Page 7 of One Week Wingman

“Oh.” Now he’s the one pausing and putting on a fake smile. “Well, as long as you’re happy and healthy, that’s the important thing.”

“Uh huh!”

My cheeks are hurting by the time I finally check out and leave. It’s not his fault, I know. In a small town like this, everyone knew my big dreams of legal brilliance—and were rooting for me every step of the way. Dropping out didn’t just disappoint my family, but everyone else here who’d bought into the dream right along with me. ‘That Roxanne, so smart, so hard-working, she’s really going places,’they would all say.

They just didn’t imagine that place would be behind the bar, mixing cocktails and pouring beer.

I heave my grocery bags to my chest, and back out the doors—knocking right into someone on their way in.

“Shit, I’m sorry—” a male voice blurts, as I scramble not to drop anything. “Wait, Roxy?”

I turn, and find myself staring up into the smiling blue eyes of Jason Gallagher. My high school sweetheart and the first boy I ever loved.

The first boy I did a lot of things with.

“Jason!” I blurt in surprise, thrown off-balance all over again. “I, uh, hi!”

I blink. I haven’t seen the guy in years, but he’s looking good. Tall and broad-shouldered, in work jeans and an oldKings of LeonT-shirt, his blonde hair buzzed short.

His face lights up in a friendly grin. “Holy crap, look at you. I can’t believe it’s been so long!” Jason crushes me in a hug, and I yelp, cold groceries pressing against my bust. “Sorry!” he releases me. “It’s just so good to see you.”

“You too,” I say, recovering. “I heard you moved back, to work with your dad, right?”

He nods. “At the construction company. Business is booming, so he could use the help. Everyone’s been watching too much HGTV, it’s shiplap and open concept for days. Here, let me take that for you,” he says, seamlessly grabbing one of my bags as we move out of the way of the doors. “Your mom’s putting you to work already?” he asks with a twinkle.

“You know Lorna,” I agree, still taking him in.

Jason freaking Gallagher.

I have a sudden flashback of the two of us, steaming up the backseat of his dad’s Toyota. We must have parked out in the woods every weekend through my junior year, until Jason left for college, and our hot-and-heavy teen romance faded to a sad, angst-ridden breakup, with me cursing his name and writing tearful letters to Florence + the Machine.

Ah, young love.

“Can I take these to your car?” he offers, so polite that his teenage self would never have believed it.

“Thanks. I just have one more stop,” I remember. “Under no circumstances can I go home without the pie.”

He laughs. “I got the same marching orders,” he says. “Blueberry. You?”

“Chocolate chiffon.”

“Wow. Fancy.” He grins, showing some serious dimples. I’d forgotten about those dimples.

We start walking towards the diner. “Is it weird to be back?” he asks me. “I swear, it took me forever to get used to the place. I felt like Deputy Granger was going to bust me every time I ordered a drink at the bar.”

“It is and it isn’t. It always feels a bit like time travel, literally nothing has changed.” I gesture around the square. Most of the stores have been the same since my mom grew up here, never mind me.

“Hey, that’s not true,” Jason teases. “They painted the bandstand. It took them months to decide on the color. There were meetings, and flyers, and everything.”

I squint at the bandstand. “It looks the same to me.”

“Yeah, eventually they just decided on the same color as before,” he grins, and I laugh out loud.

“Sounds like Ashford Falls.”

We arrive outside the diner, and Jason immediately gets the door for me. I glance up at him, all sturdy and blonde, so familiar and so different all at once. I can’t help feeling the stirrings of nostalgia.

Man, we always had so much fun…

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