In This Moment (In Plain Sight Book 3)

by Amy Sparling

  She grins and looks down. “I think I was just so happy to have connected with you, that when you hurt me, I tried to connect with someone else as soon as possible.” She exhales. “It did not work. It was stupid.”

  “I’m really sorry for everything,” I say softly, wishing I could be wrapped in one of her hugs again. Instead, I settle for reaching out and letting my fingers graze her arm. “I had a connection with you, too. Before I ruined it all, you were very special to me.”

  Clarissa’s jaw shivers as she looks up at me. “You’re too cold,” I say. “You should get back home and warm up. I don’t want you getting sick.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m fine. Plus,” She holds up her finger. “Wait here, I brought something.”

  She rushes back to her truck and then comes back with two cups from the Lone Star Diner. “It’s not as good as Mrs. Bradley’s homemade hot chocolate, but it’s still pretty good.”

  Steam rises from the lid as she hands one to me.

  “You just happened to have two hot chocolates in your truck?”

  “It’s my grandpa’s truck,” she says, followed by, “And well, I thought you might be here after you didn’t answer my text.”

  “You texted me?” My heart races at the thought. I’ve spent all night out here alone thinking she wasn’t thinking about me at all. “My phone has been in my truck so I wouldn’t break it around all these tools. What’d you say?”

  “Nothing,” she says. “Just wanted to talk. When you didn’t answer, I came to find you.”

  “What do you want to talk about?” I ask. I cradle the Styrofoam cup in my hands, letting the steam rise up and warm my face.

  “Well…” She’s shivering so much she can barely talk.

  “Hold that thought,” I say. I pull open my passenger door. “Get in.”

  Then I climb into my side and crank the engine, turning up the heater. This truck has one hell of a heater, and within seconds, the cab starts warming up.

  “Mmm,” she says, leaning her face toward the air vent. “This is much better. Grandpa’s heater sucks. I was halfway here before it started getting even a little warm.”

  I try not to be so stupid-eyed as I watch her, but it’s hard because I’m totally crazy about this girl. “Not to be pushy, but you were about to say something.”

  She smiles, her eyes closed while the hot air warms her face. “I’m sorry about the trouble you have at home, with your dad and everything. I had no idea.”

  “No one does,” I say. “I keep that shit locked up tight.”

  She looks over at me with sorrow in her eyes. “I’ve been thinking about what happened, and I don’t really blame you. If I were you, I think I would have lied too. I mean…we had this amazing date and—” She takes a breath and I am on the edge of my seat dying to hear what she’ll say next. “I mean, it’s not like you could have told me right there on the beach. I know I wouldn’t have. And…it’s not like you destroyed my greenhouse knowing it was mine.”

  She turns a sharp look toward me. “I don’t condone senseless violence, though.”

  I bark out a laugh. “Trust me, I don’t either. I can’t believe I did that. I’ve never done anything like that.”

  She sips from her hot chocolate, and I watch her. Now that she’s here in my truck with me, all I can do is watch her, grateful for every second of time she gives me.

  “My grandmother used to work at the daycare,” she says after a while. “That greenhouse was her passion project. We have lots of photos of her with the greenhouse, showing flowers and plants to the kids. She actually died a long time ago, so I never knew her, but when I started working at the daycare, Grandpa told me about it.”

  A knot tightens in my stomach. Shit.

  She glances at me briefly before looking back at the cup in her hands. “I asked Mrs. Bradley if I could fix the old greenhouse and make it new again so I could give the kids a greenhouse just like my grandma did. I spent all summer building it with my grandpa.”

  “Shit, Clarissa,” I breathe. “I’m so sorry. I feel like such an ass.”

  A small grin plays on her lips. “Then you won’t want to hear this next part.”

  I stiffen. Her eyes are pained, her knuckles white as she grips her cup. “Grandpa has glaucoma and he’s been slowly going blind. That greenhouse is the last project he ever made, and it was our project that we did together. So…I know it belongs to the daycare, but it’s really my greenhouse. It means the world to me.”

  I rub my fingers across my forehead. “God, I’m so sorry.”

  Her fingers are warm when she touches my arm. “It’s okay, Gavin. You didn’t know.”

  “I—” I look at her beautiful face, that soft knowing smile on her lips, the dip of her brows as she watches me. “I can never make this up to you,” I say.

  She shakes her head. “You already did. It’s done. It’s finished. I didn’t tell you this to make you feel bad, I just wanted you to know the whole story.”

  Her hand slides down to mine, her fingers effortlessly tucking between mine, as we hold onto each other in the space between us. “You told me your whole story in your letter, and I wanted you to know mine.”

  I squeeze her hand. “My dad got his job back. His boss also talked him into attending AA meetings so…we’re cautiously optimistic.”

  “That’s amazing,” she says, squeezing my hand. “My uncle goes to AA and it literally saved his life. He’s been sober for years now.”

  “That’s good. Maybe this will help my dad. But now that he’s working, I don’t have to work as much at my job.”

  “That’s why you insisted on finishing the greenhouse this weekend?” she asks.

  I nod. She slides over, setting her cup in the cup holder underneath my radio. I do the same to mine, and the next thing I know, Clarissa is sitting right next to me, her leg touching mine, her hand still holding mine as she brings it to her lap.

  “Do you think we could put this behind us?” she asks softly. Her head rests against my shoulder as we stare at the greenhouse in front of us.

  “I would love that,” I say.

  I let my cheek lean against the top of her head and we sit like this for a long while, the only sound is the heater and the soft rumble of the engine.

  I close my eyes and enjoy the moment, feel the swell of happiness that’s growing inside of me. I don’t deserve this girl at all, but it looks like she’s giving me another chance. Life could not be any better than this.

  “Hey, look,” Clarissa whispers.

  I open my eyes. Tiny white drops of snow hit the windshield and then melt away. “It’s snowing,” she says, sitting up.

  I turn to her. “Good thing the greenhouse is finished.”

  She grins. “This feels special.”

  “It feels like a moment,” I say, wondering if she remembers what we’d said that day at the beach.

  “A good moment,” she says back, her eyes narrowing mischievously at me.

  This time I don’t think too long or wait for a signal, because I don’t want the perfect moment to slip away. I cradle her cheek in my hand and lower my lips to hers. And then the greatest thing ever happens.

  She kisses me back.

  Chapter 25

  “It’s cold!” Regan says. She crosses her little arms over her chest and pouts up at me. “Ms. Clarissa, it’s too cold out here!”

  I lean forward, putting my hands on my knees so I’m eye level with the three year old. “Remember what we talked about inside?”

  She shakes her head. That’s probably because she was too busy playing with the sparkles on her shoes. “We talked about how a greenhouse is what?”

  She thinks about it for a moment. “Green?”

  “Well, yes, but that’s not all.” I stand up and look over my group of seven kids. “Who thinks it’s cold out here?”

  They all raise their hands. “Who remembers what it’s like inside the greenhouse?”

  “Hot!” a five-year-old
named Gabriella says.

  I nod. “Yep! It’s cold out here, but our greenhouse is nice and warm inside. That way we can grow our flowers no matter what the weather is like outside.” I hold up the tulip bulb my grandpa had given me weeks ago. “Are we ready to plant our first one?”

  A chorus excitement fills the air. “Who remembers what this is called?”

  “A bulb!” Gabriella says.

  “Yep, it’s a bulb. Great job. Let’s go plant it!”

  The kids walk in a single file line across the grass and to my new greenhouse, which looks amazing in the daylight. Inside, I have them stand around the table, all facing the clay pot in the center.

  We talk about the proper way to plant a tulip bulb and I let each kid take turns covering it with potting soil. I’m not exactly a plant expert, but I did to a ton of research on tulips last night, so I tell them everything I learned.

  “Someone’s here,” Jabir says. He points to the door.

  I walk over and look out the small window in the door. Gavin backs his truck up to the greenhouse. When he gets out, he waves at me and then walks to the tailgate drapes an arm over it.

  “Hold on a minute,” I tell the kids. “Jabir, will you be the leader?”

  He nods eagerly and holds open the door to the greenhouse while I step outside.

  “What’s all this?” I ask Gavin.

  “Can you bring the kids out here?” he says.

  I call for them and they all rush up beside me, forming a semi-circle around Gavin’s tailgate. “This is my friend Gavin,” I say. The kids say hello to him and he grins back.

  “Have you planted the tulip yet?” he asks.

  Last night, while talking on the phone and staying up way too late, I’d told Gavin about the tulip bulb my grandpa gave me, and how today we were going to plant it in the greenhouse. I can’t believe he remembered.

  “We just did,” I say.

  “It’s a flower,” one of the kids says.

  Gavin puts his hands on his hips as he addresses the kids. “Did you all pay attention to Ms. Clarissa’s instructions?”

  “Yes!” they shout back.

  “Do you think you could do it again?”

  “Yes!”

  I lift an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

  Gavin lowers his tailgate, revealing small bags of potting soil, clay pots, and a bag of tulip bulbs. “I brought enough for your whole class to plant their own tulip,” he says sheepishly. “Is that okay?”

  I have to bite on the inside of my lip to keep from smiling like a crazy person.

  The kids cheer and jump around and rush to the back of his truck to get a better look. I give him a quick hug. “You are the best.”

  He grins down at me, then places a quick kiss on my forehead.

  “Eww!” someone says, which only makes me blush harder.

  “This greenhouse is going to be your legacy,” he says, giving a bag of soil to each kid. “I just wanted to do something to help.”

  It’s been a week since Gavin finished my greenhouse in the middle of the night. We’ve been pretty much inseparable ever since. I’ve been happier than I could ever imagine, and yet sometimes there’s this little nagging feeling in my chest when I’m lying awake at night. This feeling that tells me maybe something bad will happen. Maybe he’ll change his mind.

  But then Gavin goes and does something like this, and I realize he’s the best boyfriend a girl could ever have.

  “Hey,” I say, poking him in the stomach while the kids take turns picking a tulip bulb from the bag. “I think you’re amazing.”

  “Oh yeah?” Gavin licks his lips, then lowers his mouth to my ear. “Because I think I’m in love.”

  ***

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  About the Author

  Amy Sparling is the author of The Summer Unplugged Series, Ella's Twisted Senior Year, Deadbeat & other awesome books for younger teens. She loves coffee, the beach, and swooning over book boyfriends.

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