Page 4 of Falling Back to You

“As our mayor, couldn’t you have helped expedite the process?” I asked.

“No, because that would be favoritism. Which is borderline corrupt.” Cyrus talked in a cadence that made me want to smack him in the face.

“Well, what the fuck’s the point of having a brother who’s the mayor if he can’t make shit shake for you?”

“Can you focus?” He pointed at one of the unclaimed coffee cups. “Is that mine?”

“Knock yourself out,” Edison said.

Cyrus leaned on the window ledge that looked out into the nursery. “Now that we have the permits, we can start moving forward with the build-out for the bed-and-breakfast.”

When our parents left Hume, us kids pooled our resources to purchase our childhood home. For the past few months, since closing, it had sat untouched because we needed permits from the city before we could start knocking shit down and erecting structures. But now we finally had the green light. Which meant this was yet another project I’d have to make time for.

“This is going to be an all-hands-on-deck type of project,” Cyrus continued. “Edison, I expect Fancy to be there too.”

“She’s busy writing music,” I teased.

“Fancy is more excited than I am for this renovation,” Edison said.

“Great. Dial, I thought you and Fancy could start in the house,” Cyrus said. “Taking an inventory of what our folks left behind and what we’ll still need. You know, plates, silverware, towels, sheets, pillows, that kind of stuff.”

“When do I get to demo something?” Counting spoons and forks wasn’t really my jam. I wanted to knock down walls.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your hands dirty.”

“You expect the four of us to tackle all this work?” Edison asked.

“Don’t worry—when the time comes, we’ll hire some additional bodies. But right now, we need to focus on the stuff we can do on our own to cut cost.”

“When do we get to meet this mystery benefactor, and what promises have you made to them?” I asked. Cyrus had secured a fifth shareholder, who’d put up a significant amount of capital. He’d been calling them a silent investor, which sounded hecka shady to me. Cy wouldn’t even confirm if this person was from Hume. My bet was Ernest Palmer, Ozzie’s father, because he was the only person I could think of who had the resources to cut a check for that amount of money and not break a sweat.

“Our first day on site will be this Saturday, and my guy will be there,” Cyrus replied.

My guy? The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. That term came off too familiar for it to be Ernest Palmer. “It’s not Ozzie, right?”

“No, if it were Oz, I would’ve told you.”

I searched his face for falsehoods. Either Cyrus was telling the truth, or he was a good liar. “Okay.”

I was in love with my two-story ranch house. It was the first independent purchase I’d made, four years ago. The home search took months because I was shopping for a forever home for me and Maple, and when I crossed the threshold, I knew I’d found it. It was older and surrounded by massive trees. Each night I pulled up to my place, all the worries from the day instantly washed away.

I’d been living with my parents before moving here, which had had its perks because they could help me with Maple. And I needed all the help I could get, because I didn’t know shit about babies and being a mom. My mother had made it look so easy with three little ones underfoot, but motherhood didn’t come naturally for me—which was difficult to accept, because I was typically good at everything.

In the kitchen, I performed my closing duties. Which were essentially wiping down countertops and loading the dishwasher. Since Maple was at her father’s place for the week, the closing shift had been a breeze. There were no little fingerprints on the fridge or random spills that required elbow grease to lift up. I missed her when she was gone, but cosplaying as a child-free person every other week wasn’t too shabby.

Most of my nights, sans Maple, consisted of girl dinners of my choice. My favorite being caramel popcorn out of one of those vintage tin canisters. I also watched a lot of television while updating the website for Figs and Twine or signing off on onboarding documents. Even when I was off, I never fully got a break. Edison was always preaching the virtues of work-life balance, but I didn’t come with a chill button.

Heavy footfalls on the porch let me know my solitude was coming to an end. Ozzie Palmer knocked on the screen door but didn’t wait to be invited in. I rounded the corner into the hallway with a huge smile, ready to greet my precious girl. When I realized she was dead asleep in her father’s arms, the smile slipped from my face. Ozzie didn’t deserve smiles. Smiles were reserved for the people I loved. Instead, he received my resting bitch face.

“Barely started the engine before she was knocked out in the truck.”

“I got her.” I reached for her, knowing good and damn well she was getting too heavy for me to carry.

“Nope, no need to disturb her. I’ll tuck her in. She’s already in her PJs. And before you ask, yes, she’s bathed, brushed, and groomed.” Ozzie pushed past me, taking the stairs like he belonged here.

After seven years of shared custody, we kind of had this co-parenting thing on autopilot. We alternated weeks with Maple. During his weeks, Ozzie picked her up from school on Monday and dropped her off on Sunday. Fortunately, Hume was a small town, and Ozzie and I lived less than twenty minutes apart. It made things less hectic, and I think Maple appreciated the routine of always knowing what to expect.

Our scheduled drop-offs were the only times we saw one another. Mostly because I avoided any place Ozzie might frequent. The Tipsy Owl was my favorite bar, but Ozzie was there every other Friday, so I kept clear of it. I rarely made runs into town because Ozzie was always hanging around with Cyrus, his best friend. Yes, the father of my child was my brother’s best friend. And if I had a time machine, I would’ve warned younger me of the headache that would cause. Ozzie was invited to every BBQ, camping trip, and birthday party like he was family, because for a long time he was.