through the halls with an edge she hadn’t had before. She barely saw Liam, and that August, he left for California.
That moment when she’d crouched behind the tree…it did something to her, something that made her grow up and toughen up. But one question throbbed in her brain for a long, long time. Why? Why would Liam say something so hateful? How could he—who had tamed a stray and starving cat—be so cruel to a girl who had only ever wanted to be his friend?
CHAPTER SIX
“A LOT OF US REMEMBER Liam from way back, of course.” The president of the chamber of commerce stretched her lips in a smile so insincere that Liam actually winced. Maya Chu. Yep. He’d slept with her—or came close, he couldn’t quite remember—back in the day. “So we’re thrilled—thrilled, I tell you—that he’s back. Yeah. Super to have a new business in this building. So, best of luck and all that, Liam. Here’s to the success of Granite Motorcycle Garage or whatever.”
Grand openings were just not his thing in general, but being introduced by a woman who clearly wanted to stick a pin in his eye—or some other soft part—kind of put a damper on things. But the garage looked great—all the machinery set up and gleaming, a few cool bike designs, matted and framed, hanging on the wall. In the far bay was the big Chevy truck and trailer he used to pick up and deliver bikes, his logo stenciled on the side. And there, right in the middle of the garage, currently being fawned over by a dozen or so people, were two custom bikes he’d built in California and his own special-edition Triumph.
But Nicole was supposed to have come right after school, and she wasn’t here. And wasn’t answering her phone. As he shook hands and accepted congratulations, he mentally reviewed her schedule. Lacrosse practice on Monday and Tuesday, debate team on Thursday…nothing on Friday. So where was she?
“Hi, I’m Bruce. Bruce Schmottlach. I met you at Guten Tag the other night, remember? I also taught band at the high school, though I don’t think I had you. You played guitar, right?”
“Right,” Liam said, surprised. “Thanks for coming.”
“So, I was out for a run the other day,” Bruce said, “maybe six, seven miles out of town on Cemetery Road, and some future organ donor flew past me on a Harley, must’ve been doing over a hundred miles an hour, no helmet. That wasn’t you, was it?”
“No,” Liam answered, glancing again at his phone. Still no return call or text from Nicole. “I wear a helmet. And I don’t ride a Harley.” Or any bike, since the accident.
“Okay. Well, whoever it was, he’ll be dead soon, and the world will be a little safer. Oops, my wife is giving me the sign. Nice seeing you, son.”
“Same here, sir.”
The man wasn’t the only one with an elephant-like memory. In the weeks since he’d been back, he’d heard from seven women who remembered him from high school and wanted to take him out for a drink for old times’ sake. He’d run into at least that many women who seemed to want to knee him in the balls, including Maya Chu, who kept shooting him the Slitty Eyes of Death.
Just about every business owner in the downtown had come to his grand opening. The Osterhagens, the woman from the yarn shop (how she paid her rent was a mystery to Liam. Yarn? How much yarn would you have to sell to make a living?), Rose, the owner of Rosebud’s, the local bar, who’d made a pass at him last week…the guy from the bookstore.
“Is this your bike?” asked a woman about his age. Redhead, short hair, gorgeous. And not interested in him, if his gaydar was working properly. He felt his shoulders relax a little.
“That’s my bike,” he answered. “A 2009 T100 50th Anniversary Bonneville Triumph. All the glamour of old, all the comfort of today.”
“Pretty gorgeous,” she said. “Lola! We should get a bike, don’t you think? I’m Kelsey, this is my partner, Lola, and we run the bakery down
That moment when she’d crouched behind the tree…it did something to her, something that made her grow up and toughen up. But one question throbbed in her brain for a long, long time. Why? Why would Liam say something so hateful? How could he—who had tamed a stray and starving cat—be so cruel to a girl who had only ever wanted to be his friend?
CHAPTER SIX
“A LOT OF US REMEMBER Liam from way back, of course.” The president of the chamber of commerce stretched her lips in a smile so insincere that Liam actually winced. Maya Chu. Yep. He’d slept with her—or came close, he couldn’t quite remember—back in the day. “So we’re thrilled—thrilled, I tell you—that he’s back. Yeah. Super to have a new business in this building. So, best of luck and all that, Liam. Here’s to the success of Granite Motorcycle Garage or whatever.”
Grand openings were just not his thing in general, but being introduced by a woman who clearly wanted to stick a pin in his eye—or some other soft part—kind of put a damper on things. But the garage looked great—all the machinery set up and gleaming, a few cool bike designs, matted and framed, hanging on the wall. In the far bay was the big Chevy truck and trailer he used to pick up and deliver bikes, his logo stenciled on the side. And there, right in the middle of the garage, currently being fawned over by a dozen or so people, were two custom bikes he’d built in California and his own special-edition Triumph.
But Nicole was supposed to have come right after school, and she wasn’t here. And wasn’t answering her phone. As he shook hands and accepted congratulations, he mentally reviewed her schedule. Lacrosse practice on Monday and Tuesday, debate team on Thursday…nothing on Friday. So where was she?
“Hi, I’m Bruce. Bruce Schmottlach. I met you at Guten Tag the other night, remember? I also taught band at the high school, though I don’t think I had you. You played guitar, right?”
“Right,” Liam said, surprised. “Thanks for coming.”
“So, I was out for a run the other day,” Bruce said, “maybe six, seven miles out of town on Cemetery Road, and some future organ donor flew past me on a Harley, must’ve been doing over a hundred miles an hour, no helmet. That wasn’t you, was it?”
“No,” Liam answered, glancing again at his phone. Still no return call or text from Nicole. “I wear a helmet. And I don’t ride a Harley.” Or any bike, since the accident.
“Okay. Well, whoever it was, he’ll be dead soon, and the world will be a little safer. Oops, my wife is giving me the sign. Nice seeing you, son.”
“Same here, sir.”
The man wasn’t the only one with an elephant-like memory. In the weeks since he’d been back, he’d heard from seven women who remembered him from high school and wanted to take him out for a drink for old times’ sake. He’d run into at least that many women who seemed to want to knee him in the balls, including Maya Chu, who kept shooting him the Slitty Eyes of Death.
Just about every business owner in the downtown had come to his grand opening. The Osterhagens, the woman from the yarn shop (how she paid her rent was a mystery to Liam. Yarn? How much yarn would you have to sell to make a living?), Rose, the owner of Rosebud’s, the local bar, who’d made a pass at him last week…the guy from the bookstore.
“Is this your bike?” asked a woman about his age. Redhead, short hair, gorgeous. And not interested in him, if his gaydar was working properly. He felt his shoulders relax a little.
“That’s my bike,” he answered. “A 2009 T100 50th Anniversary Bonneville Triumph. All the glamour of old, all the comfort of today.”
“Pretty gorgeous,” she said. “Lola! We should get a bike, don’t you think? I’m Kelsey, this is my partner, Lola, and we run the bakery down
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