Magnolia Road Read online

  He also wants a rain check on dinner, Bryce. Remember that?

  I put my head under the steady stream and feel it as it falls down around me.

  There’s a knock at the bathroom door.

  My head flies up. “Uh, yeah?” I ask.

  Ethan opens the door. He’s looking at me through the fogged privacy glass. My body is most likely unclear, blurry.

  I cover my breasts and my area below. “Can I help you?”

  The water still streams against my back.

  “I’ve seen you naked before, Bryce,” Ethan says.

  This statement pisses me off. As if it’s his right to see me naked now. Part of me wants to turn off the water, get out, and stand before him, naked, just to see what he does. Just to watch him squirm uncomfortably.

  Besides, I don’t get him. One minute, he’s giving me the cold shoulder, and the next minute, he’s making coffee.

  I turn off the water. “What do you need, Ethan?” My voice echoes off the shower walls. I close my eyes as the mention of his name has me visualizing his hands in places, touching me, loving me.

  He clears his throat in the quietest way possible. “Do you have sugar?”

  Pulling back the shower door, I keep my hand over my breasts but allow him to see part of my nipple. Why? I’m not sure. Maybe a reaction. To show feeling. To see what he wants from me.

  Ethan’s grip on the door is hard because I can see the whites around his fingernails.

  “No,” I say.

  Ethan’s eyes are on me. His stare intent. He drops his eyes to my exposed nipple. “No what?” He looks back up at me.

  Internally, I smile at this. He’s forgotten his question.

  “No, I don’t have sugar.”

  “Right. I’ll run down to the store and grab some. I need some for the coffee. Tried it last time without and it tasted like shit.”

  I nod, biting my lower lip.

  “Do you need help?” he asks.

  “Help with what?”

  “A towel?”

  Shit. I forgot a towel. “Yes,” I sigh.

  He walks into the bathroom, and on the other side of the toilet are the towels. As he passes, I take in his smell. Polo. The scent I didn’t want to wash from my sheets for days after we let our bodies tangle, feel. I remember wishing he’d left a shirt at my place, so I could wear it against my body.

  Ethan hands me the towel, and I let go of my chest—on purpose—to grab it.

  I hear him exhale as his eyes beat down on mine, then drop to my chest, and then come back to me again.

  “This isn’t anything new, Ethan. You’ve seen them before,” I barely whisper, unable to catch my own breath, holding the towel to my chest. “Thank you.”

  He turns and walks to the door, almost unwillingly.

  “Ethan?” I ask.

  He doesn’t turn but instead looks up toward the ceiling. “Yeah?”

  “Why’d you come in here?”

  Silence hangs in the bathroom with steam from the shower.

  “For sugar.”

  Then, Ethan leaves for the store.

  Ten

  Ethan

  You fucking idiot. You just had to go in there, I think to myself as I try to remember what the hell I’m going to the store for. Sugar.

  It’s not her body. It’s the freckle that she has just above her ass. It’s the way she holds her breath every time I touch her. It’s the way she has a witty response to things I say. It’s the way she defends herself and doesn’t hold back. It’s the way her body fits perfectly next to mine. It’s the way she pulls out my words. I’ve never met a woman like Bryce Hayes. I’ve tried to forget her, bury her deep in my memories, keep her at arm’s length.

  “Ethan!” A familiar voice interrupts my thoughts.

  It’s Rick’s partner, Charlie. He walks to me.

  “Will you be participating in the Fall Festival’s hot dog eating contest?”

  Fuck.

  Every damn year, somehow, I get talked into doing the hot dog eating contest.

  “After all, you’ve won every year since you were a kid. Except the years you were gone.” He bounces up on his heels. Bruce is average height, rounder in the stomach. A clean-shaven face with round cheeks.

  “How many people do you have so far?”

  “Counting you? One.”

  “So, I’d be competing by myself?”

  “No, I’ll get a few more entries before the day’s over.”

  A car passes along Main Street. Silence drifts.

  I don’t want to do this.

  “Great, I’ve got you down!” Charlie turns and walks back toward Rick’s Pharmacy.

  I return with sugar to the house on Magnolia Road and find Bryce on the couch, sipping coffee, clothes on.

  Thank God. I’ve never been more thankful for clothes in my life.

  “Hey.” I shut the door behind me. “Sugar.”

  “Thank you.” She gives me a half-smile, stands, and takes the sugar from my hand and into the kitchen.

  “Gonna go start painting.” Maybe dump cold water down my pants. I pull my hat on tighter, adjust it, and walk out the front door.

  My phone starts to ring as I hop down the steps and to my truck. It’s my mom.

  “Hey,” I say, resting my phone between my shoulder and my cheek as I grab some gear out of the back of my truck.

  “Hey, sweetie. Don’t forget about dinner tonight.”

  Fuck. “Yep, haven’t forgotten.” Totally forgot.

  And this reminds me that Bryce invited me for dinner, and I said I couldn’t. She didn’t sic chickens on me or turkeys or roosters, I note.

  “You’re really going to like—honey, what’s the Murdocks’ niece’s name?”

  “Tessa? Chelsea?” I hear my dad’s voice in the background.

  “No, no. I think it’s Bethany,” she sighs into the phone. “Your father is losing his mind. Okay, honey. Six o’ clock tonight. Our house. What is her name?” I hear my mother ask my father again.

  “Yep. Got it. Bye, Mom.”

  I’m almost done for the day, and I’m cleaning up when Bryce comes outside. I haven’t seen her most of the day, and I’ve tried to convince myself that it’s a good thing.

  “Hey, stranger. Get some work done?” I ask, putting the last of my paint things in the back of my truck.

  “Yeah, I did actually. Finished editing a manuscript and sent it back to the author.”

  “I have no idea what that means, but it sounds like a good thing.”

  She leans against the post on the porch, crossing her arms. “It is.” She grins. “You headed home?” A piece of her hair falls to her face.

  “Yeah, and then dinner with my parents.” Technically, I’m not lying.

  When Bryce initially asked, I didn’t have plans. I just didn’t think it was a good idea for us to be alone in the house. Together. I don’t trust myself.

  I open my truck door and throw my phone on the seat. I shut the door and turn to her.

  “Well, have a great time.” She tilts her head. Her eyes meet mine.

  “You have plans?” I ask.

  “Alex is coming over. Going to grab dinner at Merryman’s.”

  I nod and pray she doesn’t wear something too revealing. Pray that a man doesn’t walk up to her, ask her to be his wife, and they live happily ever after.

  Why? Because you’re gonna man up and ask her yourself? Grow a pair, Ethan.

  “Be in by curfew.” I give her a smirk and walk around to the other side of my truck.

  She’s still standing on the porch, watching me.

  I lean across the bed of my truck. “Hey, the whole town shuts down at five p.m., so make sure you’re in by then.”

  “Thanks, Dad. Will do.”

  I smile.

  “You’re something else, Warden Casey.” She walks down the steps. “Heard you were the reigning champion for the most hot dogs eaten at the Fall Festival for the past million years.”

  I
cringe. “Something I’m not proud of.”

  Bryce nods. “I was thinking about entering my chili in the chili cook-off.”

  “Whoa. And go up against Milton Murdock?”

  “Guess so.” She shrugs.

  “Good.”

  She backs away from the truck before I’m ready for her to leave. “So long, Warden.”

  I pull in the driveway behind my parents’ SUV. The Murdocks are already here. I debated on coming.

  Fake a cold. A fever, Ethan.

  I’m doing this to appease my mom. I walk around my truck, follow the walkway to my parents’ front door, and walk in.

  “Oh, there he is,” my mom, Helen, says. “In the kitchen, Ethan.”

  “Hey, son,” my dad, Bill, greets me as I walk into their kitchen with a hug.

  My dad has always been a hugger. Give him one too many drinks, and he’ll give you several. This is the kitchen where Aaron and I spent many mornings falling asleep in our cereal before school on Monday mornings because of our hunting excursions on the weekends. The same kitchen table we sat up late at night, getting homework done.

  “Ruthie, Milton.” I lean in and shake their hands.

  “This is our niece, Elizabeth,” Ruthie says.

  Elizabeth? I think. Not even close to the names my mom mentioned on the phone.

  “Nice to meet you.” I give her a handshake.

  Her hands are cold. Her eyes are blue. Her hair is brown. “Beth,” she smiles, “for short. Your mother tells me you’re a game warden.”

  “Guilty.”

  Awkward silence.

  My parents talk to the Murdocks.

  “I write ad copy for Nike.”

  I try to look interested. “What brings you to the East Coast?” I ask, reaching for a green olive my mom put out.

  “I’ve always wanted to see the changing of the colors,” she says, also reaching for an olive.

  “Won’t happen for a few more weeks, according to the foliage report.”

  “Guess I’ll need to kill time before then.” She smiles.

  “Let’s eat, shall we?” my mom says, turning to the table. “Moose steaks, mashed potatoes, and cauliflower.”

  I take my usual seat at the table, politely pulling out Aaron’s old seat for Elizabeth.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  It makes me think of the time when Aaron and I were kids, and he pulled my chair out from under me when I went to sit down. Just as I fell, there was an end table waiting to go to a new home next to us. I busted my forehead on it. Blood went everywhere.

  Mom freaked.

  Dad went to get the first aid kit.

  Aaron told me that I’d better pull my shit together if we wanted to go hunting that weekend, so I did. Convinced Mom and Dad that it was just a cut. Heads bleed a lot. That it didn’t hurt and that I wasn’t seeing double even though I was.

  When we went to bed that night, I told Aaron, if I didn’t wake up, it was his fault.

  I look over, and Beth’s lips are moving and then sipping a glass of wine. She’s looking at me, bringing me back to the present moment.

  “What?” I ask.

  “So, you’re a twin?” she asks again.

  “Guilty.”

  “What’s it like? Are you identical or fraternal?”

  I take a bite of my mom’s moose steak with the special seasoning. Chew. What does she mean, what is it like to be a twin? Chew.

  Think of a nice response, Ethan. Don’t be rude, I hear my mom’s voice in my head.

  I can’t answer the first question without being rude, so I say, “Fraternal.”

  “I guess you wouldn’t know anything different, I suppose?” she says with a smile.

  I stop. Look at her. Right. Yes. Now, we’re getting somewhere. Sex with Beth would be easy. She’s attractive. There are no strings attached because I don’t get the same feeling when I look at Beth as I do with Bryce. I wouldn’t lose control. I wouldn’t feel the need to stay the night with her.

  Time passes. Conversations take place.

  Me to Beth.

  Mom to me.

  Me to Dad.

  Ruthie to Beth.

  Milton to Dad and me.

  “Oh, shoot,” Mom says. “I forgot to throw the cobbler in the oven.” She throws her napkin on the table and stands.

  “Don’t worry, honey. Why don’t we just go to Get the Scoop downtown? That new ice cream shop?” Dad says.

  Mom looks at the Murdocks.

  “What a fantastic idea,” Ruthie says. “Though I was looking forward to your cobbler, Helen. That reminds me; please tell me you’re entering your berry cobbler into the Fall Festival?”

  “Oh, Lord, here we go,” my dad says. “She’s been on the fence about this for weeks, Ruthie. Perfecting a new recipe, she says.”

  Mom laughs and touches Dad’s arm. I’ve always admired their love. Maybe not as a kid. But as I’ve gotten older. Their relationship. How one plays off the other. Where Mom stresses, Dad’s calm. Where Dad’s forgetful, Mom remembers. Where Mom’s efficient, Dad’s at a turtle’s pace.

  Like my mom says, “He’ll be running late to his own funeral.”

  And it’s not that he doesn’t leave on time; it’s living in a small town. He’ll stop by Sam’s Hardware to pick up a few screws or weed or feed and talk to Sam. Dad has a hard time ending a conversation because he’s got to be somewhere. So, he stands there, listens, engages, and eventually, he’ll get to where he’s going.

  Dad stands from the table and starts collecting dishes. Ruthie and Milton stand, too.

  “No, we’ve got the dishes. You two just sit back down and relax,” Dad says.

  “I’ve got it, Dad.” I stand and clear the table. Then, I start the dishes as Beth engages in conversation with the others.

  It’s just after seven in the evening when we walk down to the ice cream shop. It’s one of the few businesses that stays open later. It doesn’t take us any longer than usual because Ruthie and my parents were raised in Granite Harbor. They know everybody. Milton came to Granite Harbor by way of Texas.

  “Do you plan to stay in Granite Harbor, Ethan?” Beth asks as we walk.

  “It’s home,” I answer.

  “Yeah, but can you see yourself raising children here?”

  I won’t have children, I want to say but don’t. I don’t for several reasons. But the first one is, I don’t want to have to explain why I don’t want children.

  “Yeah, I guess.” I open the door for Beth.

  When I hold the door for our group, I turn and see Bryce with Alex.

  I see the face she makes when she sees me.

  I see the face she makes when she sees Beth.

  I make a face when I remember telling Bryce that I couldn’t have dinner with her. A face asking Bryce to read between the lines. This isn’t what I want.

  Fuck.

  This isn’t what it seems.

  I follow our group in and swallow the huge lump in my throat that has just formed.

  “Well, hello there, Alex, Bryce.” My mom reaches in for a hug, followed by Ruthie. “So good to see you both.”

  Alex keeps the conversation going, but Bryce is quiet.

  My heart pounds against my chest. See, this is already complicated. I made coffee, and now, it’s all fucked up.

  I squeeze behind our small crowd in the ice cream shop and lightly touch Bryce’s elbow. I put my lips close to her ear, so she’s the only one who can hear me.

  “Can we talk outside?” The last thing I want to do is hurt her.

  This isn’t what it looks like.

  I see the hesitation in Bryce’s eyes, but she concedes.

  She follows as I take the lead and open the door for her on the way out. Maybe it’s because we slept together or the fact that I made her coffee that I feel the need to explain.

  She walks a few steps ahead of me and turns, crossing her arms. “What’d you need to talk about, Ethan?”

  Bryce bites her lip, and
I’ve resolved the fact that this action, her biting her lip, is due to nerves.

  What I want to do and need to do are two different things. I want to tell Bryce that Beth is no one and that I just did what I had to do to keep my mom from worrying. But that means opening up about things I can’t. What I need to do is take Bryce behind the building and show her how I feel.

  Do I lie or tell the truth?

  Eleven

  Bryce

  My shoulders are tight, and I try to ease them down from my ears by crossing my arms. I try not to allow Ethan to read my eyes. “What’d you need to talk about, Ethan?”

  “It’s not what you think,” he says.

  I shrug. “You don’t owe me an explanation.” This is my best attempt to show Ethan that seeing him with the other woman means nothing to me. “We had sex a long time ago. You made coffee for me. You didn’t put a ring on my finger, Ethan. Come on. There were no I love yous exchanged.”

  Ethan hesitates. “My mom worries.”

  “About what?”

  “Me.”

  “Why? Are you—is that … a smile, Ethan Casey?”

  “You treat me different.”

  He smirks, and I dance in the middle of mustard plants. His smile is perfect and imperfect, beautiful and broken.

  He runs a hand over his neck.

  “How different?” I ask. Push away your feelings, Bryce.

  Ethan’s looking at me. Watching my mouth. My eyes. Maybe he’s waiting to see the lie. The lie that takes root around my conscience and dissolves into nothing.

  No trace of a voice I had just moments ago that said, Tell him how you feel.

  Maybe this, too, is a barrier I put up to protect my heart from loss. I lost my brother to the needle, the drugs, lost my family in a sense. My dad delved into his work. My mom delved into my brother’s addiction. And there I was, standing, waiting on the corner for my time to grieve. But I didn’t. I just promised myself I wouldn’t allow my heart to hurt that much again.

  “My mom worries that I’ll fall off the deep end.” Ethan hesitates but then gently takes me by the elbow, so we can walk toward the harbor.

  “Makes two of us.” I laugh.