“To be somebody’s heartbreak, you must first trust someone with your heart.”
Blake Carson
Like most challenges in life, the first step is always the hardest, Blake thought as he stared down at his just out of the box running shoes. “I got this,” he whispered. He took in the beauty of the foreign road ahead, then stepped off the curb.
He listened for a second, expecting the streets of Northeast Kingdom, Vermont, to reject him and join the rather impressive list of disappointments.
Day five of his self-imposed isolation trip, his personal shake it off and get thy shit together reboot, and he still felt as lost as the day he’d arrived.
New T-shirt, new shorts, brand-new running shoes, same ole Blake. He turned east, committed to completing the full four-mile run this early morning. The pain and exhaustion were a natural complement to his mental state.
His finger hovered over his phone as he queued up his running playlist, a mix of the Rolling Stones, Bon Jovi, Springsteen, and Billy Joel. Marie’s words stung in his ear: “You are the oldest twenty-five-year-old I’ve ever met. You and my dad have the same musical taste.”
Marie’s words, much like their relationship, should have been history. Three weeks and four days to be accurate. A two-year relationship that ended with a whimper, its root cause a mystery to Blake. At least it was at the time.
Last week her accounts revealed the truth. Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Snapchat rewrote in clicks what she failed to admit in person: the existence of him.
Dinners, dancing, and bowling, which she always claimed she hated. Sitting on his lap at their bar. Smiling and waving from a fucking tractor. Notifications came so often that they drained his phone battery.
Then, the bastard tagged her.
Me and my boo jamming to Rockability in Mad River.
That post was a purposeful dagger directed at him. Rockability had toured Vermont three months ago, and the Mad River show was a big local deal. That night she had claimed she was ill, turned off her phone, and gone to bed early.
A reactive, nonproductive, heated discussion followed. She had the final word—she always did—the words stinging harder than a nest of wasps. “What do you want me to say, Blake? If it walks like a duck, sounds like a duck, what the fuck.”
Like a two-year-old, he threw a tantrum. He hung up, screamed, cursed, and finally packed a bag and headed to the undiscovered beauty and seclusion of Vermont’s hidden gem according to TripAdvisor.
Here he was five days later, still reeling, attempting to forget and failing in even this minor task.
The male voice on the running app broke his concentration; he had just passed the three-mile mark as the sweat dripped into his eye. With labored breathing and an increased heart rate, he slowed. The nearly quarter-mile-long hill lay ahead, the same one that might as well have been Mount Kilimanjaro. Each of the last four days it had been his personal Waterloo. His feet continued to slow as if it knew of his intentions.
His shoulders slumped as a dozen reasons flashed through his mind as to why he should stop. More importantly, however, was the absence of a desire to continue.
Then she appeared.
She emerged from his blind spot as if she had teleported from another dimension. With cutoff jeans, a tank top, and a smile as wide as the Mississippi, her appearance took the remaining breath from his lungs. Stride for stride she approached, so close their shoulders nearly touched.
“Not today.” She delivered the line as an order, a command and a joke wrapped with an air of determination. “Quitting is for losers. You don’t look like a loser—prove it.”
She turned toward him, a dimple on her cheek, as she leaned into the hill, increased her pace, and pulled away.
With a renewed sense of purpose, he followed her lead. Each step caused him to labor further. He blew out his cheeks and sucked in the air as quick as he could, but she continued to pull farther away.
She appeared to read his mind, turning and running backward without breaking stride. “Use those daddy longlegs, come on.” She waved him on with more confidence in him than he had in himself.
Blake bit his tongue, forcing down the words he wanted to shout. Luckily she had turned back around, no longer a witness to his pathetic effort.
“What the hell,” he muttered as he mimicked her short and quick stride. Counterintuitively, the shortened strides actually delivered much-needed energy and momentum. He began to close the distance.
She wore a Nike cap backward, which limited the movement of her ponytail. Its golden bounce set the rhythm for his stride like a metronome.
The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile as they crested the hill and now enjoyed a slight decline. His breathing gradually returning to normal, but his focus remained on her.
She wore a white tank top, but the neon green sports bra underneath captured his attention. She moved with the grace of a runner, not a wasted movement or hint of strain in her form. His eyes continued to assess his savior, drifting down to the nontraditional running shorts—cutoff white jeans, Lees.
“One mile to Morgan’s. You think you can keep up?” Her voice hinted at a Southern accent, but Blake couldn’t be sure with the rapid pulse of blood pounding in his ears.
He nodded.
Exhausted, and having never actually run four miles before in his life, he knew right at that moment that if she asked, he would run a marathon today.
Blake removed the earbuds, and they fell to his neckline. He didn’t want to miss a moment. The sound of crickets and morning birds serenaded them as the pounding of her sneakers reminded him of a kick drum—easily the greatest song he had ever heard.
His breathing slowed as it matched the beat, and Blake joined the chorus with his exhales. He shook his head as if realizing the distraction of his playlist had been hiding the symphony that had been there all along.
His gaze traveled up from the white Nike sneakers as he momentarily took in her lean legs. A smile spread across his face, the first nonforced smile since he’d arrived in Northeast Kingdom.
She turned with approving eyes and nodded back in his direction. “Enjoying the view?”
Her wink confirmed she was not referring to the majestic beauty of the unspoiled landscape. She increased her pace yet again, forcing him to push. He dug deeper, further than he ever had before as he discovered a reservoir of energy he hadn’t known existed. As his breathing steadied, he focused on the horizon, his path forward. She ascended the slight hill, her silhouette framed in the rapidly rising morning sun as Blake followed along. He was not going to let this vision get away.
The trail finally relented and turned in to town. The sun had risen, yet the city remained asleep. Morgan’s Diner, however, would be open—5:00 a.m. opening according to the sign outside of town, best waffles in Vermont.
She slowed her pace as they approached the diner. “Don’t stop,” she whispered as she fell in next to him. “Not good to come to a sudden stop. Messes with your system, like a sudden breakup.”
The words caught Blake like a kick to the gut.
Did she know?
He told his face not to react; maybe today would be the day it decided to listen. “I’m Blake.” He stopped and extended his hand, the slow jog transforming into a walk.
She paused and giggled. “Yeah, I know. I shouldn’t know, and I definitely shouldn’t tell you that I know, but I rarely do ‘shouldn’t.’ Nice to meet you, Blake.”
Like a magician, she pulled out a washcloth. “You are a dripping mess.” They came to a stop as her gray eyes sparkled. “Close your eyes and take a deep breath.”
Without hesitation, Blake complied for his reward: her touch. Her thin finger lowered his chin slightly as Blake attempted not to respond. No one had touched him like this since…
He took a deep breath and pushed the memory out of his head.
She started on his forehead, wiping from side to side. “Wow, you need more cardio. Most people’s heartbeats slow down after a cooldown. If I didn’t know better, I think yours is actually increasing. Something must be getting you excited.”
Blake’s heart rate increased further as a wave of embarrassment raced over him.
“Relax,” she whispered softly, the words kissing his ears. “It’s all right. Kinda expected. I have that effect on people. It’s the shorts.”
She placed her index finger on his lip and held it there, much longer than any stranger should. “Don’t protest. I know it’s the gentlemanly thing to deny, but we both know it’s not true.” The cloth wiped underneath his eyes as she whispered, “You can open your eyes now.”
Blake kept his eyes closed for a beat as he exhaled in disbelief. He opened them as her eyes shone with the vibrancy of a world of possibilities. Wow. It took all his strength and control not to kiss her.
Their eyes remained locked as she removed the finger from his lip and brought them to hers.
She kissed it.
“I’m Alexis. My friends call me Lexi. What did you come to Northeast Kingdom to forget?”
The question caused confusion as Blake attempted to search for an appropriate response.
She rescued him, yet again. “Beautiful Northeast Kingdom. The place people come to either connect or disconnect and forget. You’re riding solo, so I ruled out the connection part. So what’s her name?”
Suddenly, after three and a half weeks of thinking of no one else, Blake wished she didn’t exist. He didn’t want to tell her the truth but knew staring into those beautiful eyes that lying would never be an option.
“Marie.” Her name felt foreign on his lips.
She winked at him. “Don’t tell me what happened. How long?”
They remained standing nearly eye to eye in the middle of the road, a ridiculous position that felt as natural as breathing. “Just under a month.”
“And you came to Northeast Kingdom looking to wipe her from your memory, right?”
“Something like that.”
Her giggle hinted at his future. “First of all, welcome. Today may be a day that changes your life forever.”
She paused as her gaze drifted over his shoulder as if recalling a memory. She bounced on her toes and continued. “Actually, every day has the possibility of changing your life forever. Funny, first time I thought of it like that. Scratch that—start over. Welcome.”
She bounced from one foot to the other as if debating her next step. For a second Blake thought she might disappear. He struggled to find the words but was rescued by her reply.
I do have a question for you, no more joking. You ready?” The hesitancy had vanished, the smile back on her face.
“You had me at welcome,” Blake said, expecting a return from her. However, her face tightened as she stuffed the washcloth into her rear pocket.
“I want you to take your time before responding as this is critical. Muy importante. You understand?”
Blake nodded, his eyes exploring every inch of her stunning face. The thin chin, the dirty-blonde mane that rested on her exposed shoulder, and the small, delicate ears that had probably heard secrets from a million lips.
“I really can’t believe I’m about to say this,” she began. “Seriously, Blake, if you want to forget all about Marie, I can help, but it comes with a crucial stipulation. You need to understand it and obey it fully.”
Blake focused in on her intent eyes; the playfulness had escaped her voice as her body tensed up. Without thinking, he took a half step back. “Sounds serious.”
“How long you in town for?”
“Six days.” He should have stopped right there. However, he mumbled, “I’ve considered leaving early every single day.”
“So we only have one day left before you leave?”
“How did—”
She cut him off. “Small town. Everyone truly knows everyone. Besides, I’ve seen you quitting on the hill the last three mornings. I’m an early riser too.”
Curiosity caused his lips to move. “How…”
“Here’s the deal, Blake, a onetime offer. I’ll hang with you the remainder of your visit. I’ll make you forget everything about Marie—and I do mean everything. It will be the best day of your life, guaranteed.”
“Why would you—”
She put her finger to his lip once again at the same time as the electricity returned. “There is one big caveat. And it’s monumental.”
Blake took a deep gulp as he prepared for the worst.
She removed her finger, taking a deep breath before speaking.
“You mustn’t fall in love with me. You can’t.”
A laugh bubbled to his lips, but her piercing eyes wiped it away just as suddenly. He whispered, “You have to be kidding, right? I don’t know you, you don’t know me. This is crazy.”
“Crazy enough to work. Not only can you not fall in love with me, but at the end of the day tomorrow, we both go our separate ways. No future contact. Nonnegotiable.”
Blake shook his head as he attempted to process the words. His head screamed for him to turn and run, but every other part of him stared at this majestic creature.
“Hold your thought.” She touched him on the shoulder as she stepped past him toward a telephone pole. She leaned in briefly to read a flyer, then tore off a piece from the bottom, flipped it over, and produced a pen out of thin air.
If he didn’t believe her words, the way she signed her name should have smacked him back to reality. He held the ripped piece of paper—her name, Alexis, with a broken heart over the letter i. He all but ignored the warning as he fingered the paper and committed the phone number to memory.
“Don’t text me. Call me. I only respond to actual voices.” Her sweet country twang hid her third command in the last twenty seconds. “I may not answer—hell, I’m telling you right now I won’t. A girl like me has to be pursued.”
Her gray eyes twinkled as her gaze drifted down to his chest, her long, lean manicured fingers following as she patted it like a parent flattering a child. “Four,” she stated with finality as if Blake had been involved in the decision. “Yep, definitely four for you. You seem to quit at three; I will need four calls from you before I call you back.”
She held up her hand, her thumb facing her and her pinkie extended toward him. “Do we have a deal?”
Blake’s gaze traveled from her eyes to her hand and back up again. He had known the answer before his hand rose. Their pinkies wrapped around each other as their thumbs pressed together. “Why the hell not? Deal.”
She smirked and bounced on her toes and said, “Call me,” her final command before she turned on her heel and began to jog away from him.
The sudden departure threw him for a loop. However, he found his voice, remembering the one question that still gnawed at his skull.
“Why? Why me? What’s in it for you?”
She pivoted on her well-worn Nikes and flashed those dimples once again. “Because I want to live forever. And after the next twenty-four hours, you’ll carry me with you for the rest of your days, Marie be damned.”
With that simple statement, she turned and jogged away from town. Blake remained standing in the middle of the street as he watched her disappear and reappear over the rolling hills of Bridge Street. Even after losing sight of her about half a mile down the road, he remained standing in the street. His fingers continued to play with the paper as he stroked his phone and wondered how long before he should make his first call.
He made the first call over a short stack of pancakes while sitting in Morgan’s. He had visited the restroom yet remained a sweaty mess. The short-order cook, who also played the part of a waiter at this early hour, seemed content enough to ignore him.
The ridiculousness of Alexis’s request caused him to stumble across the words as the call went to voicemail.
“This is Blake. Ugh, not sure what to say other than I ought to know better. Call number one.”
Blake furrowed his brow. What an awful message, he thought. How would he react if he received such a call? Not good. It was that level of embarrassment that caused him to hit Redial within thirty seconds.
“It’s me again—sorry about the previous message. I don’t understand what I’m thinking or how to say it, so let’s start over.”
He took a deep breath as his eyes met the cook’s, who stared at him through the cutout window from the kitchen. He nodded and turned on his stool. “It was nice meeting you, Alexis. You’ve left quite an impression.” The image of standing in the middle of the road staring into her eyes caused a reaction as Blake pushed off from the stool. His eyes drew to the road as if imagining them still standing there.
“I say yes. Let’s do it. Not sure what I’m signing up for, but as long as you’re a part of it, something tells me it’ll be memorable. Chat soon.”
“You listening to Jeff Foxworthy?” The gravelly voice came from behind him.
“What?” Blake turned and faced the cook. His words caught up in his brain as he realized he had planted a silly grin on his face during the phone call. “Huh? Yeah, he’s funny as heck.”
“You can say hell. Ain’t nobody here.” He carried a coffeepot in his right hand and refilled Blake’s cup. “You’re an awful liar.”
Blake slid back onto the stool. “Excuse me?”
“Jeff Foxworthy?” He nodded. “I saw you and Lexi out on the road.”
Blake’s heart raced for a second as he lowered his gaze.
The cook continued. “It’s all right. She’s special in every way you can imagine. And a few you haven’t discovered yet.”
His words gave him pause as the cook turned and headed back toward the kitchen. Blake fired back, “What does that mean?”
The cook placed one hand on the wall while holding the coffeepot in the other and turned. “Be careful is all I’m saying. She’s special to this town.”
As if that statement clarified everything, he disappeared into the kitchen. Blake stared through the window as the cook became immersed in peeling potatoes, the pile large enough for Blake to know he wouldn’t be coming out again anytime soon.
Blake followed his lead and focused on the rest of his breakfast. His eyes caught the edge of his phone, which now sat on the countertop next to his coffee.
He didn’t know when he would make call number three, but the words of the cook echoed in his head: special and careful.
His breathing quickened as his finger played with the edge of the phone as he thought of call number three and wondered not when, but if.
Blake paused as he stopped short of the steps leading up to the B Squared Bed-and-Breakfast. Owned by Bruce and Byron, B Squared was derived from their initials, their lifestyle, and a shared hatred of math. The duo was a gay couple from Boston who had escaped corporate jobs and taken their severance and savings to open a bed-and-breakfast in the town they’d now called home for eighteen years and counting.
Blake took a deep breath as he revisited his decision to book a room at the B&B. When he’d planned his escape, he envisioned a quiet, secluded getaway with meals included, minimizing his time out on the town and eating alone in restaurants.
However, what he didn’t consider was that B&Bs were filled with couples, young and old. Although three of the eight rooms at B Squared sat vacant, with him being the only single in the building, the owners adopted him as a project.
No sooner had he turned the knob than Bruce appeared in the doorway. “Did you make it over the hill this morning?”
Blake faked exhaustion as he yawned, stretched, and nodded.
Bruce’s electric smile appeared as he clapped his hand. “B, he did it. I told you today was the day,” he shouted into the house toward the kitchen, where Blake expected Byron would be cooking.
The other B stepped behind Bruce, an apron around his waist and a slotted spoon in his hand. “You did? Celebration time. We changed the menu and made your favorite—vanilla short stacks with cinnamon apples.”
Blake wanted to disappear as Morgan’s pancakes sat low in his stomach. But he couldn’t resist Bruce and Byron’s charm. “That sounds fantastic, thanks. Can I shower and get out of these wet clothes? I may need a minute to cool down.”
Bryon held up the spoon. “No worries, the prep work’s done. Come down whenever you’re ready. Congrats.”
Their eyes sparkled as if he had just pulled a kid from a lion’s den. Everyone he’d met in this town had been amazing to him.
Everyone.
“I may have to make a quick call too.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized he had decided. With pep in his step and call number three on his mind, Blake bounced up the steps with renewed energy.
An hour later, an overstuffed and satisfied Blake returned to his room. His mind raced as he anticipated making his fourth call of the day to Alexis. He pictured her staring out at the road, replaying his voicemails. The second breakfast, even though against his initial plans, worked out. It had allowed enough time to pass between calls. Just the right amount of respectful patience without the hint of desperation he was hoping to avoid.
Kicking off his shoes, he jumped onto the plush bed with the quilted pillows. As he bounced, he hit Redial and waited for her to pick up on the first ring. Okay, the second ring. As the phone rang twice more, Blake primed himself for her voicemail.
Just as he exhaled and prepared to leave a message, her voice clicked on. “Hey, you must be proud of yourself right about now.” He heard laughter in the background as he imagined her world full of jelly beans, cotton candy, and constant laughter. “Can’t speak, I’ll buzz you back in a few.”
Like a mirage, her voice evaporated.
It took a moment before Blake realized he was still holding the phone to his ear and not breathing. As he lowered it, his mind raced for the millionth time that morning. If she hadn’t answered, he would have believed he had made the entire encounter up. A case of the overactive imagination of a lonely man.
The phone buzzed, the vibration rolling up his arm. “I’m here,” he said, his voice mimicking that of a sixteen-year-old girl expecting the quarterback to ask her to prom.
Her laugh showed that once again she picked up on everything. “I guess I have the answer to every question I had about you. I loved message number three.”
Blake couldn’t wipe the grin from his face as he spun his feet down to the floor and gave her his full attention.
She continued. “I know all morning you’ve been curious about spending the day with me. It’ll be better than you ever imagined.” She let the words linger, the silence filled by his imagination. Her voice brought him back. “However, before we get there, there are two things I need you to do.”
“Name them.” Blake didn’t dare say much as the anticipation continued to grow.
“First, I need you to rest up. What I have planned for you will require a full tank of gas, if you know what I’m saying. I’m sure that little run took something out of you, and I can’t have you running on empty on me when I need you to shift it into overdrive.”
Blake’s heart skipped a beat as his mind raced to a place it had no place going.
Once again, she read his mind. “I’ll cut you off right there. We are working in the PG and PG-13 areas. I’m not that easy, and you’re not there yet. Maybe after tonight, though…” She didn’t complete the thought.
“I didn’t say…”
“Really, Blake, I can hear the panting over the phone. If you are on your best behavior, I may wear my shorts for you again.”
Blake pumped both fists in the air and mouthed the word yeah. “And the second thing?”
“You will need a pen and paper. Let me know when you’re ready.”
Blake searched the room and grabbed the memo pad from the small desk. “Okay, fire away.”
“Okay, charge your phone. It’ll be a long day. I need you to pack the following…”
Blake scribbled as quick as she spoke, his eyebrows rising as the list continued onto the second and third page of the pad. By page four he had given up deciphering the list. All he knew was if they used half of the items, then today may yet prove to be one of the most memorable days of his life.
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