bell over the door ring, and he turned.
Willa Jackson had just walked in. She was wearing jeans over black cowboy boots and a black sleeveless top that crisscrossed over her bare shoulders. Her honey-brown hair was wavy in a way that was no curl and all volume. It’d been much longer in high school, and she’d always worn it in a messy braid. Actually, he really didn’t know if she’d always worn it like that, it was just how he remembered it the last time he saw her, walking out of the school.
Now her hair ended just below her ears and she parted it on the side, catching the hair at one temple with a sparkly barrette. He liked it because it was spunky, and it suited the image of what he thought she’d become. He didn’t realize he’d gotten it so wrong. Surely he couldn’t have gotten it so wrong. Because if he was wrong about Willa, his inspiration, then maybe he was wrong about his own decisions, too.
The girl who’d earlier made him the cappuccino excused herself from talking to a customer and walked over to Willa. He could hear her say, “Someone is here to see you.”
“Who?” Willa asked.
“I don’t know. He came in about an hour ago and asked for you. I told him you’d be here soon, so he’s sitting in the café, waiting for you. Cappuccino with one raw sugar ,” she said in a lower voice, reciting his order as if it was confidential information, some secret she was revealing about him.
Willa turned to walk toward the café but stopped when she saw him. She turned away quickly, which made him smile.
“What?” the dark-haired girl asked. “Who is he?”
“Colin Osgood,” Willa said.
“Related to Paxton?”
“Her brother.”
“Do you hate him, too?” the girl asked.
“Stop it. I don’t hate them,” Willa murmured before turning back around and walking over to him. She stopped at his table and gave him a polite smile. “I see you made it home alive.”
“Yes. And I want to apologize for last night. I haven’t been that tired in a long time.” He rubbed his eyes with one hand. He felt like a ghost of his former self, like someone could reach for him and get only air. “I could probably sleep for days more.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Pit stop on my way out.” He held up his lidded cup of cappuccino, which was actually very good.
“Leaving so soon?” The thought seemed to brighten her mood.
“No. I’ll be here for about a month. I’m just on my way to Asheville for the afternoon.”
She started to back away. “Don’t let me keep you.”
“You’re not.” He gestured to the chair on the other side of the table, and she stared at him, her lovely light gray eyes narrowed slightly, before she pulled it out and sat. “So, you own this store.”
“Yes,” she said slowly, as if it might be a trick question. “As I mentioned last night. And undoubtedly how you found me this morning.”
He took his eyes off her for a moment to look around. He’d counted two other sporting goods stores on National Street, but Willa seemed to have found something that set hers apart, specializing in organic wear and environmentally friendly equipment, with a café in the store that made the place smell like roasting coffee beans, sharp and dark. “You must do a lot of hiking and camping.”
“No. The last time I was in Cataract was during a field trip in third grade. I got poison ivy.”
“Then you must love coffee.”
“No more than usual.” Willa nodded to the girl clerk. “That’s my friend Rachel’s territory.”
He was confused. “Then why do you own a sporting goods store and café?”
She shrugged. “A few years ago I met someone who wanted to sell this place, and I needed something to do.”
“And this is what you chose.”
“Yes.”
He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. Why did this bother him so much? When he’d recognized her yesterday on Jackson Hill, sitting on top of her Jeep, he’d felt a surge of true happiness, like
Willa Jackson had just walked in. She was wearing jeans over black cowboy boots and a black sleeveless top that crisscrossed over her bare shoulders. Her honey-brown hair was wavy in a way that was no curl and all volume. It’d been much longer in high school, and she’d always worn it in a messy braid. Actually, he really didn’t know if she’d always worn it like that, it was just how he remembered it the last time he saw her, walking out of the school.
Now her hair ended just below her ears and she parted it on the side, catching the hair at one temple with a sparkly barrette. He liked it because it was spunky, and it suited the image of what he thought she’d become. He didn’t realize he’d gotten it so wrong. Surely he couldn’t have gotten it so wrong. Because if he was wrong about Willa, his inspiration, then maybe he was wrong about his own decisions, too.
The girl who’d earlier made him the cappuccino excused herself from talking to a customer and walked over to Willa. He could hear her say, “Someone is here to see you.”
“Who?” Willa asked.
“I don’t know. He came in about an hour ago and asked for you. I told him you’d be here soon, so he’s sitting in the café, waiting for you. Cappuccino with one raw sugar ,” she said in a lower voice, reciting his order as if it was confidential information, some secret she was revealing about him.
Willa turned to walk toward the café but stopped when she saw him. She turned away quickly, which made him smile.
“What?” the dark-haired girl asked. “Who is he?”
“Colin Osgood,” Willa said.
“Related to Paxton?”
“Her brother.”
“Do you hate him, too?” the girl asked.
“Stop it. I don’t hate them,” Willa murmured before turning back around and walking over to him. She stopped at his table and gave him a polite smile. “I see you made it home alive.”
“Yes. And I want to apologize for last night. I haven’t been that tired in a long time.” He rubbed his eyes with one hand. He felt like a ghost of his former self, like someone could reach for him and get only air. “I could probably sleep for days more.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Pit stop on my way out.” He held up his lidded cup of cappuccino, which was actually very good.
“Leaving so soon?” The thought seemed to brighten her mood.
“No. I’ll be here for about a month. I’m just on my way to Asheville for the afternoon.”
She started to back away. “Don’t let me keep you.”
“You’re not.” He gestured to the chair on the other side of the table, and she stared at him, her lovely light gray eyes narrowed slightly, before she pulled it out and sat. “So, you own this store.”
“Yes,” she said slowly, as if it might be a trick question. “As I mentioned last night. And undoubtedly how you found me this morning.”
He took his eyes off her for a moment to look around. He’d counted two other sporting goods stores on National Street, but Willa seemed to have found something that set hers apart, specializing in organic wear and environmentally friendly equipment, with a café in the store that made the place smell like roasting coffee beans, sharp and dark. “You must do a lot of hiking and camping.”
“No. The last time I was in Cataract was during a field trip in third grade. I got poison ivy.”
“Then you must love coffee.”
“No more than usual.” Willa nodded to the girl clerk. “That’s my friend Rachel’s territory.”
He was confused. “Then why do you own a sporting goods store and café?”
She shrugged. “A few years ago I met someone who wanted to sell this place, and I needed something to do.”
“And this is what you chose.”
“Yes.”
He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. Why did this bother him so much? When he’d recognized her yesterday on Jackson Hill, sitting on top of her Jeep, he’d felt a surge of true happiness, like
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