression had me entranced; it was how he had always looked at me. It belied the hostility in his expression when he’d called me heartbreaker before. Confused, I took a step back as mixed feelings surged through me.
Was he thinking the same things about me?
I was so close to saying something to him. Waving him over so we could talk. Anything to make that look on his face stay.
But it didn’t last. I opened my mouth to speak right as his face emptied and turned cold. Only then was I able to break the spell and enter the safety of my house.
CHAPTER 5
NICK
Hey, heartbreaker, come to my window tonight. I have something for you. No, it’s not what you’re thinking. - Nick
“Can we go see Clara?” Sasha asked—again—as she slid onto a barstool on the other side of the kitchen island from where I was preparing dinner. “We can bring her cookies, or brownies, or banana bread, like new neighbors do? She’s pretty, don’t you think? I love her hair, it sparkles in the sun. Can I dye mine like that? How does she get it so shiny?”
I slammed my eyes shut and set my wooden spoon on the counter, trying to get the sudden surge of memories of having my hands wrapped up in Clara’s hair out of my head. I used to love burying my face in her neck and holding her in my arms with those soft, thick waves tickling my nose and their sweet floral scent filling my senses until all I could feel was her.
I let out a frustrated sigh and tried to adjust my attitude. None of how I was feeling was Sasha’s fault. She didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of my irritation. I plastered on a smile and tried to keep my tone light. “First of all, we’re the new people on the block. If anyone’s bringing baked goods, it will be people bringing them to us—that’s the tradition. And second, no. You have beautiful hair, honey. Maybe when you’re older, if you still want to.”
