Confessions from the Quilting Circle Page 6

  Then she opened the door. “Hi,” she said, smiling as widely as she could.

  She didn’t know if that was weird or not.

  “Hannah Ashwood.” His lips tipped up into a smile, all arrogance and knowledge which had not been there when he was sixteen. “It has been a while.”

  “It has been,” she said. She squinted, a sudden realization washing over her. “You knew that I hired you.”

  “Yes.”

  “I did not know that I hired you.”

  “Well, I like to make an entrance.” And he did just that, walking right into the house, his broad frame filling the entryway.

  It wasn’t the lines on his face that made him seem different. It was the way he carried himself.

  “I don’t recall you being someone who felt the need to be theatrical,” she said.

  He’d been sweet and earnest, and they’d fought with intensity. And made up with even more of it. He’d always cocked his head to the side slightly, managing to be taller than her and somehow give the impression he was looking up at her.

  Because he was trying to impress you. And he doesn’t care anymore.

  “This is the place you want me to work on?”

  He didn’t bother to comment on what she’d said about theatrics.

  “I... Yes.” Her head was still spinning. But of course he wasn’t surprised. She had put her name on the contact form. His name wasn’t listed on the business. Even if she hadn’t put her name on there, he was well aware that her family owned this house. And given the way the gossip vine wound itself around the town, he was probably well aware that they were all here dealing with the inheritance that Addie had left behind.

  So, while she felt the need to gather herself and redirect, Josh obviously didn’t. And she was just going to have to pretend that she was fine. Truly, her response to this whole thing was disproportionate to the situation.

  There was something about Josh that would always feel sad. Sad and unfinished, but no matter how their relationship had ended, it would have ended.

  She had been just almost eighteen when they’d broken up. And she’d done what she had to do. She didn’t regret it.

  Because he was a handyman in Bear Creek, Oregon, and she played for the symphony in Boston. And there was nothing that could have ever brought those two worlds together. Her aspirations with his...his lack of them.

  He’d just been happy here. And she had never been able to understand that.

  “There’s electrical, plumbing, drywall,” she said, careful to keep the list neutral. “The roof might leak a little bit.”

  “It might?”

  “I haven’t been here in the rain, Josh, but if you would be so good as to check out the roof as part of your services, I would appreciate it.”

  “Hmm.” He made kind of a dismissive grunt and looked around the entry. “It’ll cost you.”

  “I know.” Somehow, even as she said that, she felt a strong sense that he might have meant something deeper than money.

  Stupid.

  “I look around, and then I’ll send you an estimate. Does that sound good?”

  “Yes. But... Be honest with me, is anyone else here going to be able to do all of this?”

  “You can have people come in from Medford. I don’t know that anybody else can do everything that you need doing on the place.”

  “So the bid is a formality.”

  “You can overpay to your heart’s desire, Hannah, I really don’t care.”

  Well. It was pretty obvious to her that he wasn’t neutral. He might have shown up to take the job, but he didn’t think of her as just another client. She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that.

  She cleared her throat. “Yeah. I’d rather not.”

  “Okay. I’m going to walk the place.”

  “Do you need me?”

  He arched a brow. “If you think there are things that you should point out. Otherwise I’ll try to see what I can find on my own.”

  She blinked, taking in the changes to his face. The lines that crinkled by his blue eyes, the deep grooves by his lips. He was the same height as he’d been in high school, but he was thicker now. Broader. He did physical labor, so she supposed that she shouldn’t be surprised he was in excellent shape. But it was a little bit confronting.

  He looked... Better. Better even than he had then.

  What does it matter how he looks?

  It didn’t.

  “I’ll walk with you,” she said.

  She had managed to avoid the guy every time she had come back to town before now. And now she had hired him. And was apparently digging in to the hiring of him. Because not hiring him would be stupid, and would also reveal the fact that she...

  She felt something when she looked at him.

  That was silly. She’d been hit with a wave of nostalgia upon seeing him, because who... Who didn’t feel that way about their first?

  And there were just other things tangled up in him that she was never going to be able to sort out.

  She cleared her throat. Awkwardly. “So. What’s... What’s been going on with you?”

  He turned, one brow lifted. “Just... In the last nineteen years?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Not much.” He turned away from her.

  “I’m in the Boston Symphony Orchestra,” she said and wanted to pull the screwdriver out of the back of his pocket and stab herself.

  He might not be trying to impress her, but apparently she wanted to impress him.

  She did not do things like that, especially not with men.

  Now he was just making her feel...not herself. Insecure and younger and not the accomplished, confident woman she was.

  “I know you are. I think my mom has a picture of you on her fridge. That she took off of a brochure.”

  She laughed. “Really? I mean, I wouldn’t have thought your mom would...”

  “You thought she might hate you?”

  “Yes.”

  “She did.” He turned toward her again, and this time he smiled. “She got over it. Because it’s been a long time. And mostly she’s proud of you. Because you went and did what you said you would.”

  She noticed that he didn’t say he was proud of her.

  Do you need your ex-boyfriend to be proud of you?

  “Right.”

  “Good for you,” he said. “Not very many people do.”

  She didn’t know what to say. Because she realized that she didn’t actually know for sure what all he had wanted. He’d talked about staying close. He’d talked about loving this town.

  I can’t stay close.

  But you’ll be back.

  Maybe I won’t!

  They’d fought about it. So much. He’d told her he’d wait, and she’d said he had to come with her.

  To a college I can’t afford? Where I can hang out and be your deadbeat, townie boyfriend?

  Everything had seemed clear and easy before Josh and he’d made her feel like she was breathing around knives. She hadn’t known what to do.

  Until you blew it up.

  “You...own your own business.” Realizing full well that her tone made it clear she’d just given him the verbal equivalent of a participation trophy.

  “You don’t have to pretend to be impressed, Hannah. I’m well aware that I don’t impress you.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “I knew it then. I know it now.”

  “Maybe I don’t actually think about you that much.”

  That earned her another look. And something twisted low in her stomach. And she knew that she thought about him about as much as he thought about her. Which was perhaps more often than either of them would like.

  She had hurt him.

  She wished that hadn’t been essentia
l. But it had been. She’d had to make a clean break, a real break. Her violin wasn’t the home wrecker. It wasn’t the diversion. She’d given up her childhood for it already. Had given up normal long before Josh. Her sacrifices had already been endless. He had been unplanned and completely useless to her goals.

  She’d made a choice to be tougher. To get refocused.

  “I’m sorry that I was an asshole when I was seventeen. Who isn’t?”

  He huffed a laugh. “I swear I don’t walk down the street with a Hannah shaped chip on my shoulder.”

  She believed that. It had been a long time. But he’d...known he was going to see her and he had to have had a feeling about that. Given his reaction to her.

  She crossed her arms, as if she was trying to shield herself for the response of what she asked next. “Did you prepare a speech? For this. You knew we were going to see each other.”

  He turned to face her, crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Maybe.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “No. Because this has already gotten weird.”

  “Joshua Anderson,” she said. “If you have been saving up a speech for me for nineteen years then I deserve to hear it.”

  “Fine.” He turned to her, shoulders square. “I’m happy. I did exactly what I wanted to do. I built a life here. I took care of my mom. My dad died, but I bet you didn’t know that. But it made it so I couldn’t leave, even if I had wanted to. I took care of my mom, and I took care of my sisters, and I’m proud of what I did. And you were right. We wouldn’t have worked. Because I would have made you miserable, every day of your life. And you would have looked around at what I think is paradise and seen nothing but your broken dreams. So, thank you. For breaking my heart then. So that you didn’t have to do it later.”

  Her lungs deflated. “I did not know your dad died. I’m sorry. My mom never told me.” Her mom wasn’t one to share news from town, that was for sure.

  “She probably didn’t talk to you about me. The same as my mom didn’t talk to me about you for a really long time.”

  “For what it’s worth,” she said, “you were the worst part about leaving.”

  That was the truth whether she should have said it or not.

  She’d done her best to be cruel when she’d separated from him and she certainly hadn’t said that then.

  But she’d wanted to blow it all into so many pieces they’d never be tempted to even try to put them back together. She had made too many decisions that she couldn’t take back, and she had to move forward.

  He cleared his throat. “Well, that got a little bit more personal than I meant it to. If you don’t want to hire me, Hannah, that’s fine.”

  “Do you not want to work for me?”

  “Really, I promise you, I’m fine. It’s been a long time.”

  “Yeah. But apparently I’m still the person that you argue with in the shower.” Discomfort tightened inside of her, along with an arrow of sensation that seemed to strike right between her legs. “You know what I mean.”

  “Sure. But if it helps, there are a couple people I argue with in the shower. You’re on the list, but not as high as you used to be.”

  She laughed. “Yeah. I almost never argue with you anymore.”

  “Why did you ever argue with me?”

  She tried to force a smile. “I guess it’s not really an argument. Sometimes I would just try to make you understand. That I was right. I guess you kind of know that.”

  He looked her over. “I do.” He looked down, seemingly taking stock of his white T-shirt with dirt marks over it, his jeans with paint splatters. “Yeah, I do.”

  Then he turned away from her. “Tell me about this place, and your plans.”

  “We want to do a vacation rental.”

  “That’s a good idea,” he said. “Vacation rentals do pretty brisk business here. Especially during the summer months during the concert season.” There was a mildly famous summer festival in Bear Creek where niche bands and bands who had once been popular played, and it brought a fairly decent crowd of people in.

  “I bet. And with all the wineries in the area I’m sure it goes on even longer.”

  “You’d be correct. Tourism has really revived itself since you left.”

  “Yeah. I remember when half the buildings on Main were empty. Not anymore.” He stopped in front of a crack in the drywall. “Yeah. That will need to be fixed,” she said, feeling a little bit lame, because that was obvious.

  But he didn’t make her feel stupid. He went into some kind of professional mode, talking only about the repairs that were needed for the house and marking things down on a paper that he had on his clipboard.

  “My sister is opening a Craft Café,” she said. He didn’t ask. But she was going to tell him. Because her skin felt too tight, and saying something seemed as good of a way as any to make it feel a little bit less so.

  She didn’t like this. This weird emotional reaction he was creating in her. She didn’t do emotion unless she chose to, and she was not choosing it now.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. It’s a café. Where people also make crafts?”

  “I’m going to put that on the list of things I don’t understand. Right next to avocado toast.”

  She laughed and tilted her head, tucking her hair behind her ear.

  Are you flirting with him?

  She was not flirting with him. She didn’t do coy flirty stuff. If she wanted a guy she was honest about it. She had so many friends who saw dating as this big, high stakes thing. Because every guy was a potential life partner. But not for her. It made everything a lot more straightforward.

  And made it so she didn’t...play with her hair and get shy because it didn’t matter if a guy wasn’t into her. If not, she’d find someone else or they’d find her.

  Yet, here she was.

  Hotter to her now than he’d ever been and that was... unexpected. Not welcome.

  “Right,” Hannah said. “Well. She’s very confident in it.”

  “If I remember Lark correctly, she was always...outspoken. Confident.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Different than you.”

  “I’m confident.” The plainspoken observation made her feel undressed. It was one thing to have to deal with a former lover and to cope with the fact they’d seen you naked—but he’d seen a pretty great version of her, so it wasn’t embarrassing. It was the emotional intimacy they’d once shared that made her feel laid bare. “I’ve always performed in front of people. What would make you think I’m not confident?”

  He lifted one broad shoulder and she tried to see what he did in that moment. Because she couldn’t imagine very many other people looking at her—with her bright red hair and matching lipstick, black tank top and tight black jeans—and think she was...somehow lacking in confidence.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t shrug at me. You think I’m not confident?” He was wrong. She’d been too confident if anything. So convinced she was special.

  She still was. You couldn’t get by in a career like hers without believing in hard work and magic. She knew too many people who worked hard and couldn’t get to where she was.

  “I think you weren’t when you were seventeen. I don’t have anything to say about who you are now. I don’t know you.”

  His words felt sharp like a knife. Like they’d gone right between her ribs and twisted.

  Because at seventeen she’d been no less in your face than she was now. She felt seen somehow and she didn’t like it at all.

  He hadn’t said if he was single or married or with someone. If he had kids.

  And she wouldn’t ask.

  They finished the walk through the house, and he handed her the paper from the top of his clipboard. “That’s my very fast estimate.”

  “That
was a fast estimate,” she said, looking down at the figure. It was a lot, but not too much. And Gram had left money. “You’re hired,” she said, decisively.

  “Just like that?”

  “Yes. This part of the project is mostly me. So yes. You’re hired.” There was a budget, part of what Gram had left behind, and Hannah knew this was well within it, and also that her sisters would be fine with her making the decision.

  “Great. I guess I’ll be seeing you around, then.”

  “Yeah. I guess you will. I guess... We’ll see each other.”

  His mouth cocked up to one side in a half smile. “Yeah. I guess so.”

  And by the time he left, she was breathless, and reverted in a way that made her want to slap herself. What was the matter with her? She’d gone and backslid into some high school state where half a glimpse of Joshua Anderson sent her into a tailspin.

  But you’re not in high school. You are a thirty-six-year-old woman.

  A thirty-six-year-old woman who’d felt afraid to pick up a sewing needle last night when her sister had suggested they finish her grandmother’s quilt. And she couldn’t figure out why.

  Because it’s part of the Hannah you left behind.

  So was Josh Anderson but he was apparently coming to refurbish this house.

  And her phobias about the past actually did uncover some insecurity she wasn’t comfortable with. She didn’t want them to exist. Not at all.

  She’d been soft then. Had been swayed by the romanticism he’d roused in her. Something she hadn’t realized existed before then. She’d been...made normal by him in some ways. He’d made her want to hang out with friends on Friday nights and sneak off and have sex in cars.

  He’d shown her that the soaring feeling in her chest she got from playing music, she could feel when he touched her body.

  When he was inside her.

  And she hadn’t wanted to think about the reality of the situation, or that she couldn’t be both a normal girl and an exceptional one.

  But in the end, she’d had to choose. And that moment in her life when she’d been idealistic, when she’d hoped she didn’t have to...

  It had burned to the ground, and she’d emerged harder. Stronger.