Chapter Seven
Lucas
Turns out, Mapleville is such a tiny place that there isn’t an airport within a four-hour driving distance, so that’s what Warren and I did.
After renting a car, we packed everything up, including the boxes of items from Harrison’s shop, and headed toward him—I mean Mapleville—to scope out the location.
The producers at the studio had taken weeks to consider my ultimatum to shoot in Mapleville or else. I’m sure they wanted to teach the spoiled brat, being me, a lesson about giving rich producers a threat, but, ultimately, they decided to indulge me.
The GPS woman was driving me absolutely insane three hours later. I’d turned into one of those people who, instead of asking “Are we there yet?” constantly looked at the estimated time of arrival on the screen of Warren’s phone.
Be cool, Lucas. Be cool.
I’d spent the last two weeks rehashing the night Harrison and I spent together in my mind. I couldn’t think of anything I’d done wrong, though I wasn’t always one to catch my own mistakes. Warren usually did that.
Still, I stalked his website day after day to see what new creations he worked on. He updated his website and Instagram account several times a day, but it wasn’t him taking the pictures. These weren’t selfies. Someone took pictures of him working, sanding, polishing, and all the other things Harrison did, including having a burger for lunch, and posted them on Instagram, which automatically updated his online diary.
It was like looking into his life from far away.
Except who was taking his pictures? Was it his alpha? His mate? Maybe the reason he snuck out and never returned my calls was because he was cheating on that person.
No, that couldn’t be. Harrison didn’t strike me as the cheating type. He was old school through and through. Still, the thought twisted my stomach.
“What’s he up to today?” Warren asked, tapping the screen of my phone as I scrolled through Harrison’s IG account.
“The pictures have changed. They used to have him working on something, and now it’s just his hands or his chest while he holds something up.”
“Maybe he shaved the beard and isn’t ready to reveal his new look.” Warren shrugged, and I almost punched him in the chest for suggesting such a thing.
“He wouldn’t do that. It’s part of him.”
“Finally, a turn.” Warren followed the woman’s directions and made a right onto a similar road that looked like it led to nothing and nowhere.
I glanced at the GPS again, and we had about forty-five minutes to go. I closed my eyes to try and get in a nap. The next thing I knew, Warren was tapping me on my shoulder.
I hate when people tap my shoulder.
“I’m awake. What?”
“We’re here, apparently. Whoever took those pictures didn’t do it justice. Lucas, look.”
I scooted up in the seat and shielded my eyes from the sun while I took in Mapleville. Every building was painted a bright color, not neon, but crisp hues. The streets were clean, and even the garbage cans and recycling bins were green and well-kept.
“Look, Lucas.” I rolled my eyes.
“I am looking, Warren.”
“No, Lucas...look.” He pointed to the other side of the street, and my heart absolutely stopped. Harrison walked down the street with a woman with red hair. They stopped in a hardware store, and he opened the door for her. He wore a bulky jacket, but the beard was still intact. He looked happy.
“Let’s go find the hotel…” Warren’s voice tapered off at the end. He probably thought I would jump out of the car and run after Harrison.
I wanted to, but it just wasn’t the kind of guy I was—especially if he was dating another man.
A part of me wanted to corner him in the hardware store and demand to know everything from the time he left me to the present.
And the whys.
“Yeah, hotel. Then let’s check out that diner. It looks promising.”
“You got it.”
We got to the one hotel in town and checked in. The room was homey, not like the starched emptiness of regular hotel rooms. I changed into a warmer sweater before meeting Warren in the hallway.
“Ready?” I asked, not really liking the fact I had to go somewhere to eat rather than cook for myself like I usually did on trips.
“Sure.”
Warren seemed more excited than me. We walked the couple of blocks to The Diner, because, apparently, they named things their noun in small towns, and walked in.
“Have a seat wherever, gentlemen. Karyn will be right with you.”
A woman named Karyn set down two glasses of water before spewing out the specials. Down-home cooking. Maybe that’s why Harrison enjoyed the meatloaf so much. It reminded him of home.
“Bring us one of each of your specials, Karyn. Thank you.” My mother once told me to always use a server’s name when speaking to them. It made them feel like the exchange was between friends, and they would serve you well.
“Sure thing. I’ll be right back.”
“It’s so nice here, Lucas. Look at the church.”
I was leaning toward the window to look at said church when a shadow covered my view. I blinked several times and then looked up to see who blocked my view.
And there, outside the window of this quaint diner, looking in, looking straight at me, was Harrison.
From the look on his face, he didn’t know what to do next any more than I did.