Page 27 of When Sparks Fly

“See you around?” Colt asks.

“If you’re lucky.” I shoot him a wink for good measure, but some one-in-a-million shit would have to happen for me to ever consider him again.

Chapter 13

Maci

Monday morning the air is crisp and carries a light fog. The back porch swing squeaks softly each time I rock it backward while I sip my coffee.

A squirrel launches from the tree nearest me and lands on the sad wooden railing around the porch. It halts movements, aside from the occasional swift flick of its tail, as two beady eyes take me in. I bite my lip to stifle a laugh. If I sayboothe poor thing is liable to fall off the railing backward.

Instead, deeming me a non-threat, it hops from the railing and runs along the edge of the house’s facade. My eyes follow suit, taking in a few broken boards of the porch and the exterior which yearns for a good pressure washing.

The squirrel finds a gap between the porch and the house, and jumps below the platform. My attention returns to the backyard. It’s a perfect space for entertaining. The tire swing in the front yard would agree if it still hung.

My cell phone shouting out a Katy Perry song pierces the still of the morning air as Leah’s name flashes on the screen. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” I sing-song through the phone.

“Ha. Ha.” Leah’s voice isn’t amused. “You forget, I wake up early every day I have to be at the store.”

“You’re going to make it in after all?” Coffee almost spills over the rim of my cup when I push the swing back too forcefully, making me stop short.

“Ugh, yes. I’m on my way now. Stupid responsibility shit.” We giggle together like we did when summers were full of pool days and boys. “What are you up to?” she asks.

“I’m enjoying a gorgeous morning on the porch swing.”

“That’s going to be hard to say goodbye to.” Leah’s tone is somber, reflecting the depth of losing Nana all over again. So much of my history belongs to this house, this porch, this yard.

“It is.”

“I didn’t call you to bum you out. In fact, I called to fix things.”

“Fix things?” I parrot.

“Yes. You need a do-over.”

I blink. “I don’t.”

“You do!” I set my things on the railing and begin pacing. Leah’s car door slams in the background. “Your night out fell flat. You didn’t even get to ride his bike!”

I breathe a laugh. “I know you were hoping to distract me from everything going on and it worked for a bit. I’m not upset about what happened. Some experiences are just not as good. I envy your ability to embrace your sexuality that way. It just won’t be how I embrace mine.”

There’s a long pause. “I just feel bad. I’ve had some really satisfying experiences.” Her grin colors her words.

“And I’m glad. But don’t feel bad. I don’t. I’m not upset.”

“Ok. Well, if you change your mind, I’m down for a redo. I still think we need to go again. Maybe we need to head into town.”

“San Antonio has a bigger selection, but burying myself in drinks and dancing won’t solve my problems.”

“Ok, but someone buried inside—"

“Get to work. I’ll consider it.” I interrupt her train of thought as her keys clatter. She’s unlocking the storefront in the nick of time, because I have no desire to continue this conversation.

Fully caffeinated, I run laundry and clean up the house. It’s practical, but I’m only delaying the inevitable. Set to return for brunch this weekend, I need to get home to send proof packages sent out for the Halloween mini-sessions.

My two-hour drive is over in a blink, lost in thoughts of the funeral, Nana’s house, and all that remains to settle the estate. My bags hardly make it through the door before I drop them to the floor and toss my purse on the bistro table. The one-bedroom apartment feels especially tiny after spending several days in Nana’s house. Less cozy and more cramped.

With more aggression than necessary, I open the curtains. Natural light usually helps brighten the space, but today it does nothing for my mood.

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