Page 17 of Standing Still

“Stuffed… Too much for some ice cream at Mystic Sweets?” I raise a brow. Elle bites her lip, and my eyes immediately drop to it. I grin back at her. “Come on, you know you want a strawberry cone with chocolatey clusters.”

“Oh God, do they still make those?”

“Course they do. It’s a Mystic summer staple. Come on, today has been rough for both of us. What do you say we forget about it and regroup tomorrow? It’s a nice night, we can walk over to Main. Let me buy you one for old times’ sake. What do you say?”

It takes a while, and I think I’m going to have to turn up the charm a little more when she nods, but says we’ll split the bill and she’ll get her own ice cream. I want to argue, because it’s ingrained in me to pay, but given she’s loaded and she is one push away from backing out, I agree.

After we split the bill and say goodnight to Craig, who watches after us with a weird smirk, frown, grin on hisface. I flick him my middle finger behind Elle’s back, then head out after her into the early evening light. We walk in silence for a while. It’s not far from West Main Street, but it is a really nice night. Without ever intending this, I’m actually feeling… happy?

I do start to notice people looking over though and cast a surreptitious glance at Elle. Her head is bowed as she watches where she is putting her feet.

“Fuck what anyone thinks,” I tell her.

“What?” she looks up at me, then around us. “I’m not worrying about what people think.”

“No?” I notice two women who were never really friends with us when we were in high school, but since then I’d slept with one of them. They are both eyeing Elle with disdain.

Elle brushes some errant hair back off her face from the light sea breeze. “I’ll be fine.”

“I won’t let anyone stir up shit,” I tell her genuinely.

“I can take care of myself, Ben,” she sighs as she watches the two women. “I’d just rather I didn’t have to. It’s funny how quickly people forget, though, isn’t it? Everyone here knew what it was like for me back then, but heaven forbid I leave and make a better life for myself. Becausewe don’t leave Mystic,” she says it like it’s something that has been quoted to her repeatedly.

It isn’t like it’s a mantra or anything, but people do tend not to leave. It makes me feel uncomfortable thinking about it. Just because I never held any desire to leave shouldn’t mean others can be judged for it. I scowl in the women’s direction and place my hand on Elle’s lower back. She shifts slightly and looks at me.

“Be careful,” I say, as we’re about to step off the pavement to cross the street.

“Oh, right,” she stops and looks both ways before stepping off. I lower my hand and follow her, but not before noting the two bitches have backed off. We head for Mystic Sweets and a small smile graces Elle’s lips. “I can’t believe it looks exactly the same.”

“Nothing much changes around here,” I mutter as we pass the bench that has sat outside the sweet shop for as long as I can remember. I hold the door open, and she steps inside, inhaling and closing her eyes. Another small smile tugs at her lips. It does smell pretty amazing in here. But we’re not here for chocolate.

I head over to the counter and greet Rachel with a smile. She isn’t the owner, but she’s worked here for a long time. She knows candy and chocolate and any other sweet treat like the back of her hand. She is in her early fifties, though her dark brown skin is smooth and there are only a few wisps of silver around her temples.

“Hey Rach, can we get a couple of cones please?”

“Sure thing, the usual, Ben?”

I nod and feel the moment when Elle steps up beside me, the sleeve of her sweater brushing against my bare arm.

“Oh my goodness, Elle George,” Rachel smiles. “Girl, it is so good to see you. You haven’t changed a bit. How are you doing?”

“I’m good, thanks Rachel. It’s so good to see you. Everything in here smells so good.”

“Well, that goes without saying. I have to tell you, I have read all of your books. I can’t believe that shy little girl I used to sell ice cream to for all those years could write something that would make me blush,” she exclaims. She half covers her mouth and leans over the counter. “And let me tell you, Mr. Dashiell appreciated the hell out of them, too.”

Elle laughs and my eyes are drawn to her. For a moment, she looks the way she did all those years ago, happy, carefree, without the weight of the world on her shoulders and the death of her father lingering so close. For some reason, I thought hearing people talk about her books, particularly in the way Rachel is insinuating, would have annoyed her.

“I hear that a lot,” Elle tells her.

“I bet you do. All those men must be sending you thank you gifts for getting their women so firedup and ready to go.”

“Standing here,” I hold up a hand to interrupt Rachel before she says anything else.

Rachel laughs. “I see you,” she rolls her eyes. “Chocolate lime for my man Ben here. How about you Elle, you still want your usual?”

Elle nods and goes to open her mouth, but Rachel shushes her and sets about getting our cones.

“Did you really think she’d forget?” I ask her.

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