What If You & Me by Roni Loren
Chapter Four
Hill put a pot of coffee on to brew and then went to the laundry room in search of a clean T-shirt. His body was sapped from his run, the strength workout he’d done when he’d gotten home, and the hot shower, which would normally help clear his mind, but he kept replaying the interaction with Andi. He’d handled it all wrong.
Logically, he knew Andi had only been trying to be nice by offering to plant flowers for him, but the simple gesture had reminded him of what other people saw now when they looked at him—someone who needed help. Someone to feel sorry for. While he’d been tamping down attraction to his pretty neighbor, she’d been thinking of ways she could volunteer to his charitable cause. His stomach turned.
You’re not the man you used to be.
His ex’s barbed words were like aggravating song lyrics he couldn’t get out of his head, the chorus playing over and over.
He rummaged through the dryer for a shirt, but before he could grab one, his doorbell rang. He frowned, knowing that this time of day usually meant someone selling something. A knock followed, the visitor impatient. He huffed out a breath, shut the dryer door, and stomped toward the front of the house, ready to tell whoever it was that the No Soliciting sign on the porch wasn’t a suggestion but a directive.
However, when he opened the door, he found Andi standing there, no longer covered in dirt and now holding a platter of something. She had a smile pasted on her face, but her eyes went wide at the sight of him. Only then did he remember that he hadn’t pulled on a shirt yet.
“I, uh…” she said, her gaze sliding downward to the spot where a burn scar from the accident slashed across the side of his abdomen. He wanted to cover the scar tissue with his hands. “If this is a bad time…”
“Hey. Sorry. I was getting out of the shower. Give me a sec.” He jerked a thumb toward the back of the house. “I’ll grab a shirt.”
Her gaze jumped back to his and she nodded. “Yeah, no problem.”
He turned and took a few steps toward the laundry room, but when he glanced back, he saw that Andi was still standing on the porch like some reluctant Girl Scout. He waved her in. “You can come in. I’ll be right out.”
A quick flash of something went over her expression. Fear? Wariness? Whatever it was, he didn’t like it.
“I don’t want to interrupt whatever you were doing,” she said quickly.
“You’re fine. Just give me a sec.”
She glanced around and then nodded, taking a step inside but still looking unsure. “Okay.”
He left her there and hustled to the laundry room. Once he’d pulled on a shirt, he took a breath, trying to shake off his foul mood, and headed back to the living room. He needed to undo how rude he’d been to Andi.
Andi had perched on the edge of a chair in his living room, her eyes on the cookbooks he’d left strewn over the couch. She’d left his front door ajar. Clearly, she wasn’t planning on staying very long.
He ran a hand through his still-damp hair. She was probably here to tell him he’d acted like a jackass. She wouldn’t be wrong. He cleared his throat, bringing her attention upward and over to him. She gave him a tight smile and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Hey.”
“Hi.” He walked over and grabbed the books he had spread out on the couch and stacked them onto the coffee table. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting company.”
“That’s how my desk looks when I’m writing,” she said, peeking toward the stack. “You like to cook?”
He rubbed his palms on his jeans, the back of his neck heating. His therapist had suggested Hill get back to cooking, even though he wouldn’t be doing it for a firehouse anymore, but all he’d managed lately was flipping through cookbooks and then ordering takeout. Why bother cooking anything elaborate if he had no one to cook for anymore? “It’s something I mess around with. I was the designated chef for my crew at the firehouse.”
“That’s cool. I have zero ability in the kitchen if it doesn’t come in a box or can. I once went to a cooking-and-cocktails class with some friends for a girls’ night out. I set a kitchen towel on fire before we even got started, and I think the grilled fish I attempted is still stuck to that pan to this day. I tried to convince the teacher that catfish jerky would be the next big thing.”
Hill smiled. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
“Oh, it was bad. I had to pay an extra fee for damages and then didn’t have anything to eat.” She smirked. “I was really good at the cocktails though—drinking them, at least.”
He huffed a quiet laugh.
“Sorry. I’m rambling. I have a tendency to do that. I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here.” She offered the covered platter she’d been holding in her lap. “Now you’re going to be scared after that story, but I wanted to bring you these. They’re brownies.”
His brows lifted, and he reached out to take the dish from her, the scent of chocolate wafting his way and the dish warming his hands. “You baked brownies?”
She shrugged. “They’re from a quick boxed mix that I can’t mess up, so don’t worry. No fish-jerky mishaps.”
“I’ve never met a brownie I didn’t like,” he said, “but you didn’t have to do that.”
“I kind of did.” She dipped her head, her bangs falling into her eyes before she looked up again. “I said the wrong thing. We’re going to be neighbors, and I feel like we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.” A look of horror flashed across her face. “I mean—”
He didn’t get why her expression had turned to one of horror, and then it registered. She’d said wrong foot to a guy with a prosthesis. He stared at her for a second and then a snort-laugh escaped him. “Did you really just say that?”
She put a hand over her eyes and groaned. “Oh my God, I’m the worst. I feel like every time I talk to you, I do or say the wrong thing. I almost maced you the first night. Then I insult you this morning. Now this.”
He smiled, endeared by her obvious embarrassment. “You didn’t almost mace me. You never would’ve gotten that canister lifted before I had your arm pinned behind your back.”
Her head snapped up, her eyes wide, and she glanced toward the open door.
The spark of fear on her face caught him off guard, and he automatically set the brownies aside and lifted his palms. “Whoa, I didn’t mean I would do that. I’m only saying, I used to teach self-defense at the community center, and my training would’ve kicked in if you’d aimed a weapon at me.”
“Right.” She nodded, her hands clasped in her lap. “Sorry. You know I write horror. My mind goes to dark places first. It’s a career hazard.”
He frowned. “No, I get it. That’s smart. It never hurts to be aware.”
She scoffed. “I don’t know if that’s entirely true. Anything done to the extreme, even being aware, can backfire.”
Something in the way she said it made him want to ask more questions. There was a story there, and part of him wanted to prod, but he also sensed she’d shut down if he did. Like she said, he was still a stranger. “And you didn’t need to bring me brownies. I’m the one who should be bringing you a peace offering. I’m sorry I snapped at you. You were trying to be nice. I was an asshole. So I definitely don’t deserve baked goods.”
“I shouldn’t have assumed you couldn’t do your own gardening,” she said, her blue eyes meeting his. “I don’t like when people assume things about me.”
He sighed and glanced out the front window toward the yard. “Honestly, your assumption wasn’t far off. It would be a pain in the ass to get on the ground and garden, but I’m not looking for help.”
She rolled her lips together and nodded. “Got it.”
“I’m not giving the brownies back, though.” He put his hand on the platter. “They’re mine now, and you can’t have them.”
She laughed, and the sound ran straight down his spine, warming his bones. “No worries. I made some for myself, too.” She glanced at his cookbooks again. “So, if you aren’t with the fire department anymore, do you do a different job now?”
The question instantly splashed cold water on his mood. The thought of telling this sexy, vibrant woman that he was retired and on a disability pension and couldn’t seem to get himself to do anything useful made his stomach turn. He’d grown up with a dad who’d sat at home, zoned out on pills or booze, who claimed a shoulder injury prevented him from working even though it hadn’t prevented him from taking swings at his mom on a regular basis.
Hill knew his own injury had been very real, and the disability pension necessary, but at thirty-one, he hadn’t planned on that being the end of his working life. He couldn’t be a firefighter, but he was capable of other things—theoretically. But he’d made no headway on making something new happen. The fact that he was still without a job or a purpose two years in because of this fucking depression was his worst nightmare coming home to roost. He missed the pride of being able to tell someone he was a firefighter. He missed feeling like he was doing some good in the world. He missed cooking for his crew and feeling useful. But in this moment, what he missed most was the way women used to look at him like he was a possibility.
He shifted on the couch. “I own a couple of properties that I rent out, so I spend some time taking care of that.” Part truth. He did own a few properties with his aunt and uncle, the people who’d raised him, but they had a management company handle the logistics. So it was income but not an actual job. “And a friend of mine thought I should try to write a cookbook, but I think knowing how to cook and writing about cooking are two different skill sets. So I’m kind of in the exploratory career phase again.”
Andi nodded, a pensive look on her face. “That sounds both exciting and terrifying.”
He scoffed. “Exciting?”
She shrugged. “Maybe that’s not the right word, but figuring out what you want to do when you grow up is kind of two-sided, right? Terrifying because—holy crap, grown-up life choices. But on the other hand, you get to choose again, like a redo. Poof, new path.” She moved her hands like she was casting a spell. “I work at this coworking space a few blocks from here—WorkAround—and it’s full of people figuring out what they want to do with their lives on their own terms. Lots of them have tried a number of jobs or businesses and haven’t quite landed on the One yet, but that’s okay. Maybe there isn’t a One. Maybe there’s a Two or a Three. Or maybe we’re meant to do a series of things in life.”
“You believe that?”
“I think so. I mean, I love being a writer and I love podcasting right now, but who’s to say that in ten years I’ll still love it? Maybe I’ll want to do something completely different then.” She sniffed. “My parents think the whole concept is complete bullshit—very millennial/Gen Z of me, you know? Why can’t I go and get a nine-to-five and a steady paycheck? And I get where they’re coming from, but they don’t see what I see at WorkAround. You can feel the energy of the place when you walk around. It’s like we’re all running our little life experiments. How cool is that?”
She was rambling again, but he found himself leaning in. “You do sound exceptionally millennial.”
She grinned, looking not at all offended. “At the risk of sounding like an old hippie, life’s too short, man.”
“It definitely is.” A shudder went through him at that. He was exceptionally aware of how quickly life could be snuffed out. When that roof beam had come down on him in a fiery blaze, he’d thought his ticket had been pulled. He probably should be all Let’s take life by the horns now that he had gotten a second chance, but he couldn’t access that kind of enthusiasm. His enthusiasm well was bone dry. He wished he could just plug into Andi and channel one percent of that kind of energy for himself.
“Well,” she said, breaking him from his train of thought, “if you ever want to get some inspiration, I can give you a tour of WorkAround and introduce you to some people. Sometimes it helps hearing what other people are doing to spark some ideas in your own brain. I got the podcasting idea that way. And it’s not that far from here. Plus, they have a chef vlogger there. He may be able to brainstorm with you about the cookbook thing. There’s also a kitchen on-site that people rent out to do food photography or cooking videos or to host cooking classes. You might find that interesting.”
The invitation caught him off guard. “Wow, that sounds like an alien planet compared to the firehouse.”
She laughed. “It can be sometimes. There’s definitely a variety of characters there. But seriously, I could show you around.”
He didn’t know what the point would be. He’d never been the entrepreneurial type. After what he’d been through with his dad, he’d never considered anything but the most stable of careers. “Thanks. Maybe one day.”
She glanced at the clock on his side table, and he followed her gaze. Damn. He needed to be heading out for his lunch with Ramsey, but talking to Andi was like getting a taste of a drug. How long had it been since he’d had a conversation with someone who wasn’t focused on his injury or mental state? Who wasn’t calling or stopping by to check on how he was doing?
“It’s getting late,” she said, slapping her knees and standing up. “I better get going. I know you probably have things to do, and my book isn’t going to write itself. It’s lazy that way.”
He let out a breath, already mourning the loss of her company, and stood to follow her to the door. “Yeah, I have to head out to meet a friend. But thanks again for the brownies. You really didn’t need to go through that kind of trouble.”
She stopped at the door and turned to face him. “Not a problem. I enjoyed making them. My friends tell me my love language is baked goods.”
His eyebrows lifted.
She cringed. “And…that sounded weird.” She laughed self-consciously. “I just mean that I communicate in baked goods—usually purchased, not baked. I promise I’m not hitting on you.”
The words were playful, but they hit him like shrapnel, cutting in multiple places. Of course she wasn’t hitting on him. Of course this wasn’t flirting. Of course she was inviting him to tour WorkAround to be helpful, not to ask him out. She was being nice. Everyone was being so fucking nice to him these days. He forced a smile. “I knew what you meant.”
She wiggled her fingers in a wave and stepped out onto the porch. “See you on the lawn sometime, neighbor. And let me know if you decide you want that tour.”
“Thanks. Will do.” He shut the door behind her and then pressed his forehead to the doorjamb, deflated. “Fucking pathetic, man.”
He was so out of practice with women that he didn’t even know how to distinguish a neighbor offering a favor from interest anymore. The old version of Hill would’ve flirted his ass off with Andi. He would’ve turned on the charm and had her laughing and would’ve gotten her to go out to dinner with him tonight—or better yet, let him cook for her. He would’ve taken her to his bed and shown her all the fun ways he could make her feel good.
Now he was left with none of the finesse and all of the wanting.
He needed to steer clear of his neighbor. He was trying to find ways to get out of this mental hole, not make it worse by reminding himself what he couldn’t have.
***
“She baked you brownies?” Ramsey said between shoveling french fries into his mouth. “Dude, that was a clear opening to ask her out.”
Hill dumped more spicy salsa on his plate of nachos and shook his head at his friend. He and Ramsey had a standing lunch date each week since it was weird visiting the fire station with Josh, the scumbag who’d slept with his fiancée, still working there. “It was not an opening. They were guilt brownies. She felt like she’d insulted me about my leg, and she’s too nice to let something like that go. If you’d met her, you’d realize there’s no chance this was an attempt at flirting with me.”
“Why not?” Ramsey asked, dumping more ketchup on his plate. “She married or something?”
“That’s not what I mean.” Hill grabbed his phone off the table. He wiped it on his jeans where the sweat from his beer had gotten his screen wet, and then typed Andi’s pen name into the search. Her author website came up, and he turned the phone toward Ramsey. “This is her.”
Ramsey wiped the salt off his fingers and took Hill’s phone, bringing it close to his face. “Whoa. Hot.”
“Yeah. And young. And definitely not in the market for some washed-up firefighter who spends most of his time in doctors’ offices and therapy appointments.”
Ramsey scrolled, his gaze still on the screen, the light of the phone illuminating the faint freckles that redheaded Ramsey denied he had. A probie firefighter had once called Ramsey “Freckles” and had ended up on solo toilet-scrubbing duty at the station for a month. “Shit, she writes horror novels. That’s kind of awesome—or concerning. I mean, she probably knows a hundred ways to kill a man. But she’s also at a higher probability for being kinky.”
Hill groaned. “That is one hundred percent a bullshit assumption.” He forced his mind not to go there, not to picture Andi in all kinds of fun, naked situations. “All it means is that she likes scary books.”
Ramsey set Hill’s phone down and lifted his hands in surrender. “Okay, got it, man. But I don’t see why you didn’t ask her out. I mean, the worst that could happen is she says no.”
“No, the worst that could happen is she has zero interest and I put her in a completely awkward position with a guy she has to live next door to. Or she could laugh—that’d be fun.” He shoved a chip in his mouth, chewing with more aggression than necessary.
“She wouldn’t laugh,” Ramsey said, going back to his fries. “And awkwardness never killed anyone. At least you’d be putting yourself out there. That’s better than this hermit routine you’ve got going on.”
Hill put more chips in his mouth, choosing not to honor the hermit comment with a response. He couldn’t deny his hermit state, but he also couldn’t justify venturing back into the dating world. Everyone came with a little baggage, but he had so much right now, he’d have to rent off-site storage to house all of it. No woman deserved that in her life.
“All I’m saying,” Ramsey said after taking a long swig of iced tea, “is that you need to look at the law of inertia.”
“Inertia,” Hill said flatly. “We’re having a physics discussion now?”
“Yes. I’m not saying you should go out in search of the love of your life. Or even go out and search for your next long-term career—though I’m sticking by my cookbook suggestion. All that stuff is really big, heavy shit. You don’t need more heavy stuff right now. But you also can’t keep doing what you’re doing because of inertia.” He took an ice cube out of his glass and set it on the table between them. “An object at rest will stay at rest unless acted upon by a force.” He pointed at the ice cube. “You are the object at rest. Your ass is going to sit there, unmoving, and let the rest of your life melt away.”
Hill gave him a droll look.
“Unless.” Ramsey flicked his finger, sending the cube sailing across the table and into Hill’s lap. “Some force acts upon it—like me.”
Hill brushed the ice cube onto the floor. “You’re a force all right. Newton’s fourth law—the law of pains in the ass.”
Ramsey smirked. “I will gladly be a pain in the ass if it means getting you out of this dark, depressing place you’re in. You need to get into motion, just a little bit, and then it will be easier to keep moving. Like asking your hot neighbor out would’ve put things in motion, even if she said no. It would’ve been easier the next time to ask someone else.”
Hill let out a breath, feeling exhausted all of a sudden.
“Look, I can’t say I’ve been there,” Ramsey went on. “I don’t know what you’re going through, but I’ve had times in my life when I’ve felt stuck. If you stop moving, you get more stuck, more hopeless. So even if moving forward is the last thing you feel like you have the energy to do, you have to force yourself sometimes—even if it’s little things. It’s like working out. No one wants to do it, but the more you do it, the easier it is. Then it starts feeling good. Then you’re running miles and can’t remember why you used to hate working out.”
Hill pushed his plate aside. “Right.”
“And believe me, remembering how great it is to get laid is a way quicker trajectory than learning how to love working out.” Ramsey picked up his burger with a flash of a grin. “Once you get past that first time, you’re going to wonder why you waited so long to get back out there.”
Hill’s neck muscles tightened. He had not forgotten how great sex was or even just making out on the couch, but imagining doing those things now—with this new body and all its scars—made dread wash through him. After his accident, Christina had stopped sleeping with him. At first he’d thought it was because she was afraid she’d hurt him, but once he’d found out about Josh, he’d figured out the truth. She wasn’t attracted to him anymore and was getting what she needed from someone else.
“I don’t think I’m ready for the dating scene yet, but I hear what you’re saying,” Hill said, knowing his friend’s heart was in the right place. “Maybe I can find some way to get moving on the finding-a-new-career thing. Andi offered to give me a tour of the coworking space where she has an office. She said meeting people who are doing all kinds of different things can be inspiring. And there’s a test kitchen there that food vloggers use.”
Ramsey paused midbite and lowered his burger. “What the fuck? You let me get halfway through lunch without telling me that part? She wants to show you around where she works? Help you figure out what you want to be when you grow up? You dumbass, you totally should’ve asked her out. You’ve got zero game. No, not even zero—negative points would have to be given.”
Hill leaned back in his chair and flipped his friend off. Ramsey was a pain in the ass, but Hill loved that he still treated him like he had before the accident. Other people had become more careful around him, like he was so fragile he’d break. Ramsey still regularly insulted him. It was the best. “Fuck you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ramsey said, unperturbed. “But at least now you have a second chance to get this shit right. Tell her you’ll take that tour and then ask her out for coffee after or something.”
“And if she only sees me as the disabled firefighter she wants to help out because she’s a charitable person?”
He shrugged. “Then at least you know what’s what. And hey, she could become your hot friend and then I can ask her out. Because”—he picked up Hill’s phone again and turned Andi’s headshot his way—“hell yes.”
Hill grabbed his phone out of Ramsey’s hand. “Stay away from my neighbor. Our walls are thin, and I can’t handle that kind of trauma.”
Ramsey chuckled and went back to his food.
They moved on to a different conversation, but Hill couldn’t get the previous one out of his head. Andi had absolutely not been flirting with him, but he found himself fantasizing about that being the case. That she’d come over because she was interested. That she’d invited him on a tour because she wanted to spend more time with him.
But as quickly as he let the thoughts spool, they started to unravel. He was deluding himself, and if he let those thoughts go in that direction, he’d end up embarrassing himself. He knew he needed to take baby steps, and Ramsey was probably right. He should have a hookup at some point to get past that initial fear and dread of sleeping with someone. But doing that with Andi would be a terrible idea, even if she was interested. Beyond the fact that she was his neighbor and tenant, a hookup was supposed to be a temporary, fleeting thing. Lighthearted. Low stakes.
Nothing about Andi said low stakes.
She seemed like the kind of woman who would make a guy want to push in all his chips. Bet the house.
He couldn’t afford to risk that much again. He’d already lost it all.
Andi Lockley was off-limits.