Zander
When I was younger, a pinky swear was the most sacred form of promising another person something. A memory of Nathan standing in front of me, hand outstretched, pinky finger pointing at me, squinting as the sun shone brightly over us.
"Swear to me," he says. "Best friends. Forever."
"Best friends forever," I agree, linking fingers and shaking on it.
"And me too!" a voice interjects.
We turn to see Breanna rushing over to us. She skids to a stop, sending gravel flying up around her. She hastily pushes her hair back from her face, grinning from ear-to-ear, missing one of her front teeth.
"Forever," Nathan and I say at the same time.
"Uncle Z?"
I blink back to reality, seeing Mila waving her pinky finger under my nose. "Promise?"
"I promise," I say quietly, feeling a little thrown from that random memory that decided to make an appearance. "We will get ice cream after this."
"Yay!" she claps her hands together.
Bending down, I collect Mila in my arms and swing her around so that she's settled on my back. She squeals in delight as I walk through the markets.
As we walk, I try to pinpoint the exact moment that friendship was lost between us. The kiss. With Breanna. One moment altered everything. In retaliation, Nathan went after the scholarship I desperately needed. And he got it. That's when everything went downhill.
Spotting the tent I've been searching for, I cut across the walkway and duck under the awning, lightly holding on to Mila's sneakers to ensure she doesn't lose balance.
"Hi Zander," Mrs Crosswell beams. Everybody else calls her Linda, but she taught me back when I was in school, and I can't rewire my brain to address her as anything other than Mrs Crosswell, even though I'm in my mid-twenties.
"Hey," I say.
"What are you after today?"
"Going to browse for a minute," I reply, gently lowering Mila to the ground. Mrs Crosswell makes a fuss over her as usual and Mila thrives under the attention.
Taking my time, I go through the selection of fruit and begin to fill my carboard box.
"How are you doing, Zander?" Mrs Crosswell asks when I place the box down next to the cash register.
"Fine."
She eyes me up and down not-so-subtly with pursed lips. "You looking after yourself?"
I'm not sure what she is referring to. Maybe my dark skin from spending way too much time outside. She could mean the dirt that clings to my hair and stuck under my nails. Perhaps the dark bags under my eyes from restless nights and too much alcohol. Maybe I am starting to look as tired as I feel.
"I am."
"Mmhmm," she says in a tone making sure I know she doesn't believe me. When I hand her the cash, she pats my hand. "You should go out more. Live a little."
Exhaling, I step back. It's great how much everyone loves telling me that the quiet life I live isn't up to their standards.
"See you," I mutter. I look at Mila and incline my head, letting her know it's time to go. She trots after me and reaches up, pressing her tiny hand into my big one. I hold onto it and lead her back out to the path.
We spend the next hour browsing. I generally go to the markets to get what I need and then leave immediately, but I force myself to spend time exploring the different stalls since I have Mila with me. Coming to the markets with me is her favourite thing to do for some reason.
"Carry me!" Mila protests, yanking on my hand.
Scooping her up with one hand, she clambers onto my back once more. We continue to look around the stalls until Mila slaps her hand down onto my shoulder.
"Look! Look!" She enthusiastically points. "She looks like Rapunzel!"
Turning, I look to where she is pointing. My heart slams painfully in my chest when I see Brea holding something in her hand, inspecting it. Her beautiful blonde hair falls in long, restless waves down her back, almost reaching her hips. She's dressed in a tight black top tucked into loose jeans. An effortlessly casual look that somehow still looks runaway worthy on her.
"Shit!"
Seeing her is like sticking my hand onto an electric tape. I quickly leap behind one of the tent walls.
"Uncle Z said a bad word," Mila sings.
Peering up at her with a frown, I give her a narrowed-eye stare. "Don't tell your mother."
"I'm going to," she says.
"No ice cream for you, then."
"I won't tell!" she quickly amends. "I was joking!"
"Uh huh."
Peering around the corner, I scan the area, not seeing Brea anywhere. Letting out a breath of relief, I turn, and jump almost a foot in the air.
"Hey, it's the no-show," Brea says, glowering at me. "And even worse, cowering behind a stall like you're a twelve-year-old boy."
Heat flares up my neck and I straighten my spine, feeling even worse about it all when she so openly calls me out.
"Hi!" Mila chirps from above my head.
"Hi pretty girl," Brea smiles at her.
"I'm Mila."
"Brea. It's nice to meet you."
"Brea," I say. "As in Breanna Lancaster."
Her eyes bore into mine as she takes in my words. "Yeah, that's me."
"Do you know who I am?"
"Other than a coward?" she asks. "No. I do not."
"Zander Henderson."
The scowl twisted around those full lips wipes from her face.
"Oh my God."
"Yeah."
"Wow. You..." she waves a hand at me. "You grew up."
"So did you."
"I did not recognise you at all," she exclaims. "Wow..."
"How could you? It's been over ten years." There's a bite to my tone and I'm not even sure why. Am I angry at her for never coming back? In a way, I am. We were only young when she left but I had liked her for a long time. My whole life. If she had stayed... we would have been together. Everything would be different. "You're saying you didn't know who I was?"
"If you didn't know who I was, I certainly didn't know who you were," she points out. "And why are you speaking to me like this? You're the one who stood me up."
"Because your Nathan's sister."
"You're still close then?" she asks.
My mouth falls open and I blink at her slowly, trying to process what the hell she just said.
"Are you kidding?"
Her eyebrows furrow together. "Do I look like I am?"
Silence stretches between us for a few moments as we both wait or the other to speak.
"You look like Rapunzel."
The annoyed look disappears from her face as she smiles warmly up to Mila.
"Thank you. I love that movie."
"Me too!"
"Look," I say, interrupting them once more. "To answer your question—no. I am not close with Nathan." Stepping back until we are a good metre apart, I look at her. "And that's the reason why we will not be..."
"Be...?"
"It doesn't matter. I have to go."
"That's it?" she demands, planting her hands on her hips. "That's hardly an explanation. Or an apology."
"Ask your brother."
Turning, I walk away.
"Bye!" Mila calls out and I hurry down the path. I don't stop until I get to my truck. I place Mila inside and make sure she's buckled in. I shut the door and lean onto the frame for a moment, feeling even worse than before.
Why the hell is she even back in town?
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