“Do you guys already know what you want?” I ask.
“Just a couple burgers and fries,” Dave grumbles. “Some Cokes would be nice too.”
Without saying anything else to them, I turn and walk away. I put their order in and bring them their drinks before moving behind the counter to check on Travis.
“Do you need anything?” I ask him.
“Coffee,” he says bluntly, not bothering to stop drawing or even glance up at me in acknowledgment.
I turn his coffee mug over, grab the pot and fill up his cup. I clear my throat as I set the pot back down, knowing that I am probably about to start an argument, but right now, I don’t care.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Is it going to piss me off right now?”
I don’t answer him. I know if I say yes, he will just say no. Travis sighs loudly. He drops his pencil on top of his sketchpad, closing it so that I can’t see what it is he is working on. “What?”
I open my mouth and pause before continuing. “Over at the booth you said that Mel spent the night.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I’m a little curious as to why she spent the night when she wasn’t even your girlfriend, but we’ve been together for a few months now, and you never invite me to stay over at your place. I’m there all the time, but if we spend the night together it’s only ever at my place.”
“It was a mistake that shouldn’t have happened and will never happen again. My space is my own.”
“So what you are telling me is that we will never live together? Well, it’s nice to know exactly where our relationship stands in the future. I have to get back to work, Molly can ring you out when you are done with your coffee.”
Thankfully, Nathanial picks that moment to call out that an order is up. I disappear into the kitchen and grab the three plates of burgers, setting them down on a large round tray before carrying them into the dining area. Travis is still sitting at the counter, glaring at me as I walk past.
“Trouble in paradise?” Evan gloats as I set their plates down in front of them.
“Evan?” I ask.
“Yeah?”
“Shut the hell up.”
His mouth drops open as I turn around to walk away. I can see Russell giving me a dirty look, but for once he doesn’t scold me.
“Gracie-” Travis starts as I walk by. I hold my hand up to stop him as I walk past him to check on another table.
This conversation will be continued but not right at this moment. First of all, I am not giving these people anything else to gossip about. Secondly, I don’t want to add any more fuel to Evan’s rapidly burning fire. He is doing things specifically to piss off Travis, and, I suppose, to come in between us as well. It is pretty obvious that he wants me and Travis to break up. I don’t think he realizes that I wouldn’t consider dating him at all. Not after everything that he has said and done. I’m actually starting to miss the Evan that I met my first night at karaoke. I glance his way. He gives me a sad smile and my stomach drops.
Chapter Nineteen
Travis
I watch Gracie glance over at Evan. It feels like a kick in the stomach as I see her face transform. She wasn’t exactly happy before, but now she looks almost, I don’t know, devastated? That doesn’t seem right, but my guess is, whatever she is feeling is close enough to it. I turn around to look at Evan, only to regret it as soon as I see the sad smile he is giving her.
This is fucking ridiculous. I came in here to enjoy a nice quiet lunch while I do a little sketching, before going home to finish the paintings I have been working on for Aidan. Instead, I get confronted the moment I walk in the door by Dave, of all people or, technically, it was by Evan acting as Dave’s mouthpiece. That moves into my arguing with Dave, and then arguing with Gracie, over fucking Mel. The icing on the cake is watching my girlfriend make sad eyes with the one dick-head in town that wants her for himself.
I stand up and grab five bucks out of my pocket, slamming it down hard on the countertop. I snatch up my pencil and sketchbook and storm out of the diner, not bothering to make eye contact with anyone on my way out. I climb up into my Jeep, roaring the engine to life before peeling out of the parking lot.
For the first time since I started dating Gracie, I want to use. I am craving the one thing I know can take it all away, even for just a short period of time. It would be so easy to drive into the next town, get what I want and go home. Nobody would even have to know.
That’s a lie, though. Everyone would end up knowing because I have never been able to take just one hit of anything, especially not heroin. I pull my Jeep over, parking it along the curb of the main road that runs through Brooksville. My hands are shaking and my heart is beating so fast and hard, it feels like it is going to explode through my chest at any moment. I bring my hands up, scrubbing them over my face.
I need to get myself under control. This isn’t just about me anymore, though at the moment I am kind of wishing that it were. If I were single, I wouldn’t be going through this. There would have been no confrontation with Mel, in which case, I wouldn’t be fighting with anyone and I wouldn’t be struggling with the urge to get high.
It’s pointless to think that way, though. The truth is, I need Gracie in my life just as much as I want her in it. She is the light in my world that was consumed with darkness for so long and I’ll be damned if anyone or anything is going to fuck this up. Pulling out my phone, I scroll through the names in my contact list until I get to hers. I press the little envelope to open up a text message.
Trav – What time do you work until?
I sit there for a few minutes, waiting as patiently as I can for her to text me back. It feels like it takes forever, and I start to think maybe she won’t, but then my phone vibrates.
Gracie – 4:00
I glance at the time on my dash. I’ve got about three hours before she is scheduled to get off from work. Surely I can refrain from doing anything stupid for three hours. I’ll just drive home and work on my paintings like I was originally planning to do.
Trav – Can I come over so we can talk?
Gracie – Sure
I feel like I should say something else, but I don’t. I don’t want to apologize to her in a text message. With a deep sigh, I put the car into drive and pull away from the curb to continue on towards my house.
As soon as I get inside, I hurry down to my studio. My current piece is already sitting on the easel, waiting to be completed. It’s a painting of the clock tower in the town square. Today would have been a good day to sit outside there and paint, but there will be too many people milling around. I am not in the mood to have anyone hovering over my shoulder, watching me as I paint. I don’t want to listen to people tell me how wonderful they think my work is. It’s not that I don’t think I do good work, I am just not in the mood to have a bunch of old bitties blowing smoke up my ass about how great they think I am doing. If they really knew, I am willing to bet they would never approach me again.
That’s the kind of mood I am in. All it would take is for someone to say something to me and I will just go off on them. Within seconds, my mother will have heard about it, even though she is on the other side of town. She’ll either blow up my cell phone or take her chances when it comes to obeying the speed limit as she is on her way to hunt me down. I can hear her now.
“Travis Eugene Foster! What have I told you about minding your manners when you are talking to a lady, and to one of your elders at that?”
I swear she must have practiced yelling out my entire name when she was deciding on a middle name. She has perfected the way she enunciates the first syllable. When I was a child, I made it a personal game to see if I could get to her before she had the chance to spew out my terrible middle name.
I walk over to my radio and turn on the first rock station I come to. I could do without the commercials, but really I don’t care. I just need something on in the background. I grab jars of blue paints, all diffe
rent shades and fill a can up with water, setting them down on the table next to my easel. I sit down on the stool, not bothering to put a smock on first. I’m only wearing torn jeans and a black t-shirt. I could honestly care less if they get messed up.
Picking up the photograph I took of the clock tower, I study over it, memorizing the different tones of blue in the sky and the way that the clouds swirl around like cotton candy being pulled off of the cone. The sky was amazing the day I took this photograph. It was a bright sapphire blue, fading into a blue that was so light, it was almost opaque. Dipping my brush into one of the jars, I get busy bringing those beautiful hues to life on my canvas.
It doesn’t take me long to get into a groove, and once I do, I can feel a lot of the tension lift from my shoulders. I credit that mostly to the music. It helps keep me going a lot more than silence. I get so entranced by what I am doing that I don’t even realize how much time has passed until my cell phone vibrates with a text from Gracie, letting me know she is about to leave the diner. I quickly dump out the dingy water from my can and rinse the blue paint out of my brushes.
Walking upstairs, I head into my bathroom. I turn on the shower, stripping off my paint splattered clothes, carefully folding them so that I don’t get paint on anything else. As I climb underneath the warm water, Gracie’s words from the diner replay in my mind,
So what you are telling me is that we will never live together? Well, it’s nice to know exactly where our relationship stands in the future.
That’s not what I was trying to say. Not completely anyway. It isn’t that I don’t want something long-term with Gracie, of course I do, it’s just that I know I am bound to screw this up at some point. God, and she brought up us moving in together. Granted, she didn’t exactly say that she wanted to move in with me, but it clearly is something she assumed would happen someday. Why wouldn’t she, though? Isn’t that typically the natural progression of relationships?
Of course it is, but that doesn’t mean I am ready for us to move in together. Shit, why do relationships have to be so difficult? Maybe this is the real reason why I haven’t had a girlfriend since before I went to rehab. As difficult as it may be, I’m not about to let her go. Whatever I have to do to make this work, I am going to do it.
Chapter Twenty
Gracie
"I was starting to think you weren't coming," I say, opening up the door as Travis walks across my lawn.
He flashes me a small smile. "I was painting all afternoon. I wanted to get a shower before I came over here."
"You said you wanted to talk?"
Travis nods. He takes my hand in his, entwining our fingers together as he leads me into the living room. Holding one hand out, he motions for me to sit down on the couch. He sits next to me, turning his body so that he is facing me. Our knees brush together. He clasps my hand a little tighter. What should be a comforting gesture makes my stomach flutter with nerves, like he is about to tell me something I really don’t want to hear.
"That comment I made about my house being my space," He pauses, taking a moment to breathe in deeply. "It had nothing to do with our relationship. My saying that doesn't mean I don't see a future with you."
"That's how I felt. I guess I don't understand why you have never invited me, your girlfriend, to spend the night, but some random hookup got to stay there."
Travis lets go of my hand and turns his body slightly away from me. His actions leave me feeling cold and hurt. He holds his hands out in front of himself and stares down at them, examining his palms before rubbing his hands together.
"I don't think I would exactly call Mel random."
"That doesn't make it better, Travis," I mutter.
"For Christ sakes, I didn't mean it like that, Gracie!" Exasperated, Travis throws his hands up in the air.
"Did you like her?" I ask, not one hundred percent positive that I want to know the answer to that.
"Yes, I liked her," Travis says honestly. "I wouldn't have slept with her otherwise, but I was never interested in a relationship with her. Even if she had a chance, it went out the window the moment I saw you."
I wrap my arms around Travis's arm and lay my head against his shoulder. He leans down and drops a couple of kisses on my head.
"Can I ask you something?" he whispers.
"Of course," I whisper back.
"Do you have feelings for Evan?"
I sit up and stare at him. "Are you serious? Didn't you ask me that before?"
"Yes, but that was before I watched you make sad eyes at him today."
"That was because he makes me sad."
"Why? Why does he make you feel anything?"
"Because he's not the guy I met when I got here. Coincidentally neither are you. Not all the time anyway."
Travis sighs and drops his head. I stare at him, waiting for him to say something. When he looks back at me, I want to cry. He looks sad, like he is fighting for something that he knows he is going to lose, which makes no sense because he isn’t going to lose me.
"Tell me what it is you want,” he whispers. “cause sometimes I worry that I won’t be enough for you."
"You, Travis. I just want you. That’s enough for me."
“What about the future? Do you want marriage and babies? A white picket fence and a perfect, two-story mansion that you can entertain all of your friends in?”
“I’d like marriage and babies someday, I’m not going to lie and pretend that I don’t. I don’t care about a white picket fence or some big fancy house and the only friends I have are Molly and your family. I think the real question is what do you want? Are marriage and babies out of the question, because I don’t think I can compromise on those.”
Travis stares up at the ceiling thoughtfully for a moment before turning back to look at me. His gray eyes are clouded with fear and uncertainty. His tongue snakes out of his mouth and glides across his lips quickly. “Marriage I think I could do but I find the idea of becoming a father completely terrifying. I’ve done some fucked up things in my life and I can’t screw up a child like that.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you would make a great father,” I whisper.
“Why? What on earth is it about me that would make you think that?”
“Because I know how much you love your family. Because, behind this tough, angry, sulky exterior that you insist on letting everyone see, there is a really sweet, thoughtful and caring man. You’re not the guy you used to be, maybe you don’t see it yet, but someday you will.”
Travis gives me a small smile and nods his head. I can tell that he doesn’t fully believe what I am saying to him but I know it will just take him time. It’s not like we are starting a family tomorrow so it doesn’t really matter that he doesn’t see everything that I see.
“Are we okay?” he asks.
“We’re okay.” I nod.
Travis grabs a hold of my arms and pulls me on top of him so that I am straddling his hips. His hands slide up my arms, over my shoulders, and down my back. His touch is slow and cautious but it still sends electric jolts of lust coursing through my body. I close my eyes, my body completely relaxing as I concentrate on nothing except the way he touches me.
His hands come to a rest as they cup my bottom. Travis shifts slightly underneath me and then I feel his lips move along my neck. He pauses, taking a moment to graze my flesh with his teeth and my breath hitches.
“I want you, Gracie,” he whispers.
“Then take me,” I whisper back.
~*~
For the next two days, Travis and I barely leave my bedroom; we are so consumed with each other. We only venture out to shower and eat.
It’s time to get back to reality, a thought that disappoints me as I pull on my pants for work. I’ve never minded working, but today is one of those days where I wish I didn’t have to go. I’d much rather hang out in Travis’s studio than serve people food, no matter how nice the regulars at the diner can be.
“What are you pl
anning on doing today?” I ask.
Travis shifts on my bed, stretching his arms out before reaching back and clasping his hands behind his head. He isn’t wearing a shirt and the sight of his skin stretching over the muscles in his stomach cause my heart to jump.
“I have some work to do in the studio,” he says. “I got an order to recreate someone’s engagement picture on canvas. I have to run into town and pick up some new brushes first.”
“Are you going to stop in the diner?”
“Maybe for dinner. I’ll text you later and let you know for sure, though.”
Walking over to my closet, I grab a white shirt off of a wooden hanger. When I turn back around, Travis has moved so that he is sitting on the edge of the bed. His gray eyes are staring at me intently, sending delicious chills down my spine. Holding one hand up, he motions for me to come to him with two fingers. Pulling my shirt over my hand, I walk over to him. His hands fly out, molding to my hips as he yanks me towards him. I giggle as I fall into his lap. His arms wrap protectively around me as he drops a couple of kisses on my neck.
“We still have about forty minutes,” he tells me.
Turning slightly, I give him a playful push. “You haven’t had enough? You’re like a horny teenage boy.”
Travis laughs. “I don’t recall you complaining.”
“That’s because I have no complaints, but we both know if our clothes come off, I won’t be making it into work.”
“So, your point is?”
“I need the money, you know that. Besides, didn’t you just tell me you have a piece to work on?”
“Yeah,” Travis sighs. “But it’s been nice being here, wrapped up in our own little world. Once we walk out the door, everything will change.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing, just once we leave the house, it’s back to the real world. Right now nothing matters but me and you. These past couple of days, just being here with you, have been really great.”
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