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TALLIE

I ’d finally done it.

After years of blood, sweat, and tears—lots and lots of tears, I’d finally opened my very own art studio. It wasn’t much, just a nine-hundred-square-foot room with exposed brick and charm for days. Twinkling lights hung from the ceiling, and a heavy scent of paint and clay was lingering in the air.

Sunlight poured through the large front window and highlighted the various shelves. I smiled, knowing that this was where my vases and bowls would soon sit. I couldn’t wait. My shop was on the main strip in Hot Springs. It was a known hot spot for tourists, and I hoped the rustic ambiance of my quaint little shop would draw them in.

I just stood there, taking it all in. I was relishing in the feeling of pride and excitement when Ford, my seven-year-old son, came storming in from the back room. He was sporting his infamous pout, and his dark curls bounced with every exaggerated stomp. He bounded over to me with his favorite stuffed dinosaur clutched to his chest and whined, “I wanna go home.”

“Oh, come on, Ford. We just got here.”

“Uh-uh.” His brows furrowed. “We’ve been here forever, and there’s nothing to do.”

“What about your iPad or those coloring books I bought?”

“Those are for babies, Mom.” I laughed softly, glancing at the array of clay creations that lined the shelves. “Okay, how about this? You can help me make something. I’ll show you how to use the wheel, and we can make a bowl together. It’ll be our special project.”

"Can I make it really big?” A hopeful smile spread across his face as he asked, “Like, big enough for a bear?"

"How about big enough for a really hungry cat?"

“Does that mean we can get a cat?”

“Oh, we have a lot more unpacking to do before we can even think about getting a pet.”

“What about after we finish unpacking?”

“Maybe. But only if you promise to help me take care of it.”

“Promise!”

“Okay, deal," I said, holding out my pinky.

“Deal.”

He hooked his tiny finger around mine, sealing our pact.

I led him toward the pottery wheel, and I couldn’t help but smile as he sat down in front of it with excitement in his eyes. Art and pottery had always been a passion of mine, and now, they were quickly becoming his.

I slipped on his apron and placed some clay on the wheel, letting him play while I went to grab my box of supplies. By the time I returned, he was giggling and covered in clay. He was intent on creating something, even if it resembled more of a lumpy blob than a bowl.

I smiled as I adjusted his apron.

“Okay, bud, let’s make a masterpiece,” I teased, placing my hands over his to guide the clay. The room was warm with the smell of earthy clay and the soft hum of the wheel. It was one of those rare, perfect moments I wanted to remember forever. Ford was just starting to get the hang of it when my phone buzzed on the counter.

I glanced at it out of instinct and shook my head, nudging it aside.

But then it buzzed again.

Something about the persistence made me pause.

My chest tightened when I finally looked.

Dad.

Seeing his name flash across the screen made my stomach twist into a mess of knots. It happened every time he called, and it was even worse when I had to see him in person.

It hadn’t always been this way.

There was a time when I thought he hung the moon.

But that all changed when he sent me away.

I fell for Holt, my brother’s best friend, when I was in high school. He was always hanging out at the house with Rooks. He was four years older than me, so I usually kept my distance and left them to do their own thing. Then, one night, we connected over a late-night bowl of cereal, and one thing led to another, and we started dating.

It wasn’t really dating at first. I was just a freshman at the time, so we hung out at the house and went to school functions together. But by the end of my senior year, we were making plans for the future. I was going to art school, and he was going to continue to work his way up in the military.

We weren’t na?ve.

We knew it wouldn’t be easy.

Holt and I were from two different worlds, but we loved each other and were willing to do whatever it took to make it work.

But we never got the chance.

Dad didn’t like us dating, and when he realized how serious we were about our future, he tried to get me to end things with him. When I refused, he sent me away to art school in Paris, breaking my heart and Holt’s. My father promised that one day I’d understand why he’d done what he’d done, but I never did.

I learned things in Paris that I wouldn’t have learned anywhere else, but the hurt and betrayal I’d felt all those years ago still clung to me—even more so whenever I looked at Ford and saw his father in his eyes.

That thought had me reaching for my phone and silencing the call.

I was having a moment with my son, and I wasn’t going to let my father ruin it. I glanced down at Ford, watching as he pressed his thumbs into the wet clay. “That’s it. Nice and slow.”

“Like this?”

“Yep. Now, pull it up slowly… like this.”

I leaned in closer and demonstrated with my own hands, showing him how to make the clay rise into a small circular shape. Ford mimicked my movements with a mix of awe and frustration. He tried with all his might, but his little fingers weren’t quite as nimble as mine.

“You’re doing great! This is gonna be the best bowl ever.”

Ford beamed up at me with a proud smile that melted my heart. I was just about to ask him if he wanted to add any designs to the sides when I heard a knock at the door. It wasn’t a knock I recognized, so I glanced over at the clock, checking the time.

We were at least a week away from opening, and I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I was a little hesitant as I pulled my hands from the clay and quickly wiped them clean. “Hang tight, buddy. I’ll be right back.”

A sense of curiosity tugged at me as I started to unlock the door, and then I heard a familiar, loving voice say, “Any day now, sunshine.”

“Marcus?” My heart skipped a beat as I swung the door open, and I found my dearest friend standing on the front sidewalk with that easy grin I always loved. His hair was a little longer, and his waist was a little thicker, but he was just as handsome as ever. “What in the world are you doing here?”

“I came to see how things were going.” He stepped inside the shop and gave it a quick once over. “Looks like things are coming together.”

“Yes, they are.” I stared at him for a moment, then, out of impulse, I flung my arms around him and almost knocked him off his feet. “I can’t believe you’re really here. It’s been ages.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” He shrugged as he sat down next to me. “I would’ve been here sooner, but…”

“I know.”

He stepped further into the shop and waited as I closed the door behind him. He stopped when he spotted Ford in the back corner. “Is that…”

“It is,” I answered as we continued over to Ford. When he looked up at us, I smiled and said, “Ford, I would like you to meet a good friend of mine. This is Marcus.”

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Marcus stepped closer and looked down at the wad of clay in my son’s hands as he asked, “What ’cha making over there?”

“A bowl for a new cat.”

“A new cat, huh?”

“We aren’t getting a cat,” I interjected. “Or a dog. At least, not right now.”

“Why not?” Marcus pushed. “He’s making a bowl and everything.”

“Mom says we gotta get settled first.”

“She might have a point.” Marcus took a quick glance around and grimaced as he added, “But hang in there. It won’t take her long to get this place fixed up.”

Ford gave him a doubting shrug, then returned his attention to the clay. Marcus leaned over to me as he whispered, “He looks just like…”

“Yeah, I know.” I cut him off as I steered him over to the sofa. “I can’t believe you’re really here. It’s been years since I last saw you.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” He shrugged as he sat down next to me. “My job isn’t as flexible as I’d like it to be, but I couldn’t let you have your grand opening without at least stopping by to check out the place. And I gotta say, I’m impressed. This place is really amazing.”

“It’s a work in progress, but it’s getting there.” I motioned to the shelves lined with mugs, vases, and bowls in every shape and size. “Still trying to figure out how to display everything, but I think it’s coming together.”

“It definitely is.”

We chatted for a while, catching up on work, life, and everything in between. It was like we’d never missed a beat. It was always like that with us.

We’d met in the seventh grade, and it wasn’t exactly a picture-perfect start. I was the quiet, quirky girl who kept to herself. I spent most of my days sketching away in my notebooks, keeping to myself, while he was busy being the class clown and impossible to ignore.

Everyone loved him. One day, during lunch, he made some joke about my ‘rsf’ face, better known as ‘resting sketch face,’ and everyone around laughed. I wanted to crawl under the table and never come out.

But days later, he came over and sat next to me in art class. He gave me one of his charming smiles and asked, “So, what are you drawing?”

It was like he’d completely forgotten how he’d embarrassed me just days before. I, on the other hand, hadn’t forgotten and snapped, “Nothing.”

“Come on. Let me see.”

I was hesitant but eventually turned my sketch pad over and showed him my sketch of a dragon hiding beneath the forest. He studied it for several moments, then turned to me with wide eyes. “Holy shit. That’s badass.”

“You really think so?”

“Absolutely.” He looked back at the drawing, then suggested, “You should make him breathe fire.”

And that was it.

From that moment on, he was always there walking me to class, making me laugh when I was having a bad day, and showing up at my house like he was one of the girls. He became my safe place—the one person who didn’t just tolerate my silly quirks but actually liked them.

He never made me wonder or left me guessing about our unlikely friendship. I never had to wonder if he hoped for more. He’d made it clear from the start who held his heart, and it wasn’t me. He was head over heels for our history teacher, Mr. Henson. He’d lie on the floor in my room, going on about something he’d said in class or the clothes he’d worn that day. He knew there was no chance that Mr. Henson would feel the same about him, but that didn’t dampen his crush. If anything, it made him even more appealing.

I didn’t know what it was like to have feelings like that for someone.

And then, Holt came into the picture.

He and Rooks had been friends for years. I never really paid him much attention until the start of my freshman year. It was late—well after midnight, and I’d gone downstairs for a drink of water. He was sitting at the counter eating a bowl of cereal. I decided to join him, and we spent the better part of the night talking alone in the dark. It started more as a friendship, but the spark that ignited between us was undeniable.

I told Marcus about my feelings for Holt, and while he had his reservations, he was supportive. He was never jealous or resentful, not even when I started to spend more time with Holt than I did him. He was a true friend, and he remained my friend even when I was sent away.

He wrote letters, emailed, and called as often as he could. I did the same. When I discovered that I was pregnant, the calls kept coming. He stood by me the entire time, never judging or giving unsolicited advice. But he listened, and he cared. He always wanted the best for me.

I knew that hadn’t changed when he asked, “So, have you been seeing anyone?”

“No, not really.”

“Tallie,” he said, giving me that look. “ We talked about this.”

“I know, but I’m just not ready.”

“It’s been five years.”

“I know. I know.” I let out a sigh. Ford was two when I finally gathered the courage to go against my father and reach out to Holt. That’s when I discovered he had been killed in the line of duty. I’d lost him. Our chance for reconnecting was gone. I was so devastated that I shut down and could barely function for months. “I’ve just had so much going on, and to be honest, I haven’t really met anyone I’d want to go out with anyway.”

“I might be able to help out with that.”

The words had barely left his mouth when Ford came rushing in with his new bowl cradled in his hands. “Look, Mom! I did it!”

“Oh, honey.” I smiled through the lump in my throat as I got up and knelt beside him. “It’s perfect, sweetheart.”

“I put a cat face on one side and a dog face on the other. That way, we can use it for whichever pet we get.”

“Smart thinking there, dude.” Marcus chuckled as he stood and said, “I best get going.”

“You just got here.”

“It’s not like I won’t be back.” He gave me a wink. “We’re neighbors now, remember?”

“Neighbors.” I smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

“Me too.” I followed him over to the door, and as he walked out, he told me, “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“Remember what I said.”

“I will.”

I watched as he walked out to his car and got inside. He gave me a quick wave and drove off, and I couldn’t help but smile. I had my son, my pottery shop, and my best friend. For the first time in a very long time, I felt like everything was falling into place.

Sadly, the good wasn’t going to last.

In fact, everything was about to go to hell in a handbasket.