Chapter 9
Lincoln
Valerieisdefinitelynervous.Her face has turned some shade of pink at least a dozen times and it’s only been twenty minutes. After getting in and starting our conversation, I asked for brief directions, which was just to get on the highway going east.
It's honestly hard to pay attention to the road with the draw I feel to her. She had a weird effect on me before we met, and that’s only intensified since the moment I laid eyes on her. It doesn't help that nearly every time my gaze glides toward her she flushes a beautiful shade of pink.
“So, like I mentioned, I was thinking we could say we met at a coffee shop. What's your go-to location? Is it local or big chain?"
“Three Sticks Café and bakery. I frequent them maybe a little too often.” Her smile lights her whole face, and my heart races.
“Okay, so what’s your usual order? Do we want it to be the cliché mix up? I grab yours or vice versa? Or something else?”
“Oh gosh.” She holds her face in her hands. “So many choices. Um, maybe just you complimented my drink order? I usually just get a flavored coffee. Nothing too fancy.”
“Huh. I usually go for just black coffee. Okay, we can work around it if need be, but let’s just go with the fact that we met there for the start, and hope nobody asks more questions.” We can probably get out without needing more information than just meeting at a coffee shop. But honestly, she’s exactly the type of girl I’d try to pick up just by saying hi. Maybe we go with that.
“Sounds good to me. So, tell me something about yourself.” She sits back in her seat, and it appears as though she’s less tense and perhaps even relaxing a little. That’s good. I don’t want her tightly wound.
“Hm. Well, I’m an entrepreneur. I own a few men’s clothing shops in the area. Peterson’s?” It’s unlikely she’s heard of them, because they’re a bit of a smaller shop, but it’s possible.
“Oh yeah. I’ve heard of it, passed by it a few times. What got you into that?”
I run my hand along my jaw in my own nervous habit. “Family business, sort of. My parents both used to make and sell clothes, more out of the house than anything. Dad was about to open his own storefront before…before they…uh, just before.” How do you tell somebody you just met that your parents have been dead for almost fifteen years?
But I can’t dwell on it too much, because her hand lands on my arm, and my mind goes fuzzy, my heart stuttering.
“You can talk to me. I’m a good listener.” The sincerity in her eyes is screaming at me from across the center console.
“Before they died.” I swallow sharply. I don’t know what sort of magic she just worked on me, but it got me to open up without any thought. I don’t usually share that bit of information about myself at all, let alone with somebody I just met.
But instead of getting the look of pity I usually receive, she has a straight mouth, looking solemn. There’s something else lingering under the surface that I can’t put my finger on.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Things like that have a way of shaping us. Perhaps in a different mold than we would have had before, but shaped, nonetheless.” The way she says it, with such conviction, makes me wonder how she knows the feeling I can’t ever seem to express.
I am who I am because of their deaths. I’d surely be somebody very different if they were still alive, possibly not even living in Juniper Grove.
“My parents…they both died when I was younger too. My Gram, she’s important to me because she basically raised me. I was six when they were killed in a drunk driving accident on a little getaway they took to Vermont. How old were you?”
Who’d have known we had so much in common. “Sixteen.”
“Ah. So you had some more pivotal years with them. Things that shaped you more. But still many years ahead of needing their guidance.” She’s the only person I’ve met who understands.
“I feel like I still need it sometimes, ya know?” My eyes widen as I realize what I just said. Another tidbit I’ve never shared with anybody before.
“I do. I’m lucky and have Gram. Did you have anybody?”
This is all so incredibly surprising. I’veneverhad such an open and honest conversation with anybody about the loss of my parents. Maybe it’s our shared experience in the matter that makes it easier. But something tells me it has to do more with Valerie herself.
“My aunt took me in after they died, but I was all too happy to be gone after two years. I never went back, and we stopped talking shortly after I moved out. She was my only family, and she died after I turned twenty.”
“So you have nobody? No family?”
I shake my head with downturned lips as I look over my shoulder and change lanes smoothly. It gives me something else to focus on for a minute besides the gaping hole in my chest that’s been there since my parents died.
“Well, good thing for you my family, especially Gram, likes to pick up strays. In fact, one of my ex-boyfriends from ten years ago might be there tonight because of that. Thankfully, we were never that close. They’ll welcome you with open arms.”
“That’s comforting in a weird way.” I don’t want to talk about this anymore. My breathing rate is picking up, and my heart is starting to beat faster and faster, which always happens when I spend too much time thinking about my parents.
