Late May

Rolling over in my childhood bed, positioning myself on my stomach, I stretch, grabbing my phone off the nightstand. A few months ago I was one of the most sought-after public relations people in the world. My phone was never quiet; I always had at least thirty messages at a time. Some Hollywood starlet was having a crisis that needed to be spun, and I was the one that did it. If there was a problem? Malone Fulcher would solve it and do it better than everyone else.

Until the Great Fuck Over.

I call it the great fuck over, because there was a concentrated plan by three people at the company I worked for who’d conspired to get me fired. Spoiler alert – they succeeded.

Judging by the empty cell phone and equally almost-empty bank account I have, I’m not sure I’ll ever have a job again, at least one in the field I love so much. It wasn’t so much the fact that I helped people, I’ll admit. I loved being in the inner circle of some of the hottest people in the movie and music industry. Sports? Not my thing. I stayed away from it like it was a contagious disease. So many of those jobs I bypassed, but I was fine with it. I never wanted to run into him. I never wanted to accidently be faced with my past when I wasn’t prepared.

If there’s one thing I excel at, it’s running from shit I should face. If it were a sport, I’d be the number one draft pick in the league.

“Malone! Time to get up!” my mom yells from the kitchen.

Oh yeah, did I mention I’ve had to move back home? As in with my parents. Back to Willow’s Gap, Georgia. A small town that holds too many memories? The last few months have been hard, but the last two weeks? They’ve been the absolute worst. The few times I’ve been able to drag myself out of bed, I’ve only seen things I’ve wanted to forget. Every turn of this town reminds me of something that’s better buried in the past.

“I’m up, I’ll be down in a few,” I yell back to her.

She’s trying to keep me from being depressed by making sure I get up and do something every day. While I understand her intentions, I would really appreciate a few days to lick my wounds. I’m mourning the loss of life as I know it. All the cool stuff I got to do, when I lived in Los Angeles. The freedom to travel if I wanted, going to the gym at midnight when the mood struck me, not worrying about how much something cost, and knowing there were friends who always had my back. Turned out all that shit – it was a lie.

Now I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to do any of that stuff again and it’s been a fucking hard reality to face.

“You’ve gotta get out there,” Mom is saying as I sit at the kitchen table, eating a piece of toast with her homemade strawberry jelly on it. “At least get some applications in. With the summer season coming up, people will be hiring, and beggars can’t be choosers,” she reminds with the raise of an eyebrow. She and Dad have been floating me a few dollars here and there, which I know they really can’t afford. We’ve always been a middle-class family, and me coming home without pulling my weight will put them in a bind if I don’t do something about it fast.

She’s saying it without really saying it. I have bills to pay, and if I don’t get off my ass, I’ll be stuck not only living with my parents but having my car repo’d and my credit completely trashed.

“I’m going to,” I sigh, taking a drink of my coffee. She means well, but right now I’m doing the best I can to keep my head above water. Emotionally and financially. “Today, I’m going to.” It’s a decision I make spur of the moment, and damned if I’m going to go back on it.

“Del’s is hiring.” She hands me a piece of bacon.

Chewing thoughtfully, I shake my head. I most definitely won’t be working at Del’s Diner. Too many memories. From the greatest to the worst ever. “I’ll look into it,” I tell her, just to pacify this situation. “I’m gonna head downtown and see what’s going on.”

She has a seat next to me, putting her hand on top of mine. For the first time in years, I realize she’s got age spots on her skin, it’s a little more wrinkled than the last time I saw her, and I know without a doubt I can’t put my burdens on her or my dad.

“I love you, Malone. I just want you to not let this break you. Not like last time you broke.”

And here we go. “Mom, I lost the love of my life last the time I broke. This is a job. Not the person I was going to spend the rest of my days with.” Somehow, it still hurts talking about it. Even though I was a teenager the last time I left small-town Georgia.

“He’s back in town, ya know?” She gives me a small smile, and a gentle push with the cadence of her voice.

Like I don’t know this.

“I’d have to be living under a rock to not know that.” I take a snapping bite of the bacon this time. It had been national news when Slater tore his ACL, and for a few weeks, no one had left him alone. Even though I’ve tended to be able to ignore stories about him since we broke up, this one I’d read. A part of me wonders who’s taking care of him. Probably some chick with fake tits and lip fillers.

“He’s at his momma’s,” she continues, ignoring the fact I even said anything. “Going to physical therapy when he has to. The family has been driving him around, but he started driving again, not long ago.”

She’s completely caught up on his life, it seems. I wonder if it’s because she’s nosey or if because she wants me to know what’s going on. This I haven’t decided yet.

“Good to know he’s still got them to take care of him.” I take a drink of my coffee, staring off into space. “His girlfriend probably stayed behind in Birmingham.”

She snorts. “Malone, girl, you got a lot to learn. For most of your life you’ve made a lot of assumptions, and I think having to come home and face the truth is gonna be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

That pisses me off, makes me bristle. I have nothing else to say, so I set my cup down. “Guess I should get moving on finding a job. See ya, Mom,” I lean down, kissing her on the cheek. “Be back later.”

As I step out onto the front porch, I take a deep breath, and hope that not everyone in this town has the same opinion of me she does. Coming home was never going to be a walk in the park, but it may end up being harder than I ever imagined.

“Want your usual?” Stephanie, the morning waitress at Del’s asks as I have a seat in the booth I’ve proclaimed as my own. She and my mom are friends; they went to school together, and while my parents were married, Stephanie started a job here that she’s never quite given up. The people of this town though, we love her to death.

“Hell yes, I’m starving.” I rub my stomach with the palm of my hand as it clenches tightly.

“You’re always starving.” She gives me a grin.

“Because I always come in here after going to physical therapy. They work me hard,” I remind her.

Sinking into the booth, I put my leg up, sighing as it’s finally allowed time to rest. The PT I’m going through is hard, but it’s what I’ll have to do if I want to be able to play professional baseball again.

“You want me to double your order?”

“Why not?” I shrug. It’s an omelet, and I’m definitely losing more calories than I’m putting back in. I’ve lost ten pounds since the injury, and I can’t afford to lose much more. Bulking back up is difficult, especially putting on good weight. “Add some bacon and sausage to it.”

“Will do.” She sets a coffee and a water in front of me.

Glancing around the room, I nod at the group of older men sitting at a table not too far away from me before I grab my phone and start checking emails. Even though my season is done, for the most part, I still have appearances I’m hoping to be able to make in a few months, endorsement deals, and paid sponsorships that have to be posted on social media. My agent has promised to keep me in the forefront of fans minds, and I know he will.

Logging onto Instagram, I see that I’ve been tagged in a multitude of get well posts. It’s happened every day since I went down in Spring Training. Most everyone told me I needed to rehab in Birmingham with team doctors, surrounded by my teammates, but the truth is I needed a break. I know myself, and being with the team, while not being able to play, would have driven me insane.

“Here ya go.” Stephanie pushes a plate of food in front of me, along with a bottle of hot sauce.

“You know what I like.” I give her a smile before I liberally douse the omelet and move to take a bite.

“She’s back, ya know?” Stephanie says right as the fork is situated at my mouth.

My eyes cut to hers, my hand stays steady. “Who’s back?”

“Your girl. She rolled into town about a week ago.”

I force myself to put the bite of food into my mouth and chew, before taking a drink of my coffee. Somehow I knew this was going to happen; I’d heard from my little brother she was back, but I’d pretended like I didn’t know what he was talking about. “Don’t have a girl.”

Stephanie laughs, rolling her eyes. “Sure ya do, and look alive, she’s walking in right now.”

Over my egg white omelet and the cup of coffee I’m holding in my hand, I see the girl, now woman, who broke my heart all those years ago. She’d trampled on it, threw my words back in my face, and then the next morning she’d lit out of town going south, while I went southwest. We haven’t seen each other in the flesh since. That’s not to say I haven’t looked at her social media accounts, and I’m sure she’s looked at mine, but as far as being in the same room? Hasn’t happened since the night we broke up.

Malone Fulcher. No one’s come close, lived up to, or taken her place in my heart since that summer night we both drove away from Willow’s Gap and never looked back. As our eyes meet, a film strip of memories replays in my head, and I wonder if this small town is big enough for the both of us.