Brenda Novak - Come Home to Me

“I heard you moved into the old Mullins place two weeks ago,” he said.

She had to tilt her head to look into his face. “I did.”

“Then...where have you been?”

Was he asking why she hadn’t contacted him? “I’ve been busy.”

“That means you’re never home?”

Her stomach muscles tightened again. “You’ve dropped by?”

“I didn’t bother to knock. I never see a car in the carport.”

“I don’t have a car anymore.” She’d sold her new Hyundai several months ago so she could get out from under the payments and save enough to be able to lease a studio. She would’ve stayed in Fresno and kept saving to give herself a bigger financial cushion—would’ve opened her studio there, too—but when she found some strange marks on Wyatt, she was afraid his home day-care provider was mistreating him and decided to return to Whiskey Creek. Her sister had offered to help with child care, and once Aaron had told Cheyenne and Dylan he was relocating, going home was finally a possibility.

He hesitated. “How do you get around without a car?”

“For the most part, I walk.” Chey’s house was down the street and around the corner from hers. Her studio was two blocks in the other direction, along with the rest of downtown, making it easy to get wherever she needed to go.

“The exercise has obviously been good for you.”

She wished that compliment didn’t evoke the pleasure it did. But during the past two years, she’d judged everything by how much he’d like what she was doing, how she was changing herself. She supposed the desire to finally be admired by him was too powerful to overcome. “The owner of the thrift shop where I worked introduced me to yoga. That made the difference, more than anything else.”

“Flexible and toned.” His teeth flashed in an appreciative smile. “You look better than ever.”

“Thanks.” There were other things to explain the physical improvements—like her strict eating habits—but she didn’t want to engage him in any more conversation than she already had. He wouldn’t care what she was doing with her life—not after he realized they weren’t going to pick up where they’d left off and fall into bed.

“How have you been?” he asked. “It’s been a long time.”

And she’d felt every painstaking minute of it. She couldn’t count how often she’d almost broken down and called him. Only the risk that he might find out he was Wyatt’s father stopped her.

“Fine.” She wiped sweaty palms on her jeans. “You?”

“Hangin’ in.”

He seemed to be faring well. He’d put on a few pounds, nicely filling out his large frame, which he’d needed to do. He’d been muscular but too wiry that last year when they’d been seeing each other. According to Cheyenne and Dylan, he’d also quit using drugs. Now that she had the chance to see him, she believed it.

“Good,” she said. “I–I’m glad to hear it.” She wished he’d leave it at that, but he didn’t move out of the doorway, and she couldn’t go anywhere while he was blocking her in.

“I was shocked to hear that you rented the Mullins cottage. That place was a cesspool when they lived there.” He grimaced. “Talk about trashy people.”

“It’s taken some serious work to make it livable.” She’d rented the two-bedroom because it was cheap and centrally located. Fortunately, where the house was concerned, a little elbow grease could make a big difference. “It’s clean now. I just have a few things still to do.”

“Like what?”

“Paint the porch and fix the fence. Plant some flowers out front.”

He hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Flowers?”

“Anything wrong with flowers?”

“Sounds like you’re planning to stay for a while.”

“I am.”

“You weren’t that domestic when you left.”

She hadn’t had a child then, but she didn’t want to draw his attention to that, since he didn’t know he was the one who’d made her a mother. “It’s tough to be too focused on everyday concerns when all you care about is getting high.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He rubbed his jaw. “I take it you’ve changed.”

“Completely.”

“I can see that.”

No, he couldn’t. Not yet. He assumed the changes were superficial, that she’d eventually fall at his feet the way she had before.

“I would’ve helped you clean up the rental,” he said. “You should’ve called me.”

She cleared her throat. “It wasn’t necessary. I managed.”

His eyes became guarded and inscrutable. He was figuring out that the “changes” he’d noticed included an unwillingness to associate with him. “Couldn’t have been easy to get all that done, not with a baby.”

Tentacles of fear slithered around her heart and squeezed. This was his first mention of Wyatt. She had to be careful, had to handle his perceptions carefully from the start. Any hint of suspicion on his part could destroy her happiness. “No, but I could’ve had Wyatt’s father come and help. He would have, if I’d needed him.”

“Doesn’t he live in Arizona?”

Cheyenne had supplied everyone with this information, even Dylan. “He does, but he could come here. He has money, and he cares about Wyatt.”

“You’re in touch with him, then? He’s a stand-up guy?” He sounded hopeful, as if he wanted that for her. There was no reason he wouldn’t. To her knowledge, he’d never wished her ill, never done anything purposely to hurt her. He’d been too self-absorbed, but that was simply a byproduct of the fact that he’d never really cared about her, not like she’d cared about him.

“We don’t have a relationship beyond Wyatt,” she said, “but...he’s a great father.”

“That’s got to make a big difference.”

If Wyatt’s father helped out to any significant degree, she wouldn’t have had to clean the worst property in town in order to have a place to live but, thankfully, Aaron didn’t seem to make the connection. “It does,” she said. “And soon I’ll be earning good money myself.”

“As a yoga instructor, right?”

“And a massage therapist,” she added so no one would be surprised when she advertised her services. She wanted everyone to understand from the beginning that she’d be doing both. She needed all the legitimacy she could establish.

“How’d you get into that?”

“I met someone at yoga who became my roommate. He was a massage therapist.”

“He...”

“We’ve never been together, if that’s what you’re asking. Roger was gay. He paid half the rent and got me into massage.”

“I see. Do you have a license or...whatever it takes?”

“I did some yoga-teacher training. And I’m a certified massage therapist.” Luckily for her, a government grant had covered her schooling and Wyatt’s day-care expenses while she attended class.

“You’ve got big plans. When will you be open for business?”

“In a week, if everything goes well.” After she’d painted the interior of her studio and built her own tenant improvements, like the reception counter. She didn’t know much about construction but with the price of supplies she couldn’t afford to hire anyone, so she’d just have to learn. Dylan would do what he could, and Cheyenne would help when she wasn’t working at Little Mary’s B and B, but her sister and brother-in-law had their own lives, and she was in a hurry to get it done.

“Great.” He winked at her. “I’ll be your first customer.”

She knew he thought he was being charming, but she stiffened all the same. “Excuse me?”

He stared at her. “I said I’d become a client.”

“But...it’s not what you think.”

His smile faded at her affronted tone. “What do I think?”