Chapter Nine
I spend most of the rest of the morning on my phone, doing my best modern-day Nancy Drew impression. Anything I can learn about Hale, I do. Facebook, Instagram, his personal website – not to mention what appears to be a disturbingly large number of fan pages dotted around the web. I mean, he’s not exactly stratospheric or anything, but he’s apparently made quite a name for himself.
I don’t know how I feel about that.
On the other hand, though… I mean, he actually did it. All those goofy little wisecracks he used to make when we were kids, the way he said one day he’d end up making a living by playing guitar – they actually came true. I mean, it was easy to believe it when I was a teenager. When you’re a teenager, most things are easy to believe; that’s why Young Adult novels always end with a happily ever after, with your darling couple heading off into the sunset for a life of true love and never worrying about stretchmarks or car payments or whether or not that lump is something they need to get looked at. Everything works out, eventually. Everyone gets their dream house, their dream job, their dream lover. And so what if life doesn’t really work like that?
Well, apparently it did for Hale. Mostly.
He still hasn’t told you if he’s single, the voice in my head whispers. I try to pretend to myself that’s not what I’m looking for as I scan the internet, tearing webpages apart and delving into all the nooks and crannies I can find in search of some clue as to whether or not he’s seeing someone. So far, I haven’t been able to come up with anything either way. Outside of the official channels – all of which have been carefully moderated by Meredith, I’m sure – there’s very little information out there. Apparently Hale is just as private with the rest of the world as he is with me.
Mom isn’t thrilled to hear that Hale is back, of course, but I figure it’s probably best that she hears it directly from me rather than from the Eden grapevine; if it comes from the horse’s mouth, maybe she won’t think I’m trying to cover something up and I’ll be spared the inevitable hard time that follows – or at least, I might be allowed a shortened version.
‘Oh, Carrie,’ she says, in a way that suggests it’s somehow my fault that he’s rolled back into town, as though he’s a biblical plague I’ve managed to bring back onto myself. ‘You aren’t getting mixed up with him again, are you?’
I can’t help but think that mixed up is probably the best way to put it, but I can hardly tell her that. ‘No,’ I say. ‘And besides, who still says “mixed up with”, anyway? You make me sound like I’m some convent schoolgirl he managed to get pregnant.’
‘Don’t even joke about that.’ My mother, for a woman who was married for over twenty years and has a daughter of her own, is shockingly reluctant to admit the fact that people actually, you know, do it.
‘We’re friends, Mom,’ I say. ‘That’s all.’
I think, anyway.
‘Honestly, Carrie… it’s like you’ve forgotten what he did to you. You were an absolute mess after he ran away. Crying yourself to sleep every night for months. Me and your father didn’t know what we were supposed to do with you. Nothing we seemed to do helped. You were just… broken. Completely. It was heartbreaking for a mother to see, it really was.’
I don’t think there’s any danger of me forgetting the sadness of that fall, any more than I could forget the joys of the summer that came before it. I was different afterwards, different in a thousand little ways – some stronger, some better, and some far, far worse.
‘I know, Mom,’ I say. ‘I was there too, remember?’
She rolls her eyes at me before she heads off to give the Gallaghers on Table Six their desserts – ever the martyr – and that’s the last that’s said on the subject.
~~~
There’s a certain spring in my step as I pull down the shutters and lock up the diner for the night. If anyone asked, I’d point to the takings, which are something approaching decent for the first time in months. A steady stream of customers had poured in ever since the morning, and by the time Pete had packed up and gone home for the night I could tell that he was worn out despite the smile on his face. He knew as well as I did what a good day looked like: the sun in the sky, a full cash register, and a smiling boss.
Of course, my good mood isn’t just about the fact that maybe, just maybe, the Red Rose Diner will live to fight another day. Partly – perhaps even mostly – it’s all about Hale. The effect he has on me. The way that, just like he did when we were sixteen, just like things were before they all went south, even his presence is enough to brighten my day and bring a smile to my face. By the time I get down to the corner of Maple and Main, I’m practically walking on air.
The angry throttle of a motorbike engine pulls me out of my daydream. I turn on my heel, ready to yell at whoever thought they could get away with being so rude – that’s just not how things are done, not in an apple-pie town like Eden – but it’s Hale’s face I see smiling back at me, his eyes glinting like the bike’s chrome under the Texas sun.
‘Finally,’ he says. ‘I’ve been calling you for, like, two blocks.’
‘Sorry. World of my own.’
‘I can see that. Something wrong?’
I shake my head. ‘No, no. Furthest thing from it, in fact. I’m having a great day.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Mmm-hmm.’
‘Well, I’m glad.’ He pauses, just for an instant, just long enough to set aside what he’s thinking. ‘Can I give you a ride home?’ he asks.
‘On that thing?’
He grins at me. ‘It’d be kind of weird if I offered you a piggyback, wouldn’t it?’
I point down Maple Avenue. ‘I live there,’ I say. ‘I can literally see my apartment from here.’
‘So we’ll take the long way. You want to go for a ride?’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Sure.’
‘Is it safe?’
‘I’m still here, aren’t I?’
‘That’s not exactly the best endorsement, Hale.’
He smiles the kind of smile that promises trouble, and reaches into the case behind the seat with one hand. When it emerges, it’s holding a helmet, the same hard black material that Hale’s is made out of. Obviously he’s no stranger to sharing. ‘Yes, it’s safe,’ he says. ‘I wouldn’t offer otherwise. So what do you say?’