Where There’s A Will

by Stacy Gail

  Miranda thought of what he’d told her and fought a cringe. “Neither would I.”

  “His people skills probably aren’t the best.”

  “You could say that.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s not like everyone else, girl. Coe may be rough around the edges when it comes to feelings and whatnot, but he does still have them. The milk, the tires and the car, not to mention how he didn’t tell you about it, prove it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Hell’s bells, get your eyes open and see what’s in front of you.” Esme nodded at the car, as if the answer was painted in bright neon all over the chassis. “Coe’s not some manscaped fancy-pants eager to share his feelings. He’ll never offer you a single rose, or some candlelit supper. That superficial shit’s for TV. This is reality. A hard life wired that man for one thing—survival. And since survival’s always been the most important thing in his world, the gifts he keeps giving you suddenly start to make one hell of a lot of sense, now don’t they?”

  Her eyes narrowed. When she hadn’t been able to afford milk, he’d tried to push it on her. Not to taunt her, but because he believed she needed it. And the tires...good grief, she hadn’t even known she needed them.

  “He might not ever tell you how he feels, and you need to be prepared to live with that,” Esme went on, dropping the curtains back into place. “He might not even be able to understand what he’s feeling. All he knows is that for him to keep on surviving, he’s gotta make sure you keep on surviving. So, you get milk and tires.”

  Milk, tires, a working car, a place to stay that wouldn’t kill her, a comforter covered in dinosaurs so she wouldn’t freeze at night...the list went on and on. A blind person could see the man he’d become wasn’t anything like the boy he’d been.

  And at the moment she was feeling very, very blind.

  A sudden melody murmured from her purse slung over her shoulder. For a baffled moment her brain scrambled to identify the tune before she dug for her phone. Was that John Mayer’s “Your Body Is A Wonderland”? Great song, but for it to spontaneously sound off like it was a ringtone...

  She stared at the screen in disbelief. It was a ringtone.

  Coe.

  Under his name was his picture set as the background—hair mussed, chest bare. Sleepy. Smiling. Satisfied.

  “Holy shit, he took a selfie.” Then she clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified she’d said it out loud. “I’m so sorry, please excuse—”

  “Not bad, as selfies go. I’ve never taken a good one—can’t get far enough away from the damn camera to look any good. Better answer before he hangs up.” Esme took one last peek at Coe’s picture before heading for the kitchen.

  Miranda was still trying to get her jaw re-hinged—and recover from the notion of what sort of selfie Esme might have taken—when she got the phone to her ear. “‘Your Body Is A Wonderland’?”

  “What? I hear that in my head every time I touch you.”

  “Oh.” She put a hand to her idiotic heart as it melted. No doubt her panties would be next. “Then it should be the ringtone for me.”

  “It is. If you were to call me, I mean. That’s the song I have for you on my phone, which, by the way, I always have with me. So I promise I’ll pick up, if...well, if you ever need to call me.”

  Hint, hint. “Which I can do, now that I see you’ve put your number in my phone.”

  “Right. You needed to have my number, just in case your car breaks down again. Or if you need me for anything else, like to kill a bug, or open a jar. Or to talk. You know. Whatever. Whenever. You can now call me. I’ll always answer when you call, Miranda. Always.”

  Her throat squeezed tight. “Thanks. That’s good to know.”

  “You really should put a passcode on your phone, now that I’m thinking about it. I could do that for you, if you don’t know how. But you’d have to, you know, bring me the phone so I could take care of it for you.”

  In other words, he wanted to see her face-to-face. And damn it, she suddenly wanted to see him. “I’m still at Esme’s. Where are you?”

  “I’m where I need to be.” She heard him blow out a breath. “I’m outside Esme’s trailer.”

  She glanced through the curtain, saw his car behind hers and nearly choked when her heart bounded into her throat.

  “I’ll be right out.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Miranda shivered in the pale morning light as she watched Coe’s booted feet fall into step with hers along the crumbling road twisting through Garden Court. Since it was so early, the trailer park was still waking up, though the scent of cooking food, from traditional sage and turkey to tamales and chorizo, already spiced the air. Thanksgiving had dawned in the trailer park, and even she could feel the peacefulness of the day.

  “So. You taking off this morning. That sucked.”

  Apparently Coe wasn’t a huge fan of peace.

  “I needed some space to clear my head, so I’m not going to apologize for it.” Tucking her cold fingers into the cuffs of her long sleeved sweater, she crossed her arms and slid him a glance. “But I am sorry about the abruptness of my leaving. That was rude of me.”

  “I don’t give a shit about rudeness. What I care about is making sure I get a chance to explain my side.”

  She sighed, suddenly tired. “You don’t have to. My name being gone makes a clear enough statement all by itself.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” They slowed as they neared the end of the street. His eyes scanned back and forth before putting an arm around her shoulders as if preparing to protect her from an invisible band of marauders. “I got the cover-up tat about a week after you left. Your dad and sister left at about the same time, so it seemed like you all had moved out of town together, like one big happy family.”

  “We didn’t.”

  “I know that now. But at the time I thought you’d sold me out and laughed about it along with dear old Daddy all the way to the bank. It made me crazy. Whenever I thought about it...” He shook his head, and there was a world of remembered fury in the gesture. But there was something more as well, and it took her a moment to wrap her mind around what it was. Unless her eyes were deceiving her, what she saw was an echo of bone-deep hurt. “I can’t explain what that did to me, Miranda, even now. It was like I’d have these weird heart attacks whenever I thought about it, the twisting in my chest hurt so much. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. When it first happened I could barely breathe. It’s... I don’t know. Indescribable.”

  “You don’t have to describe it.” Of course he didn’t have to. She knew what it was, better than anyone.

  Heartbreak.

  Oh, no.

  Coe had had his heart broken by her. He just didn’t know it.

  Dismay washed through her, along with the faintest hint of totally inappropriate and horrifyingly selfish joy. Dear God, Coe really had cared about her. Yes, he hadn’t known how to show it when they’d been together, and her apparent betrayal had made him lash out in a way that still hurt her heart. But he’d cared. She knew it, because he’d suffered like she had when their relationship broke apart.

  If he’d felt that deep sense of caring before—she outright refused to call it love because that was aiming way too high—was it possible he could feel that way about her again?

  And was she okay with accepting anything less than love?

  Please believe me, he needs you.

  Lucy’s words echoed in Miranda’s head, and they made her eyes burn. For years all she had done was fixate on what she’d lost. But Coe, even more than his invention, had lost a chance at a stable, happy and yes, loving relationship with her. He’d never known anything like that in his life, and just when he’d been at the threshold of having it, her father had ripped it apart for both of them.

 
She closed her eyes against the pain that tore through her. No wonder Coe had reacted so viciously when he’d kicked her out of his life all those years ago. Everything he’d said made so much sense now. He had believed she’d deliberately hurt him, just when he’d been ready to give her his heart. The mere thought of how deeply that moment must have wounded him made her want to cry. Her Coe, so unfamiliar with love, had been crushed by it before it had had a chance to seep into his conscious mind. Lucy was right. He did need her. He needed to know two people could share a relationship where they could be utterly safe in each other’s care.

  And by damn, he deserved it.

  “I did try to erase you, Miranda—I’m not gonna lie. I didn’t know how else to stop the pain of what I thought was you stabbing me in the back. But covering up your name and pretending you never existed didn’t make it go away.” Coe slowed until they were standing in the middle of the deserted road, where he turned her to face him. When he saw how she was hugging herself to stay warm, he made a soft sound of concern and opened his peacoat to pull her into its enveloping depths. “And I know this is going to sound like a bunch of bullshit, but ever since you came back, I swear I can still feel your name on my arm. You won’t believe me, but... I know it’s still there. I know it.”

  “I can feel your name on my skin.” Too late, she bit down on both her lips. Oops. She hadn’t meant to offer that up. This was his confession time, not hers.

  He went so still it wouldn’t have surprised her if he’s stopped breathing. Then his hand slid under her sweater and pressed slowly, deliberately, into the small of her back, over his name. “You feel me here?”

  She nodded, shaken by his breathless near whisper. She’d never heard him talk like that—like he feared he might send the world spinning off-axis if he spoke too loud. Then his arms tightened so fiercely around her, her feet left the road while his face turned into her hair. He didn’t speak, but the raggedness of his breathing, and the gentle savagery of his embrace, told her more about what was going on inside him that he ever could.

  Oh, yes. He needed her.

  Maybe just as much as she needed him.

  “I’m sorry you got so upset this morning, babe.” His voice sounded muffled against her, and she loved the cozy sound of it. “I guess you didn’t want me to see that you still had my name on your back?”

  She nodded, then figured with his face in her hair he might not have gotten the message. “That’s pretty much it.”

  “I can’t tell you what I felt when I saw it.” His arms tightened a fraction. “It’s like everything inside me went flying. I never expected you to keep it, especially now that I know what a mess I made of things when we broke up. When I saw it was still there, the first thing I had to do was kiss it. So I did. Weird, right?”

  She couldn’t answer, because it wasn’t weird at all. It was outrageously beautiful.

  “One thing, though.” Gently he let her feet return to earth so his hands could smooth over her back to cup where he knew his name was. “I don’t get why you kept it. Didn’t you want to get rid of me?”

  She swallowed hard against the sudden knot in her throat. “Yes. I did.”

  His arms tightened again, and with his face still hidden against her hair she was able to hear his breath catch. It sounded painful.

  “I couldn’t do it, Coe. I don’t know why.” Oh, but she did, and she hated herself for lying. She hadn’t gotten rid of his name because, deep down, she’d still loved him. Until her last day on earth was done, she realized now that she would always—always—love him.

  At last his head came up, and he looked into her eyes as if searching for the secrets of the universe. “Maybe this makes me a selfish prick, and I’m seriously hoping you can forgive me for that, but...I’m glad it’s still there.”

  “You are?”

  “Yeah. It’s a stupid name and I’ve hated it for as long as I can remember, but on you... My God, Miranda, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Her heart executed multiple back flips. “There’s nothing wrong with your name, Coe.”

  “Not when it’s on you. I wanted to try and capture how gorgeous you looked. But no camera could ever do you justice.”

  The back flips flopped, and she blinked. “Wait. Coe...”

  He brought her hand up and cherished it with his lips. Yes, cherished. “Mmm-hmm.”

  “While you were busy putting in ringtones and taking selfies, you didn’t...you didn’t really take pictures of me while I was asleep, did you?” Asleep and naked.

  With one last kiss across her knuckles, he stroked the hair back from her face. “Don’t worry. They’re very tasteful, I swear. Like works of art.”

  Dear God. “Coe...”

  “No one could possibly recognize you, babe. Your head was under a pillow and you were sleeping so peacefully on your stomach. You looked like such an angel, you took my breath away. I couldn’t help myself.”

  Aww. “Really?”

  “Really. In fact, you can barely even see the crack of your ass thanks to the placement of the sheet—”

  “You’re deleting those pictures, mister.”

  “We can negotiate back at my place.” He kissed her, then gave her one last squeeze. “And if you’re really serious about not wanting to accept Lucy’s invitation to Thanksgiving dinner, I’ll sacrifice and keep you company if you want. We can stay in bed all day and draw chocolaty pictures on each other.”

  “You’re not getting out of it that easily.” With an amused smile she hadn’t thought would be possible an hour ago, she turned with him and headed back up the street toward their cars. “I don’t want to hurt Lucy’s feelings. I’m not sure, but I think we’ve become friends without either one of us noticing.”

  “Yeah?” The arm he’d again looped around her shoulders held her close to his side. “Wow. That’s either a true Thanksgiving blessing or a sign of the apocalypse.”

  “Time will tell,” Miranda said.

  * * *

  From Coe’s standpoint, it was surreal to see Lucy and Sully as the white-picket-fence types. Their new two-story craftsman-style house, with a gabled bay window over the wraparound porch’s roof, sat on an acre of land filled with pecan and hickory trees. The scent of hickory smoke perfumed the air, as one of the two turkeys being served for the holiday feast had been in a barrel smoker since the night before. A sleepy but proud Sully showed it off along with his new barbecue pit, while Lucy dragged Miranda through the house on a tour of every nook and cranny.

  For a kid who’d started in Garden Court, this sort of Leave It To Beaver, hearth-and-home shit was nothing short of mind-boggling.

  As Sully’s father Lowell appeared with a case of microbrew and hugs all around, Coe watched Miranda’s rigidly polite manners do a slow thaw. They had changed so much from the people they once were, he marveled. Miranda was no longer a princess, if she’d ever been one in the first place. And it had been a long freaking time since he’d thought of himself as a punk from the wrong side of the tracks. They were just people. They enjoyed the hell out of each other’s company, and that was enough.

  At least it was enough for him.

  He kept close to her as Pauline and her husband Willard arrived, bringing carriers and baskets filled with all sorts of delicious-smelling food. There was a football pregame show blaring from the family room next to the kitchen, but unlike the other men, he had no interest in stats and weather conditions. It was way more fun watching Miranda harvesting cups of turkey drippings for the gravy, her whisk never stopping while Pauline put her gout-afflicted feet up and kibitzed the younger women from the sidelines. He half expected Miranda to get huffy; instead he wanted to hug her when she asked Pauline’s opinion on whether or not they should add the reserved giblets. Lucy did the hugging for him when Miranda brought over a sample for Pauline to
taste, and when the older woman judged the gravy to be “perfect,” he actually stopped breathing when she beamed.

  He wasn’t sure there was a heaven, but if there was, Miranda’s smile held a part of it.

  “If only you could see the dopey look on your face right now.”

  Coe barely noticed Lucy stop by his spot at the breakfast bar. “Huh?”

  She slid a small plate in front of him with a roll and a mound of herbed butter on it. “Chin cupped in one hand, looking all moony. You have the look of a man who’s been beaten in the head with an idiot stick. Or the look of a man in love. Take your pick, it’s pretty much the same thing.”

  He straightened so fast something popped in his back. “I’m going to tell Sully you said that.”

  “Sullivan would be the first to agree with me. Real love plunges normal people into idiocy. Or maybe lunacy would be more accurate.” She reached over to put the roll in his hand. “Find that one person who completes you, and suddenly everything fits. You know where you’re supposed to be, and there’s someone in the world who’s feeling the exact same way you do. That would make anyone smile like an idiot.” She nodded at the plate before turning away. “Enjoy your appetizer, and don’t forget to compliment your lady when you try her gravy. She did her best to earn Pauline’s stamp of approval.”

  The activity migrated from the kitchen to the dining room, and amid the good-natured jostling over who sat where, Coe watched as if disconnected from the entire scene. What the hell. Lucy was such a weirdo, babbling on about love. Talk about out of the blue. Maybe she didn’t know that something inside him had broken a long time ago, that unnamed mechanism that made it possible for other people to feel love. That emotion never reached him on his inner island. Never.

  Happiness, though...

  He glanced at Miranda as she settled into the seat beside him, and every cell in his body suddenly lightened. Yeah, happiness definitely reached him, until he thought he could actually float away because of it. Just looking at her made him want to do crazy shit like laugh for no reason, or pull her close and snuggle her against him. Yes, fucking snuggle, right there in front of everyone.