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ALANA

“ You slept with him ?” Fox’s voice hits me like an assault, her words slamming through my headphones rather than out into the shop for my son to overhear.

“Alana! You slept with your ex?”

“Yes.” Am I mad? Sad? Happy? Jesus, I don’t know. But a warm blush fills my cheeks. “More than a few times.”

“Alana!” She walks amongst New York foot traffic, laughing and stepping around others as she makes her way closer to work. “This is the guy you swore you wouldn’t go near.”

“Yes.”

“The one you said has a temper hotter than Hades, and, I quote, ‘ he will probably want to kill me for what I did to him .’ That guy?”

I stack books on a shelf and play with positioning so the brighter, more alluring covers face outward. “Mmhm. I did.”

“More than a few times?” She chokes out. “You hoe! You knew you wouldn’t stay away.”

“I tried.” I lower to my knees to save my back and arrange books on the lower shelves. “I swear, Fox. I tried so hard. But this is a small town, and he’s just… he’s…”

“Got a giant donkey dick? Eyes that burn into your soul. Lips that even I kinda want to kiss, ya know, just to try them out.”

A low, warning snarl rolls along my chest .

“You’re so possessive,” she teases. “You act like I didn’t see the magazines, too.

He’s sex on legs and has that dark, dangerous allure about him.

His job is to smash other dudes for money, which in today’s society is kinda savage, but also, it’s got those Neanderthal hormones twitching, ya know?

He stayed in that tiny ass town and waited for you.

There are some seriously slick fighters in Brazil, so he could have gone there.

Or Thailand. Or even Vegas, since that’s where he goes for his title fights, anyway. ”

“You’re not helping me.”

“He could have gone anywhere! And you know he’s rich enough to do it. His family is trash—you already said that—so it’s not like anything was holding him to that town. But he stayed anyway.” She releases a wistful sigh. “He’s the man who couldn’t be moved.”

“His brother is here. And his friends.”

“Oh, please. Don’t act like I haven’t read your book. His brother is his best friend and would follow him anywhere. Half of your high school friends have already left for the city, and those who haven’t, could. Did you tell him yet?”

My stomach drops, just like it does every other time someone asks me that question. But my answer remains the same. Eighteen or twenty-eight, my decision remains firm. “No.”

“And you won’t?”

“No.”

“Because you think if you do, he’ll beat the absolute shit out of the guy and end up in prison?”

“Yes.” I sit back on my haunches and study my work so far.

The rows and rows and rows of shelves I’ve rearranged.

The books I’ve stacked. The dust I’ve cleared out and the couches I’ve deep cleaned.

We’re almost ready for the public to come in, make a coffee, and settle in with a book.

“I can’t tell him, Fox. He wouldn’t cope. ”

“So you’d rather lie to him. But also, sleep with him sometimes.”

“I’m not lying to him!” I push to my feet and brush the dust off my legs. “I’ve established a boundary of not telling him. He’s not happy with it, but I think he’s coming to accept it.”

“Clearly, since you moved from ‘ he’s going to kill me ’ to ‘ he makes me come three to five days a week .’”

I roll my eyes and head back to the front of the shop to collect my next stack of books. “You’re crass and rude, and it’s only been four times, total. Not even all in the same week.”

Franky looks up from the computer. “What is four times? ”

Fox cackles. “Oopsie! Explain yourself out of that one, hooker.”

“Four times Fox has called this week and annoyed me.” I lean across the counter and kiss the top of his head, sneaking a look at his spreadsheet and the cells filled with numbers.

Barcodes. Descriptions. Author names. Publishing houses.

So much information, and all because of a nine-year-old who likes organization. “Fox says hello, honey. She misses us.”

“Miss you too, Aunty Fox.” He speaks in monotone, barely interested in the woman on the other side of the line.

But she gets the words, at least. Which is a gift in itself.

“You can take all those books now—” He points to a trolley filled with romance novels.

“They go on shelf eleven. Make sure they stay in alphabetical order.”

“Yeah, Mom.” Fox taunts. “Don’t screw with his system.”

“Shut up.”

When Franky’s brows shoot high on his forehead, I point back at my ears to let him know that was for her, not him. Then I turn and take my next load toward shelf eleven. “You’re a pain in my ass, Fox. You almost got me in trouble with my own kid.”

“How does it feel to raise a forty-year-old man? Shoot.” She gasps and jumps, the jingling bell from a messenger bike echoing through the line. “Ride on the road like everyone else, jackass! Get out of my damn way!”

“You should come to Plainview.” I find shelf eleven and scour the books my son has already stacked in the order he wants them. “It doesn’t take more than ten minutes to drive anywhere .”

“And risk chicken poo on my shoes?” She scoffs. “No, thanks. I’m a city girl, Alana Bette. You know this about me.”

“New York stresses you out. It’s busy and crowded and smelly.”

“And always has somewhere open to eat,” she counters. “Never gets quiet. Never gets dark. Multiculturalism is beautiful. I bet Plainview folks all have the exact same skin color.”

“I mean?—”

“Exactly. Which means they probably have just one boring ass flavor of food and no inclination to try anything else. New York is a boiling pot of music and scent and color and life. Everyone is friendly. Which, I know, sounds weird since small towns are supposed to be friendlier.”

“They romanticize places like this,” I confess. “Like everyone knows everyone, which means they’re all friends. But in reality, no one likes anyone, and everyone likes to gossip.”

“Exactly! So why in the world would I come there? There’s nothing there for me. ”

Ouch.

My heart thuds with a deep ache, sorrow stealing my smile and forcing me back to my childhood. Not good enough. Not important enough. Not worthy enough.

Not even for my best friend.

“Franky’s starting school in a few days, and I made an offer on the shop.

” Dejected, I grab the books at the top of the pile and begin shelving.

“My mom’s health is declining, and I just…

This is where our lives are now, Fox. We can’t leave.

And maybe it’s a shitty town right now, but that’s because the same old people live here.

The same families. The same elders. The businesses are run by the same people, the town council has all the same faces, and traditions have been in place for the last hundred years.

Nothing can change unless something changes. ”

“That’s why they call those places backwards. As in, nothing ever progresses forward.”

“Right. But the older folks will eventually die off.”

She chokes out a laugh. “Savage!”

“They had kids, who had kids, who are having kids. And I know, in my experience, anyway, a lot of the people I went to school with are less tolerant of the same old shit. Some are moving away to escape it. Others stayed and are opening their own businesses. The local pediatrician isn’t eighty-seven years old anymore, and he doesn’t subscribe to the idea that rubbing dirt on a staph infection will fix it. ”

She snorts. “Sounds like a good way to speed up Plainview’s evolution.”

“People like my mom would have the rest of the world believe this town is scandal-free and entirely too proper . But the new pediatrician—who is also oncology, and orthopedics, and immunizations, and every other specialty too, because he’s the only doctor in this town—well, I went to school with him, and on the night of our prom, he was arrested by his own father for running along Main Street in the nude. ”

She laughs. “He sounds fun.”

“Yeah…” Memories wash over me like water lapping at a sandy beach. Coming closer. Closer. Closer. “You know about him, Fox. You’ve read the book, remember?”

Her laughter cuts off with a gurgle. Her breath stuttering. “Him? The one Tommy had to bail out?”

“Mmhm.” I move to my knees and carefully place books on the lower shelves.

“I’m just saying, yes, Plainview sucks. But there’s a chance it won’t always suck.

And if you visit, you can stay at a house that has no chicken poo.

Maybe.” I snicker. “I’d have to ask around. But I’m sure I’ll find somewhere.”

“I’ll consider it.” The tick-tick-tick of a pedestrian crossing plays through my headphones, though people rarely pay attention to those in New York City. “So you’re casually banging your old flame. You haven’t told him your massive secret. Annnnnd, Helen?”

“Is still trying to mother me. She insists I’m making rash business decisions that I’ll someday regret.

But I told her to pull the book. Officially.

” I move away from sweet romance and come to the darker, grittier stories with covers that convey exactly the content written within the pages.

“I’ve formally declined Elyte’s offer and told Helen to tell them the book is no longer available for sale.

It would kill Tommy if the story got out.

It would destroy him and Chris, and I’m not willing to be the reason they’re hurt.

” More. “I’m especially not ready for it to be read and picked apart by the masses. ”

“So that’s it? You’re putting your dreams of being published in the trash?”

“Not in the trash. Just on hold. My life here will be busy for the next few years, getting Franky from elementary to middle, and then middle to high school. I intend to buy the store and turn it into something kind of special. Things between me and Tommy are…”

“Hot?”

I roll my eyes. “Salvageable, maybe. Not romantically.”

She scoffs.