Hi! Thank you for reading! I think you have all been looking forward to this so I'll leave you to it!
Tobias
I scratch at the back of my neck, brows furrowed as I try to figure out what the fuck I'm looking at. When my mother asked me to stop at the store and pick up "lightly sweetened" frosting for my sister's birthday cake, I didn't think this shit was going to be this hard.
I've been standing in this aisle for the past ten minutes rereading labels, looking for anything that sounds like what my mother is asking for. I have not found one label that says anything about sugar-free or lightly sweetened. I'm so close to saying fuck it and buying her a whole new goddamn cake from the bakery. It's what we used to do all the time for my birthdays anyway. But, of course, my sister is a bit more...extra. She's all about the healthy living, clean eating, let's eat kale for breakfast, lunch, and dinner type of lifestyle.
In a nutshell, she's a complete psychopath, who doesn't have taste buds.
Since moving to Amity Grove, my parents have always sent me to this grocery store to pick up a cake before heading home. It doesn't matter whose birthday or what occasion it is; it's become a tradition. It wasn't until recently that my sister started this healthy lifestyle, then to top it off, she went and reeled my parents in, too. Mom suddenly decided she wanted my dad to eat better, so she cut back on a lot of store-bought shit in favor of making it all herself. Their home has changed a lot since I was living there as a teen.
I'm startled out of my thoughts when a little hand reaches out in my peripheral. When I glance to my left, I spot a little girl, balancing on the shelves, reaching for the pink frosting. Her hair curtains her face, shielding her from view, so I can't gauge how old she is. But guessing by how tiny she is, she can't be older than four or five.
"Hey, kiddo. Do you need some help?"
She pauses and slowly lifts her face up toward mine, causing the curtain of hair covering her face to unveil her. My brows disappear into my hairline as I stare at the little girl. She looks almost identical to my sister's daughter, my niece, Mia. With light brown hair that curls at the bottom, bright green, almond-shaped eyes with thick lashes, she looks like another little Eaton child running around.
I don't know if it's my imagination, but she looks so much like my niece did when she was younger, I find myself doing a double take, frowning down at her.
Her little nose, which is lightly dusted in freckles, crinkles. "My mommy says I shouldn't talk to strangers." Her tone is sassy, and it's all I can do not to laugh at her. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest, holding back my smirk.
"Your mommy sounds like a smart woman. Where is she?"
The little girl shrugs. "She's at home."
My brows pull down, and I glance around us. "So...how did you get here?"
"My papa took me."
"Okay, kid." I sigh, raking a hand through my hair. It would be just my luck that I run into a lost child at the grocery store while I'm supposed to be here picking up one thing. "You're gonna have to start making more sense. Where is your papa then?"
She shrugs. "I think he's buying a cake from the cake lady. He promised I could pick frosting to dip my strawberries in. Back home, me and Mommy always dipped our strawberries in frosting."
My mouth drops open, then closes as I try to process the heap of information she just dropped on me. Whose kid is this?
When she continues staring up at me expectantly, I glance toward the frostings, then back down at her sassy little form. "So the pink one?"
A grin spreads across her whole face, and once again, I frown, thinking about my sister and my niece. With a shake of my head, I reach for the pink frosting and hand it to her.
"Luna?"
We both turn at the deep voice. A crease forms between my brows when I spot Andrew Prior from the two-story on Grey Lane. Over the past few years, Andrew has become a close friend. I've helped him with a few minor repairs in the house, and we make a point to grab a beer together whenever we get a chance. Hell, I've worked on his car a few times, back when I used to work at the garage. I only managed to work there a few years before I had to quit. I couldn't stand working there a second longer, and it was exactly the nudge I needed to do something else with my life.
I've always been good with my hands, so my parents suggested I do something in carpentry. I worked with a small company a few towns over for about two years before I went back to school and got my business degree. I've never wanted to answer to someone else, especially not when it comes to a job that I know I can do myself, so I decided to start my own company. About three years ago, I started my own construction company with a few of my buddies from high school. Zeke, Uriah, and Will have been longtime friends for years. Each of us brings something different to the company table. Uriah is our contracts guy, Will is our numbers guy, Zeke and I are all architecture and brawn, and together, we're an effortless team that always gets the job done.
We've been the main construction company in the county for the past three years, a year after opening. The good news about our work spread like wildfire, and the jobs started coming in left and right. For the most part, we keep our clientele local to avoid travel costs, but the company has been doing so well that Will suggested we expand after he received numerous inquiries about bigger contracts.
Now, we keep the small stuff local, and we travel for the bigger contracts with our team of guys. It's a dream job, one I never thought I'd be able to accomplish. For a long time, I thought my father would be upset about me not working with him at the garage, but he understood better than anyone how important doing something meaningful with my life was.
A smile takes over Andrew's face, and he pulls me into a hug, slapping me heartily on the back.
"Tobias, son, how are you? Thank you again for dinner and beers the other night. I appreciate it."
I wave him off, hating how fragile the man felt in my arms just now. I don't remember exactly when it happened, but at some point, Andrew became a big part of my life. I care about the man like he's family. Hell, my parents love him, too. They invite him over for Sunday dinners and family gatherings, and most of the time, he shows up. Lately, though, everyone in town has been whispering about his health, and there's no hiding it now. I can clearly see Andrew truly is sick.
It first started off as little favors. I don't know what happened, and it's not something he's ever up to talking about, but one day, I remember Andrew having it all—a beautiful family, a beautiful wife and daughter—and then the next, he didn't have any of that. I knew his daughter, Beatrice, went off to college, but gossip started around town when his wife, Natalie, just up and left and never came back.
It was tough to watch him fend for himself. He looked sad and lonely, and when the company was first starting out, he was one of our first projects and customers. I'll always be grateful to him.
After that, I went out of my way to make sure he had dinner or even just a place he could come hang out when he was tired of staying inside. Once we'd both get off work, I'd come over with a six-pack of beers, and we'd sit there on his newly refurbished porch and shoot the shit. We talked about trivial things, always steering clear of ourselves, but after growing more comfortable with one another, we delved deeper.
I learned he and his wife, Natalie, didn't have the best marriage, and when she left, he always knew it was for the best, even though he regretted not fighting for her. Beatrice, who had a full ride to Caltech in Pasadena, had gotten pregnant and had to drop out in favor of community college. I could see the disappointment, but when he talked about his grandchild, I could also tell just how smitten he was with her, too.
The times he'd get back from visiting his family in Pasadena were always the hardest to witness because even though he was happy, a lingering loneliness always clung to him, because he was here, and they were there. It's been especially hard to watch the decline in his health. He tried to hide it at first and pass it off as not feeling well or a new diet, but after some time, I started putting two and two together. When he was frequently missing Sunday dinners with my family, my dad told me about some whispers he'd heard around town. It was the dreaded "C" word.
After one night of drinking together on his porch, he'd stumbled while getting inside and busted his chin. I drove him to the ER where he had to have stitches, and he finally came clean about the cancer. I could see the fear in his eyes. I could also see that he had no intention of fighting it, which I guess, I could understand. He didn't want to suffer any more than he already was. He just wanted his last moments here on earth to be his. I could respect that, but it didn't make that pill any easier to swallow.
I wave his thanks off for the other night. The nights we spend together are just as much for me as they are for him.
"I'm doing pretty good. I was just here to pick up some frosting for Eleanor's birthday when I ran into little miss here. She needed help getting down some pink frosting."
He grins, looking down at his granddaughter lovingly. The happiness radiating from him is something I haven't seen in a long while. It brings a smile to my face.
"Yeah, my daughter, Beatrice, is back in town from Pasadena, so little Luna will be around more often."
Once again, hearing the name Beatrice strikes something in the back of my mind. Flashes of green grass, the soft sound of the creek, and the distinct scent of something floral and fruity are there, but it's faint, tickling at the back of my mind. This happens often when I hang out with Andrew. I remember her from around town. She was younger and smart. Incredibly beautiful in a shy, wallflower kind of way. Oh, and she was obsessed with the moon. I remember specifically she'd always wear a moon necklace. It was her quirk. Really, it was the only thing that reminded me of her. The girl with the beautiful doe eyes who loved the moon.
"Did you get the strawberries, Papa?" The little girl's voice echoes.
Andrew chuckles. "Sure did, squirt."
"She's a cute kid."
"Yeah." He sighs, a small smile twisting across his lips as he watches her hop in place with excitement. "Her dad isn't in her life, but I swear, if you knew Luna, you'd know that doesn't slow her down."
A chuckle escapes my lips. "Oh, I believe it."
"See you around, Tobias," Andrew says, taking Luna's hand in his and turning back down the aisle where he came from. Because his granddaughter is such a character, as they're walking away, she shoots a smile my way, mimicking her grandpa.
"Yeaaah, see you around, Tobiassss."
With a quiet chuckle and a shake of my head, I turn back toward the frostings, and say to hell with it, grabbing the same pink frosting that Luna wanted, and head to the checkout.
After dinner and cake at my parents' place for my sister's birthday, I opt to call it a night and head home. I have to be up early for a job tomorrow. We have to work on the foundation for an add-on on a home renovation. They're expanding by about a hundred feet, which leaves more wiggle room for us to work.
On the drive home, I slow the company truck as I near the creek. For whatever reason, I've always been inexplicably drawn to this creek. There's nothing super special about it. There are some large logs scattered across the greenage, and wildflowers decorate the grass during the spring or summer. During the winter, it's nicer to look at in my opinion. Once the snow covers the thick blades of grass and the creek freezes over, it looks like a painting of what one would envision a winter wonderland to look like.
Over the years, though, the water has changed in color from a dark blue to a murky green. Teenagers have taken to throwing garbage in it instead of the fucking trash cans.
The moon gleams over the water, practically calling to me for reasons that are unknown. I make the quick decision to park the truck on the roadside and hop out, wading through the long blades of grass toward the sound of rippling water. I pause upon the figure lying in the grass. My steps slow as I get closer. Part of me wonders if it's a homeless person—I wouldn't be all that surprised if it was. But when I make out the small, feminine figure, I toss that thought out altogether. At the sound of my footsteps, the woman shoots upright, glancing at me. I jerk to a halt, my eyes widening at the sight of who it is lying there.
"Tobias?" she whispers, shock written all over her face. I'm slightly taken aback by her face. I remember a lot about the young girl I share a birthday with. She was the town's good girl, quiet and beautiful with her obsession for the moon, but was she always so...ethereal? So goddamn beautiful? I can't help the way my eyes devour every inch of her skin, the planes and contours of her face. With long, blonde hair that looks like it would be silky to the touch, and skin so white it almost looks porcelain here under the moonlight, she's captivating. In a white sundress that brings out the delicateness of her features and the red in her bee-stung lips, I can't seem to look away from her.
I startle, suddenly realizing how odd I must look, standing here, staring down at her without saying anything. "Uh, yeah." I clear my throat. "It's...Tris, right?" She nods, her pouty mouth still gaped in shock as she stares up at me.
"Mind if I sit?"
The second I ask the question, her face twists with disdain. If possible, she looks paler than ever. The pallor of her skin is a ghostly gray now. My brows tug down into a frown at her odd reaction.
"I can come back another time." I point aimlessly over my shoulder.
"No, no. It's fine." She shakes her head, plastering a fake smile across her perfect porcelain skin. I may not know everything that makes up Beatrice Prior, but she has one of those smiles. That's what I remember most, the way her smile could light up a whole room, but right now? That's the exact opposite of what she's giving me. I know a fake smile when I see one. Her color slowly starts to come back to her face, the majority settling in her cheeks, making them tint with color.
I don't know if it's the moonlight or the fact that I haven't gotten laid in weeks, but I suddenly find myself inexplicably drawn to this woman. I don't remember her being this grown up. She's fucking gorgeous here under the moonlight. The way the silver light bounces off her skin and hair is captivating.
I may not have paid much attention to her then, but I am now.
Lowering myself onto the open space of grass next to her, I prop my forearms on my knees and stare out at the creek. I fight the urge to shift toward her and stare, but I'm sure all that would do is freak her out. I can't help but want to look at her again, though, because I swear my mind is making her much more beautiful than she is. There's no way anyone can be that gorgeous or inspire such sudden whimsical feelings in a man.
As the silence and sounds of nature echo around us, I feel oddly more content sitting here beside this woman who I hardly know than I have in a long time. For so long, I've been so focused on work and the company, I don't remember the last time I've taken a moment to just sit and be.
It's different on the nights when I'm with her father because those nights are his. Those are his moments to vent and not feel so lonely, and I'm happy to do that for him.
"You back in town for a while? I ran into your dad at the store earlier."
She clears her throat, tilting her head down a fraction, causing her curtain of silky dark hair to shield most of her face. It's like she's trying to hide from me. "Yeah. He's...he's not doing so well, so we're staying until further notice."
My brows dip, and I lean forward slightly, trying to look past the dark curtain. I can still make out the delicate features of her face, and there's no mistaking the worry that's pulling taut across her features.
"Yeah, I'm...I'm sorry. Your dad is a good man. It's really shitty."
She nibbles on her bottom lip anxiously. I can't tell if it's from my presence or the topic of discussion.
"He kept it from everyone for a while. Had to take him to the emergency room before I could pull anything out of him."
Slowly, she cranes her neck to look up at me through her thick lashes. Her light hair and brows are such a contrast to her pale skin, and it's absolutely captivating.
"So you guys are...close?"
I nod, my gaze sweeping across her features. She has a light smattering of freckles that run across the bridge of her nose. Everything about her is so different from most women I know and most women in this town. From what I can tell, it doesn't look like she has on a speck of makeup, and where most women draw on their brows and cake their faces with that shit, Tris doesn't. Her brows are dark, thick, and bushy, yet they're shaped and cleaned up so well, they complement her face in ways that would never work on any other woman. Her eyes are large, almost too big for her face, but they give her an innocence that most women lack.
I realize I must be staring at her too hard because she quickly looks away, tucking a thick lock of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, well, we just found out ourselves. And if you don't mind," she says, turning to glance at me, "can you keep that between us? I don't know if he's officially told anyone in town yet, so just...just don't say anything."
I should probably tell her that half the town already knows, but the words never come. There's a long beat of silence as we stare at each other. And as I do, I'm reminded of the little girl from the store. Luna.
As I stare at her mother, I can see the resemblance, mainly the shape of their faces, the freckles dusting across their noses, but above all, whoever the father is, that's who she takes after. I start to wonder what kind of guy she'd found in Pasadena. What kind of guy would leave her, let alone leave his own kid?
As I drink her in and think of her daughter, the bright little ball of sass, I can't imagine any sane man would willingly walk away from either of them.
"You have my word. I won't say anything."
She smiles. It's a closed-mouth grin, but the effect it has on me is still impressive. It's breathtaking. She's breathtaking.
Lately, I don't spend much of my free time with women, and when I do, they're usually one-night stands. It's all I have time for these days. But Tris' smile starts in one corner of her mouth and tugs into a full-blown masterpiece that has me questioning my sanity. It has me wondering what it'd be like to have that smile directed at me, day in and day out.
How could I have missed her?
Was she always this enchanting?
Was she always this beautiful?
Slowly, the smile drops off her face when she whispers, "Why are you staring at me like that?"
The truth is, I don't know why I'm staring at her like this. I don't know why I can't seem to act like a regular person around her at this moment.
I consider kissing her, grasping her beautiful face in my hands and taking her red pouty lips with mine. And as I imagine it, I get this strange tingling at the back of my neck, a sense of déjà vu. My brows pull in as I regard her. There's a familiar tug in the air, one I'm unable to place. I can't help but wonder why she seems so familiar to me, but at the same time, she's not.
Why do I feel like if I were to kiss her, she'd taste sweet, like honey, and smell like strawberries? Her skin would be soft, fucking painfully soft, and her moan—
I shake my head, internally berating myself for that train of thought. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can't I stop thinking of tasting her and touching her?
"Sorry." I chuckle, rubbing at the back of my neck. "You're just so...beautiful."
Once again, she nervously tucks loose hairs behind her ears, avoiding my gaze. We go back to looking out at the creek, but it only holds my attention for a little while. Unable to help myself, I look back at her, trailing my gaze across her profile. She looks deep in thought and upon closer inspection, maybe even a little sad. Her lips are tugged down into a small, barely there frown. I don't even think she realizes she's doing it.
"I met your daughter today. She's cute. How old is she?"
I watch it happen, the way her entire body goes rigid. The muscles near her mouth tighten, and the blood drains from her face for the second time in one night. I open my mouth, wanting to ask if she's okay, but when I drop my gaze down to her hands, I realize they're trembling. She's suddenly an anxious ball of fearful energy.
"I should probably get going," she murmurs, a slight edge to her tone.
A crease forms between my brows. "Yeah, all right. I'll see you around, I guess."
Without another word, she scrambles up from the grass and hurries away. She doesn't look back, not even once.
I spend a while just sitting here, staring out at the creek, trying to figure out why being here feels so familiar—feels so right. I've never actually sat out here. It's quite peaceful. I can clearly see why she would want to sit out here and look up at the moon.
Why is this place so familiar? I ask myself again.
When the answer doesn't come to me, I head home, needing to push all thoughts of this creek and the beautiful woman sitting in the grass out of my mind.