by Amber Stokes
Grabbing the plates—after checking to be sure the burners really were off—he joined her at the table. He slid a plate in front of her and sat. Then, surprising himself with his boldness, he placed his hand over hers and bowed his head, shutting his eyes tight so he couldn’t see her expression.
“Dear Lord, thank you for this food that You’ve provided. And thank you for sending Brielle my way. Amen.”
He dropped her hand and sliced up his Spam with a ferocity to rival the waves crashing on shore. After he dunked his first bite in ketchup and began chewing, he finally braved a glance across the table.
Brielle was dipping a piece of the meat in ketchup, and a smile seemed to play about her lips. It was hard to tell, but the smile didn’t appear mocking. More...happy.
When she finished chewing, she met his gaze, and her smile grew. “Well, what do you know?”
∞∞∞
Derrick awoke to harsh voices. It took him a moment to snap out of his grogginess enough to realize that the sounds were coming from the living room...where Brielle was sleeping. He half-stumbled, half-rolled off the cushions as the words registered in his mind.
“Please go away.”
“I saw the way you looked at me earlier. Don’t tell me you don’t want me.”
“Don’t touch me!” Brielle’s voice rose.
Derrick pushed to his feet, threw open his door, and ran down the hall, tripping over Scott’s pile of laundry in the dark. A flick of the light at the end of the hall caused Scott to jump up from where he had been half-sitting, half-reclining on the couch.
Red-hot anger flushed from Derrick’s head to his hands. “What’re you doing?”
“It’s none of your business.” But Scott’s lips quirked to one side as if he were ashamed, and he didn’t meet Derrick’s glare.
“Get out.”
Derrick’s fists clenched for a fight, but Scott retreated down the hall to his room without another word. The click of a door shutting brought Derrick’s gaze to Brielle. She sat up tall on the cushions, her face pale in the bright light and her knuckles white where they gripped the blanket he had let her borrow.
What could he say to her? She looked so vulnerable in her ridiculous dress and mussed hair. And he had brought her here.
He retreated to his room, leaving the door open as he stuffed his feet into some tennis shoes and pulled on his green sweater, grabbing an extra one for Brielle. When he returned to the living room, Brielle glanced up at him through light eyelashes, shivering ever so slightly. What he wouldn’t give to pulverize Scott for surrendering to his stupid hormones.
“Here.” He handed the sweater to Brielle and checked to make sure his keys were still in his own sweater’s pocket.
When Brielle started folding up the blanket as soon as she got to her feet, he gently tugged it from her grasp. “Don’t worry about that. Let’s just go.”
She pulled the sweater over her arms and asked, “Where are we going?”
He held the door open for her. “Where I should have taken you in the first place. Home.”
Chapter 3
This time Derrick awoke to the sound of giggling girls and the scent of his father’s bitter coffee. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, picturing the room with the morning sun slanting through the curtains behind him and his old basketball trophies and song lyrics scattered over his desk and shelves. Over the years, his mom cleaned around his clutter, leaving his room like a testament to his childhood. It was slightly disconcerting and yet sweet at the same time. He wasn’t at the point where he could imagine calling anyplace home that didn’t contain this room.
Finally, he opened his eyes and slid out of bed, welcoming the familiar creak of the bedsprings. He dug his toes through the carpet on his way to the closet, where he had left a few shirts and jeans on his last visit. When had that been? Thanksgiving, maybe. He had spent Christmas with his friend Nick and his family—despite his mom’s voicemail message asking him if he could join them this year.
He loved his family, but he was tired of forever being seen as a boy. Tired of his dad’s disappointment. Tired of constantly being shown up by Trisha, and even fifteen-year-old Chloe. His Music Performance major and the hard-won cum laude were hardly as impressive as Trisha graduating with a high school diploma and AA degree at the same time, on a path toward a career in the medical field. Or Chloe’s straight As in addition to volunteering at the animal shelter and winning her junior varsity volleyball games.
He highly doubted either of them would stick around Humboldt County for very long. And how he wished that had been the case for him. Turned out that his parents had been right. He had been foolish to think his guitar-playing was anything more than a hobby.
He ran a hand through his hair and attempted to dislodge the doubts that always flooded his mind at some point when he returned here. Hardly made him want to come back, despite the fact that his apartment was barely ten minutes away from home. But his family never seemed to understand.
The melancholy mood followed him into the bathroom and then down the hall to the kitchen—until he spotted Brielle sitting at the table between his sisters, wearing a cute blue T-shirt and jeans that must have been borrowed from Trisha. A mixture of concern and contentment chased away the other fruitless emotions. When she caught him watching her and gave him a bright smile, he brought forth a smile of his own.
“Honey, don’t you have work today?” Mom poked her head up from where she was checking something in the stove.
“Oh, man!” And just like that, happy thoughts fled. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner? What time is it?” How had he forgotten that it was Friday?
“It’s a quarter ’til 8:00. I didn’t want to disturb you... I figured you needed the sleep with how late you two came in last night.” There was a question lingering in her voice. Mom and Dad hadn’t asked for any explanations when they’d first arrived. Mom had simply shown Brielle to the guest room, which was always prepared for his or his sisters’ friends. And Derrick had fallen face-first into his own bed, eager to get some rest and let his mind process what on earth was happening to his life.
“I’m supposed to be there at 8:00. I can probably make it if I leave right now.” He hovered near the table, his stomach begging him not to leave just yet.
“I made chocolate-chip muffins. And some sausage and scrambled eggs. Surely you can eat something before you go.” She gazed at him over the counter, and he swallowed at the pleading evident in the lines around her eyes and mouth.
Without a word, he pulled out the chair across from Brielle and sat. When he glanced up, a different question lit his mom’s eyes. Before he could try to address it, though, Trisha asked, “How’s work going, by the way? You haven’t said much about it on Facebook.”
He didn’t say much of anything on Facebook, mostly because logging on meant he had to hear about everyone else’s successes. Pete’s getting married to Jacqueline. Adam has started his master’s program. Shayla is working in admissions at Stanford.
And Derrick’s still stuck at that music store in Trinidad.
“Derrick?”
He returned his attention to Trisha and shrugged. “Work’s work.” When her brown eyes narrowed in concern, he added, “It’s fine, sis. There’s not much news to report when you work at a store, you know?”
Chloe flipped her light brown ponytail and smiled at Brielle. “Is that where you two met? At Crashing Sounds?”
Brielle’s gaze darted to his, whatever question that was there before now intensified.
He jumped in. “Brielle and I met at Trinidad Head, when I went for a walk.” No need to tell them just yet that the walk he was referring to occurred only last night.
“Oh, how fun!” Trisha gushed. “Maybe we could all walk there sometime?”
Before Derrick was forced to come up with some excuse, his mom chimed in. “If anybody wants to eat, I’m going to need some help getting the food on the table.”
Everyone jumped to their
feet, including Brielle. And as if on cue, his dad came around the corner from his office at the back of the house. Everyone grabbed bowls, juice, butter, salt and pepper—whatever still needed to be brought to the table. Brielle’s hand brushed Derrick’s as he placed the eggs next to the seasonings she had set down. How was it that he felt so comfortable around her after such a short time?
They ate breakfast in relative silence, except for Chloe’s exuberant chewing and the clink of silverware on plates—something he had missed with his use of paper plates.
Before his mom could work up to sharing all he’d missed out on or ask about his boring life, he gulped down the last bits of his eggs and sausage and swished it down with some orange juice. Man, he could easily slip back into the routine of having breakfasts made by his mom every day. That’s what scared him.
He pushed back from the table, and all gazes flew to him.
His mom wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin. “You’re done?”
“I’m already going to be at least ten minutes late to work. I really need to go.”
His dad was silent, but the noticeable disappearance of his normally pronounced laugh lines said it all. The food sloshed around in Derrick’s stomach as he turned away and hustled his plate to the sink.
When he walked past the table, Brielle stood. “May I...? Um. Do you mind if I catch a ride with you?”
He smiled. “Come on.”
As he headed to the front door and grabbed his sweater from the coat tree, he heard Brielle say, “Thank you very much for your hospitality, and for breakfast. Everything was so nice.”
“You’re welcome. It was nice meeting you.” A smile was evident in the tone of his mom’s voice. “Bring Derrick around again, won’t you?”
“I will.”
Derrick turned at that, but Brielle simply walked around him and out the front door, forcing him to follow after her. What did she mean by “I will”?
Brielle hopped into the passenger seat of his car, and he slid into the driver’s seat. As he buckled his seat belt, he asked, “Why’d you say that? My mom will bug me to come home even more now. Besides...” You’ll be gone. But did he really know that? Maybe she needed looking after for a little longer than one night. Not that he was taking care of her like a stray puppy or anything.
“Besides what?” she asked as he shifted the car into reverse and pulled out of his parents’ driveway. “You do realize I’m going to have to bring you back at least once.”
He glanced at her sidelong as they sped toward the nearest freeway exit. “Why is that?”
“Because I’m wearing your sister’s clothes, and I left my dress in the guest bedroom.”
He braved another glance at her, and she rewarded him with a triumphant grin that wrinkled her nose and made her eyes light up.
Well. He shook his head and grinned as he returned his gaze to the road.
∞∞∞
Roger was pretty easygoing as bosses went, so a sincere apology from Derrick and a promise to stay a few minutes later to do some extra tidying up did the trick. All day, as Derrick organized bins and assisted the few tourists and locals who meandered in, he relived his time with Brielle and wondered what she could be doing. When he’d arrived at the store, he’d had no time to ask her about her plans. She had simply given him a little wave and a smile, then told him she’d see him around closing time.
Even more so than usual, closing time couldn’t get there soon enough.
Finally, a few minutes before five, Brielle breezed into the store. Her face was flushed like she’d been soaking in the winter sun, and she greeted him with a cheery hello.
“All right, where have you been?” he asked as he propped up his elbows on the front counter, next to the cash register.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She winked at him, and his breath caught in his throat. What was up with this girl? Or perhaps the better question was, what was up with him that he was so fascinated by her?
Her smile turned shy as she reached the counter. It intrigued him, the way she could so smoothly swing between bold and sweet.
“Since you’ve got to come home with me anyway, wanna go do something first? It is the weekend, after all.” Finally. Why did the weekend always take so long to get there and then rush off like no one’s business?
“Sure. What’d you have in mind?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the movies? Not sure what’s playing. Or...” Or what? Besides hanging out with friends, which would involve sharing Brielle, he had no idea what else to suggest. It had been too long since he’d gone on a date. That, and Humboldt County hardly had a night life. Unless you counted the bars and casinos—neither of which overly appealed to him.
“I have an idea.”
Her hesitantly spoken words brought his mental wanderings to a halt. “Yeah?” The fresh, salty smell of the ocean wafted from her clothes as he leaned in just a little closer.
“Well, we could go dancing. I heard there’s a square dance in Arcata tonight.”
A square dance? Seriously? He wanted to laugh, but the way her eyes lowered to the floor squelched the desire. She was nervous. The thought plucked a protective chord in his heart, and he found himself responding, “Sure, why not?”
Her blue eyes lifted, with gratitude and her usual lightheartedness shining through. No way he could regret causing that reaction in her. He just hoped no one he knew showed up—although he supposed if they were there, too, they’d have no reason to ridicule him.
Even though he told her to just relax and let him do his job, she insisted on helping him sweep the front part of the store and give the windows a quick wash with Windex. While he wiped down the outside of the windows, she wiped down the inside. When their gazes met through the glass, she stuck her tongue out at him, making him chuckle.
Finally, he wrote down his hours for the past two weeks and stuffed the timetable into an envelope before handing it to Roger on his way out the door. His boss—with long gray hair and ever multiplying wrinkles—cast a meaningful glance in Brielle’s direction and smiled. Derrick smiled back before heading into the parking lot.
“So, what time is this dance?” he asked as he joined Brielle in the car.
“In a couple of hours.”
“Perfect. Then we have time for dinner.”
He sensed her peering over at him as he drove through the little main street of town. Right before the freeway exit that would take him out of Trinidad, he swung into the parking lot at Murphy’s Market. He unbuckled his seat belt, tossed a “be right back” over his shoulder, and jogged into the store.
The deli still had a few leftover items being kept warm, so Derrick chose some chicken and potato wedges. Then he wandered into the produce section, ripped off one of the plastic bags, and threw in a couple of apples. As he set the food on the conveyor belt at the checkstand, he spotted some water bottles in the cooler. The frosty air washed over his face as he reached in. Despite the overcast evening typical of a north-coast winter, the cold brought relief. Was he really that nervous?
After he paid, he took the paper bag and headed out the door. Brielle glanced curiously at him as he put the food in the backseat of the car.
“What are you up to?” Her eyes never left his face.
“Dinner. Weren’t you paying attention?” He smirked, but he had to take his hands off the steering wheel one by one to wipe them on his jeans. Gosh, he really was nervous.
When he pulled out of the parking lot, he turned left—back into town. Brielle remained silent, but he thought he saw her smiling out of the corner of his eye.
Following the main street, the road led them straight to the tiny, red-topped lighthouse that often showed up on postcards and other Trinidad souvenirs. He parked once again, this time near the lighthouse, facing the ocean.
His hands remained glued to the wheel, even as the car settled and quiet surrounded them. “Feel like eating alfresco tonight?”
“Sounds fancy. I’m in.” She unbuckled
her seat belt and hopped out of the car.
He grabbed the food and joined her, and the wind immediately tried to nip through his sweater. “Hardly fancy—but you can’t beat the view. Here, hold this while I grab a towel.”
Brielle came around the car and took the bag as he opened the trunk and pulled out one of his beach towels. There was no way a guy could live on the coast and not carry an extra one in his car at all times, for just such an occasion.
He led the way to the lighthouse, but instead of stopping at a bench, he headed down the stairs to the beach. When he finally reached the shore, he scuffed through the sand until he found a promising spot that didn’t look like it would get wet anytime soon. At the moment, they had the little piece of beach to themselves.
“This is really nice,” Brielle said as she clutched the paper bag to her stomach and gazed out at the boats bobbing in the choppy water. “A little cold, but nice.”
He glanced up from where he was smoothing out the towel. “Too cold?”
She offered him a cheeky grin. “Everything’s too cold for a star.”
That drew out a laugh from him as he sat on the towel and patted the other side. “I thought outer space was supposed to be freezing. Space suits and all that, right?”
She plopped down next to him and set the bag between them, turning her head at the screech of a seagull above them. As he brought out the food, she responded, “You’re thinking like a human. It’s not cold for the stars. They’re always shining, always warm. That frozen darkness could never touch them.”
Her words stilled his hand as he clutched an apple. Hadn’t he once told his dad the same thing, that stars would be warm to the touch?
Something ice-cold settled over his hand and he flinched away, startled back to the present. Brielle laughed. “Sorry.” She wiggled her fingers at him. “You know what they say, though. ‘Cold hands, warm heart.’”