Chapter 18
Destiny
“He’s about as welcome as a skunk at a lawn party.”
~ Grandma Dixie
I pulled my third batch of cinnamon rolls out and heat billowed from the oven, spreading over my face. Inhaling deeply, I sucked in the delicious scent of freshly baked goodness. Baking was my form of meditation. My calm. My Zen. It centered me. Usually.
Today, the jury was still out.
A familiar meow caused me to glance up. Captain Pickles was in the garden window above the sink, basking in the setting sunlight streaming through the glass.
“Is there anything better than the smell of cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven?” The second the question left my mouth, I knew the answer to it, and even though I was just conversing with a cat, I added, “Well, there is one thing, but we’re not gonna talk about that.”
As I set the tray of swirled dough sprinkled with sugar on the cooling rack, I turned my attention to the two dozen that were ready for me to ice.
Taking a seat at my small ’50s-diner-style, chrome-framed kitchen table, I tried to push all thoughts of JJ, his better-than-fresh-cinnamon-roll sex, and the bombshell he’d dropped on me at the wishing well out of my mind. It was bad enough that, for the past few weeks, I’d avoided spending too much time at my apartment because practically the entire space had been infected with his presence.
I couldn’t watch TV in the front room without thinking of him standing in front of me and me telling him to take his clothes off. I couldn’t walk down the hall without thinking about my back up against it as he’d “made love”—his words, not mine—to me on our way back from the shower we’d taken because he “couldn’t wait another second to be inside me. Then there was the shower… Oh the things he’d done to me in that shower—with his hands, his mouth, and another body part that should be in the ‘Penis Hall of Fame.’ It was so awe-inspiring that I was surprised it didn’t have its own fan site—which I knew that it didn’t, because I’d done my Google research. But the fact that I had done Google research because I’d been so sure that it did…well, that said a lot.
There was only one place he hadn’t tainted in my tiny apartment: my kitchen. This was my happy place. I loved every bit of it. From the black-and-white-checkered flooring to the mint-green fridge and stove to the white shaker cabinets. It was vintage perfection.
Yes, it was too small for any commercial baking I had to do, but it was the birthplace of some of my most popular Sugar Rush concoctions and it was the only room JJ hadn’t been in, so it had that going for it too.
“He’s back!” Harmony yelled through labored breaths as she came crashing through my front screen door.
Alarm rang through me as I stood and tried to remember where I’d put my bat, which was this country girl’s security system. “What? Who?”
Putting one hand on her chest and outstretching one towards me, she gasped out, “JJ. He’s here. In Wishing Well.”
“Oh.” My shoulders dropped as I sank back down into my chair and all of the adrenaline that had just shot through me like a flash flood drained from my exhausted limbs. “Yeah…I know.”
“You know?!” Harmony threw her hands up in the air. “Then why, in the name of God and all that is holy, did I just run three blocks from the Pit Stop to come and warn you?”
“Because you, Harmony Briggs, are a good friend.” I pointed my knife covered in sugar/cream cheese glaze her direction.
“Yes,” she agreed as she eyed my cinnamon rolls and began walking with purpose towards the table. “Yes, I am. Which I think I should be rewarded for.”
“These are all yours.” I waved my knife over the table covered in sugary, cinnamony delectableness.
There was no way Gram and I could eat thirty-six cinnamon rolls, but Harmony and her brothers could finish these off in one evening.
“I was going to drop them off later tonight.”
Sitting across from me, Harmony raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t scared he would be there?”
I appreciated the fact that, although JJ and Harmony were blood, I knew where her loyalty stood. Not in all things, of course. Her family would always come before friends. But, when it came to matters of the heart, Harmony was firmly on Team Destiny. Not even her brother could test her loyalty. She might not’ve known any of the gritty details about JJ’s last visit home, but she’d filled in the blanks that he still wasn’t my favorite person, and she’d landed firmly on my side. And she did make a good point.
“Since he bought the old Mason farm, I assumed he’d be there.”
“Well, Trace and Travis were the ones who told me about JJ being in town, and they said he’s back at the house talking to Mama.” Upon swiping one finger into the icing, Harmony brought the digit to her mouth and closed her eyes, sighing audibly as she licked the sugary goodness off. After a second, her lids flew open. “Wait! He bought a house here?!”
“Yeah. Didn’t TNT tell you that?”
“No, they didn’t. But, in all fairness, they really didn’t have a chance. The second they said JJ was back, I shot out of there like my hair was on fire to come and tell you.” She took another swipe at the icing.
“Wait…if you were at the Pit Stop, why didn’t you just drive?” The Pit Stop was the only gas station-slash-convenience store in town. If Harmony had been there, chances were her truck was also there.
“I got a flat. Which I was getting fixed when Trace and Travis came in,” she explained.
“Where’s Captain Pickles?” she asked as she scanned the room. She did a double take as her gaze landed on the counter. “Holy Hemsworth Brother!”
Harmony had a big crush on the Hemsworth brothers. Liam and Chris both—she did not discriminate.
“Who are the flowers from? Did Brady send those? He really needs to get a clue—”
“They’re from JJ,” I stated as matter-of-factly as I could while intentionally not making eye contact. I continued smearing rich, scrumptious, glaze over the warm, cinnamon-swirled dough.
I hadn’t told anyone—not Harmony, not Cara, not even Gram—about the fireworks that had sparked in this very apartment on the Fourth. They had all questioned me relentlessly, but I’d maintained that nothing had happened. I’d also led them to believe that my sad state of mind was because I hadn’t secured the small business loan I’d applied for. But, in reality, I hadn’t really cared. Maybe because I was depressed, or maybe because Mr. Crawford had assured me that there were other higher-interest-rate, higher-risk avenues to explore.
I guess I’d been a little disappointed that my first attempt at a loan hadn’t gone through, but I’d bounced back from that news within an hour and was already putting positive energy into my other options. My business was going to be a success—of that I was sure. I might not have known how, or had a definitive timeline, but I was certain of the ultimate outcome. All of these setbacks were just bumps in the road that I was sure I would look back on one day with, if not fondness, at least appreciation.
The truth was that my sulking had had nothing to do with Sugar Rush or the loan I hadn’t qualified for, and everything to do with a Major League pitcher I’d been in love with since before I’d even known what love was. The one who’d trampled on my heart, and my hormones, twice now.
The first time had totally been his fault. But round two was all on me. I’d walked into it—with my eyes wide open. I wasn’t going to have anyone be upset with him over that one.
I didn’t normally make it a policy to lie, especially to the people I love, but I also didn’t make it a policy to hook up with my best friend’s brother and have what basically equated to a one-night stand. So I figured, in this case, two wrongs did make a right. It was creative logic, and I was rolling with it.
“JJ. My brother. The man that whose very presence made me sprint over here to deliver a warning—he sent you those?”
“Yes,” I confirmed, trying not to let any one of the contradictory emotions his gesture had engendered to show on my face.
“Why?” Harmony questioned.
I shrugged. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to confide in my best friend about how I was handling JJ’s sudden appearance and his floral gift. It was just that I needed to figure out how I felt in order to do that.
My eyes were still locked on my task—the cinnamon rolls—but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harmony lean back in the chair and cross her arms in front of her. Even though I wasn’t looking at her face, I was ninety-nine percent sure that her eyes had narrowed.
“So let’s review. JJ shows up a month ago for a surprise visit. You both share a too-hot-for-TV dance at the annual party. The next night, neither of you shows up for the fireworks nor answers your phones. By Monday, you’ve fallen into an Anne of Green Gables–worthy depths of despair. Then, out of the blue, in one day, JJ comes home. Buys a house. Sends you flowers. And you don’t know why?”
I wanted to tell her the truth, but in the back of my head, I heard the voice of Jack Nicholas screaming that she couldn’t handle the truth. JJ was her brother. Some things were just TMI.
Thankfully, I was spared when my screen door flew open and the third Charlie’s Angel shot through it.
“I got the 911 text and drove straight here. What’s wrong?” Cara’s gaze flew between mine and Harmony’s.
“You sent out a 911 text?” I asked Harmony.
She could lean towards the dramatic, but this seemed extreme even for her. We had instituted the 911 texts when Cara’d been fighting leukemia. We had used it once or twice since she’d been in remission, but only on real emergency-like situations.
“Yes. I did.” Harmony squared her shoulders, appearing to feel totally justified in her actions.
“Soooo…” Cara looked between us, worry clearly etched on her pretty face. “You guys are okay?”
“We’re fine,” I assured her.
“Oooh, who are the flowers from?” Cara crossed the room to smell the floral display.
“My brother,” Harmony sing-songed, her smile spreading from cheek to cheek. She’d been all too happy to share that piece of trivia.
Cara swiveled her head towards the table, where Harmony and I were sitting. Her mouth opened on a gasp, then closed before she asked in accusation, “Trace sent you these?”
Harmony and I shared a what-the-H look before turning back to our blonde Angel. I shook my head and spoke ever so slowly. “No, Trace didn’t send them to me.”
“Oh…” Cara dipped her head, and a blush crept up her cheeks. When she raised her gaze again, she asked in a not-so-subtle attempt to change the subject. “Was it Wyatt?”
“No,” Harmony and I both answered in unison.
Tilting her head to the side like the RCA dog, Cara asked, “Jackson?”
“No,” we chorused again.
“Coop—”
“It was JJ,” I interrupted, knowing from experience, that with the number of brothers Harmony had, this could have gone on for a while.
“Awwwww, JJ sent you flowers.” Cara covered her chest with her hands, practically swooning over the gift.
I tried my best not to roll my eyes. Out of the three of us, Cara was not only the most nurturing, she was—by far—the most romantic, so of course, she would have found his gesture to be sweet. But I knew better. He was up to something—I just wasn’t sure what. Yet.
My mind was stuck on trying to figure it out when she started firing off questions like an automatic rifle. “Why did he send them? Have you talked to him? Did he—”
“Uh-uh. Not so fast,” Harmony interrupted Cara. “I have a question for you, Miss Ooooh and Awwwww. Why did you think Trace sent the flowers?”
Cara’s left shoulder lifted as she brushed her hair behind her ear, which was something she did when she was nervous. “Because you said that he’s been in for lunch a lot lately and that he gave you a ride to the bank to see Mr. Crawford about your loan a while back. But wow, I can’t believe JJ sent them. I mean, I can, but what do you think it means? What did the card say? Are you going to call him and thank him?”
I could see her rapid-fire change of subject for what it was. A diversion. Thankfully, I knew that Harmony wouldn’t let our friend off the hook that easily. She was like a bloodhound—when she got on the trail of a good story, she followed the scent.
“That’s the best part.” Harmony waved her hand and eagerly sat up in her chair, dropping the Trace line of questioning.
Where was the bloodhound when I needed her?
“Not only did he send our little Destiny here those gorgeous flowers, which are her favorite BTW, he’s here in town. For a while, it looks like. He bought the old Mason place.”
All righty then—so the bloodhound was in full effect. Unfortunately, the story scent Harmony was tracking was mine and JJ’s, not Cara and Trace’s. Great. Just great.
“Wait—what?” Cara’s eyes shot to mine.
I nodded.
She shook her head, her blonde hair fanning out, as she rushed over and joined Harmony and me at the table. “He lives here now. He bought a house? When? Have you seen him?”
Harmony’s green eyes zeroed in on me as well. Apparently, I was up. The spotlight of their gazes felt hot and stifling. I shifted in my chair, knowing a couple things for certain. First: they were not going to let me get away with misdirection. Second: they weren’t asking anything I couldn’t answer.
In an attempt to clear my head, I took a deep breath. Instead of trying to figure out what I should or should not say, I figured I would make Joe Friday proud and stick to just the facts.
“I was at the well this morning, and JJ showed up. He said that he was moving home, that he’d bought the Mason place, and that he was home to stay because, and I quote, ‘This is where I live.’ I went to work, and then, halfway through my shift, Delilah delivered those.”
The girls stared at me. I wasn’t sure if they were waiting for me to continue, but I’d said all I had to say.
Cara was the first to speak. “And?”
Sighing, I explained, “That’s all.”
Harmony’s pretty face scrunched in an expression that mirrored exactly how I felt—far from convinced. Leaning forward, she cocked her head to the side. “So, JJ moved back because he lives here?”
Yeah. My thoughts exactly. It was just as unbelievable to me.
I set my icing knife down as I blew a too-long bang that had fallen in my face off my forehead. “That’s what he said.”
“So, why now? What changed that made him want to move home now?”
Me.
The second the answer formed in my head, I tried to vanquish it. I did not want either of my friends to somehow read my mind.
“You’ll have to ask him.” I feigned ignorance as I resumed my pastry task.
“Oh, I will,” Harmony assured me. “Believe me. I will.”
Part of me wanted to take my answer back. JJ was not acting like himself—who knew what he would say? But another part of me wanted to find out.
I still wasn’t sure how I felt about JJ’s being back in town, from what he’d said, to stay. But I did know one thing: I hadn’t been sad or felt heartbreakingly empty for even a second since I’d seen him at the wishing well.
Looks like my wishes were as potent as ever.