by Emma Hart
“I have to get that,” I breathed, sliding out of his grip. I snatched up the phone. “Best Served Cold, Raelynn speaking,” I answered, doing my best to get control over my voice.
“Raelynn Marie Fortune! Where the devil are you?” Grandma shouted down the phone. “You’re late. You didn’t call. You didn’t text. You—”
“I’m at the store,” I replied. “Or I wouldn’t be answering the phone here, would I?”
“Don’t you sass me, young lady!” Grandma was still a few decibels too loud, so I held the phone an inch or two away from my ear. “I asked you where you were!”
“I’m at Best Served Cold!” I shouted back. “The phone you called me on!”
Chase buried his face in his hands to hide his laughter.
Grandma paused. “Oh. Of course. What have you been doing?”
“Working. Then I had dinner and came back here. Why?”
“Your mother is driving me insane.”
“You gave birth to her.”
“And somehow got stuck with you,” Grandma continued. “I think I finally knocked her out with some hot soup.”
Oh no.
“You drugged her, didn’t you?”
Silence.
“Grandma!” I snapped, ignoring Chase’s laughter.
“Is that Chase? Are you together?”
“Answer the damn question!”
“Yes, I drugged her!” she spat out quickly. “She was hysterical. I slipped her a Dramamine, and she passed out on the sofa.”
Jesus. Help me.
I slumped onto the counter. “Grandma, you can’t drug her to make her stop talking.”
“That’s what parents do to their children. Don’t you know how good Benadryl is at making tiny humans sleep?”
“Grandma!”
“What?” she asked at the same time Chase did.
I tilted it so the voice piece wasn’t near my mouth and looked at him. “She drugged my mother with Dramamine because she was irritating her.”
That did it for him. He burst out laughing and collapsed on top of the counter. He didn’t even care that his half-eaten sundae had melted into a warm, gloopy mess that had brownie bits floating on top.
All I could deduce was that he was high as fuck on kissing.
You could be high on worse things.
“That was Chase! You’re with him!” Grandma’s voice was shrill.
She’d been drinking. Dear Lord.
“Where’s Grandpa?” I asked. “I have a question for him.”
“You don’t need your grandpa,” she replied. “I can tell—dammit!”
“Hey, pumpkin,” Grandpa’s dulcet tones came through the line. “What’s up?”
I cut to the chase. “Should I come home, or should I find a place to stay tonight?”
“Depends,” he answered. “Are you with Chase? Because I’m workin’ on this birdhouse and I’ll be damned if I can get the damn thing to go right.”
That wasn’t what I was looking for.
“Fine. But you make sure Mom is asleep, and Grandma is shackled before we get there. Did you let her drink?”
“Which one?”
“Either one.”
“Oh, I gave them both a glass of wine with some herbal calming crap in it. I guess it worked a little too well.”
Great. Mom had Dramamine and herbal stuff. No wonder she was out of it.
“Jesus, Grandpa!”
“It’s fine. It was lavender. They’re fine.” He paused. “Are you coming back?”
“Hold on.” I pressed the phone against my shoulder. “Grandpa wants to know if you can come over and take a look at a birdhouse.”
Chase held out his hands. “I’m here, aren’t I? Tell him we’ll be right there.”
“We will, will we?”
“We will.” His eyes sparkled, and the curve of his lips made my stomach flutter. He reached out and took the phone from me before I could consider that he was talking about us in a couple term. “Hey,” he said into the phone. “We’re on our way. Give us fifteen minutes, and we’ll be there…. Sure…. You got it.” He finished with a laugh and handed the phone back to me. “We have to go.”
That was all he said before he set the phone back on the dock and headed for the door.
I guessed I was turning off all the lights.
***
I pulled up in front of Grandpa’s truck, leaving Chase to park on the street. He didn’t seem to mind at all. He was at my car before I’d even gotten out, and he emphasized that by opening my door for me.
I muttered a thank you and headed for the side door of the garage with Chase right behind me. I couldn’t quite compute that less than an hour ago we were kissing in the store and now we were at my house to deal with my insane relatives.
Great.
This couldn’t get any worse, could it?
Hold that thought. I’d watched rom-coms. I knew what those thoughts ended up as.
Ignore that, universe.
Come back tomorrow.
I pushed open the side door to the garage with Chase right behind me. Grandpa was kneeling on the floor with his head inside what looked like a huge wooden box. He was surrounded by bricks and tubes and other garden things, so I guessed he was in the middle of one of those bug house things.
“Hey, Grandpa.” I dinged the windchime that hung near the door.
He bumped his head on the ledge above him as he moved out. “Hi, kids. Your grandma finally calmed down,” he said, looking at me. “She’s passed out on the sofa.”
“I can’t believe you drugged them.”
Chase chuckled.
“This is not funny!” I turned to him, hands on my hips.
“I didn’t drug them. I simply…influenced them.” Grandpa stood up and wiped his dirty hands on his even dirtier pants.
Way to go, Grandpa.
“You drugged them!”
“It’s herbal. It’s fine. They’re fine.” He waved a hand and went over to the small sink to wash his hands. “Your mom is asleep in bed and, as I told you, your grandmother is snoring on the sofa. No harm done. Except to my earlobes from all the caterwauling.”
Caterwauling? Oh, God. He was pulling out the big words.
“Caterwauling?” Chase laughed. “What were they doing? Singing?”
“Whining. Fucking whining,” Grandpa grumbled, grabbing a towel. “Like a bunch of teenage girls who’ve been caught wearing too-short skirts to school. Like you did, Rae.”
“I did not,” I replied indignantly.
“You did,” Chase responded immediately. “I remember that well.”
I shot him a dark look. That wasn’t helpful at all.
“Thank you.” Grandpa nodded in his direction. “I don’t know why you’re complainin’ over there, Rae. You didn’t come home to handle it, did you?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “No, I didn’t. She showed up after two years of barely talking to me. Am I supposed to suddenly fall over my feet to be there for her? Where the hell was she when Aunt Allie died? Where was she when we needed her? She didn’t even come home for her own sister’s funeral. She didn’t come when I needed her. She never helped anyone except Dad. Excuse me if I harbor some crap toward her.”
Grandpa sighed, resting against the wooden counter that ran the length of the garage. Cupboards hung above it, and the storage shelves beneath it were stacked with all kinds of building materials.
“I know,” Grandpa said quietly, letting out a long breath. “I know, sweet pea. I know. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need you right now.”
“She hasn’t needed me for two years. Why would she now?”
“She’s your mom.”
“That didn’t bother her when she didn’t come home when I needed her.”
“Rae…” Grandpa sighed, rubbing one hand down his wrinkled face. “I know. Holding grudges doesn’t help anyone. She’s hurting. She’s my daughter, and I love you both more than you know, but you holding onto this ange
r doesn’t help either of you in this situation.”
I folded my arms across my chest. Was I childish? Yes. Was I avoiding this? Yes. Was I wrong? Yes, probably. Did that mean my emotions didn’t still control my actions?
No.
Sometimes emotions ruled all.
“Anyway,” Grandpa said, smiling. “What are you two doing together?”
I shared a look with Chase.
“Saving her from hurting herself even more,” he answered. “I was about to go home when I heard her smashing things in the back.”
“Smashing things?”
“I tried to get something off the shelf and caused carnage. I was hardly throwing plates at the walls.” I folded my arms across my chest. “It’s a little thing called an accident, and they happen to people.”
“Especially creative people,” Grandpa said, nodding.
“Yeah, ‘cause her head is always in the damn clouds,” Chase muttered, walking over to Grandpa’s project and crouching down.
I stepped forward and smacked my hand across the back of his head. “Asshole.”
He winced, rubbing the back of his head, and Grandpa laughed.
“How are the tables?” I asked him, catching sight of something that looked similar in shape to the ones I’d shown him on my laptop.
“One is done. Ready for your paint.” He pointed to the one I was looking at. “The second one is almost done. They were simpler than I thought they would be.”
“Tables?” Chase asked, looking up at me then over at the table.
I went over and ran my hand over the top. “New tables for the store.”
“You can’t buy them like a normal person?”
I pursed my lips. “You’re getting on my nerves now.”
He grinned.
Grandpa shook his head. “I’m going to check on the whiny ones. I’ll be back in a few.” He left, kicking his shoes off at the door that led into the house.
Chase stood up and walked over. “They’re nice. You’re painting them?”
I nodded and opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out.
“Ah. Secret?” He quirked his lips to the side and looked at me knowingly.
“Not really.” I paused. “They’re going to be cones.”
“Cones?”
“Ice cream cones. You know, those weird wafer things you serve ice cream in?”
“Ha. Funny.” He poked me. “So you’re painting them to look like cones?”
I nodded and ran my hand over the top. “The top of the table is going to be the ice cream, and they’re going to be all different colors. Then I’m going to paint the ice cream down the side as if it’s melting.”
Chase bobbed his head up and down. “They’re going to look awesome. Very you.”
I smiled and shrugged a shoulder. “I can’t take credit for it. It goes to Pinterest.”
He laughed and wrapped one arm around my shoulders, hugging me against his side. His body was solid, and I leaned into him, turning my body into his a little.
His laughter petered out until we were standing in complete silence. He dipped his head to mine, making my heart stutter with the thought he was going to kiss me again.
I wanted him to.
I didn’t know why, but I did. I wanted him to kiss me again.
A throat cleared from behind us and we jumped apart. Grandpa was standing in the doorway, a foot in one of his shoes, with an eyebrow raised and his lips curving to the side.
I coughed. “We were just—the tables. Explaining it. To Chase.”
Grandpa took his foot back out of the shoe and went back into the house.
“Smooth,” Chase laughed, nudging me.
“Shut up.” I nudged him back and stepped away, hiding my own laugh. “Thank you for dinner.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for not wishing I’d choke on my food.”
I laughed, wrapping my arms around my waist. “You’re welcome. Thank you for not choking. I appreciate it.”
He rubbed his hand over his chin, smiling. Slowly, he reached out and pushed my hair behind my ear, letting his fingertips trail down the curve of my jaw until they fell away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Rae.”
My skin tingled where he’d just touched me. “See you tomorrow.” I smiled and watched him leave, going out the same door we’d come in.
I dipped my head to look at the floor, still smiling.
Damn it.
I was in trouble.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE – RAELYNN
I wielded the drill like a weapon.
I had no idea what I was doing with this thing, but I was determined to figure it out. I had no idea what I’d do if I needed to be bailed out again by Chase.
I’d never live it down, I knew that much. First the wallpaper stripping, then the painting, and finally, last night’s adventures in the kitchen where I’d smashed two sundae glasses.
If I needed him a fourth time…
Well, I didn’t know if I could cope with that. Not just because it would prove that I was wholly incompetent at any kind of DIY work, but because it’d mean being with him again.
No matter how much I thought I hated him, an almost sleepless night of flip-flopping from my belly to my back and from my left side to my right side had proven it wrong.
I didn’t hate him. I hated the thought of what he’d done, and while there was still some anger from his admission that he did steal my ideas, I couldn’t be angry about the why.
I got it. I understood. It was stupid, and he was stupid, but I got it.
And no matter what I did, my body reacted to him. Like a moth to a damn flame, I couldn’t help it. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to curl myself into his side and just stay there.
I was screwed. I didn’t know if it was just the feeling of having him in my life again or if the way I was feeling was something deeper.
Despite my protests, neither of us had ever had closure with the end of our relationship. I hated to admit it, but Sophie had been right when she’d said I’d never given myself any time to get over Chase.
I hadn’t.
I’d gone right into hating him before I’d been able to mourn the end of the relationship. Before I’d been able to face up to what I’d done to him and how I’d hurt him. I’d never allowed myself to think about the fact I’d broken up with him—I’d never been able to see if there was a way to change that.
Everything after that had happened so fast, and in a stupid blur of emotion, everything that had happened, happened. There was no way to go back and change it. I couldn’t take back two years of hating him just like he couldn’t take back opening his store.
We’d both made stupid choices.
I just needed to figure out if my feelings were nostalgia or real. And doing that wouldn’t be easy. I didn’t know where to begin doing that, but I knew one thing: I needed to tell Chase.
I needed to talk to him. Not talking was why we’d been through the things that we had. If I’d spoken to him, I might never have needed to break up with him, and he never would have opened that store.
If my feelings turned out to be because he was there and it was comfortable, then he needed to know that. He needed to know that I was confused and unsure and didn’t know what to do.
I owed him that much.
We were adults, and we had to act like it. Especially me. I wasn’t always good at that. My biggest flaw was my tendency to lead with my heart and not my head. I let my emotions take control too often, and the fact that I had a hot temper wasn’t exactly complementary to that flaw.
It was one hell of a pain in the ass to be me. And know me. And love me.
Which made Chase Aarons one hell of a guy.
Still a douchebag—my toe did still hurt—but better than I gave him credit for.
I pressed the button on the drill, and it buzzed, the sound vibrating through the silence. I could do this. I could put a few holes in the walls for my ice cream lights. It wasn’t that hard, was it?
No. It was just a hole.
“What are you doing?”
I turned to see Sophie standing in the doorway. “What?”
“You’re standing there with the drill running and doing nothing.” She fought back laughter. “What are you doing?”
“Oh.” I glanced at the drill. “Thinking about the best way to drill a hole in the wall.”
“Are your lights here? Ooh, ooh, I wanna see!”
I pointed to the monstrous box that Chase had taken in yesterday. “They’re all boxed individually. I opened a couple. They’re really cute.”
Soph ran over and tore open the box, picking up the first small one and pulling out the light. It was so cute, maybe ten inches tall, and one half of it was flat so it would be flush against the wall. Tiny little switches were just under the ice cream part of the light, and I couldn’t wait to see how they looked when they were all turned on.
“How do they attach to the wall?” She flipped it over.
“There’s a little thing that attaches to another thing.”
“That sounds like it can’t possibly go wrong.” She paused. “Why don’t you ask Chase to help you?”
“Why would I ask him to help?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Because he’s a man, and because you two had dinner together last night?” Her tone was accusatory, but her eyes said she was messing with me.
I sighed and explained how we’d ended up together. “He was just helping me waste time, that’s all.”
“I can’t believe your dad left your mom.”
“I know. She was still asleep when I left this morning. Maybe we’ll talk tonight, I don’t know. But I can’t focus on everything at once.” I shook my head, picking the drill back up. “Between the store, Chase, and my mom, my head is exploding.”
“Why would Chase be making your head explode?” She waggled her eyebrows. “Are you falling for him again?”
“I don’t know. Can you fall for someone more than once?”
“I think you can fall in love with someone a hundred times,” Soph said, sitting on the window seat. “Just because you fall in love with someone once doesn’t mean that’s the only time. How do you think those couples who have been together for, like, seventy years do it? They don’t love each other at eighty the way they did when they were twenty or even at fifty. Love isn’t one size fits all. Love evolves as you grow and change.”