The Single Mom's Second Chance

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Sesser had been right.

While Evan had gone on to build a home in Goose Harbor, he’d never ventured beyond the small lakeside community. With no college degree, he had nothing to attach to his name and very little experience in the world at large. All he had to show for his life was the furniture he built with sweat and dreams. Many of the people he’d grown up with would consider his house to be nice, sizable even, but it was a joke when compared to the place Claire had grown up in. Nothing compared to what Auden Pierce, the man she’d been engaged to, could have given her.

He’d never admit to it, but once he discovered that Claire was engaged, Evan had harbored a fascination for conducting internet searches on her fiancé. Auden Pierce—who looked as stuffy in his online profiles as his name sounded—was her senior by eight years, and newspapers quoted that the solutions architect was worth twice as much as her father. Evan initially had to look up what a solutions architect even was—some fancy term for someone who designs plans for problems occurring within huge corporations. Starting pay was upwards into six figures. Evan had stopped searching for information after learning that.

Then again, some of the articles about Pierce’s dealings had sounded shady. Not exactly illegal, but not completely on the up and up...much like how Sesser Atwood ran his businesses. Evan wouldn’t survive ten minutes in such a world. He couldn’t even let himself beat one of the Sunday school kids at a board game without feeling bad.

Evan and Claire existed in different spheres, and that’s how it would always be.

How it needed to be.

He handed her a large mug and then sat on the chair across from the couch, the fire warming the side of his face. “I put peanut butter cups in there. You may want to give it a stir so they don’t stay melted on the bottom.” He pointed at the mug she had cradled in her hand. “I hope you still like it that way. I should have asked.”

Claire stared at the steam rising from her hot chocolate and blinked a couple times. “I—yes—I still love it that way.” She slowly stirred the liquid, her spoon making soft clanking sounds. “It’s been forever.” She took a sip and her eyes softened as she watched him. “I have to start making it this way for Alex. I’d forgotten.”

Forgotten her favorite way to take hot chocolate?

Evan wanted to say something, anything that would ease the tension between them, but she’d asked him to not bring up the past. She wanted to forget that they’d ever meant something to each other, which was probably wise, but Evan was struggling with the idea of ignoring the issue all the same. How could they move forward and function together on any level without addressing what had happened? She wanted him to ignore everything? Pretend they’d never known each other? Held each other?

If only she’d let him explain.

Emotion tightened his throat.

Claire placed her mug on the coffee table and put her hands on her knees. “I stopped by because I wanted to talk about the election.”

Heat wafted in thick waves from the fireplace. He might have added one too many logs when he built it earlier; then again, he hadn’t been planning to sit this close. Evan angled away from it. He rested his ankle on his other knee and cradled his half-empty hot chocolate. “I figured that much.”

“This competition they want us to do.” She moved to the edge of the seat. “It’s ridiculous. Please tell me you think so, too.”

Evan chuckled. “Of course it’s ridiculous.”

“Oh, that’s great! I’m so glad you agree.” She wound her fingers together around her cup. “So you’ll talk to the board about it with me, then? We need to convince them to drop the idea. If only you would talk to them, I know you could get them to see reason.”

Ah, the truth came out.

Claire wanted him to address the board, to get her out of doing something she had decided was uncomfortable. The same scenario had played out a hundred times in high school, with Evan always going to bat for her. But not this time. Claire was a grown woman who didn’t need him as a mouthpiece. She was smart and well-spoken and strong enough to fight her own battles. Her father might still attempt to hold her under his thumb, but Evan knew better. Even after all these years, he believed in Claire—in the fire and determination he knew she possessed. She lacked courage, not ability.

Evan pressed his shoulders into the chair’s padding. “Now, I didn’t say I’d do that.”

Claire’s mouth opened, closed and then opened again. She let out a huff. “But you said you agreed it’s ridiculous.”

“I do.” He finished his drink and then leaned forward and set the mug a few inches under his chair, where it wouldn’t get knocked over. Out of habit, he rubbed his hands together. Usually the motion was to clear his skin of sawdust. “I can acknowledge the whole thing is silly and still go along with it.”

“Evan, it’s...we’re not in a beauty pageant here!” Her eyebrows shot up. She clanked her mug onto the coffee table. “All I want is to run a few ads and shake some hands and call it a day. Why can’t this just be a normal election?”

“Easy answer.” He absently traced a pattern into the suede fabric on the armrest of his chair. “This is Goose Harbor. People here live for traditions and events that bring the community together. Everyone’s been stuck in their homes all winter. Some people are worried about making ends meet after a slow tourist season.”

Claire nodded. “All true points, but none of that has anything to do with our election.”

Evan straightened in the seat. “It has everything to do with the election. A fun event to attend gives them hope. If you can’t see that, then you really need to rethink your desire to be the mayor here.” He leaned forward once more, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Why are you running, Claire? Did your father—”

She shot to her feet. “This has nothing to do with my father. Understand?” She ground out the words. “Why would you even think—? I’m my own person.” Claire pressed her palm to her heart. “Out of everyone, I thought you knew that.”

“I’m sorry.” He hooked his hand around his neck, then ruffled his hair. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Well, it was said and can’t be taken back.” She rounded the chair and headed for the door. “Nothing can be taken back.”

Evan sighed. “I know that better than anyone.” He slowly stood, stepped forward and dropped his hand on the edge of the chair. “Why’d you come home, Claire? The truth.”

Her back was toward him. He watched her shoulders rise with a deep breath. She had every right to barge out his door without supplying an answer. He wasn’t owed one.

Claire fisted her hand and spun around. “Why did you stay?”

Not what he was expecting.

Evan rocked on his feet. “I have nowhere else to go.”

“Same.” One word, but her voice caught on it. “That’s the reason I’m here.”

Evan started toward her, his feet moving before he could determine if he wanted to comfort her or not. He couldn’t leave her standing there, looking like she was about to cry. He had to do something. Given that they were running against each other, and given their past, he probably shouldn’t. But logical reasoning had never been his strong suit.

However, it had always been Claire’s, which was probably why, before he could make it to her side, she gathered her coat and purse and fumbled with the doorknob. She yanked it open. “I’ll see you at the town hall meeting tomorrow.” She wrapped her scarf around her neck and flung the end of it over her shoulder, then shoved her arms into her coat. “I’ll be the one winning, in case there was still any confusion.”

The door slammed before he could take another step. The sound reverberated through his chest and a clump of sadness thudded into the bottom of his gut, the weight reminding him that there was no reason to chase after her. Claire didn’t want him to follow; she’d made that clear twelve years ago when he wrote her letter after letter for a year and she never responded.

“Night, Claire,” he mumbled.

“Whoa! That lady is a tornado in high heels.” Laura pounded down the stairs behind him. When she wasn’t lying on the floor of her bedroom listening to music, his sister seemed to always be in a hurry.

Evan gathered the empty mugs from the family room and carried them to the sink. “How much of that did you overhear?”

His sister followed in his wake, then boosted herself onto the island’s counter. “You mean, how much of that did I intentionally eavesdrop on from my prime hiding location at the top of the stairs?”

Evan raised an eyebrow at her as he rinsed out the cups. Despite the thirteen-year age gap, he was close to his sister, and he loved her fiercely. The two of them enjoyed ribbing each other as much as he made a habit out of kidding with Brice.

Laura snagged an apple from the fruit bowl and bit into it with a loud crunch. “Oh, only all of it.”

“You should wash that before eating it.”

“Okay, Mom.” She rubbed the apple on her jeans and then took another bite.

“Laura.” His voice held a warning. “An ounce of respect would be nice.”

It was difficult, this balance between them. He wanted to be her fun-loving brother. Someone she could always tease and be lighthearted with. There was so much heaviness attached to the rest of their family relationships, even with Brice. Evan yearned to make sure she knew she could be herself with him—even if that meant sassing him occasionally. Yet he was left to play parent as well, which often carried the weight of setting her straight, and occasionally that meant disciplining her, which bothered him.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t they say a little dirt don’t hurt?”

“The farmers shoot all sorts of pesticides on them while they’re growing.” He tapped the fruit bowl. “Now you’re eating those chemicals.”

“Well, the good news is,” she said around another bite of apple, “I’m apparently not a bug and will live.” When she was finished, she acted as if she was making a three-point shot and tossed the core into the trash can. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and all that nonsense.”

Evan flipped a dish towel over his shoulder as he loaded the dishwasher. “Did you come down here only to speak in platitudes or was there another reason you listened in on my conversation?”

“Ev, man, you’re on point tonight.” Laura hopped down from the counter. “Does she do this to you? That Claire?”

He almost asked what it meant to be “on point” but thought better of it. He’d never be able to keep up with his sister’s ever-changing teenspeak.

“Claire—” Evan shut the dishwasher and jammed the Pots and Pans button to On “—does nothing to me. We’re running against each other for mayor.”