My sisters must have noticed how I’d grown rigid and tense as they quickly apologized for bringing up the subject at all.
“It’s okay. It’s not like it’s a big secret. I just hate that the town can’t do anything about it.”
I did have some research in my back pocket, though. It was something I wanted to share with my dad first, and I wasn’t ready to divulge it to anyone else.
“I’m heading out,” Alex said as she stepped back from the truck. Rory and I stepped away from the tailgate and watched as Alex jumped into the cab of her vehicle.
“See you guys tonight?” she called out and we both nodded in unison, my arms wrapped around my waist in a protective gesture. Being around my entire family was overwhelming and I didn’t always know how to act. I wasn’t slim and petite like my sisters. My body had curves that mimicked the natural waves in my hair. But I’d also been the only Easterly to ever leave the homestead, something none of them ever let me forget. Tonight I was going to feel more than just a disappointment, I was going to feel like a failure. They wouldn’t do it intentionally, but it would feel that way regardless.
Once Alex’s truck sputtered away, the dark clouds puffing from her exhaust finally clearing in the air, Rory turned and asked if I was parked nearby. We’d both left our cars in the public parking lot by the town bakery and we opted to walk together.
Rory was a good buffer for the townspeople when they’d stopped and waved. Despite them asking her if she was ready for a new school year as a first-grade teacher for our local elementary school, I noticed how their eyebrows raised in surprise when they realized I was her companion. It seemed the confirmation of my return hadn’t begun spreading yet.
“Don’t let them get to you, Autumn. Everyone is really excited to see that you’re back.”
“Yeah, right. They probably think I’m a joke.”
“Well. . .um. . .no, but you’re the town sweetheart. They were all devastated when you left.”
“Yes. The once valedictorian has returned uninspired, unattached, and unemployed. What a sad story they’re going to paint of me.”
“Don’t think like that,” she scolded as she followed me to my small red two-door coupe. “Have you thought about speaking to Dad about using the old barn on the outskirts of the west field as a wedding venue? That was always your backup plan if the internship after college didn’t work out.”
In fact, I hadn’t thought about it. The prospect hadn’t crossed my mind once. I’d been wallowing in an Olympic-sized pool of self-pity that I hadn’t even considered any other options than to start sending out resumes. But Rory was right. And thank goodness she had the memory of an elephant.
“Maybe I’ll speak to him tonight about it. I’m not sure how open he’d be to the suggestion, though. You know how he feels about tourists and that is mainly who we would target.”
“Well, I’ll back you up. I think it’s a great idea and think about how much revenue that could bring to the farm. And you could probably look at partnering with the bed-and- breakfasts in town for sleeping arrangements. The possibility is there.”
Turning around, I looked at my little sister. There was a hopefulness in her enthusiasm that I couldn’t deny. Her eyes glistened in the early afternoon light like sun rays on a pond and the corners of her mouth reached upward in an encouraging grin.
“You’re excited,” I teased her as I shifted my bag from my shoulder down to my waiting hand and began searching for my car keys.
“I’m excited to have you home. And if I can find a way for you to stay, I’ll do whatever it takes. Besides, I think Jeremy may propose soon.”
Her high school boyfriend was a sleazebag to the first degree, but Rory would hear none of it.
“Ulterior motives, I see.” With the key fob in hand, I pressed the button to unlock my car doors. The resounding beep and flash of yellow startled the couple crossing the lot in front of my car and I winced when they sneered at me.
Replying with a quick one-armed hug across my shoulders, Rory replied, “Always. See you tonight.”
Chapter Two – Colton
I knew my old minors coach lived in a small town, but as I drove down the winding single lane road, I felt like I’d been transported back in time. There was nothing but fields of grass and flowers, rolling hills, and towering mountains on either side of me. I feared I was lost and was about to end up in a real-life version of Texas Chainsaw Massacre if the cell reception hadn’t been outstanding.
When I reached out to Brett, my old coach when I played for the farm team before getting in the NHL, he had offered me a place of solace, a respite to get my head on straight. The last two years had been anything but calm. A career-changing injury sent me for a whirlwind both physically and mentally. At my age, I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to return to the game. A torn ACL was an ender in most sports. But my issue ended up having more to do with my love of the game than with the injury.
I fought tooth and nail to heal and get back on the ice, but by the time I’d returned, I felt like an old man compared to the newbies on the ice. That was the life of a retiring player.
It was more than all of that, of course, but that’s the story I gave to the press, and they ate it right up. I hoped that while I was here, Brett and I could get some time on the ice.
At least that gave me something to look forward to. I hadn’t discussed a concrete amount of time with my agent, but I knew he was in the mindset that I’d grow tired of small-town living and I’d want something bigger and brighter in a few weeks.
Little did he know that my favorite childhood memories were made in a small town.
Maybe not this small, I thought to myself.
Franklin, Illinois, was outside of Chicago and where I had learned to play hockey, but it had a few big box stores and its own sign off the interstate.
When Coach Chisolm sent me the address to his house, he informed me I had an hour drive on a single lane road once I left the interstate. He’d even attached a map because the satellite navigation never could “get it quite right.”
I peered down at the map as I crossed paths with another road and checked the directions to confirm I was still headed in the right direction. Out of the corner of my eye something black caught my attention and I slammed on the brakes, thankful I had been driving well below the speed limit on the tiny, unfamiliar road.
My shoulders rose to my ears as the truck screeched to a stop before it collided with a herd of cattle. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that the whites of my knuckles showed through the skin appearing as if they were ready to pop through the covering. My breath came out in heavy pants at the same rate as my racing heart.
“Fucking hell,” I heaved.
Taking a moment, I let myself calm down, using the breathing techniques that the team therapist taught us on how to control our anger. This time I used it to knock back the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
When I was finally able to pry my fingers from the steering wheel, the noise causing my body to cringe, I popped open the door and jumped down from the truck. I needed to catch my breath. My body hunched over itself. My hands firmly gripped my knees as I hauled in tremendous pulls of air to fill my lungs. Closing my eyes, I removed myself from the moment and settled back into my body.
“Are you okay there, son?” a gravelly voice filled with concern called out from the distance.
I glanced up, not sure what I’d find, but a man sitting on the back of a brown and white horse wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities.
When I didn’t give a response, the man added, “I’m sure these here gave you quite a fright. It’s not every day you see a hundred cows hanging out on the asphalt.”
The horse trotted closer, bringing the man within a few feet from where I stood.
