Unwritten Page 7

  “I’m hearing a lot of really good news. Please tell me you have a plot sort of set up in your head?”

  I nod, even if she can’t see it or my puffy pout. “Actually, I kinda do.”

  “Fantastic. Well, when you’ve written a few chapters, send it over, and we can talk over the kinks.”

  It’s a brilliant idea, and I’m glad it buys me some time to, you know, actually come up with a plot. I wasn’t admitting that there’s a mixture of fictional details and the nonfictional elements that I’d also like to get straightened out.

  “Sounds perfe—”

  BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

  “WHAT’S THAT SOUND?” Janet yells into the phone.

  “I DON’T KNOW!” I spin on my heels, my eyes going wide as I see a large cloud of billowing smoke coming from my kitchen. “OH SHIT, CALL YOU BACK!”

  I hang up my phone, throwing it onto the couch. I run into the kitchen while covering my ears.

  BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

  The ringing is so loud, it’s messing with my brain waves as I try to take in the sight of the kitchen currently filling with smoke.

  “MY SOUP!” I scream. I rush to the stove, waving away the cloud of smoke. I can barely see, and now I’m coughing.

  A small flame plumes from the burner. I fumble with the switch, blowing it out, and move the pot to the sink.

  The fire is out, but the smoke detector is merciless.

  That sound! “ARGH!” I shout, waving my hands to disperse the smoke. I fling the kitchen door open and run to the window above the sink, wedging it open, all while still flailing my arms.

  “Mom would kill me,” I mumble, trying to remember where the smoke detector is, but I can’t catch sight of a blinking red light, and it’s too loud and has been ringing too long that I can’t pick a direction it’s coming from.

  BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

  I run to open the front door and all the rest of the windows downstairs.

  That’s when I hear not only the incessant beeping, but also the sound of a fire truck.

  “Oh no,” I groan. I consider trying to find a place to hide, but I can already see a red fire truck coming to a crunching halt out the open window. There’s no avoiding this terribly embarrassing situation.

  “They just HAD to be firemen, didn’t they? And I just HAD to try and cook something!” I grumble as I scoot myself back into the kitchen to try and wave off more smoke, and maybe to also hide my face.

  Thinking I’ll have the whole crew, meaning my stupid friends, come into my house, I’m surprised when I hear only one pair of heavy boots enter my living room over the constant beeps.

  I’m the color that my tomato soup is supposed to look like, not its charred remains in the pot. I want to crawl into a corner to never be seen again.

  The nameless boots take a few steps inside, clonking around, and the anticipation is killing me.

  “There’s no fire. You can leave!” I shout. My hands fly over my mouth, and I whisper to myself, “You are digging yourself the most embarrassing grave of your life, and when people come to visit you in your death, they will only point and laugh.”

  Suddenly, the beeping stops and the heavy steps move toward me. It’s a relief when the throb in my head stops and the ringing in my ears slows. My brain can finally catch up with what to do.

  I peer down at my oversized sweater and shorts with boots. I look homeless-mountain-woman-chic, which is not the cutest.

  Caiden appears in the doorway to the kitchen with a crooked grin; a black and yellow helmet is set securely on his head. His appearance must be a joke to mock me, no gear other than the helmet. A navy long-sleeved shirt stretches across his chest and is tucked into navy work pants that are even tucked into burly black fireman boots with a yellow trim. He looks hot, and I add it to the list of everything I hate him for.

  “Well,” he chuffs, a fire extinguisher resting easily in his left hand. “What do we have here?”

  “Nothing.” My jaw locks as I try to think of an excuse. “I was cooking and—”

  “There’s your first mistake, I think.”

  I want to tell him that Janet would agree with him, but the comment would go over his stupid helmet. My chompers chomp shut in annoyance as I glare.

  “What were you makin’?” he practically sings as he leans toward the stove.

  “I know you’re just here to dance around me being an idiot.”

  He grins, and his pearly white teeth appear blindingly under his dark scruff. So smug.

  “Hailey,” he tuts, taking two steps closer to me, and I hate that I think the permanent charcoal smell of his uniform is wonderful. “I take my job very seriously.”

  “Right,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest.

  He laughs as he watches me, leaning in even closer, and I swear you’d think this guy just won the Nobel Peace Prize or something, he’s gloating so much.

  “Plus, I guess you were wrong. I don’t always rescue kittens from trees, now do I?”

  My jaw falls slack as he repeats my words from the other night. He lifts his large hand to my face to boop me on the nose in the most patronizing way he can manage. “But maybe I do rescue kittens from burning buildings, eh?”

  I try so hard to hide my smile. I close my eyes and shake my head. My arms come jutting out, and my palms collide into his chest to shove him back. It doesn’t move him. He’s as solid as a rock, and I let out an audible grumble. “Gah! Get out!”

  This time, he releases a belt of warm laughter that’s most definitely at my expense.

  “I’m not a kitten, Caiden, I’m a fucking lioness who’s going to swipe that smug grin off your face with my claws.”

  More laughter, and his eyes do that heavy drag that I’ve witnessed so many times skimming every surface of exposed skin on my body.

  Once his twinkling eyes meet mine, they spark as if he remembers something. “Speaking of kittens, I hope he’s okay…”

  Caiden turns around and hurries out the front door. Before I know it, I can hear his boots on the porch on the side of the house.

  My eyes go wide. “Oh. My. God. The cat! You’re looking for that cat!”

  When I exit my front door, I can see Brandon, Tyler, and Cam leaning against the side of the fire truck, and they’re all laughing… at me.

  I slide my accusing finger their way. “You all need better things to do!”

  “Why would we want to be anywhere else when you provide the best entertainment since you hit town?”

  I don’t have to look to know who said that as my feet turn the corner. “Fuck you, Brandon!”

  More laughter. I make a mental note to remind Brandon that my right hook is as good as it was when I was fifteen. “Caiden!”

  When I round the corner, my face twists in mock disgust, and I run both hands through my hair. “Caiden, you do realize you’re a parody of yourself, right?” But then my loins writhe in hormonal need when I see him holding a kitten. I can’t tell what’s happening to my lower half—my ovaries might be melting—as I watch him cuddle this white cat with little black paws, a black patch of fur over its nose, and wide green eyes that could rival its rescuer.

  “What?” he asks, still scratching the underside of the cat’s chin.

  I’m still trying to pull the puddle of myself together while trying to be irate. “A fireman and cats? You’ve got Harlequin written all over you. You’d practically write my novel yourself.”

  His chin darts up. “Did you just admit you’ve written about me?”

  My brows scrunch together as I realize what I’ve just said. “Uh, no. I just meant with your stupid, hunky fireman backstory and love for the annoyingly furry, you’d be—” he’s watching me with that shit-eating grin again. Yup, my grave is much deeper than before. “What I mean is… what are you doing with that cat? Are you the one who’s—?”

  His grin calms as his eyes dart everywhere but to me as he realizes he’s given himself away.

&nb
sp; “I was just making sure Soot was all right, ya know, after you almost burned the house down.”

  I grit my teeth, mainly to hide my irrational smile. “First, I didn’t almost burn the house down. Why is the alarm set up to alert the fire station directly? That makes no sense. The alarm is supposed to signal me to dial 911.”

  He shakes his head. His face is back to rugged and rigid as he gives me a no-nonsense look under his brows. “I didn’t trust your mom. Her hearing wasn’t at its best. I had her alarm connected to her wifi, so if it went off, we’d be notified immediately.”

  From him holding kittens, to making sure mothers stay safe: ovaries initiate implosion.

  “Oh…” I hate that with every reveal of new information, I seem to react in this dumbfounded way. “That is a good idea, and I guess I should say thanks.”

  The right corner of his mouth lifts. “You’re very welcome.”

  I stare a few seconds longer than I should and then regain my composure. “Secondly, who is Soot?”

  Caiden moves closer, not seeming to realize that I have a perimeter bubble that needs to be intact whenever he’s near. He pops it into oblivion, almost putting us chest to chest, or chest to stomach, if you consider his height. He plops the cat in my arms. “This is Soot.”

  He moves him closer, and the cat lifts its head to sniff at my lips and nose before rubbing all over my face. When I blink up at Caiden, he’s smiling dopily. He’s smitten with this kitten. And I mean the one in my arms.

  “Oh-em-gee. This is YOUR cat, isn’t it?”

  He shakes his head guiltily. “No. No, it isn’t. He was your mom’s.”

  He, interesting.

  I shake my head right back, and I can’t help my mouth hanging open accusingly. “You’ve been feeding this cat, haven’t you?”

  “Uh…” He bobs on his heavy boots, trying to think up an excuse, but the tight pout of his lips has me thinking he doesn’t have one. “Okay. Yeah. Maybe I have.”

  Soot has taken up residence in my arms as he tries to nestle his paws into the crease of my elbow before setting his chin on my arm and purring.

  “I can’t believe you right now. You’ve been sneaking onto the porch every morning, haven’t you? You’ve been feeding this cat. I-I-I s-seriously cannot believe you right now.”

  “I jog in the mornings and do it then. I was gonna tell you eventually. A couple of times, I considered knocking just to say hi, but…” He clicks his tongue. “I wasn’t ready.”

  “You weren’t ready?”

  He twists his lips as he scratches the top of Soot’s head in my arms. “Yeah, I wasn’t ready. Can we drop it, please?”

  I smirk. “So, are you gonna continue feeding him?”

  His mouth stretches wide. “I think it’s time we share custody and you take your turn taking care of him.”

  “Did you just refer to this cat as our love child?”

  He laughs. “Stop being weird. Also, Soot likes it inside at night, so I’d prefer it if you let him in.”

  “Are we delegating our child’s needs and requirements for its living situation now?”

  He grunts, rolling his eyes as he starts walking toward the front of the porch. I trail behind him without stirring the cat in my arms, although I’m reeling with giggles over his dismay.

  The boys see us coming and take it as their cue to start climbing back into the truck.

  “So, what does our child like to eat?”

  “Hailey,” he whines, and the tight curve to his lips tells me he doesn’t mind reprimanding me. “He likes a can of wet food in the morning. Dry food during the day.”

  “Got it.” I nod, still desperately trying to stop my laughter. “When do you get custody of our munchkin, then?” I find myself hilarious and like I’m losing my mind. The two come hand in hand, I think.

  Caiden doesn’t hesitate, swiveling around as if he’s had an epiphany. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be coming around. We have lots to talk about, remember? We’ll start with chapter one.”

  My laughter ceases as I pale. “There’s nothing to talk about. We’re starting new, Caid. Let’s drop the past.”

  His eyebrows rise comically. “Not happening.” He leans forward, and I’m petrified again, of all the things he might want to say in regard to my book, because hell, I know I said a lot of the things I couldn’t say out loud in the book. He probably knows that.

  He places the fire extinguisher that I forgot he’s been wielding on the porch. “Should I leave this here in case you decide to cook again?”

  My scowl is back. “I suggest you leave. I’d hate for our child to witness our first domestic dispute.”

  He rolls his eyes. “You’re something else.” He turns around, carrying his fire extinguisher with him as he blindly waves at me. “See you at the fair, Hails. We’ll talk there, yeah?”

  Another question not requiring an answer.

  He climbs into the truck, and the boys wave me off through the windows as they leave.

  I scratch the back of Soot’s head, his purring roars within my arms at the touch.

  “Chapter one, indeed,” I hum as I wander back inside my nearly smoke-free house in search of my notebook, a pen, and a glass of wine.

  Chapter Six

  I’ve been sitting in my car in the dirt parking lot a lot longer than I intended. I’m too anxious to enter the fair knowing it’s for my mother’s memorial, and also because I know everyone from PineCrest will be here. It’s such a public setting for something that feels so somber, but I try to remember it’s a celebration of life. Her life.

  I can see the glow of the white country lights strung among the trees and lampposts, along with the colorful gleam of the Ferris wheel and small carnival rides surrounding it next to the buzzing dance floor. I can even hear the hum of bass from the band.

  My phone buzzes with a text message. It’s CeeCee.

  I tense, because for once I don’t want to be accountable for much tonight. Am I going to cry when they say my mom’s name over the loudspeaker? Or will I sit stoic and indifferent? Will people hate me for the latter?

  I haven’t showered in two days because I hate being in the upstairs bathroom. I cry every time I’m there, and I’m so sick of it. Especially the moment I walk into the hallway and see all the doors closed, including the one to my old bedroom and my mother’s. The closed doors feel like a metaphor for my life, like each door represents a choice I need to make, but I don’t know what the doors mean even though I know what lies behind each.

  I should be studied in the name of science for “insecure girl syndrome.”

  I climb out of the car, suffering from the diagnosis of myself as I smooth over my jean shorts and tug down my flannel shirt. I wanted to try and fit in, but couldn’t say no to my combat boots. Never.

  I follow the sounds of the band, knowing that’s where I’ll find my friends. I tell myself seeing them will make me feel better.

  I had been running off the high of my interaction with Caiden for a solid twenty-four hours, but that soon faded, and I hate how it feels like drug withdrawal.

  Strolling up to the open plaza, I run a hand through my blonde waves. I take in the throngs of townspeople dancing and the stage that sits about five feet off the ground with a band offering their own indie twang to rock and roll. I smile because I remember this cozy feeling. The one with the soothing evening warmth that hangs in the air and the buzz of the music wrapping around me every summer.

  I suck in a breath knowing that my mom’s favorite part of the fair was the dancing. I scan the dance floor and see faces I’ve grown up with, and some new ones, too. I gather little glances here and there, but being here a week now, I’ve gotten used to it. I never know why they might be staring, though. Is it my mom, or is it because of my book? I guess it doesn’t matter.

  “Finally you decided to join us!”

  I turn to see CeeCee coming toward me. She loops her arm around mine and tugs me toward the table.

  “Brace your
self, all right?”

  My feet shuffle a few steps before getting a grip again. “This sounds bad.”

  “Kristen’s here.”

  There is a finality to her voice that implies I should know who Kristen is, but I don’t.

  Before I can go through a process of elimination, my eyes collide with not an emerald stare, but an arm slung around a brunette who is everything I’m not.

  Got it. That’s Kristen.

  I dart my stare away quickly, and when my gaze lands on Brandon sitting on the opposite side of the picnic table, he’s already mouthing sorry.

  I shrug, molding my face into indifference. When he seems convinced, he winks. I want to go back to my car.

  Caiden, who was in the middle of laughing at something Cameron said, suddenly stops, and that’s when the stares from my friends are more unnerving than the townsfolk.

  “Hi.” I wave.

  Mostly everyone waves, even Kristen, except Caiden. Instead, he’s just staring. Trailing his vision, starting at my toes, then up my legs to my eyes, like he seems to do often. I tightly smile, but he doesn’t relax his shoulders from up at his ears.

  Cam comes around, wraps an arm around my waist, tugging me close, and it’s so abrupt I squeal, slightly embarrassed, before he nudges me in my temple with his nose adoringly as he whispers, “We gotchu,” and then turns to face the crowd to say, “Come sit next to me, you cute little thang.” I roll my eyes, but am relieved nonetheless as I fall into the rhythm of his friendly touch, trying to find comfort there. I do find it as we slip onto the bench, both of us squeezing between Brandon and Tyler. Tyler swings a heavy arm around my shoulder. With all this support—I can do this. I pull in a deep breath as I feel the dopiest smile spread across my face, even as I skim over the view of Caiden and his girlfriend, then to CeeCee who is watching me in awe as she perches herself on Brandon’s lap. For not being together, they sure are chummy. So ridiculous.