Crazy, Hot Love

by K. L. Grayson

  “But you were.”

  “Yes.” She nods. “But after talking with you, I’ve been able to move past a lot of it.”

  “But not all?”

  She shakes her head. “No, not all.”

  “Go, Claire.” I give her a little nudge, and she stumbles forward. I expect her to turn around and tell me all of the reasons why she needs to put this off, but she doesn’t.

  Nope, my girl is strong and determined, and even though she looks like she’s going to vomit, she walks right up to Amy and taps her on the shoulder.

  I stand back, hands in my pockets, a smile on my face, and so much love in my heart for this woman. She’s facing her fears head on, and I couldn’t be prouder of her.

  32

  Claire

  I shake my hands and fingers out as though I’m about to play some sort of instrument when all I’m trying to do is regain feeling. My legs are tingling as they carry me toward Amy, and while I’m physically sick at the thought of talking to her about that night, I know it’s something I have to do.

  The last several days have been masked by Trevor and the time I’ve spent thinking of him. But at night when I lay my head on the pillow, sometimes I still see Troy and Marcus’s scared little faces.

  I step up behind Amy and take a deep breath. When I blow it out, I tap her on the shoulder. “Amy?”

  She spins around, smiling. “Hey, Claire.”

  “Can we talk for a second?”

  She looks back at her boys, who are trying to land a red ring around the tip of a bottle in hopes of winning a goldfish.

  “Sure,” she says. “I have a feeling they’ll be working on this one for a long time.”

  Together we amble off to the side, where she can still keep a close eye on the boys, but we’re not in the thick of things.

  “What did you want to talk to me about?” Her face falls. “Don’t tell me one of the boys got in trouble again. I swear I threw that whoopee cushion in the trash.”

  I laugh. “No, nothing like that. It’s, uh…” The words get stuck in my throat, and I’m seconds away from telling her it’s nothing when I catch a glimpse of Trevor out of the corner of my eye. He gives me a reassuring smile and nod, and just like that, my fear wanes enough for me to get out what I have to say. “It’s about the fire.”

  “What about it? Did they figure out what happened?”

  “Yes, actually, it was electrical, but that’s not what I wanted to tell you.”

  “Okay.” She watches me and waits and waits a little more, and then she places her hand on my arm. “Claire, are you okay?”

  Tears are clogging my nose and pooling in my eyes, and I’m seconds from losing it. I shake my head, hoping to keep from crying. Swallowing past the giant lump in my throat, I look Amy in the eye.

  “I forgot your boys were in the bathroom.”

  “What do you mean?” she says.

  “I let the boys go to the bathroom—”

  She nods. “They told me they were in there a lot longer than they should’ve been.”

  “They were, but I knew they had a tendency to play in there, so I was keeping an eye on the clock. I got to helping another kid with something, and next thing I knew, the alarms were going off and everyone was rushing out of the room and the building. It was pure chaos. I ushered all of the kids outside, and that’s when I realized I’d forgotten the boys. They were still in the bathroom.”

  The dam breaks. Tears fall down my face. I do my best to brush them away, but there are way too many, and eventually I give up.

  “I forgot about your boys.” My voice cracks, and Amy pulls me into her arms.

  I wrap my arms around her. “I should’ve grabbed them on our way out. If I would’ve done that, they never would’ve been in that situation. It’s my fault they were stuck there alone and scared, and I’ll never forgive myself.”

  “No.” Amy pulls back, her face pinched. “Oh my gosh, Claire, I can’t believe that’s the way you see it.”

  She’s not a blubbering mess like I am, but tears are building in her eyes.

  “I can’t imagine how scary it was for you in that moment. I’m sure you were running on pure adrenaline, and you did what I would expect any teacher to do: you reacted. You got your kids to safety, and when you realized my boys were missing, you ran right back into that building to get them.”

  “If I would’ve remembered they were in there, I could’ve gotten them out right away.”

  “But what would’ve happened to the rest of your class? Do I hate that my boys were in that bathroom alone and scared? Yes. Do I wish they’d been in class instead of playing around in the bathroom for so long? Yes. But nothing you say will convince me that you acted the wrong way that day. I hate to think what would’ve happened to the rest of your class if you’d stopped on the way out for my boys. That fire was spreading fast, and you all could’ve ended up trapped in there.”

  The more she talks, the harder I cry. I probably look like a mess standing at the pier bawling, but I don’t care because Trevor was right. It feels good to get this off my chest. And it feels good to have her forgiveness.

  Amy reaches in her purse and grabs a couple of Kleenexes. “Is this why you didn’t want to take the cookies we made for you?”

  I take the Kleenex and wipe my face. “I just felt so guilty, and the fact that you took the time to do something thoughtful didn’t feel right to me.”

  “I took the time to make you cookies. You ran back into a burning building to save my kids.” Her lips are in a thin line, her chin quivering. “Those boys are my life, Claire. They are the reason I get up every morning. Every single thing I do, I do for them, and had it not been for you…” She swallows and dabs her eyes. “If it weren’t for you, they might not be here, and I hate to think about that because I don’t know what I would do. You gave me my life back that day, Claire, and nothing you can say is going to make me think differently, so just stop. Stop feeling guilty, and stop looking at what you could’ve done. Concentrate on what you did do.” She laughs, but it lacks any sort of humor. “Crap. Now all my makeup is running.”

  I smile and wrap my arms around her again. Not because she’s crying, but because I’m feeling so much relief that I can’t not hold her.

  “We’re a mess,” I whisper.

  I’m not sure how long we stand there, but when we step back, all of our tears have dried, and there’s a lightness in my chest I haven’t felt for quite some time.

  “Thank you,” I say, softly.

  “For what? I didn’t do anything.”

  “For being so understanding. For letting me cry all over you. For raising two wonderful boys. For the cookies. Should I keep going?”

  Amy’s smile is wistful. “You’re welcome, Claire. I just wish you would’ve talked to me about it sooner.”

  “Trust me, I do, too.”

  “Mom, I won!”

  We turn to see Marcus running toward us with a plastic bag in his hand. The bag is full of water, and there’s a tiny goldfish inside.

  “Great,” Amy mumbles, plastering on a smile when Marcus gets to us. “That’s so exciting, honey. What are we going to name him?”

  “Nemo,” he says, excitedly.

  “You can’t name him Nemo,” Troy argues.

  “Why not? He’s my fish.”

  “They don’t stop,” Amy says as her boys fight over naming the fish. “It’s like this twenty-four-seven. Bickering and fighting all day long.”

  “But you wouldn’t have it any other way,” I add.

  She points at me. “You’re right, I wouldn’t. We better get going.”

  “That’s right,” I say, crouching down in front of the twins. “You have school tomorrow.”

  Marcus frowns, and Troy smiles. “I read two books after school today so I can take an accelerated reader test tomorrow.”

  “Show off,” Marcus mumbles.

  I laugh, noticing that the ache I normally get in my chest when I interact with the b
oys is gone. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.” I stand up and wave goodbye to Amy and the kids as they walk away.

  33

  Claire

  “There is nothing sexier than the smile on your face right now,” Trevor whispers, wrapping his arms around me from behind. He’s still holding my cotton candy and lemon shake-up, and I lean forward to take a sip.

  “And I’m guessing by that smile that everything went better than you expected it to.”

  Placing my hands on top of his arms, I hold him to me. “It went great. She wasn’t at all mad, and you were right; as I was talking to her about it, I felt like I was letting it go. I think it’s always going to bother me, but I definitely feel lighter about the situation.”

  “I’m so proud of you.”

  Turning in Trevor’s arms, I smile up at him. “I’m proud of me too. We should celebrate. What do you want to do next?”

  “I figured you’d want to get home at a decent time since I kept you up late last night and you have to work tomorrow.”

  “I’m not tired, and this is the best first date I’ve ever had. I don’t want it to end.”

  “Okay…” Trevor looks over my shoulder and grins. “How about we dance?”

  “I love to dance.”

  “That’s why I suggested it.” He pulls away and motions to somewhere behind me.

  I turn around and sure enough, there’s a stage across the way. Equipment is set up, and a band is taking its place in front of a small crowd. A sign perched on the corner of the stage reads Dancing: FREE Karaoke: $1 per song.

  “Let’s do it.”

  Trevor tucks the cotton candy under his arm so he can take my hand. “I’ll dance, but you’re not getting me on that stage to sing.”

  For over an hour, we watch people climb onstage. Some sing perfectly, some off key, and others can’t sing to save their lives, but it doesn’t matter how they sound because Trevor and I are having the time of our lives. We’ve danced and laughed and when the middle-aged woman in a crop top and far too much makeup steps off the stage, we collapse onto a bench.

  “That was fun,” I say, blowing my hair out of my face. “I didn’t know you could dance.”

  “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

  “Isn’t it weird that we’ve known each other our whole lives, but there’s still so much we don’t know about the other?”

  “Tell me something about yourself that I don’t know,” Trevor says. “Wait, tell me something no one else knows.”

  “Like a secret?”

  “A secret, a hidden talent, a fear, anything. I want a piece of you that no one else is privy to.”

  “Okay.” I look around, trying to come up with something I can tell him, when my eyes land on the microphone.

  Singing was a thing between me and Dad—something I cherished and loved. He would twirl me around the house, and we would belt out tunes while Mom cooked dinner. Most people don’t even know I can sing, or that I love to sing. I haven’t so much as a hummed a tune in front of another person since my father’s death—not even Mom or Mo—but I find myself wanting to sing for Trevor.

  “Wait here.”

  I leave him sitting on the bench. I walk up to the young girl sitting at a table beside the stage, hand her my dollar bill, and give her my song request. The band members wave me on stage, and that’s when the panic sets in.

  My heart is pounding, my palms sweating, and there’s a good chance my entire funnel cake will end up on the floor at my feet.

  “You okay, darlin’?” the guitarist asks.

  “Just feeling a little uneasy,” I say, looking out at the small crowd. Most of them aren’t even paying attention, but Trevor is, and his smile is about as wide as it can get.

  “You don’t have to sing. We’ll even give you your dollar back.”

  I smile up at the man. “No, I want to.”

  He nods. “Just relax and have fun. That’s what this is all about.”

  “What if I mess up?”

  He chuckles, his belly bouncing in the process. “No one’s gonna care.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

  The man covers the microphone with his hand and leans in close. He smells of Old Spice and cigars, and a wave of nostalgia washes over me. “You did hear the last woman sing, right? You can’t be any worse than her.”

  I shouldn’t laugh, but I do.

  “You ready?”

  I nod. He hands me the microphone, and I take a deep breath. Trevor wanted to learn something about me that no one else knew, and this is about as big as it gets.

  The band beings to play. I listen to the opening chords, and when I hear the familiar tune, I lift the microphone and begin to sing. The melody flows through me as I close my eyes and sing the old country ballad. It’s about a man who loses the woman of his dreams and battles his way through addiction to get her back. It was one of my dad’s favorites, and when I find myself alone or in the shower, it’s this song that finds its way to my lips.

  My legs are shaking, but my voice doesn’t waver. I pour every ounce of energy I have into the lyrics, and when the song ends and I hear thunderous applause, I force myself to look up. There are only about twenty people surrounding the stage, but they’re all standing up and clapping, including Trevor.

  “You killed it,” the guitarist says, taking the microphone from me. “You up for singing another one?”

  “Not tonight.” I grin. “But you’ll see me again soon.”

  “I hope so.”

  I bounce off stage, and Trevor is at the bottom of the steps waiting for me. He pulls me into his arms and kisses me. “I had no idea you could sing like that.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing. Your voice is beautiful. Have you been singing your whole life?” he says, guiding me back to our bench.

  “My dad used to sing. Some of my fondest memories are of us dancing around the house. We’d both be singing as he twirled me from room to room. Johnny Cash, Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston, Snoop Dogg—our playlist was endless.”

  “Snoop Dogg?”

  “Oh yeah.” I nod. “My dad could spit out a mean beat.”

  “Do you want to do it again?” he asks, nodding toward the stage. “I’d love to hear you sing something else.”

  “Definitely, but not tonight. I think once was enough considering I’ve never sung in public before. Why are you smiling at me like that?”

  “Because you amaze me. Everything about you amazes me.” He blinks. “Come on, Tiny Singer, let’s get you home.”

  Trevor and I talk and laugh the entire way to my place, which doesn’t take long, and when he pulls into my driveway, he puts his truck in park. “Don’t move.”

  He jumps out, jogs around the front, and opens my door. With my hand in his, he helps me out and walks me to the front door.

  “Do you do that with all the girls?”

  “I told you before, it’s just you.”

  Grinning, I pull my keys out of my pocket. “Would you like to come in?”

  Trevor takes my hand when I reach for the doorknob. “Not tonight,” he says, pulling me in for a kiss.

  “Really?” I sigh. “Because tonight was perfect, and I thought we’d end it with a replay of last night.” I fist my hands in the front of his shirt.

  “Tonight was perfect, and last night…” He shakes his head and smiles wryly. “Last night was phenomenal. But I’ve never done this before,” he says, motioning between us. “And you’re taking a chance on me, so I really want to do this the right way.”

  Ugh…can he get any more perfect?

  “And by the right way, you mean you’re going to end the date with a chaste kiss, and you’ll call me in a few days to set up our next one?”

  “Hell no.” Trevor curls his fingers around the back of my neck. Using his thumbs, he tilts my face up. His lips linger above mine. “We’re going to end with a heated kiss that I hope will leave you thinking about me all n
ight long and well into the morning, and then I’m going to pick you up again tomorrow night for another date.”

  “Another date?”

  “I’m prepared to woo you, Red. That means lots of dates. I’m talking dinner, dancing, movies, walks on the beach… If it’s something new couples do, we’re going to do it.”

  Giddiness bubbles up inside of me. “No one has ever wooed me before.”

  “No?” he whispers, lowering his head.

  I shake my head, my eyes dropping to his sinfully full lips.

  “Well, hold on tight, sweetheart, because I’m about to woo the hell out of you.”

  34

  Claire

  When Trevor said he was going to do things right, he wasn’t kidding. Every night for the last week and half, he’s done something special. The night after our trip to the pier, he took me to my favorite restaurant, Giovanni’s, and the night after that we ended up an hour away at a mom-and-pop diner where we ate our weight in homemade chicken-n-dumplings and apple pie.

  The next few nights he had to work, and that wasn’t easy for me. I worried about him, wondering what types of calls he was getting and if he was okay, but Trevor made sure to let me know I was on his mind. Not only did he text me regularly, he had a gorgeous bouquet of wildflowers sent to my house on Saturday night, and on Monday night, half an hour after I came home from Animal Haven, he had a pizza delivered from Sal’s Pizzeria with a note attached: You mentioned going straight from work to Animal Haven, and I wanted to make sure you got something to eat. I hope you like pepperoni.

  I legit curled up on my couch with the box of pizza and cried as I sent him a text.

  Sal’s is my favorite.

  His reply was immediate. I know.

  I don’t remember telling him, and we haven’t eaten there in the short time we’ve been together. How did you know?

  I manage to eat an entire slice while I wait for him to answer.

  The summer of your senior year, Coop let me tag along with you guys to the movies, and afterward we had Sal’s. You said it was your favorite.