Page 100 of All This Time

“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?”