Cold Shoulder Read online

  He stands, but doesn’t move toward me. He just looks at me, watching me. My feet manage to start moving of their own accord and soon I find myself in front of Blake Cold. He’s different now, older. His hair is long and he’s got this cool hipster beard most people wouldn’t be able to pull off. There’s something else, though. There’s this confidence he’s exuding. The old Blake didn’t have that. The old Blake was nervous and shy.

  This Blake is bold and fierce. I can tell.

  “Good morning, dear,” Patricia says from her seat. I nod, but don’t say anything. My focus is entirely on Blake right now. It shouldn’t be. I should really be polite, should really be kind to his parents, but I have so many questions for him.

  Why didn’t you write to me?

  Why didn’t you call?

  How come you never came to visit?

  Why did you break my heart?

  My heart is screaming and my head might explode, but somehow, I manage to find normal, human words to use.

  “Blake,” I say. “It’s been a long time.”

  And then I faint.

  3

  Blake

  Before I know what’s happening, Harper is in my arms.

  “Did she faint?” My mother screeches. She hops out of her chair and runs over to me, but I don’t move. I just stand there, looking at Harper’s motionless body. I caught her just as she was falling. She passed out right when she said my name, right when she greeted me for the first time in eight years.

  It’s been a long time.

  She didn’t forget.

  She didn’t forget me.

  I’m not sure why I thought she would.

  “Yes, I need an ambulance at Cold One,” my father says calmly into his phone. He starts listing the address, but I’m just looking at Harper. She seems so pale, so fragile in my arms. She seems weak.

  The Harper I knew wasn’t weak.

  The Harper I knew was brave and strong and determined.

  The Harper I knew didn’t back down from a challenge, no matter how hard it was, no matter how difficult the dilemma might be.

  This Harper is different, and it’s breaking my heart.

  Her eyes flutter open and she starts to wiggle, but I hold her tight.

  “Don’t move,” I say, and I carry her to the front of the restaurant and out the door. The ambulance will be here soon and they’ll check her over to make sure she’s okay. The entire restaurant is buzzing with nervous energy and excitement, but my dad is talking to the patrons now, smoothing things over.

  “Let’s all get back to our meals, folks,” I hear him say. I’m sure he’ll head back in the kitchen to take Harper’s place while we’re at the hospital. Oh, I’m going with her to the hospital. There’s no doubt about that. Now that I’m holding her, all of the old feelings, all of the old emotions are coming back in full force.

  And oh, I really, really missed Harper.

  “What happened?” She whispers once we’re outside. My mother is beside me and she motions for me to sit on the bench in front of the restaurant. I sit down, holding Harper tightly in my lap.

  “You fainted, baby,” I murmur. I shouldn’t call her baby, shouldn’t use the endearment, but it slips out naturally. She tenses, but doesn’t protest.

  “Why did I faint?” She asks. “Oh, shit. Did anyone see? The restaurant…”

  “It’s under control,” Mom says. I hear the sound of sirens in the distance and know the ambulance will be here soon. “Martin is taking care of it.”

  “Martin? But he should be resting.”

  “So should you, apparently,” my mother says, and Harper doesn’t protest. Interesting. I didn’t realize my parents had been spending so much time with the little darling. I probably should have. Both my mom and my dad have seemed more relaxed lately when I’ve talked to them on the phone. I figured they’d gotten new hobbies or met some new friends, or perhaps just learned how to slow down a little bit and enjoy the world around them.

  I didn’t know Harper was to thank for the changes in their lives.

  “I don’t push myself that hard,” Harper finally says, but my mother just shakes her head.

  “Sweetheart, you work almost as hard as Martin, and that’s saying something. I don’t know who you’re trying to prove yourself to, but you’ve done it ten times over. It’s time to start taking care of yourself. Look! The ambulance is here. All right, Blake, let’s get her to the paramedics.”

  “I’m fine,” she whispers, but I kiss her forehead.

  “Just let them take a look,” I whisper. “Let’s just make sure you’re okay.”

  “Okay,” Harper says, and I stand, carrying her over to the ambulance. I hope more than anything that Harper is just fine, that there’s nothing seriously wrong, that the stress of seeing me just overwhelmed her.

  I lost her once and now that I’m touching her, close to her, with her, I can’t imagine losing her again.

  I can’t let it happen.

  ***

  After two hours in the emergency room, Harper is released from the hospital. My mother stayed at the restaurant with Dad, but I accompanied Harper to the ER and through the subsequent blood tests and exams. By the time the doctor diagnoses her with “stress” and says it’s okay to leave, it’s well after lunchtime.

  “I’m starving,” she says as we walk out of the hospital.

  “Let’s go get some food.”

  “Wait,” she looks around. “Do you have a car? Mine’s at the restaurant.”

  “It’s at my parents’ place,” I say. “How are you feeling? I can order us a ride or we can walk. There should be some fast food places on the way. We can stop and get some burgers or something.”

  Harper considers her choices before nodding. “I think I can walk,” she says. “It might be good to get some sunshine, you know.”

  “Absolutely.”

  We start walking side-by-side back toward the restaurant. It’s a short walk, probably only about fifteen minutes, but it’s going to seem like an eternity if there’s awkward silence between us.

  Harper and I barely talked while she was in the hospital. I spent most of the visit just sitting by her side and holding her hand. Her eyes were closed most of the time and she even slept a little bit. She seemed tired and exhausted, and maybe a little scared, but now that we’re walking, she seems a little calmer.

  “Thank you for staying with me,” she says after a minute. “You didn’t have to.”

  “Of course I stayed with you. You shouldn’t be alone for something like that.”

  Harper just shrugs. “I’m alone a lot. I’ve kind of gotten used to it.”

  I hope that’s not true because it’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard, but the truth is that I know how she feels. I’ve been alone for a long time, too. Harper was always the woman who made me feel like I had a companion, like I didn’t have to face the world on my own. She always managed to make me feel like I was important and valuable.

  Did I make her feel that way, too?

  I spot a little restaurant and we step inside.

  “Tacos or burgers?”

  “Tacos.”

  Harper sits down and I order our food. Hopefully, she’s a creature of habit and her order hasn’t changed in the last decade. Once the food is ready, I bring the tray over and sit down at the table with her.

  “You remembered exactly how I like them,” she smiles.

  “Extra cheese and no sour cream. It’s not too hard to remember.”

  “Thank you,” she takes a bite. “These are amazing.” We eat in silence for a few minutes and make small talk about the food. Harper was definitely starving, and I’m surprised at just how hungry I was, too. We finish eating in less than five minutes. Then we continue walking back to Cold One.

  We’re quiet for a minute, but then I decide to take a leap and ask her a hard question, one I’m not sure she’s going to answer.

  “How have you been? I mean really been. It’s been forever.”


  “Eight years.” She shakes her head like she can’t quite believe it. “An eternity.”

  “What have you been up to? You aren’t married?”

  “Not married,” she confirms. “I’ve just been learning how to be a chef, mostly,” she says, shoving her hands in her jean pockets. I’d be blind if I didn’t notice how perfectly the pants show off the curve of her ass.

  “What inspired that?” I ask, curious. “I don’t remember you cooking a lot in high school.”

  “No,” she smiles. “I was too busy being hot for some computer geek to do much cooking back then.”

  “He was a lucky guy.”

  “If only he thought that.” Her smile fades and we walk in silence for a few minutes. I shouldn’t say anything, but her words sting, and they make it sound like I’m the one who left her, who gave up on her. Yeah, I left Raven, but I was planning to propose to Harper. I was planning to ask her to come with me. I was planning on saving up for a ring and on Christmas break, getting on my knees and begging her to be mine forever.

  “I wrote you every day, Harper,” I tell her, shaking my head. “I never wanted this thing between us to end. You make it sound like I went to basic training and just forgot about you. That’s not what happened.” I shake my head. “That’s not what happened at all.”

  She stops in her tracks and turns to me.

  “What did you just say to me?”

  “I said I loved you, Harper. I never wanted to break up. I missed you every day. I thought about you constantly. You were the only thing that got me through some of my hardest moments in the military. How can you say I didn’t think I was lucky? Of course I thought I was lucky. I was the luckiest damn man in the universe and even though you didn’t want me then, I was lucky as hell to get the time with you that I had.”

  “What are you talking about, Blake? You left and gave me the cold shoulder. You never wrote to me. I never got any letters. I wrote you day after day after day. Your mother gave me your address and I wrote to you constantly. Every day before school, I’d drop a letter in the mailbox to you. You’re the one who never wrote back. You’re the one who left and crushed my heart.”

  Harper and I stand on the sidewalk and just stare at each other as her words sink in. How can what she’s saying be true? How can any of this be real? I waited day after day for letters that never came. I thought she had moved on, that she had forgotten me so quickly.

  Here she is, though, telling me that’s not what happened.

  How can that be true?

  “This sounds like something out of a bad movie,” I tell her. “Harper, unless you moved, you should have gotten my letters. Even then, I assume you would have had your mail forwarded.”

  “I didn’t move, Blake. I checked the mail every day for a damn year. You never wrote me.”

  “I tried to call you,” I tell her. “The number was disconnected.”

  “We had to change it after you left,” she whispers. “I wrote to you with the new number. I told you the entire story. Someone started calling my family and harassing us late at night right after you left. We couldn’t figure out who it was and the police said the only thing we could do was change the number, so we did. Right after that, the phone calls stopped.”

  “I never got a single letter from you. How can this be possible?”

  We both stare at each other with tears streaming down our faces as the reality hits. We could have been together. All of this time I thought she hated me. In reality, someone sabotaged us. Someone tore us apart. Someone wanted to make sure we weren’t together.

  Someone wanted to hurt us.

  But who?

  4

  Harper

  We get back to an empty restaurant. There’s only one table seated as we head back to the manager’s office. After Barney moved on to start his own restaurant, I basically took over as the restaurant manager. Officially, the position is empty, but I’ve been doing okay keeping on top of things. Eventually, I’m going to have to hire someone to manage my employees and handle things like maintenance and scheduling, but for now, I think I’m doing okay.

  Martin and Patricia are in the office with Melanie and Craig. They all look tired and a little bit concerned.

  Craig’s been at the restaurant as long as I can remember. He actually ran track with Blake in high school. They were inseparable until Blake left. Then they fell out of touch.

  “Blake?” Craig looks surprised to see us walk in together. “I didn’t know you were back in town.” I half-expect the duo to hug and make up, but they don’t.

  “Nice to see you, too,” Blake says flatly. The tone of his voice surprises me. I think it surprises his mother, too, because we both shoot him questioning looks. Blake ignores us.

  “How long are you gonna be around, man? Wow, it’s been a long time.” Craig looks uncomfortable and awkward. I’ve never seen him like this before. Usually, he’s very huggy and touchy. Usually, he’s very friendly.

  “Awhile. Just got back yesterday.”

  “Oh, wow, and you’re back for good?”

  “Absolutely.”

  After awhile, Craig seems to realize that Blake isn’t going to talk anymore. He mumbles something to Patricia and Martin, but then he disappears out the door.

  “What the hell was that about?” Patricia says once Craig is gone.

  “I’m going to, um, check on my table,” Melanie says. She, too, makes a hasty exit, leaving the four of us in the office.

  I shoot him a questioning look, trying to figure out what the hell their snippy reunion was about. Craig seemed weirdly uncomfortable with Blake’s presence and Blake seemed just as irritated.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Blake says, shaking his head.

  “Apparently it does,” Patricia says. “If it’s going to cause any trouble at the restaurant. I think you need to talk with Harper about it. Craig is one of the best workers here. Your father might not own the building anymore, but believe it or not, our family is connected to this place. If you and Craig are feuding, then I think we have a right to know.”

  “Did you just use the word ‘feuding’ in a non-sarcastic way?”

  “I thought you guys were best friends,” I shake my head. “I knew you eventually fell out of touch, but did you have some sort of fight? I thought it was one of those things where time just tore you apart.”

  “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “If Blake doesn’t want to talk about it, he doesn’t have to talk about it,” Martin tries to calm everyone down, but there’s something weird about the way Blake won’t meet my eye.

  “Blake,” I say slowly, carefully, because he’s like a deer in the headlights right now. If there’s one thing Blake Cold has never been good at, it’s being in the spotlight. He gets nervous and jumpy and I’m afraid he’ll run away at any moment. Only, this time, he’ll be gone for good. “Did Craig tell you something after you left? Something that made you not want to go home? Something that made you not want to be his friend anymore?”

  Blake sighs and runs his hand through his too-long hair. I shouldn’t like how messy and curly it is, but I do. It suits him, somehow.

  “Yeah,” he finally looks me in the eye. “He told me about your engagement.”

  “What?” Martin, Patricia, and I all speak at the same time. “What are you talking about, Blake?” I ask him. “Craig and I never even dated. We certainly weren’t engaged.”

  Martin actually chuckles. “Harper’s never even looked twice at that boy, son. They were never even close to being engaged.”

  Blake isn’t convinced, though. “He came to see me after I’d been gone a year. He told me I should stop writing to you because you didn’t enjoy getting mail from me, that you’d moved on, but didn’t know how to tell me.”

  “What?” What the hell is he talking about? I’ve never viewed Craig as anything but a brother. We’ve never had any sort of romantic interaction. Ever. Hell, I don’t think we’ve even hugged more than
a handful of times.

  “He explained the entire situation,” Blake sighs. His hand is running through his beard: a sure sign that he’s nervous. “He told me you didn’t know how to reject me, that you thought simply not talking to me would be enough, but that it wasn’t.”

  “He knew about the letters,” I say, suddenly realizing what Blake is saying. “He knew we’d been writing to each other.”

  That means Craig is the one responsible for the fact that I never received any letters. That means he’s responsible for the fact that Blake never got any from me. That means Craig is the reason we’ve spent the last eight years apart when we could have been together.

  It means he’s the one who tore us apart.

  The realization is crushing, and suddenly, I feel like I can’t breathe. Someone I thought was my friend, someone I thought was there for me always, has betrayed me. How can I live with that realization?

  Blake and his parents seem to realize this at the same moment because Patricia gasps, Martin growls, and Blake closes his eyes like he can’t believe we were all so stupid, like he can’t believe we all got tricked.

  “He knew,” I whisper. “He knew I was writing to you every day. He even mailed some of the letters for me when I didn’t have stamps on hand. He walked me to school every day after you left and he saw me put the letters in the mailbox. He could have grabbed them out without me knowing. He could have done anything. He used to joke that he was going to put a piece of candy in the mailbox for the mail carrier as part of this service project he was doing, but I never even thought he might be grabbing the letters out at the same time.”

  “What about mine?” Blake grits out. “I wrote you every day.”

  “He walked me home after school,” I whisper. “We were always home before my parents. Always. He would run ahead and grab the mail to check if there was anything from you. After the first few weeks, I stopped even bothering to check the mail because it hurt too bad. Craig always checked for me, always said he’d tell me if you sent something.”

  “You two spent a lot of time together.”