Page 45 of Baby, It’s You (Clairesville #1)

Olive

I stare at Hunter in shock; my mouth is currently hanging open. “Your parents?”

Hunter pushes his hair back, obviously surprised by this discovery, as well. His eyes widen as he continues to look at the heart drawn on the wall.

“How do you know for sure?” I ask.

“I know it's them,” he responds breathlessly as his dark eyes meet mine. “My mom’s name is Amy and my dad’s name is Frank, our last name is Rowe. That’s their anniversary date.” He pulls at the collar of his T-shirt as if it’s choking him suddenly.

“This is insane,” I tell him in a soft voice. I point to the text then. “‘Time of the Season’ like the song?”

“Yeah. It was my parents’ first dance song.”

“I looked those lyrics up when I first noticed the heart on the wall years ago. It’s been one of my favorite songs ever since.

This is crazy,” I tell him, shaking my head.

It feels like him coming into the bar that first night was almost like fate.

Who knew his parents' own history was on the walls of Whiskey Jane’s?

“I guess I should ask my mom if we can come over to film…” He half chuckles and puts his hands behind his neck, stretching. “Unbelievable,” he whispers to himself.

A minute later he goes outside to call his mom, and I continue to crouch by the wall, running my fingers over the textured lines of his parents’ script.

For years I have sat right by this spot, wishing I could absorb this couple's story, and I always wondered how their lives turned out.

The bar door jingles and I look behind my shoulder to see Hunter sauntering back in the bar, a bright smile on his face.

I grab the dishes from our table as he walks up and takes one of them out of my hand.

“We are good to go. My mom’s ready and excited to meet you.”

I lead him back towards the kitchen. “Geez, this is a lot of pressure. I didn't think I would be meeting your mother so soon,” I joke, but deep down, I mean it. I want his mom to like me.

“My mom will love you,” he says as he pushes the kitchen door open for me. I thank him and take his dish back. “Staff only. Tripp’s rule. Be right back.”

I head over to the sink across from the grill where Rob currently stands and begin washing our two plates. I can feel his eyes on my back and ignore it until I finish drying the dishes and place them on the rack. “Yes?” I ask, turning around.

“What are you doing, Olive?”

“What?”

“You’re leading the poor kid on; he really likes you. I can tell.”

“I like him, too.” I shrug. “We are just taking it slow.”

“I feel like you’re going to end up breaking his heart,” Rob continues, a serious look on his face. “He seems really invested in you and I actually like the guy.”

“I thought you were supposed to be on my side about things.” I raise an eyebrow.

“I am on your side. I’ll always stand by you, but I will also give you a reality check when you need it.

Stop messing around and either be with him or let him move on.

I don’t know if there will ever be a day where you will wake up and think you’re ready to be with him.

I think you’re making excuses because you don’t want to get hurt by him.

I say stop lying to yourself and go for it.

You know Jane would tell you to get your head on straight if she was here. Be brave, Olive.”

I feel like Rob just exposed all the hidden parts of my mind. Yes, I am scared, and he’s right, I don’t know if I will ever wake up and decide it’s the right time for Hunter and me.

I bite the inside of my cheek as Rob continues, “I’m not trying to make you sad; I want to see you happy. I want you to wake up and realize there’s a great guy waiting for you out there.”

I snort. “Wow, I didn’t realize you guys were so close.”

Rob shrugs nonchalantly. “We text sometimes.”

“Oh, is that it?” I tease, but I’m happy to hear that they have a friendship blooming. Rob really is a brother to me.

Missy pokes her head through the kitchen window, obviously eavesdropping from the other side. “They have a bromance,” she chirps.

I shake my head hearing that, my smile growing. “How sweet,” I say, drying off my hands with a nearby towel. “Alright, I’m leaving. See you tomorrow.”

Rob nods. “See ya.”

I push through the door and wave goodbye to Missy and Johnny at the bar.

“Go enjoy your day off.” Missy smiles.

“It’s like you’re obsessed with us,” Johnny jokes. “Even on your day off, you want to bask in my beauty.”

“Yeah, right. We are leaving,” I say as Hunter walks up behind me. I point at Johnny. “You better tell me about your new granddaughter tomorrow. I haven’t seen you in weeks!”

His face lights up. “Oh, don’t worry, I will be talking your ears off for hours tomorrow.”

I feel Hunter squeeze my shoulders and I lean into his touch, without even meaning to.

“I will be expecting an update, too, a detailed one,” Johnny jokes as he looks at Hunter’s hands on me.

“Yeah, okay.” I roll my eyes playfully. “We’re out of here.”

Hunter kindly tells everyone goodbye and strides to the front door, opening it for me before I can touch it.

After a leisurely ride in the truck, our conversation flowing easily, Hunter drives past his house and within a minute, we pull up to his childhood home.

It’s a small, traditional-style home that’s a cream color, and has a large awning over the front porch with small yellow flowers in planters hanging from it.

“Man, you weren’t kidding. You really did grow up right near your current home.”

“Yup. Drove by it every day, dreaming about it being mine someday.”

“This place is so cute,” I tell him cheerily as we get out of the truck. He grabs his equipment from the back seat, then leads me towards the navy-blue front door and knocks.

Seconds later a woman with dark curls, just like Hunter’s, and large, wire-framed glasses opens the front door. She looks effortlessly artsy and cool, wearing some paint-splattered overalls, and has colorful tattoos lining her arms. This is who I want to be in my 60s , I think to myself.

“Hi!” she exclaims and pulls both of us into a hug at the same time.

Together we let out an “oof” noise as she grips us in a bear hug.

She smells like patchouli and cinnamon. It’s a stark contrast to my own mother’s rare hugs that smelled like cigarettes and some cheap perfume that gave me a headache.

I almost don’t want the hug to end as she pulls back and Hunter looks at me. “I’m sorry. My mom’s a hugger.”

“I’m just so excited to meet you,” she exclaims. “Hunter has never brought a girl home! Can you believe it? He’s such a cutie.

” She leans over and messes with his hair playfully, exactly like I always do, tussling the curls.

“Well, at least I think so, but maybe I’m biased because I’m his mom.

” She smiles at me, her glasses raising as her cheeks lift.

“I wish you would have told me the project you’ve been working on together, Hunter,” she continues. “I would have told you all about our story!” She turns to me then. “I had no idea! He is such a private person.”

“All the videos are on my channel, Mom.” He chuckles.

“I’m sorry, son. I love you, but there’s only so much skateboarding I can watch. I had no idea you were doing something this different, though! I watched a few videos after you called me and had tears in my eyes. Freddie Finnely ? I couldn’t believe it.”

“I know!” I gush, meeting her enthusiasm. “I still feel like it was a dream meeting him!”

“Come on in and you can tell me all about it!” She backs up from the doorway so we can pass her and then shuts the door behind us.

The inside of Hunter’s childhood home is warm and inviting. The walls are lined with photographs and floral paintings.

“Are you an artist?” I ask his mom.

“Oh just for fun.” She laughs. “Keeps me busy these days.”

I look at a painting near me, intricate jewel-toned flowers swirling around the canvas. “These are really beautiful,” I tell her. “I would love for you to paint something for the bar,” I add quietly, knowing that could only happen if I save it.

“My mom's being modest,” Hunter chimes in. “She’s painted murals on the side of my elementary school and lots of other spots in town. She is super talented.”

“That’s so cool!” I light up. “Better idea. I want a mural on the outside of the bar.”

“Deal.” His mom smiles. “That will be my gift to you when you save the bar,” she responds kindly. She leads us down a hallway. “Come to the sunroom, I made some snacks.”

We get to brightly lit, small room filled with eclectic chairs and a wooden table in the center. On the table there is hummus and pita bread on a platter, and some veggies sliced in a bowl.

“Mom we just ate,” Hunter says. “I told you that.” He laughs as his mom brushes the comment away and helps herself to the veggies and hummus.

She then plops onto an oversized green chair and opens her arms. “I’m ready for my close-up.”