Page 37 of All This Time (Blossom Peak #1)

Fletcher looks agitated and almost defeated. He has bags under his eyes, and his hair is a mess, probably from running his hands through it.

Sighing, I relent to that part of me that will always hold a soft spot for him. “Fine, but I’m working.”

“Alone?” he asks as he steps through the door and I lock it again behind him. The blinds are closed, so the salon is much darker than it usually is, emphasizing the shadows on his face.

“Yes. I had a late client, and now I’m just trying to take care of some paperwork.”

“Need any help?”

I arch a brow at him. “Are you bored or something?”

“Kinda,” he says through a laugh, but then his smile transforms into a frown. “Honestly, I just needed to get out of my cabin.”

“Okay, well, feel free to hang out, I guess…”

“Thanks.”

Fletcher moves further into the salon, scouring the shelves of products that are stationed in the waiting area. “So, how was your day?” he asks before I can head back to my office.

I spin to face him, less eager to return to my work than I was before.

“It was good. Long, but I did get the food ordered for the party.” Momentarily, I debate telling him about my run-in with his father, but I decide against it, given his mood.

“I also commissioned Dilynne to help us with games. Not so sure that was a good idea.”

Fletcher nods as he continues to look through the shelves. “Nice. I made some calls for the decorations and such. Everything is set to be delivered to the winery Saturday morning.”

“Great.”

“I had lunch with your brother today too.”

My shoulders instantly tense up. “Okay…”

Fletcher turns his head so our eyes meet. “Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything about us, obviously.”

“I didn’t think you would. That would be asking for him to pull his gun on you.”

Fletcher laughs. “I honestly don’t think he would have believed me even if I did tell him.”

“Why’s that?”

Fletcher pushes a hand through his hair. “It’s not important.”

I can tell he wanted to say something else, but he caught himself. He closes the distance between us before shoving his hands in his pockets, looking almost nervously at me, but his smirk appears before he talks. “Do you have plans tomorrow night?”

I’m momentarily stunned. Is he asking because he wants to hang out? Or is it about our arrangement?

“Um, I do actually.” Tucking my hair behind my ear, I continue, “I’m watching Ellis for Rhonan. Joanne needed the night off.”

Disappointment registers on his face as his smirk turns into a frown.

“Oh. Okay, no biggie.” His heavy sigh rests in the space between us as he walks over to my station and takes a seat in the chair, spreading his legs out wide, reminding me of how massive of a man he is.

His muscular legs are on display under the hem of his khaki shorts, his arms full of sinew rest on the arms of the chair, and his massive hands clasp together as he hunches forward, bracing his forearms on his knees and holding his head in his hands.

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him like this—so up in his head, defeated and irritated. And that’s when it dawns on me. “What did he do this time?”

His head pops up and his eyes connect with mine, but he’s silent for a few moments. Finally, he exhales and drops his head down again. “How did you know?”

I move closer to him so I can look at him in the mirror in front of my chair. “There’s only one person that makes you act like this. So, what happened, Fletcher?”

He leans back in the chair, meeting my gaze in the mirror. “I got a call from the high school principal today. He offered me a coaching job when I retire, and he was curious if I’d decided when that might be.”

My brows lift. “Wow that’s…wait…”

Fletcher huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, that means replacing my dad. Apparently, they’ve had some complaints from parents, but Principal Hastings didn’t elaborate on what they were.”

“Do you think…” I can’t finish the thought because I don’t want to assume the worst.

“I don’t think my father is stupid enough to put his hands on another kid, but maybe he’s been out of it during practice or games,” he says, alluding to his substance problem. “He knows better than to drink on the job since that’s how he lost his last one, but the other night…”

Without thinking, I place my hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”

Fletcher blows out a breath. “You know what? Never mind. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this shit.” He moves to stand, but I push him back down as best as I can. Our size difference is significant, but Fletcher humors me.

“You can talk to me, Fletcher.”

“But I shouldn’t. You don’t need another thing or person to worry about. You have enough on your plate. And it goes against our arrangement, right?”

I move around the chair so that I can face him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Then why did you come here? Why not talk to Rhonan about it?”

His blue eyes lock on mine, and suddenly I’m transported back to when we were teenagers all over again, waiting on bated breath for what he’ll say next.

“Because you were the only person I wanted to see.” His answer is candid, honest, and my heart thumps in a way it shouldn’t as we stare at each other.

Silence rests between us as he pushes a hand through his hair again, pulling on the strands this time so they stand up as best as they can, given how thick his tresses are.

Glancing up as if he can see the top of his head, he groans. “God, I need a fucking haircut.”

Popping my shoulder, I say, “I wasn’t going to say anything, but now that you brought it up…”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Good thing I have a friend who knows how to cut hair, huh?”

“We’re not friends, Fletcher, remember?”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

I roll my eyes, but there’s a smile on my lips. “Seems like you’re the one that’s in denial.” I start to move, but Fletcher reaches out and grabs my wrist.

“Laney…”

Our eyes meet. “Yeah?”

I wait for what he’ll say next as my skin breaks out in goosebumps. The truth is, I can’t deny how being around him again has made me feel, especially after our interactions over the past few days. And seeing him like this now pulls on those same heartstrings I thought I had severed.

I’m still going to try to deny it, though.

His voice has a broken rasp to it when he speaks again. “Could you cut my hair, please?”

“Now?”

“I mean, why not? It won’t take long, right?” He smirks up at me. “I’ll even give you a big tip.”

I raise both brows. “Is that code for something sexual?”

He laughs. “I mean, if you want it to be.”

I take my arm back and reach for my scissors. “Boys never truly grow up, do they?” Our eyes meet in the mirror in front of us as I lay out my clippers, scissors, and straight razor on my rolling table, reaching for an apron to wrap around his neck.

Ten minutes ago, I was intent on finishing up my paperwork and getting home to relax before another long day tomorrow.

But suddenly, a burst of energy flows through me, part nerves from the idea of cutting Fletcher’s hair—something I’ve never done, but can’t deny having thought about.

“In some ways, no,” he says, answering my question. “In others though, we change so much that it scares the ever-living shit out of us.”

I button the apron and smooth it out over his chest and shoulders. “What do you mean?”

He grabs my hand from over his shoulder, stroking the top of it with his thumb before pulling me back around to face him head-on. “Like when we realize how foolish we’ve been. How one decision can change the entire direction of our lives, but we have to be brave enough to try to fix it.”

The lump in my throat grows. “Oh.”

He reaches out and toys with the necklace lying against my collarbone.

“This was your mom’s, wasn’t it?” Fletcher’s fingers pass over the pink diamond stone in the necklace I put on the other day after seeing the woman at Dilynne’s garage with the same one my mother had.

I usually only wear this necklace on special occasions, but a part of me felt like I needed her with me recently, especially after that day, and I have a feeling I know why.

“You—you remember that?”

“I remember a lot of things, Laney.” His head tilts to the side as he runs the chain between his fingers. “She loved pink diamonds.”

“She did.” Our eyes remain locked before I shake myself out of the moment, take a step back, and plug in the clippers. “So, how short are you wanting?”

His hand passes through his hair again. “Whatever you think would look good for the wedding.”

“It’s your hair, Fletcher.”

“And you’re the expert. I trust you.”

Opting for a shorter look on the sides and slightly longer length on top, I get to work, concentrating a little too hard but hard enough that I can convince Fletcher that I can’t talk and work at the same time. But then he drops a verbal bomb.

“I’ve been giving my dad money for the past few years now.”

My stomach drops and the clippers go still in my hand as I lift my gaze to the mirror. “Why?”

“I wish I could tell you, but I ask myself the same thing every time, Laney.”

My hands drop to my sides. “But after everything he did to you…”

His head spins in my direction. “You think I don’t know that it’s fucked up? That I give money to the man that used to hit me and bruise my body?”

“I’m not judging you, Fletcher,” I say softly. “I just… What about his job?”

His brow arches. “I’ll let you guess where his paychecks go.”

“Alcohol,” I answer instantly.

He snaps his fingers. “Bingo.”

It’s like pieces of the puzzle are all starting to fall into place. While I’ve been happy that Fletcher hasn’t been around, I failed to consider that he’s been avoiding his own past by not coming back to Blossom Peak nearly as often as he could.

“He’s why you rarely come home, huh?”

God, my heart hurts just looking at him right now. He’s that same boy I wanted to protect more than anything, yet he’s a grown man and still fighting a battle with the demons of his past.

“You’re the only person who knows, Laney.”

“Even after all this time?”

His chin dips in a curt nod. “Yes. That’s why I didn’t go to talk to Rhonan, or Elliot, or Henley. And I’d like for it to stay that way, please.”

I turn the clippers on to get back to work. “Of course.”

Both of us go silent for a while as I buzz the sides of his hair. When I turn the clippers off, his voice makes me jump. “You know, there’s something I’ve been wondering for a while now.”

I look up to find him staring at me. “Be careful. Thinking too hard might hurt you.”

He moves to pinch my ribs, and I barely dodge him. “Easy on the sass, woman.”

“Never.” Smirking, I move his head back in place and continue cutting his hair.

“I was wondering… Why did you open this salon?”

Shrugging, I reply, “Does it matter?”

“It matters to me. I remember you telling me that you wanted to be an author or teacher back in the day. I know you mentioned the salon too, but what made you land on that?”

“Everything,” I admit on a whisper. Fletcher keeps his eyes on me until I start talking again.

“Honestly, it was Dilynne. She always teased me for being a girly girl while she was a classic tomboy. After my mom died and I decided not to go to Florida State, she and I were talking about what we were going to do with our lives. She’d always mentioned owning her own auto shop and jokingly suggested that I could own a beauty salon right next door.

Our businesses would be complete opposites like us, but we could support each other too, like offering manicures while customers get oil changes—stuff like that.

A few Smirnoff Ices later, I had a business name, a plan, and something new to work toward, so I focused on that and made shit happen.

It took longer than I wanted because I had to help my dad with the winery, but I’m proud of it. ”

“Well, this place is incredible. You can tell that you’ve created something special here.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you ever start writing your book, though?”

“No. It felt silly to bother with that after everything. I needed to be realistic, find a way to support myself with a stable income, so I got busy and I just kind of forgot about it.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

Our eyes meet in the mirror again, talking to one another without saying anything.

You could still do it, he says.

What’s the point, I reply.

It was your dream, he fires back.

Not all dreams are meant to come true.

I focus my attention back on his hair, finishing the edges with the clippers, then begin to trim the top and put product through it.

Fletcher lets out a moan as I weave my fingers through his hair. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“I’m just tousling it.”

He closes his eyes. “It might feel like nothing special, but there’s just something about having your hands move through my hair that’s doing something to me.” He visibly shudders. “Fuck, you gotta stop that.”

I laugh. “Why?”

“You want the honest answer?”

“Yeah.”

He pulls me around to the front of the chair and onto his lap, making me gasp as I instantly feel the reason. Looking me dead in the eye while holding my hand, he says, “Because you’re making me fucking hard, Laney.”

Jesus, take the wheel.

“You didn’t need to tell me that,” I whisper, even though I feel like a hypocrite because heat is pooling between my legs as we speak.

He presses his nose against my cheek. “Fuck, you’re making me want things I shouldn’t.”

My response comes out breathless. “You should get help with that.”

“You’re right. I should.” When his face moves to the right, our lips brush ever so gently, but then he cups the back of my head and pulls me to his lips, deepening the kiss.

You’re not supposed to be kissing him, Laney. Remember?

But I don’t pull away. I let Fletcher tease my mouth with his own, swirling our tongues together as shivers race through my body. When we part, Fletcher rests his forehead on my shoulder.

“Being back here, with you…” I can hear my heartbeat in my ears as I wait for him to continue. “Thank you for letting me vent tonight,” he finishes as my heart breaks from the sound of pain in his voice. “I should be past this shit, right? I shouldn’t let him affect me anymore.”

“I’m beginning to realize that shouldn’t is a dangerous word.”