One Last Shot (Pub Fiction #3) (4 page)

In the end, he made me love him and I’d made me run.

Luckily for me, I was offered a perfectly-timed job that I had applied for in secret; a contract at the Ministry of Education working on a small team to create and write the new Ontario Curriculum Guide for Inquiry-Based Learning. The job required me to move to Ottawa, Canada’s capital, which was a bit more than five hours away; it was like the stars had aligned telling me this decision was the right one. It was the perfect excuse to bolt without admitting that was exactly what I was doing.

After many tears and bottles of wine, Kat gave me her support. And that August I moved. I had to make her promise not to give Matt my address or new cell number no matter how hard he begged. She hated the idea but reluctantly agreed because, well—that’s what best friends and sisters do. I’d contact him eventually, I had promised her, but, of course, I never did. I knew he’d have the power to persuade me to stay, to come back. I felt awful but it was self-preservation. My thinking went like this: I’d leave him behind, never giving him the chance to leave me. I’d hurt him, so he wouldn’t think twice about wanting me back again.

But now my contract is over, and I’m moving home to St. Catharines for good. I’ve accepted a job-teaching Grade 5 at Mountainview Elementary. I’ll get to work alongside Kat, which is great, but I’m also bound to run into Matt at some point, which isn’t so great.

“I’m sorry. I just worry about you.” Kat’s words draw me back to the here and now.

“I know you worry. But I am happy,” I try to convince my best friend, but I know she sees through my lie, she always does.

“You’re going to have to get used to seeing him again. You can’t hide from him once you move home.”

“I know, but I can try,” I huff.

“He still wants you, too, you know. If that helps.”

“Kat, don’t. You know I can’t. The way I left things was wrong. There’s no way I can repair that. No way can I allow myself to go there again even if I wanted to.”

“You need therapy, Claire. I’m sorry, but do you hear yourself? It’s Matt. It’s you. It’s okay to want him. God, when are you going to get the stick out of your ass and realize it? It’s okay to fall in love.”

“Jeez, this has been a wonderful chat. I wasn’t expecting a lecture call tonight. Whose side are you on, anyway? Besides, it’s been two years since I took off, Kat. He should hate me. Fuck,
I
hate me.”

“He doesn’t. You’ll see,” she whispers. “Don’t you know time heals all wounds?”

I cringe. “God, that’s so cliché, you don’t actually believe that do you? Whatever, don’t answer,” I tell her. “Listen, I’m gonna go. I’ve got an early day and a headache now, thanks to this conversation. You’re lucky I love you or else I’d be pissed at you.”

“I know. I love you too, Claire. I don’t even know how we got on this topic. I promise I won’t bring him up again.”

“Sure, sure. I’ll believe it when I see it. Love you anyway. You’d better hang-up before I decide not to move back home,” I laugh.

“Okay, okay. Talk soon. Hugs.”

I rest my head against the couch cushion after tossing my phone aside. Kat’s right, I’ll have no choice but to face the man I’ve not spoken to or seen in two years. Having such a tight knit group of mutual friends makes it certain. Moving home means I won’t be able to avoid Matt forever. So I’m freaking the fuck out here.

I’d managed to deke him the last few times I visited home for Christmas, Wes’s graduation and, lastly, Levi and Braun’s wedding. Thankfully, we missed each other at the wedding because he’d flown back home to Calgary to help his father with some pressing family business. I swear I’ve been like a cat with nine lives when it has come to dodging this man. But on some level, even I know I can’t ignore
us
forever.

Jeez, I need to relax. It’ll work out…

“Think of the bright side, Felix. Just think positive,” I say to his fluffy white face before carrying him down the hall to my room. “And don’t you dare look at me like I’m full of shit, or you’ll be sleeping on the floor tonight, mister.”

Bright side: I’m moving home, and my Kat and her Honeybutter are getting married.

Downside: I’m the maid of honour and Matt is the best man! Vomit.

Bright side: We’ll have lots of old-school hangout time, Claire Bear- and Kitty Kat-style.

Downside: I haven’t seen or spoken to Matt Bishop in two years.

How the hell will I face him?

Matt

C
laire.

Claire Knox.

Claire Judith Knox.

My Sugarshack.

Her name swirls around and around my head like the blonde havoc-wreaking cyclone that she is.

Claire Knox.
The woman I’ve not allowed myself to think about out loud until
now
.

It’s been two years. Two years of nameless faces and brutal attempts at substitutions for my girl. What an idiot I’ve been, trying to replace her and find that feeling again—the spark that only she gave me. Not one of them held a candle to Claire.

After two years of denying myself the pleasures of remembering her, Claire’s back again in the forefront of my mind, the old memories consuming me. Like some poet obsesssing over the muse who inspired the greatest love poems, I keep thinking of her, of us, and of all the fucking bullshit that caused her to flee.

I should have gone after her. I should never have let her disappear like that, without a goodbye. But what could I do? At the time, I think, I was just too hurt, pissed and shocked to think about what the fuck to do to make it better. Letting her go seemed like my only option. I’ll regret the fact that I let her walk away so easily for the rest of my life.

I’m sitting at the conference table at The Locker Room, the sports medicine clinic I own with Ryker and Justin, my two best friends. We’re supposed to be having a meeting, but I can honestly say I haven’t got a clue what the hell’s been said for the last fifteen minutes.

“Matty, what the fuck, dude? Are you even listening to me right now? What’s with the shit-eatin’ grin? There’s no way talk of medicine balls is turning your crank that hard. So spit it out,” Ryker fires at me. Apparently it was obvious that I wasn’t paying attention.

Ryker’s standing in front of the whiteboard, arms crossed, hiding a grin.
Fucker
. He knows damn well what I’m thinking about.
What I’ve been thinking about for two weeks now.
Ever since the day Kat Rollins—Ryker’s fiancée and Claire’s best friend—let slip that Claire was coming home. Permanently. I swear my heart and my dick both wept with joy at the news.
Our girl was coming home.

Coming home, after having bolted without so much as a backwards glance at what we’d shared, as if none of it had mattered. And the part that pisses me off most is that I’m so fired up at having her back. I feel like a pining starlet in some chick-flick, waiting around to get a second chance at love.

Yeah, I want my second chance and I’m gonna sit here until she sees reason and gives it to me, no matter how long it takes.
See? I’m the chick
.

“You’re right, sorry, man. I was off in la-la land,” I tell him, sitting up straighter to show them I’m ready to return my focus to the meeting. “Go on,” I nod, smiling at both Justin and Deanna, our receptionist, who in turn are trying to hide their snickering while listening to Ryk tease me.
I swear those two have something going on.

“La-la land or Knoxville?” Ryker says, raising a brow, and following up with his trademark smirk.
See? Asshole.

The meeting carries on but my thoughts circle around again and all I can think about is Claire, back in university that first time I laid eyes on her.
Fuck me, was my girl gorgeous.
I remember it like it was yesterday, walking up to her at the Beaver and Bulldog with a lame-ass line, her blonde hair a bit sweaty from dancing, fanning across her beautiful face as she stopped to laugh and give me what I wanted—her attention.

“Do you believe in love at first sight, or do you need me to walk by again?” I ask the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. And believe me, I’d seen a lot. I was often out with my boys; my friend Ryker was always getting laid hardcore. Being the perfect wingman, how could I not partake? When in Rome, right?

“Did you really just say that to me?” she questions, an incredulous look on her beautiful face. With blue eyes that smiled up at me, smooth skin that glowed in the dim bar, the cutest dusting of freckles on her nose, topped off with pouty lips that begged for my kiss, I was captivated to say the least.

“I sure did, gorgeous. Made you smile at me, didn’t I?”

“Barely,” she quips, but I knew it was bullshit.

“Wanna get a drink?”

“With you?” she fires at me.

“Nah, with my Uncle Steve. He’s one hot piece. I just know you two will hit it off.”

She burst out laughing. “Well, hell, how can I possibly say no when after all this time the man of my dreams was just waiting for his handsome nephew to hook us up? How can I resist fate?”

Her icy blue eyes had shone with mirth as she took me in, while I’d kept on trying to impress her with my mad skills.
God, I was such a tool.
I smile inwardly at the memory.

That girl is the yin to my yang, and has been ever since that night almost three years ago at the pub. It’s just unfortunate that my girl’s a little fucked up in the emotions department. I guess losing your parents in your teens is tough. I get that it’s skewed her view on relationships and what she expects out of life, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating for me.

It was hard not to be angry with her and call her on her bullshit but I made the effort because at the end of the day, to her it’s not bullshit. Claire hurts, and despite the shield of nonchalance and her dating rules, I know her. I know that deep down she wants commitment, love, and a happy future; I think she’s just scared. I mean she’s spent so much time in her own head convincing herself that loving someone can only lead to agony and heartache and loss that she believes she’s guaranteed to be hurt. As if we both aren’t hurting anyway, the way things have been between us. Claire doesn’t want to believe in love, but I’m going to show her that it hurts more
not
to love. I made a vow to fix her, with an end goal: to claim her as mine, forever.

Claire thinks I haven’t known where she’s been for the last two years, and that I’m unaware of her plans to move back. Little does she know, our friends have been playing both sides, so of course I’ve known where she’s been. There was no way Ryker and Kat couldn’t tell me. And that cute little house that Kat managed to find for her happens to be right in my neighbourhood, a house I actually found and passed on to Kat with the proviso that she not tell Claire that I had anything to do with it. I wanted her close by. No way was she going live on her own and be on the other side of town from me. No more of this “I don’t want to ever be left behind again” bullshit. I’m never going leave her, and I’ll never let her go without a fight again.

“Ouch, what the hell, dude?” I rub my forehead where a pack of yellow Post-it notes just smacked me.

The assholes are all laughing as I look up to identify the culprit. Justin shrugs, “Just making sure you’re with us, fucker. I swear you’re still in Knoxville, but we need you focused here. We’re gonna talk renos, bud.”

“I’m here, I’m here. Put your weapons down.” I pull my chair in closer, ready to focus.

Justin’s right, I need to pay attention. We have some major additions we want to invest in this year at The Locker Room, so I need to focus on work right now, not Claire.

I allow myself one last thought:
Claire Knox doesn’t know the kind of homecoming she’s about to get.

Claire

“H
i, sweets,” I
say, slipping the nozzle back into the fuel pump.

“Hey, chick. How far away are you? You almost here?” Kat’s excited voice rings through my car’s Bluetooth.

“Yep, just got some gas and a much-needed coffee.”

“I can’t believe you’re coming home. I’m so friggin’ excited. I’m going to get to see you everyday!”

“Is that the only thing you’re excited for?” I tease her, knowing full-well she’s going out of her mind with pre-wedding bliss.

“Ohhhh! Yes! Did I mention I’m getting married next week?” Kat’s screech comes blasting through my RAV4’s speakers.

“Yes, I think I might have heard about that. Maybe it’s been the daily phone calls, or more like the fifty daily phone calls. Hey, remind me to give your man shit. He’s obviously not keeping you occupied enough. And the hell if I wanna deal with your Bridezilla ass next week.”

“Hey, I’ve been so good. Now, my mom, gah! She’s been like Stepford-bride’s-mom-on-crack. Thank goodness Pat has been able to rein her in a little.”

“Ah,” I laugh, “at least you’ve had an ally while I’ve been gone. Remind me to give Ryk’s mom extra shots at the bachelorette party. I know firsthand how Mary is, remember?” My stepmom hadn’t been happy with my decision to move away and wasn’t shy about reminding me of her unhappiness, and also has been after me repeatedly to talk to a counsellor about my “issues”, issues I tell her I don’t have. I know very well how relentless she can be.

“Ha, no kidding. Thinking about it, I’m actually not as excited to have you home for me as I am at the idea that I can sic Mary on your ass. She’s got two years of Claire-time to catch up on. Winning!” Kat snorts, laughing at her stupid ass self.

I’m finally headed home.

After two weeks of epic fails and many cybertours of different apartments, townhouses and houses, Kat finally found me the perfect little house to rent and I can’t wait to settle in. I’m about two-and-a-half hours away, and the moving truck will meet me there in a few hours.

Tying my long hair into a messy knot, I take a deep breath and try to ignore the tingle of nerves which keeps trying to infiltrate my stomach. The little buggers are attempting to bully past my excitement of seeing not only my new home, but my best friend and sister. Unwanted thoughts of Matt are creeping in every once in a while, making my mind reel with how our inevitable first encounter is going to go.