Chapter One
Naomi
Thunk.
Crash.
I whirl around to see my Dad’s display cabinet thunk again as it wobbles on the concrete path in front of my new house, and then wince as the grandfather clock inside it twangs in complaint at the semi-rough treatment.
“Sorry Miss, that ain’t gonna fit.” The big, burly man leading my two-man removal crew shrugs at me. “Gonna hav’ta take it to pieces, I reckon.”
I run my eyes over it, relieved when I don’t see any obvious damage from trying to fit it into the narrow entranceway, then nod.
“Alright. That should be okay.”
I think I remember my Dad dismantling it at some point - I think. Though I don’t know whether that’s just because my Dad seems to appear in every thought I have at the moment.
The guy glances awkwardly between the cabinet and his partner before shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. “’Fraid we can’t do that for ya - insurance won’t cover it.”
What?
I blink for a moment, staring at the large, unwieldy thing.
“That’s everything else done, though - so if you’re happy and all, we’ll be off.”
Happy? With my cabinet stuck right outside my front door?
“But…what about—” I gesture helplessly towards it, not quite able to finish the sentence.
“Yeah - sorry. Wish we could help, really do.” He spreads his hands out towards me and shrugs.
I’m not sure I believe it. I mean, he’s been a nice enough guy…just a little reluctant to do too much work. Which, in a moving company, isn’t exactly what I’m looking for.
I’m starting to regret not paying a little more for a better option - but I know that I’m lucky to be able to buy the house and have enough money left over to give me a little breathing room. Time to find my feet slowly and ease into this new life. I’m not going to waste that chance by being careless with the money Dad left me.
Before I can think of anything else to say, the guy - Barney, I think, wishing I’d paid a little more attention on the way down here - walks towards me with a clipboard and asks for my signature. For a moment, I’m tempted not to sign. But that seems like a dick move - and it still won’t fix the insurance problem.
Just…damn.
I glance at the cabinet again, before reluctantly giving in and signing what he’s holding out me. Once I’m done, he gives me a half-cheery wave and they both disappear into the van. They’re gone a moment later - and I’m left staring back at the old cabinet, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do now.
I probably should have thought about this before trying to bring it down here - but it was easy enough to get it out of my father’s old house and…I wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind to think through logistics at that point.
Besides, I wanted the cabinet.
All of my parents’ other furniture had come and gone over the years - to the point that I didn’t even recognize half of it when I’d gone back there earlier this week - but the old clock display cabinet had always been there, all throughout my childhood.
I think it was my granddad’s originally, but I only ever remember it in my parents house. My Dad used to keep his finest collection of whiskeys inside - to display them, he’d say, because otherwise he had a tendency to forget about them entirely, and that would be too much of a shame to risk. I can still picture playing on the floor while he poured one after a long day at work…and then later, the first few times I tried to investigate it myself as a teenager…not quite hiding the evidence well enough.
So when I’d seen it again, looking through the house all these years later and feeling grief and loss tugging at me…I’d wanted to take it with me. To have something of them in this new place - and I hadn’t exactly stopped to think about the practicalities.
But, sentimentality aside - it’s here now. So I’m going to have to do something about it…even if I’m not quite sure what.
Well, you’re an independent, self-reliant woman now, Naomi. Work it out.
A slightly ironic smile curves the corners of my mouth at the thought. I’ve spent so much of the last year teaching myself to believe that - reminding myself over and over again that I can do this, and I don’t need anyone else - that the voice comes almost unbidden now. Sometimes, it feels like it’s not even me at all - just some other-worldly being telling me to pull myself together and get on with it. Not bad advice, either way you look at it - and for a long time, more necessary than I would’ve liked to think.
Now…maybe I need it a little less, but that determined part of me still makes me feel better when I land myself in stupid, frustrating situations. Something that happens a hell of a lot more than I’d like.
But I don’t mind - not really. Even if I’m starting to relax enough to laugh at that little voice now, I still get a strange thrill at the idea that I’m doing this all for myself - that I don’t need a removal man to help me.
Or any man, for that matter.
It makes me feel strong and self-reliant, something that has been so missing for so long - and now it’s back, I know I never want to let it slip away again.
So I want to do this myself.
I nod at the thought and walk past the thick wooden cabinet, patting it as I slip into the house.
“Just you and me, buddy.”
I mutter it under my breath, and smile at the strange, warm feeling that it gives me. It’s taken a long time to get to this point - but now? I like knowing that I’m alone, I’m capable, and that I’m actually doing this. Even when ‘this’ is a weird, unforeseen situation that probably counts as awkward more than anything else.
I search through the cardboard boxes stacked in the house, looking for the old tools of my father’s that I took as an afterthought. I didn’t exactly pack as if they were the first thing I’d need - that pride of place goes to my coffeemaker, which I look at wistfully as I move that box to the side.
Work first, coffee later.
Not the way I usually do things, but I didn’t miss the sight of the gray clouds hovering above the house and it would be just my luck for the rain to start before I’ve got the old thing inside.
It takes several minutes to find the tools, and then a while longer to guess whether any of them are actually useful.
Okay, maybe I haven’t done this kind of thing before - so what?
It will all be fine.
When I emerge back outside again, I give the cabinet a long look as I try to work out how best to start.
“Why is that outside?”
The loud, inquisitive voice breaks into my focus and I glance back over my shoulder - to see a little boy standing there, pointing to the large cabinet. He can’t be much older than six and I find myself smiling almost immediately.
“That’s a very good question.” I shake my head, looking back at it wryly. “Seems kinda silly, doesn’t it?”
He nods dramatically, blond hair flopping across his head as he does. “Uhuh. Who’re you?”
The smile deepens, and something squeezes in my chest. He’s got big blue eyes and the most adorable expression as he teeters on the edge of his toes, looking up at me with curiosity. Definitely one of the cutest kids I’ve seen in a while, and I have a weakness for little children.
“I’m Naomi. I just moved here.” I turn towards him, dropping into a crouch so I’m down at his level. “Do you live around here too?”
I don’t want to think there’s some woman anxiously wondering where her son is right now.
“Uhuh.” He says again, pointing to the house just next to mine, the one set back slightly from the road and surrounded by a large fence. “There.”
Ohh.
I relax a little. A boy playing in a quiet, dead-end road like this isn’t such a big deal - and if they live right over there, I’m sure his parents know exactly where he is.
“That’s a nice house.” I say, nodding.
I mean it, too. It’s certainly different from the little cottage I just bought, and in ways I probably have a slightly unique appreciation for. There’s the fence running all the way around it, but it also has an electric gate and a couple of cameras obviously set into the front porch. I’m not sure whether the owner is terrified of a home invasion or…what, exactly.
I’m not going to lie, either - the moment I saw it, I asked the estate agent if they were selling any more like that. I mean, I’m not expecting anything to happen - of course I’m not. There’s a reason I moved to a small town in the middle of nowhere. It’s a new start, a fresh beginning, and no one is going to find me here.
I’m safe and there’s nothing to be afraid of.
But…I also know that it would still make a difference to have a house with so much security - just for when I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t get the irrational fear to fade.
Unsurprisingly, though, there was nothing else like it for sale. It’s not exactly common to add a dozen security features to the average small-town house around here - the owner of this particular property seems to be the only exception. So I’d left that viewing with the quiet little cottage I’d originally been thinking of…and maybe a slight curiosity about my new neighbor.
A curiosity that’s just doubled, if they’ve got kids too.
What can I say? Weakness.
“So, what’s your—”
“Tyler!”
The deep shout interrupts me and the kid - Tyler, I guess - glances back over his shoulder.
“Gotta go.” He grins at me, then turns and runs back to disappear around the side of the house I was just admiring.
I give a small, wry smile as I stand up - and then a sudden pang goes straight through me.
I wonder if I’ll ever—
No. No, Naomi, you are not going there.
I can’t afford to start worrying about having a baby right now - even if leaving Anton has sent my body clock into overdrive. Turns out it really affects you when that neat marriage-and-kids timeline is thrown into sudden chaos. It doesn’t seem to matter that Anton’s “soon” was probably never going to happen, or that bringing a child into that situation would have been totally irresponsible - while I was with him, that baby was always around the corner, and that was good enough to stop these daily pangs, at the least.
But now? No fucking clue when any of that might happen.
Hell, my new plan is to stay far away from men and relationships for a very long time. Maybe even forever. Now that I know I’d rather be alone than unhappy, I’m not going to let myself settle for the wrong thing again.
And I can’t afford to let this sort of inconvenient response distract me from that - or from any of the plans for my new life. No matter how cute the neighbor’s kid might be or how much my body clock tugs at my heart and tells me that its time to start a family.
At least working at the local school will give me the chance to be around kids again - and that will have to be enough.
I force myself to turn away from looking over at their house, knowing that I’m feeling a little wistful, and try to re-focus on the cabinet still sitting outside my house.
Compared to everything else, I suddenly appreciate this little problem. At least this, I can deal with. Or, I think I can. It’s definitely easier to think about than my warped life plan, anyway.
I walk over to it and start examining how it should probably be disassembled, letting all those other thoughts slip away in my focus on how the different parts are joined. What I might lack in skill or knowledge, I’ll try to make up for in determination at least.
After a couple of minutes, I sort-of-think I know how it’s put together and I start unscrewing the back panel of one of the side display units - once that’s off, I should be able to see how that part is connected to the clock in the middle a little better, and then—
“Are you trying to destroy that thing?”
The voice rumbles from behind me, and I tut to myself, still staring at the screw I’m working - it’s a little tight, this one, and I’m not sure whether it’s strength or technique that’s holding me back.
“I think the correct word is dismantle.”
I feel the figure move around me, looking at I’m doing.
“Nope, I had it right the first time.”
This time the rumbling definitely sounds amused, and I glance up in irritation.
“Look—”
I suddenly stop still. Swallow. Feel my eyes skitter to the side.
The man behind me is huge - muscles and tattoos all the way down his exposed forearms, tight t-shirt stretched across very obvious abs, and…and…
I don’t even get to his face before images of strength and violence start overwhelming me. My blood rises up into my ears, pounding and pulsing hard, and I have to fight to remember where I am, what I’m doing - everything.
I stand up and take a step back, knowing I’m acting fucking weird but unable to control the reaction.
It’s just a guy. Just a guy. You don’t know him. It’s fine. Stop it, Naomi. Stop it.
“Umm…” I try, then clear my throat. “I, ah…”
“I’ll do it.” He says without preamble - and then he crouches in the place I’d just been kneeling without giving me a chance to respond.
He doesn’t even ask - but the moment he’s down there and not looking at me anymore, the tightness in my chest starts to ease. I still feel nervous and tense, but I run through all the reasons why everything is fine and there’s nothing to be afraid of and—
“Can I help?!”
The boisterous voice interrupts my spinning mind - and then the little boy from earlier slides down onto his knees next to the intimidating man who just appeared. He’s just started unscrewing part of the cabinet I hadn’t even noticed - and when he glances over at the kid, I can see his features soften as he smiles.
It’s seeing that, more than anything, that finally calms the crazy beating of my heart. In fact, it might even tug at it a little - again. Sometimes, I wish for just a moment of control over my errant emotions.
“Sure, kiddo.”
I pause at that - it is my cabinet after all and I don’t know why this guy suddenly thinks he gets to decide what’s happening here.
Maybe because he’s the kind of guy who always decides. Doesn’t look like he’s ever not been in control.
And now that I’m thinking a little more clearly, the thought even irritates me. Just who does he think he is?
I hesitate before saying anything, though, because I’m not sure what I would have decided anyway. I’ve always believed kids should have the opportunity to learn like this…but I also know how devastated I’ll be if they break the cabinet.
“Here, can you hold this for me?”
The man, who hasn’t even given me his name yet, holds a screwdriver out to Tyler and the kid nods, taking it enthusiastically. They swap tools for a couple of minute, as he looks over the cabinet and unscrews a few parts, enough that I start to relax a little - and then I see him work a screw halfway out and glance back at the boy.
“How about this one, Ty? Can you help here?” Tyler crawls up close, a determined look on his face, and the man helps align the screwdriver - too large and unwieldy for a boy, really. “Careful now…”
It takes a little bit of help, with the man’s low voice encouraging and guiding - but then Tyler gets the hang of it and the screw falls away.
“Good job, kiddo - remember to grab the screw though, we’ll be needing that.”
Tyler peers at the ground, then snatches it up and shows it to his Dad. “Got it!”
The man ruffles his hair, and they continue like that together as the anxious knot in my stomach starts to ease. And more than that - I think my heart starts to melt. It’s possibly the most endearing thing I’ve ever seen, as well as being an amazing way to try to teach a child something new. And it doesn’t even involve setting a five-or-six-year-old loose on my father’s keepsake.
And I was afraid of this guy?
Within moments, he’s gone from being terrifying to…well, I’m not quite sure. Something else entirely. Something that definitely involves awesome Dad.
That gives me another unexpected pang as I think of my own Dad, but I push it away. I’d rather my new neighbor’s first impression of me not be nervous, uncomfortable and weirdly emotional. Even if, right now, well…maybe that’s a little accurate.
It’s not until a few minutes pass that I realize I’m just standing around doing nothing, the two of them going back and forth over the cabinet as if they’ve done this dozens of times before. Which, considering what I just saw, they probably have.
It makes me feel more than a little bit awkward - and I suddenly remember how determined I was to do this without any help…and the way this guy just totally took over.
“Hey, umm…”
They both look up at me, and the stark differences are suddenly noticeable. Tyler’s floppy blond hair over his excited young face and wide grin, compared to his father’s unreadable expression and the dark eyes that catch mine with an intensity that makes it impossible to look away. The nervous-scared beat of my pulse rises into my ears again, and I swallow.
Somehow, when he’s looking at me like this, it’s impossible to recall the softness he had for his son. Instead, I get hot-and-cold shivers up my arms and a staccato beat in my chest - and I’m not sure whether that’s because even without that initial irrational fear, he’s still intimidating as hell…or that I’ve just noticed he’s way hotter than I thought.
Like, seriously. I thought I’d stopped noticing things like that - stopped trusting them, definitely - but with the rough stubble across his strong jaw and the kind of rugged features that make you feel like he walked out of some magazine about pure masculinity…
My god.
For a moment, I forget what I was going to say. My mouth goes dry - but this time, not just with nerves.
I wasn’t sure men like that actually existed in real life - and he has a kid, too. How he keeps in shape—
“Yes?” He interrupts my wandering mind, seemingly totally unaware of the effect he’s having.
Thank god.
I’m not sure I could handle my totally hot, good-samaritan neighbor knowing what I’m thinking right now.
“I, err—”
I hesitate again.
I’d been about to point out that I didn’t need his help - that I was going to do this myself - but I suddenly realize how stupid that is. He obviously knows what he’s doing, and I don’t, and as much as independence and self-reliance are great and all that…this doesn’t seem like the right time to get hung up on my pride.
Besides, this is neighborly and friendly, right? That’s what you were hoping for from this town.
“Ah, thank you.” I finish lamely, and offer a weak smile.
I have no idea what he thinks of me by now, but that silent stare isn’t helping my nerves at all. I might be a lot better than I was, but I still don’t like attention.
He just shrugs though, barely acknowledging me, and returns to the cabinet. I’m left standing awkwardly watching again - but the moment he stops looking at me, I feel better. Tyler is easily distracted too, turning back to peer at what his Dad is doing - opening the grandfather clock up now and looking at some of the parts in there. I almost tell him to be careful, or ask if he knows what he’s doing, but I manage to bite it back - he certainly looks like he knows what he’s doing. The screwdriver is working fast now, and he’s reaching inside and adjusting it as if he’s been doing this all his life.
Who knows, maybe he has?
Maybe he makes clocks for a living.
That thought has a snort of laughter threatening to burst out of me - he’s definitely not the thin, wiry, spectacle-laden type. Though, what do I really know? I’ve never actually met a clockmaker - I’m pretty sure my assumption comes entirely from films and TV shows.
“What do you do?”
The question comes out before I can think better of how that sounds, too distracted by this strange fascination with my new neighbor - and then to make it even worse, I blush too. God-damn it.
“I mean—” I swallow again. “I was just wondering. I’m Naomi, by the way - I just moved here. I’m going to be teaching at the local school - that’s what I do, I’m a teacher…”
I trail off as I realize I’m just babbling, which makes me feel embarrassed all over again.
“Mm.” He barely acknowledges any of that, slowly working one of the side display units off the clock now.
“Well…anyway, it’s really nice of you to help out like this.”
“Mm.”
I shift awkwardly, and then he starts explaining to his son what he’s doing and I give up all hope of making any conversation.
Okay, maybe he’s helpful, but I’m getting closer to describing him as rude than friendly. I mean, he hasn’t even given me his name yet. Isn’t that the first part in basic common courtesy?
But since he doesn’t seem to want to talk - and I don’t really want to distract him anyway - I settle for simply watching instead. At first I think I might learn something from it, but then - I won’t lie - I find that the only things I’m focusing on are the way the muscles in his forearms bunch as he tightens and loosens different parts, or the hard lines on his face as he examines the inside of the cabinet, or the deep, almost melodic voice he uses as he talks quietly to Tyler.
And suddenly, I don’t mind so much that he’s not saying anything at all to me. In fact, I’m grateful for the chance to look and enjoy without the slightest attention in my direction.
It doesn’t take long before he’s dismantled the different parts of the cabinet - and then, all too soon, I find myself leading him into the house and through to the living room to point out where I was planning on keeping the cabinet.
The moment I’m inside with him, though, in the confined space of the house…the comfort I’d felt watching him disappears. His powerful body seems to make the house feel smaller and in those brief moments that he blocks the entire hallway, well… knowing better doesn’t stop some me feeling slightly on edge about it.
I try to ignore that and I’m about to offer to help move the three parts of the cabinet he’s detached - when I see him just pick one up. Just like that. I’m stood staring for a moment, because it definitely took both of the removal guys to move it anywhere, and even though it’s now in three parts it’s still—
I realize too late that I’m in the way and back up into a doorway to try to let him past. It’s still a tight space though and as he brushes just past me, the hairs on the back of my arms stand up - and I get a weird semi-anxious-semi-excited flutter all through me. I bite my lip, suddenly wondering whether it was such a good idea to let him come in and do this. Which is a stupid thought, but I can’t work out whether I’m a little afraid of this total stranger or…afraid of something else entirely.
I try to shake it off and retreat to a corner of the living room to watch as he gets the other parts into place, trying not to notice how much closer it feels now we’re inside together. Tyler follows us in, too, but has obviously lost interest with what his Dad is doing and has started wandering around the room and in between boxes instead.
“Shouldn’t be long - I know what I’m doing now.” My new neighbor glances over and actually smiles at me this time.
That sends another weird flutter through me, but I push that aside as I try to return it.
“You looked like you knew what you were doing before.”
“Yeah.” He just shrugs, and settles down in front of the cabinet. “I mess around with this stuff often enough.”
I want to ask more - what stuff he messes around with, and why, and how, and a dozen different questions…but I’m already getting the impression he’s not a man of many words. And the moment he starts concentrating again, I’m pretty sure he forgets all about me.
But I don’t exactly mind - there’s a part of me that would still rather be easily forgotten, and it means I can watch without the prickly-skin nerves that his attention seems to give me.
“Tyler, don’t.” His voice abruptly cuts through that thought, and I glance around. “That’s not ours. Leave it.”
On the other side of the room, Tyler is starting to open one of the boxes, peering inside - though how he saw that with his head buried behind the cabinet, I’ve got no idea. Maybe it’s that sixth sense that parents get sometimes.
“It’s okay.” I say, offering a small smile that he can’t see through the cabinet. “I don’t mind.”
He makes a non-committal sound, but Tyler takes that to heart, and starts enthusiastically looking in half the boxes in the room. I smile again as I walk over to him, and he starts asking seemingly endless questions - what’s this, why is this here, this is cool, can I play with this. It makes my heart trip over itself a little - but it also totally distracts me from his intimidating father as I get absorbed in talking to him.
I crouch down and try to answer as much as I can, playing with him a little - and it seems like only moments before his Dad is hovering over us, one eyebrow raised. For a moment - a brief moment - I don’t even notice how his massive bulk completely overshadows me and give him the wry, knowing smile that I always get from working with kids.
“All done.” He announces. “I’ll get this one out of your hair.”
I smile back at Tyler before standing up. “He’s been no trouble - seems like a good kid.”
And just like that, the gruff countenance transforms again - softening as he smiles down at his son.
“Yeah, he is that.” He ruffles the boy’s hair, who ducks out from under his grip. “C’mon, kiddo. Time to get you to Grama’s.”
He turns to go without waiting for anything from me - as if it’s totally normal for him to just do all this work to help someone out and then disappear. Who knows, maybe it is. But it’s totally not for me.
“Hey, wait…”
He glances back, and then I feel the nerves start hitting me again. I ignore them though - as overwhelming as he might seem, he’s been nothing but a total gentleman and I’m getting better at working out when my mind is just playing tricks on me.
I look around, but I realize I have nothing to offer him - a hot drink, the ever-present cupcakes I usually have on the go…not even a glass of water. The whole house is still just cardboard boxes. My hosting skills are pretty much zero right now.
“Umm…thank you, for all of this.” I gesture vaguely behind me, and try to give him another smile - somehow, it’s hard again now. “I owe you one…hey, I never even caught your name, either.”
He pauses, and that unreadable expression is back over his face, those dark eyes intense and intimidating again.
“It’s Mack - and it was no trouble.”
“Mack…well, thank you.”
He nods. “Good luck getting settled.”
He leaves without saying anything else, holding his son’s hand, and I’m left feeling…strange.
The house that felt almost cramped and too close a moment before now seems strangely empty without them both in it, and I know I don’t really understand any of what just happened - or what to make of my new neighbor.
I stand there for a while, trying to puzzle at it, but in the end I give up and go back outside.
I expected that this whole thing would feel strange, anyway - he’s just added a little more confusion, that’s all. But he’s a seemingly friendly neighbor and someone I’ve already met in the town I just moved to. All good things, right?
I shake the slight unease away and look out at the quiet, secluded road, taking a deep breath and bringing my mind back to what’s important.
I’m here.
Maybe not without a few mishaps on the way - that cabinet only the most recent - but that doesn’t matter.
I made it.
The little town of Mayfair, out in the center of Oregon. Away from the city life I’ve always known.
Away from Portland.
The chance to start over.
After all the challenges I’ve overcome this year, this is what I’ve been waiting for - the payoff for all those small, positive changes in the right direction that I never thought would actually work. But they did - mostly, at least - and now I’m strong enough that I want to try again. That I will try again.
The unease and uncertainty is still there, but now…there’s a cautious kind of excitement too - an acknowledgment that all the things that seemed impossible only year or so ago have actually happened - and maybe, if I work at it, life will be good again.
I’m here alone. To live my life - which is exactly what I want. What I’ve wanted, even if I didn’t realize it, for most of the last five years.
I say a quick thank you to Dad and hope that he’s watching over me somewhere - finally at peace now that he knows I did it.
I got out.