Page 1 of Running Risk

RYLEE: NOW

The wind funnels through my truck’s open window as we drive down the winding mountain road.

The air is crisp with the smell of pine trees, and I take a peek in the rearview mirror, smiling at my truck bed full of HomeGoods finds.

I have to take the turns slower than usual because I’m afraid something might tumble out.

I should have strapped it all down, but I’m too antsy to get everything home and into place.

“You literally found the perfect rug for that room. Your followers are going to love it.” Trish takes a sip of her Coke from grabbing lunch, having shopped all morning. “It has the perfect mixture of creams and greens to go with your guest room.”

The perfect furniture and finishing touches are always easy to find once I complete a project.

It’s like all the pieces fall into place after the hard work is done and the mistakes have been fixed.

The guest bedroom renovation in my home has been a fun journey, but I love seeing it all come together.

“The store had a ton of new stuff this time.” I smile, glancing at her. “I also always have the best luck finding exactly what I need. ”

“I know. I need you to remodel my bedroom. I’d love to reap the benefits of your DIY brain.”

She knows I would always be willing to do a project for her. Trish is my best friend, and I don’t know what I would do without her. She was a year ahead of me in high school, but we weren’t ever close. After moving back to town, I ran into her, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.

“It’s going to kill me a little inside to watch you cover the new wood floors you just laid, though. Even though that vintage rug is better than the ratty carpet you ripped up.”

“It was the worst, right?” I cringe as I remember the stains on the guest bedroom carpet. The people I bought the house from had kids, and there wasn’t a rug big enough to hide all the dark and sparkly spots that littered the floor.

“I thought you should have ripped up that carpet when you did the rest of the house.” Trish tucks a strand of windblown, short, blonde hair behind her ear.

“I couldn’t afford to lay the luxury vinyl in the entire house.

I had to plan and save.” I wish I could remodel my entire house all at once so it’s not a constant chaos of unfinished projects, but that’s not the way life works.

I always have unfinished projects. It’s part of the job.

Tools are everywhere, dirt covers the floor from walking in and out the front door toward my saws, and I get completely sucked into the project that all the other daily chores fall to the side.

My truck’s tires slow as I round another curve through the Georgia mountains. The mountains and roads are gorgeous, with woods and rocks everywhere you look. Another day, I might take the long way and admire the scenery, but today I’m too eager to get home.

Rolling into town, I pass the “Welcome to Ravenwood, Georgia” sign and stop at a crosswalk as a few men cross the street.

My heart hammers inside my chest as I watch one man in particular.

His dirty blonde hair is longer than I remember, curling at the nape of his neck, and his sharp jaw lines have a short beard covering them.

A white T-shirt stretches across his broad chest, and the sleeves are tight around his biceps.

He carries himself differently. Gone is the boy I knew who liked to stick to the shadows and not be noticed. This man has determination in his walk.

My body wants to shimmy down low in my seat, hoping he doesn’t see me. I’ve been back in my hometown for three months, but I was hoping to delay this inevitable reunion. I’m not ready to see him. It’s been almost seven years, and it’s too little, too late.

“Ry?”

I jump in my seat when Trish touches my arm, accidentally honking the horn, and even more panic sets in.

As the men are fully out of the street, I waste no time turning in the opposite direction as quickly as I can.

Taking a glance in my rear mirror, the men all watch as I peel away with questioning looks on their faces.

“I’m guessing that was Clayton back there?” Her voice is gentle, like she’s afraid to spook me even more.

“Huh?” My eyes jump around, as I’m not sure where I’m driving now since my house is in the opposite direction.

She sighs. “I didn’t get a good look at the men, but by the way you’re acting, I’m going to take a wild guess and say one of them was Clay.” She angles her body toward me as her head tilts to the side.

I hate when she tries to read me like a book. “So you want me to remodel your bedroom?” I say, deliberately avoiding her question.

Her eyes narrow, but I can’t talk about him.

I don’t even want to think about him. Anytime I do, it hurts.

I knew moving back here after six years in California would be hard, but I tried to convince myself I would be able to avoid him.

Wishful thinking, especially living in a small town.

I also made a huge deal about leaving and never coming back.

I studied design for three years before getting a job at a marketing agency.

I told everyone I wanted to move and make something of myself, not in Georgia.

But in reality, it was his big, brown eyes that haunted my dreams and made me leave without looking back.

I kept my days busy, but after the agency closed, I realized how much I missed my family and friends back home. So here I am.

“Once I finish my guest bedroom, I’m sure I can squeeze you in before remodeling my kitchen.”

She exhales. “I don’t think I’m ready just yet, but pencil me in for after you finish the kitchen. Do you have it all planned out?”

I send her a small smile of thanks. I know she’d rather pepper me with questions about him .

“Everything from the cabinet color down to the brick flooring.” I refuse to let my home be another cookie-cutter house.

I worked hard to buy a place to call my own, and I can design my space any way I want.

That happens to be: cottage, bright, and cozy.

An inviting space filled with warm color palettes and natural textures with a touch of vintage charm.

I love having my own place. Somewhere I can be completely myself and not have to consider someone else’s opinion. Thinking of a hypothetical roommate putting their chunky espresso maker on my soon-to-be white concrete countertops makes me cringe.

I turn the truck down a road that will eventually lead me home, but it’s like going around your ass to your elbow.

I used to take this road to get to my parents’ house from town.

I moved back in with them after moving home and remodeled rooms in their house.

That was how I started my social media presence.

After a few successful renovations and viral videos, I was able to get my own house and do more projects to share.

Pulling into my long driveway, Socks flies out the doggy door, runs toward my truck, and barks.

As soon as I open my door, I love on my favorite furry friend all over.

I know she’s antsy since we didn’t go for a run this morning.

“Hey, girl.” I scratch her ears. “Alright, let’s get this stuff inside.

” She wags her tail, her entire body moving with it.

Hoisting the large rug over my shoulder with a huff, I take it inside.

Walking right into the guest bedroom off the living room, I drop it on the ground.

I lean over, placing my hands on my knees, and heave through my breathing.

Socks sits with her nose in my face, panting.

“What? You carry it. See if it makes you tired. That was a huge rug.” I point to the rug as if she knows what I’m saying.

Her tail thumps on the ground as she peers toward the front door.

She’s begging for our run, but that will have to wait.

“Little help?” Trish rasps out, waddling inside with a wooden nightstand dangling from her hands, between her legs.

I run toward her and grab a corner, helping her place it by a window.

“Had to pick the heaviest piece of furniture in the store?” She flicks her hair off her shoulder.

I shake my head and stand up straight, looking around.

The room is empty, but it has fresh paint on the newly shiplapped walls, baseboards, and trim.

The Revere Pewter on the walls allows the stark white trim to pop.

The double doors to the closet are open, showing off the custom closet system I built.

I put a faux wood dresser from Ikea in the left corner with a shelf above it.

I left the right side for hangers with a long shelf across the top.

With room for clothes and additional storage, it’s the perfect closet. My followers ate it up.

“Oh, can I do the kicky thing?” She motions toward the rug, and I chuckle .

“Sure.”

Securing my phone to the tripod, I grab a utility knife and press record, open up the new rug, and Trish kicks it out.

The vintage rug unwinds, flopping over itself until it’s completely flat on the floor.

I end the video only to start a new one to show the intricate design of the rug up close.

My platform contains “how-to” videos because I don’t just want to show my followers what I can do, but I want them to know they can do it too.

“So how’s work?” I straighten the rug on the floor.

Trish scoffs. “It’s like I’m the only one who actually cares about keeping their job.”

“You wanted to work at Target.”

“I know. I still love it there. It’s just that I wish there were other workers who cared and didn’t only work when they had a supervisor close by.”

“There’s no way you’re holding back your disapproval of how lazy they are.” I chuckle. Trish is definitely not the silent type when she has an opinion.

“That may be why I’ve gotten several dirty looks from some of the lazier people.” She laughs and shrugs it off.

The hours go by as I carefully place each piece of furniture in its place.

I assemble the new caramel leather bed frame piece by piece as Trish explains each step, only having to redo a few when we realize we did a part wrong.

We push it against the largest wall, and my heart leaps as I watch the space come together.

Wrapping the Tuft & Needle mattress in white linen sheets, I lay the matching quilt on top.

I fluff the pillows and place accented olive green throw pillows in front.

I loved these items on my bed, so I bought the same things in different colors for this room.

The final touch is an olive green waffle pattern throw blanket, folded and draped over the right corner of the bed.

Trish organizes the opposite wall. It’s what I love the most about the room: the library wall. I did an Ikea hack with three of their bookshelves. Since they didn’t go to the ceiling, I made them look built into the wall and made arches where the space was above each bookshelf.

She places my last fantasy book on the shelf and takes a few steps back before collapsing backward onto the bed, exhaling loudly on impact. “This is my room.”

I laugh. “What?”

Scooting her body up onto her forearms, she peers over at me between her toes.

“I’m the only guest you ever have, so I think it’s only fitting that I have my own room for all those late-night project planning sessions we have.

” She flops back onto the bed. Her hair splays out around her. “It’s so comfortable.”

I shake my head before joining her. She is right, I usually run all of my project ideas and paint colors by her before making the final decisions. “Thanks for your help. I don’t think I could have gotten all of this finished without you.”

She nudges me with her elbow. “Yes, you would have. It just wouldn’t have been as much fun.”

I chuckle. “That’s true.”

“You sure you’re okay after seeing him?” she asks, as she wrings her fingers together.

My lips press together. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“I know. I just wanted to make sure . . .”

“How about you turn on a movie, and I’ll make dinner?” I say, cutting her off.

Her blue eyes brighten. “Hallmark?”

“Definitely.” I get off the bed and go into the kitchen.

Opening the freezer, I grab ground beef, thankful for the way cute, feel-good movies distract me from the adulting activities I don’t care for.

Trish’s footsteps sound in the living room, and I already know she’s going to stay the night.

We have frequent movie nights, especially after she’s had a hard day .

Standing in the kitchen, I imagine what I want this kitchen to be.

I grab all the ingredients from my cabinets and imagine a walk-in pantry using the large closet next to the refrigerator.

Leaning over, I get another pot out of the cabinet and imagine the new wooden cabinets that will replace these white particleboard ones.

I make lists of brands in my head to reach out to, asking if I can work with them.

I’m always planning the next project before posting about the current one.

Dinner is almost ready when soft snores come from the couch, and I chuckle.

I make myself a bowl and quietly walk out the back door, pulling on a sweater as I go.

The bright stars shine enough that I can barely see the edge of my five acres.

This house may not be big, but I didn’t buy it because of the house.

I bought it for the old oak trees scattered across the property and the thicker pines hiding my little sanctuary from the road.

A cool breeze swirls around as I put a few logs in the fire pit.

The leaves are changing, bringing a completely different type of beautiful dream.

There’s a little nip in the air as October approaches, and I love having fires to curl up beside.

Lounging in my favorite chair, I wiggle my toes in front of the growing fire.

The chili has cooled enough to eat, and sitting here under the moon in front of a fire brings back so many childhood memories—just like this, with my best friend.