Thank you for reading! This story has a slow build up. Feedback is welcomed and deeply appreciated!
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It was a cloudy, warm afternoon with a slight breeze that wafted lazily through the grass. Every so often, the draft would push itself through windows that were thrown open in the hopes of catching the few last remains of spring before plunging into the blazing summer. Off in the distance, dark and ominous clouds billowed threateningly. Every so often, I saw a flash of lightning that illuminated the overcast sky.
Thankfully, my shift at the salon was drawing to a close. The last of the cut hair was thrown away, and my station had been wiped down meticulously. Wednesdays were typically slow, and today was no exception. With a mere ten minutes until my shift ended, I sat down in my chair and stretched my legs.
"Looks like it's going to storm before long," Ashton observes from his station. He sits across from me, so I swivel around to see him.
"I hope it isn't too terrible tonight," I say, hugging my arms to my chest. "Thunderstorms make me nervous."
"If you get too frightened, you can come by my house. We have a storm shelter." he offers.
"I'll be fine," I wave a hand dismissively. "Morgan is picking me up anyway; I'm sure he remembers my irrational fear of storms."
"Who is he, again?" Ashton asks.
"Morgan McAlister? From Chambers and McAlister? The law firm in town?" I roll my eyes.
"I know all that, Evie. How does he know your father?" Ashton asks.
"They were childhood buddies before they decided to go to law school," I explain. "He knows my car is in the shop, so he offered to pick me up from work."
"Wasn't he married to Molly McAlister?" he asks. She was one of his clients, after their divorce, she stopped coming around. I assume it has something to do with me; I was not happy with the heartbroken mess she left Morgan in when she left.
"She left him almost three years ago," I recall. "Something about a younger man."
"Shame. He seems to be stable," he says. "Is that why stopped having me do her hair? Because you worked here?"
"Probably. I wasn't very happy with her." I say. "I think Morgan was expecting her to leave, but it was still difficult for him."
"That's too bad. Is he over her now? He's good-looking. You know, for an older man." Ashton grins, laughing to himself.
"He's just a friend, Ashton." I growl irritably. Any male that walks into my life has to be my soul mate, according to Ashton.
"He seems to look out after you frequently, is all." he says.
"Morgan has been in my life for vast majority. He's a very dear friend," I say fondly. "What about you and Angela?"
"We're all right," he says. "We've only been together a few months. She has a really cute friend."
"You should really stop cheating; it's a real asshole thing to do." I roll my eyes at him. Although I genuinely like Ashton as a friend, he's been known to be a despicable human being at times.
"I'm just curious, is all." he grins. "Is that Morgan?"
I look to the large window that faces the parking lot. A dark blue Charger idled in a spot. Morgan climbs gracefully from the car and strode around to the other side, waiting.
"So, he opens doors, too?" Ashton asks helplessly.
"Learn a lesson. Bye, Ashton." I roll my eyes at him again before grabbing my purse and walking out the door. The wind has picked up, and I had forgotten my jacket earlier when Morgan had dropped me off.
"Hello, Genevieve." he smiles, opening the car door for me. It makes me smile when he uses my full name; something nobody else does. Generally, he only uses it in greeting or goodbyes.
"Thank you so much, Morgan." I say. He helps me into the car, fastening the seatbelt securely around my shoulder and legs. "I'm not a little kid anymore; I can do that myself." I giggle at him.
"Humor an old man," he says before closing the door. I watch him confidently stride around the car. He folds himself neatly into his seat and fastens his own seatbelt.
"I don't think you're old quite yet, Morgan." I say.
"Fifty-six isn't old?" he chuckles, shaking his head.
"You don't seem as though you're in your fifties. I remember when you used to play football with Ethan and I." Ethan is my older brother. Like me, he doesn't speak much with our father. However, Ethan isn't close with Morgan like I am.
"You remember that?" he grins, pulling out onto the street.
"Of course," I giggle once more and he turns his gaze to me. His piercing blue eyes twinkle gently.
"You've grown up quite a bit since then." he observes. He nervously fiddles with a spot on his fingernail, meticulously avoiding my gaze. "It's difficult to believe you'll be twenty-five."
"Don't remind me," I roll my eyes, and he flashes me an incredible, confident smile.
"You have a couple decades before you have to start worrying about your age, Evie." he says. "Speaking from experience, of course."
"Whatever," I roll my eyes, and I note the small smirk playing across his mouth. His dark brown hair is only beginning to fleck with gray. In all the years I had known him, he had worked out and ran. Although slim, he was broad. I knew the comfort of his arms all too well. When mom died fifteen years ago, when my dad and I finally decided to stop talking . . . every time I had to regroup my thoughts, I had done so in those arms.
Raindrops explode across the windshield. Nervously, I wrap my arms around my body. Beside me, Morgan grasps my knee comfortingly. I close my eyes, resting my left hand on the back of his. He feels strong and solid; the perfect combination to my own nervousness.
"It's just a thunderstorm, honey. I've been keeping an eye on the weather for you," he says quietly, and I grin at him, embarrassed.
"Goodness, you do know me. I thought I would grow out of being afraid of storms," I sigh, bringing my hand back up to my chest. He withdraws his own hand, resting it in his lap.
