Page 62 of Small Town, Big Storm

Toss it aside.

Get undressed.

And climb into the shower.

I curse as the cold stream of water hits my skin.

But I don’t get out.

I just wash as quickly as possible then wrench the water off, rub myself dry with a threadbare towel, get dressed, and go down to our makeshift kitchen in the garage.

The saw is going.

There’s wood dust everywhere, quickly making the icy cold shower I took a moot point.

But we have peaches and cream muffins.

And they’re the only reason I say yes to helping Rain reframe the remaining rotted portions of the second floor.

Mostly because he asks while shoving two muffins at me.

I’m being manipulated by carbs.

And I can’t even bring myself to care.

Especially when—as I hold boards in place while Rain secures them—I allow my mind to drift to other peaches-and-cream things.

Like Poppy’s skin.

LikePoppy.

Soft curves and plump lips and my name on her tongue.

Seven years gone, angry words, fists and curses and inadequacies and hurts.

And for a few seconds, I kind of wish I was in a Hallmark movie too.

Because then a happy ending would be guaranteed.

But I should know better.

I’m a Harrison.

There aren’t any happy endings.

Not for me, anyway.

Eighteen

Poppy

“Doyou think I’ll be warm enough, Mom?”

I glance down at my daughter—layered in enough clothes to resemble a tiny, adorable marshmallow—and bite back a smile.“I think you’ll be plenty warm, sweetie.”

Summer sunshine glares down overhead, but it’s me who begins to worry thatImay not be warm enough in my light hoodie and sweats as we tug open the door to the Cedar Hollow Ice Center and step inside.

I shiver against the gust of cold air and look around the space.