The Girl He Used to Love Page 7

  He kicked a rock across the pavement. “The only thing I want to move past is this stupid town.”

  Faith wasn’t surprised. Dean had avoided this place for so long that he was still in the earlier stages of grief. By running away, he was stuck somewhere between denial and anger.

  “Pretending this place doesn’t exist doesn’t make what happened here go away,” she said.

  His chest heaved with a deep breath. He rubbed his bearded jaw. “I know, but being here reminds me that some wounds haven’t healed.”

  “They didn’t heal because you ignored them,” Faith reasoned. “If you don’t do something, they’re going to get infected.”

  “Oh, yeah? And what exactly should I do?”

  “Mourn her so you can finally accept she’s gone.”

  “This coming from the woman who brings flowers to her grave every Sunday?” he snapped. He apparently didn’t like her suggestion. The vein in his forehead bulged. “Is that how you show everyone you’ve accepted she’s gone?”

  Faith refused to let him rattle her. “I bring Addison and my dad flowers because it makes me feel better. They’re for me, not for them.”

  Dean dropped his arms to his sides. “We’re the reason Addison’s in that cemetery. Maybe that’s why I can’t find peace. We don’t deserve to feel better.”

  He might as well have punched her in the stomach. There was nothing Faith wanted more than to be redeemed for what had happened and her part in it. Dean reminded her that perhaps she’d never be worthy of it.

  “Maybe that’s true,” she choked out. “All I know is that pretending she never existed isn’t honoring her memory. Addison deserves to be remembered.”

  Those green eyes bored into hers and his hands balled into fists. There was so much he tried to bury inside that the emotion came off him like steam, leaking from his pores. For once, all the anger didn’t feel completely directed at her. Faith could see that he’d saved some of his contempt for himself.

  “Come back into the church with me.” She extended a hand. “Come listen to what the pastor has to say and then let the people of this community welcome you home at the picnic.”

  Dean glared at her for a full minute before he took her hand and walked back into church without a word.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “YOUR MOTHER BRAGS about you all the time.”

  “I don’t brag.”

  “Well, you gush. Excessively.”

  “You ask me how he’s doing and I tell you. I can’t help that I only have amazing things to say. He’s a successful record executive. There’s no way to answer your question without gushing.”

  “I ask to be polite, not to hear you name-drop.”

  “Name-drop?”

  Dean put an arm around his mother before she could lunge at Mrs. Hackney and make a scene. The older woman hadn’t changed much since Dean was in grade school. Mrs. Hackney was the only teacher at Grass Lake Elementary who didn’t believe in things like gold stars or Student of the Month. She was a staunch observer of “spare the rod, spoil the child,” and looked down her pointy nose at people who didn’t share in that child-rearing philosophy.

  “She’s a proud mother. Can’t fault her for that. Right, Mrs. Hackney?” Dean asked in a sugarcoated tone. “I’m sure you’re very proud of Charles. I heard he’s very...competent at his job.”

  Charles worked at the same bank as Dean’s father. Charles was supposedly good with numbers but not people. They had moved him to Collections, last Dean had heard. No one liked people in Collections, so a sparkling personality wasn’t a prerequisite.

  “Charles is doing fine. He’ll make someone an excellent husband someday. In fact, you’ve just reminded me of something. It was good to see you, Mr. Presley. I’ll see you at mahjong on Wednesday, Marilee.”

  “Where I’ll beat you and brag about it later,” Dean’s mom grumbled after Mrs. Hackney walked away.

  She made Dean laugh, which felt nice to do until he noticed his former teacher heading straight for Faith. Charles might make an excellent husband someday, but his wife was not going to be her.

  “Can you believe that woman?” his mom continued. “I swear, she wouldn’t know polite conversation if it punched her in the face.”

  Mrs. Hackney waved her son over to the table where Faith was selling her delectable cookies. Dean had already purchased and eaten ten.

  “I don’t brag, by the way.” Marilee couldn’t let it go. “I simply tell people what you’ve been up to, and you have a very exciting job. It’s not name-dropping when I’m simply referencing the people you work with, right?”

  Faith’s flaming-red cheeks and the way she wrapped her arms protectively around her, like she was giving herself a hug, were dead giveaways that she needed to be rescued.

  Mrs. Hackney had pulled her away from the desserts she was selling. Sawyer was too busy filling his plate with a second helping of Mrs. Brookstone’s famous corn dip to help. Faith’s friend Josie was over there but too distracted by the long line of people waiting to buy cookies to notice Faith’s predicament.

  “I appreciate that you’re happy for me.” Dean kissed his mom on the top of her head. Hopefully he’d still have a company in a few months for her to gush over. “I think I’m going to buy a couple more cookies.”

  Everyone brought food to share at the picnic. The church provided the hot dogs and buns while the congregation divided up the paper products, drinks, salads and casseroles. The women’s club was in charge of desserts, which were sold to raise money for the church’s outreach programs. Baking all those cookies seemed like one more in a long list of things that Faith did because she never said no.

  “Tuesday it is!” Mrs. Hackney exclaimed. “Charles, maybe you could make Faith dinner in exchange for her help. Wouldn’t that be nice, Miss Stratton?”

  Dean knew Faith’s plate was already full on Tuesday. He interrupted before she had a chance to say yes to yet another responsibility.

  “My mom sent me over here to make sure you have enough help selling cookies. How many are you buying, Charles?”

  “Uh...”

  Mrs. Hackney frowned and answered for him. “We’ll take two. Maybe you can bring some more when you and Charles have dinner on Tuesday.”

  “Tuesday?” Dean questioned. “You can’t have dinner on Tuesday. We’re going to Lily’s NHS ceremony and then I promised her we’d take her out for pizza. Remember?”

  Faith’s forehead scrunched up in confusion. “Pizza?”

  Dean nodded, encouraging her to play along. “You were standing right there when we made the plans.”

  “Pizza.” It took a second for the realization to hit. One corner of her mouth curved up when it did. “Right, pizza with Lily. I can’t believe I forgot. I’ll have to come after dinner. Maybe I can stop by for a few minutes to get the drapery measurements and fabric,” she said to Charles, who stood there with a puzzled expression.

  “I bet Charles can write down the measurements for you and drop off the fabric on his way home from work,” Dean suggested. “That would sure save everyone some time and trouble. Right, Charles?”

  “Uh...”

  Mrs. Hackney was so enraged, Dean imagined steam coming out of her ears. “I’m not quite sure why you’re part of this conversation, Mr. Presley.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Not sorry. “These two are capable of figuring this out without our help. How about you and I go over here so I can get you your cookies?”

  She didn’t seem to like that suggestion any more than Dean’s intrusion. Sadly for her, he’d set her up to look like the meddling nuisance she was if she didn’t remove herself from Charles and Faith’s conversation.

  Mrs. Hackney paid for her cookies, scowling at Dean the entire time. “I didn’t realize you and Faith were
friends.”

  “We grew up together. I’ve always thought of her as family.” His admission made him feel guilty again. Faith had been like a sister until he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about kissing her. The desire to press his lips to hers was one of those things he had buried away that had frustratingly resurfaced since arriving back in town.

  “Well, the protective big brother act was a little much, don’t you think?”

  Dean placed two cookies on a paper plate for her and decided to play dumb. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  Mrs. Hackney lowered her voice as she glanced in Charles and Faith’s direction. “Her father’s gone. It’s about time she settled down with someone who can provide for her. A woman like her needs a man to take care of her, give her a family. If you really cared about her, you would want her to have those things.”

  Her 1950s’ mentality rubbed Dean the wrong way, as did her assumption that Faith would fall for someone like Charles. Dean couldn’t kiss her anymore, but he wouldn’t let her settle for someone like Charles Hackney, either.

  “Faith is perfectly capable of providing for herself, Mrs. Hackney. I don’t think she needs a man to take care of her. In fact, from what I’ve seen in the last couple days, she seems to be doing most of the caretaking in this town. So, shoving your son down her throat was a little much, don’t you think?”

  Mrs. Hackney bit her tongue and turned on her heel, leaving without her cookies. Dean took a bite of one; they were paid for, after all. No reason for them to go to waste. Charles chased after his mother and Faith rejoined Dean and Josie at the dessert table.

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know I didn’t. You did.” Dean didn’t remember her being such a pushover. It seemed like every time someone asked her to jump, she not only ask how high, but if she could also bake them some cookies while she did it.

  She pushed her hair over her shoulders. Her sun-kissed skin looked soft to the touch. Dean resisted the urge to brush his fingers along her collarbone, to cup her face in his hand, to cover those pink lips with his.

  “Well,” she said, “maybe you aren’t the only one with things to work on.”

  * * *

  “THAT WILL BE one dollar and one song. You can choose what you sing. But you gotta sing.”

  Dean had been working the dessert table with Faith and Josie for the last half hour. His dark mood from earlier had lifted and he was all sunshine and silliness. He had guys singing for brownies and ladies doing the two-step with him for a piece of pie.

  It was like spending time with the boy Faith had known and loved. He was the Dean who used to make her and Addison laugh until their sides hurt. The Dean who loved life and wanted everyone around him to love it, too.

  “I’m not a very good singer, young man,” Mr. Middleton said in an attempt at getting his treat without the tune.

  “I didn’t say you had to sing well.”

  Mr. Middleton frowned then said, “‘Hound Dog.’”

  “A little Elvis! Love it. Sawyer?” Dean had roped Sawyer into the fun. Faith’s brother and his guitar were the musical accompaniment.

  “Let’s hear it, Hank,” Sawyer said, strumming a couple of chords.

  Mr. Middleton belted out the first few lines with the dance moves to boot. Faith laughed and Dean happily handed over the cupcake Mr. Middleton had wanted.

  Sawyer kept playing and took over the vocals. A crowd gathered and clapped along, encouraging Sawyer to sing a medley of Elvis songs. Faith was so caught up in watching, it wasn’t until the end that she noticed Dean had taken out his phone and recorded it.

  A sinking feeling came over her. He hadn’t brought up Sawyer coming to Nashville yet today, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t thinking about it.

  “Your brother is really talented,” Josie said, bumping shoulders with Faith to pull her out of her head. “It’s one thing for him to sing a set at the Sundown, it’s another to sing something off the cuff like that.”

  “Yeah,” Faith replied halfheartedly.

  “More! More! More!” was the chant from the crowd, and Sawyer happily complied. He put a on a concert in the middle of the church lawn. A few of the choir members acted as backup singers while the crowd clapped the percussion. Bruce Gibson pulled out his harmonica and joined the makeshift band. Dean recorded every song.

  “Dance with me.” Ty Hanson didn’t ask Faith, he just pulled her out from behind the dessert table. Ty worked for his dad on their dairy farm. He was big and burly with an infectious smile. For a large guy, he could move. He twirled Faith around and had her laughing in spite of herself.

  Just over his shoulder, she spotted Dean watching them with as much interest as he had been showing Sawyer. She could feel his eyes on her even as Ty spun them around. It made her self-conscious and her face warmed.

  When the song came to an end, Faith found herself scanning the crowd for Dean but he wasn’t where he had been. Maybe she had been wrong about thinking he was still staring.

  “You mind if I cut in, Ty?” Dean said from behind her. Faith’s heart stuttered at the sound of his voice.

  Always the gentleman, Ty thanked Faith for the dance before handing her over. Dean’s palm rested on the small of her back, setting loose the butterflies in her stomach.

  “I didn’t need you to step in,” she insisted. “Ty isn’t like Charles.”

  “Good to know,” he replied without loosening his hold on her.

  This close, his eyes reminded her of green glass. If she looked hard enough, maybe she could see into his head and figure out what he was thinking.

  Sawyer hadn’t started the next song; he was busy taking requests. There was no reason for Dean to be holding her the way he was, but she couldn’t find it in her to step away and wait for the music.

  “Thank you for telling me to stay.” His words sank right into her heart and made it swell.

  “You’re welcome.” Faith tried her best not to think about the way he held her hand or the small sliver of space that separated her body from his. She didn’t dare dwell on the rapid beating of her heart.

  “Addison would have ditched this picnic a long time ago.”

  Faith smiled, knowing he was right. “She’d be spending a day like this by the lake, working on her tan.”

  Dean nodded in agreement just as Sawyer and his band found one last song to play.

  He started strumming his guitar, slow and serious. The melody took shape and Faith realized it was “Amazing Grace.” Once he began singing, it took everything Faith had not to cry.

  Slowly, with his eyes never leaving hers, Dean led her in a dance. It was as if everyone else at the picnic disappeared, her brother’s voice the only sound in the world. Faith felt Addison’s presence in that moment. Observing. Listening. Forgiving? Faith couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that she hoped Dean felt it, too.

  When it was over, Dean didn’t let go even though he’d stopped moving. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down his throat. Faith couldn’t hear the applause her brother was surely receiving. She felt like she was in a bubble, protected from everything but the way Dean made her feel.

  For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead he let her go and stepped away without saying a word. The reality of the world came rushing back. There were people everywhere around her. Their chatter so loud, she wasn’t sure how she hadn’t heard it before.

  “Your brother is amazing,” someone said as Faith watched Dean disappear around the side of the church.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “I’M GLAD YOU decided to stay here.” Dean’s mom smoothed down the cream-colored top sheet on the guest bed. “Do you need anything else? Toothbrush? Oh, please tell me you’ve been brushing your teeth for the last couple of days. I paid a lot of money to make sure
those choppers were in tip-top shape. The least you can do is brush them regularly.”

  “I bought a toothbrush, Mom. Your investment is safe.”

  Nothing about his childhood bedroom was the same except for the Little League baseball trophies that cluttered the top of the bookcase in the corner. He wondered if his mom had taken everything out of Addison’s room, as well, but didn’t have the nerve to check it out.

  “Okay, you’re all set,” his mom said, giving the pillow an extra fluff. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. It’s nice to have someone make the bed for me. Can I hire you permanently?”

  She smiled but waved her hand dismissively as she left the room. “You couldn’t afford me.”

  “I can nearly afford her. She keeps raising the rates.” His dad poked his head in. “Nice to have you home, son,” he added.

  They had both mentioned that several times since he’d shown up there. He had left the church picnic and walked to the high school, the one place in town that didn’t remind him of Addison or Faith. Being three years older than them, they’d only gone to school there together for one year.

  Faith Stratton. Somehow she’d managed to have the same effect on him today that she’d had that summer everything changed. It wasn’t because she was beautiful—there were beautiful women everywhere. Beauty was easy to come by. It was the way she laughed, the goodness that dwelled in her heart. There was something about it that sucked him in and wouldn’t let him go.

  “It’s good to be here,” Dean lied. It was torture, but better than fighting this pull Faith had over him. Hopefully he’d only have to stay here one night. His car had been towed to the auto shop but they wouldn’t get to it until Monday.

  Left alone in his room, Dean pulled up the videos from the picnic of Sawyer singing. The boy knew how to command a crowd. He was a born entertainer. Dean picked the best song and sent the clip to Landon.

  How does this guy have no social media presence? Landon sent back.