“Because I knew I needed to tell you the truth. Because I didn’t know how I was going to do that. And because I realized I was in over my head with you and I can’t decide if I’m okay with that or if I need to protect myself.”
“Protect yourself from me?”
“Not you, you. From a relationship with you.”
I sit quietly for a minute while I let her words settle in not just with me but with her as well. Finally breaking the silence, I grin slightly and ask, “Relationship?”
“See? I don’t even know that much!”
“We just met,” I remind her.
“Yeah, we did,” she says but I can tell by the sound of her voice that she’s thinking exactly what I am. That how much time we’ve known each other doesn’t matter.
“And that’s what scares you most.”
“Yeah,” she whispers again and I wish I was with her so I could hold her while we have this conversation.
“Tell you what. Slow is good for me. I have no expectations. What we did while you were here was great but maybe it’s good to take a step back, too.”
“Step back, how?”
“Sierra, I don’t yet know your last name, would you go on a date with me Saturday night?”
“Jack, I think your last name is Cole but I can’t be positive, yes, I’d love to.”
“Good. And… last name?”
“Don’t you know Kyle’s last name?”
“Not all uncles and nieces share last names,” I remind her, scratching my cheek.
“Oh, right. Well, we do. Harthorn in case you didn’t know.”
“Sierra Harthorn, I look forward to Saturday.”
She smiles brightly but then blushes and places a hand in front of her mouth to cover it up. “Me, too.”
Saying goodbye seems to be hard for both of us so I just hit end, and again hate the silence that fills my house.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SIERRA
“I think I need friends,” I tell Toby. He turns his head and watches me stand in front of the mirror, trying to decide if I should wear a dress or jeans for Saturday night.
It’s only Thursday.
But when Jack asked me on a date last night, I couldn’t stop the feeling of excitement from bubbling over in my chest.
The realization that I truly don’t have any girlfriends is a hard pill to swallow. Sure, I have a few acquaintances and I have my online community, but a friend I can call and meet for lunch or coffee or pedicures? I can’t think of a single person.
I throw my outfit choices onto my unmade bed and go to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. Kyle’s sitting by the kitchen table in a worn flannel and jeans, reading the newspaper with glasses perched on the end of his nose and sipping out of a cup.
Kyle’s house is cozy and warm, just like Jack’s. It’s not fancy or too big, but not small either. It’s well lived-in and comfortable. The rectangle table we’re sitting at has a few scratches and marks on the top, the chair cushions are worn in and mold to my butt perfectly. The light gray-blue walls could use a fresh coat of paint, and the cupboards look like they’ve been in here since the home was built in the 70s. The white appliances still work perfectly, even if they could be updated. The rest of the house is similar, a little outdated but still in great condition. The floors being the only exception to areas that are outdated. He recently tore up all his carpeting and linoleum, replacing it with a beautiful hardwood flooring. Kyle isn’t all about updating for the sake of making things look new. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it are words he lives by. He spends for needs rather than wants.
After pouring myself a steaming mug, I plop down on a chair and sigh loudly.
He takes the bait and puts down the paper, looking at me over his glasses. His salt and pepper hair is short and still thick, just like his beard.
“Something on your mind?”
“I need a friend.”
He removes his glasses and places them on the table, leans back in his chair, and crosses his arms over his chest. “Thought you just spent three days with a friend.”
I blush and press my lips together, looking away quickly.
“Yes, I did. But a friend who’s a girl.”
The corner of his mouth ticks up. “Ahh. Need a manicure buddy? Someone to drink a glass — bottle — of wine with?”
“Precisely.”
He chuckles and scrubs the back of his neck. “I might know someone who knows someone.” Now it’s his turn to look a little sheepish and my jaw drops.
“Uncle Kyle… are you seeing someone?”
“We’re just friends,” he says with a raise of an eyebrow. It’s a challenge to admit that Jack and I aren’t just friends. Since I’m not ready to go there yet, I let it go.
“Mm hmm. Mm hmm. Yes, I’m quite familiar with the term.”
We share a smile and I place an elbow on the table, resting my chin in my hand. I left my hair down this morning and threw on my softest pair of jeggings and a dark blue cable knit sweater. “So tell me about this friend of yours?”
“Name’s Rebecca.”
“And?”
“And, we’re friends. She owns that little store on the corner of Main and First Street. A boutique, I think she calls it. She’s got a granddaughter about your age. Real nice girl. I think she said her name’s Mallory and she’s married with a kid.
“I also might have mentioned your pet clothes to Rebecca, she wants to talk with you about displaying some at the store.”
“Aren’t you just full of good news for me?”
He reaches over and pats my hand. “Leave it to Uncle Kyle. I’ll make it all better for ya.”
I’d told him the whole story last night when he got home from the bar. Leaving out the sexy parts between Jack and me, of course. But he was reading between the lines and saw right through me. He knows that I want more but am too afraid to admit it.
He’s also very aware of what it was like in my home when I was growing up. He witnessed it all firsthand and understands my hesitations when it comes to relationships. He’s lectured me on it, as have my parents, but it’s never sunk in.
“You mentioned my pet clothes?”
“I did. And she’s really excited to offer them to her customers.”
“You two are just friends, huh? And she’s willing to offer pet clothes in her boutique?” I’ve been in the store and I would never imagine my stuff alongside her high-end merchandise.
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t respond.
“We’ll get together with them, talk things over. Introduce you and Mallory. I’ve met her a few times, comes into the bar with her husband. I think you’d like her. She speaks fluent sarcasm, too.”
“My kind of lady.”
He smiles and nods his head. “Want me to see if they can come to the bar tonight? Maybe we can have dinner?”
“You don’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
I bet he doesn’t. Just the mention of Rebecca makes him sit up a little taller, speak a little more confidently, his eyes sparkle. I like seeing him this way.
“Thank you, Kyle. Are you going in this afternoon?”
He shakes his head. “No. I’ll go in tonight. See how the other half lives being a customer.”
“Oh, good! Do you have plans for today? Need my help with something?”
“Don’t you have work to do?”
“The benefit of being self-employed is that I get to make my own hours. Give me a list.”
He lifts his cup and drains the last of his coffee. “Alright. We need to get a better set up for Toby. When you made your escape, you didn’t really bring much for him. Figure if he’s here for a while, we need to get him some stuff. Then a grocery run and I need to get the chains sharpened on the chainsaw so I can get more wood cut. I also have to get some more gas for the snowblower because they’re predicting another storm this weekend.”
“Errands! Yay!”
Kyle chuckles. “I’ll never understand
your love of running errands. Probably only person in the entire universe who does.”
I shrug, used to hearing it. In fact, Jack said something similar when I begged to tag along with him on errands, too.
“I’ll take you to lunch. I need to go to the bank in Liberty to sign some papers.”
“Errands and a road trip? My, my, Rebecca’s a lucky lady.”
“Friend.”
“Right. She’s a lucky friend lady.”
“You’re such a pain in the ass.”
“So I’ve been told. I don’t need much time to get ready. Give me fifteen minutes?”
“You got it.”
I slip my feet into a pair of light brown ankle booties and apply a little bit of makeup. I throw on a mustard yellow knit stocking cap and grab my coat and purse, tossing my phone inside. When I get back to the kitchen, Toby is just coming in from outside.
“He have accidents?”
“Nope.”
“So we can just leave him inside? Or do we need to lock him up in the laundry room?”
“We can just let him roam.”
“Good deal. Ready?” he asks, putting his coat on and sliding his wallet into his back pocket. He pulls out a pair of leather gloves and puts them on.
“For errands? Always.”
“Weirdo.”
I laugh but don’t deny it and follow him to the garage after promising Toby to bring him back a treat if he’s good. Which I have no doubt he will be.
“There’s a Walmart in Liberty we can stop at for Toby after we go to the bank. That’s where the shop is that will sharpen the chains for my chainsaw, too. I’ll drop them off first so they can work on them while we take care of the rest and have lunch. We’ll grab groceries back here in town before we head home.”
“Sounds great. I’m just happy to be along for the ride.”
“Of course you are.”
I sit back and enjoy the scenery as Uncle Kyle drives. Liberty, Michigan, is the home of Southeast Michigan State, the university Jack’s cousin and brother-in-law coach for. It brings a smile to my face that I know that little bit of information about him.
“Anything you’re in the mood for?”
I assume he means lunch and since I really am not picky, I shake my head. “Not really. I’m up for whatever.”
“Balance is really good. A little fancier than I typically like, but they just changed up their lunch menu and made it more casual. There’s also The Flying Goat. Great sports bar.”
“Let’s do Balance since we’re eating at the bar tonight,” I suggest. “As much as I love bar food, I think I should probably find something a little healthier for lunch.”
“You saying my food isn’t healthy?”
“Considering eighty percent of the menu is fried? Nooooo,” I tease.
He thinks for a moment then glances briefly at me before returning his eyes to the road. “Shit. It is, isn’t it?”
“Not a bad thing, Kyle. The food is delicious and people expect that there. Helps soak up the alcohol so they can buy more alcohol. It’s a good thing. Plus, your wings are freaking amazing.”
“They’re from a bag,” he replies dryly. He steers his pickup with his middle and pointer fingers, looking relaxed but the tic in his jaw tells me otherwise. “You know, Jack went to culinary school.” I know. And I think it’s sexy as hell. “Think he’d be willing to help me out? Maybe add a few more things to the menu and find someone to man the kitchen?” I have no doubt he’d help and probably work in the kitchen for Kyle until he found a chef.
“You don’t have someone who does that for you now?”
He points to himself with the hand not on the steering wheel. “Me, or whoever’s managing the bar that night. Like I said, wings are frozen from a bag. Same with pretty much everything else on the menu. Our burgers are the only thing we make in-house and that’s not exactly rocket science.”
“Wow. I didn’t know that.”
He shrugs. “No one has seemed to mind and honestly, it didn’t bother me, either. Until you mentioned how much of the menu is done in the fryer.”
“Oops. Sorry?”
“Don’t be, sweetheart. I’m not sure if I’ll make a change, since like I said, no one has seemed to mind. But, I’d still like to talk to Jack. See if he has ideas.”
Jack. Jack. Jack.
I had kind of hoped that tagging along today would help keep my mind off Jack and the time we spent together. Hard to do when Kyle seems to want to bring him up constantly.
“I’m sure he’d help. He seems to still like everything about cooking and the restaurant business.”
“Good. Good. I’ll get in touch with him. Unless, of course, you’d like to take the lead on that one,” he says with a wink.
“Kyle,” I warn.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Uh huh. Sometimes it’s in what you don’t say more than what you do. Want me to bring up how quickly you jumped at the chance to invite Rebecca to dinner tonight?”
“Point taken.”
It doesn’t take us long to get to Liberty. He maneuvers his way through town and pulls up to a little white building that looks like a shack attached to an old garage. “Chains,” is all he says.
He leaves the pickup running while we go inside and I laugh at the ease of being in a small town.
“Hey, Kyle, how’s it going?”
“I take it you’re a regular?” I ask him.
“Kyle’s been coming around a while,” the man behind the counter confirms. He’s wearing a blue work shirt with the name Ron embroidered on his left pec. His hands are stained black which I assume is from grease and is wearing a curved bill ball cap that looks like it’s a staple in his daily attire.
“This is my niece, Sierra. She just dropped her good for nothing ex and is staying with me.”
“Kyle!” I admonish but can hardly deny the truth in his words.
“Do I not speak truth, girl? Jeff was lucky to have you.”
“Well, duh,” I say, grinning.
Kyle places the chains on the counter and writes down something on a sheet of paper.
“You the one who makes clothes for pets?”
I grin and look at Kyle who shrugs.
“He talks about you,” the man, who I assume is named Ron, explains. “I’m glad to finally meet you. I’m Ron.”
“Figured,” I say, shaking his hand and then pointing to his shirt.
“Right. So, just sharpen these?” he asks, lifting up the chains.
“Yeah. We got a few more places to go then I’ll pick them up in a bit. That work?”
“Sure thing.”
“Thanks, man. See you later.”
“Bye, Ron! Nice to meet you.”
“You, too, darlin’. You know, if you just dumped your guy, I’ve got a son…”
“She ain’t interested in datin’ Ron Jr.”
“How do you know?” I ask, feeling like he’s absolutely correct but he doesn’t know that.
“Trust me.”
“He ain’t wrong. ‘Sides, Ron Jr’s in the county lockup.”
“Okay, so maybe you were right,” I joke to Kyle. He gives me a look that says he told me so.
I wait in the pickup while he runs into the bank, not asking what he’s signing because I don’t figure it’s any of my business. I check social media while I wait and am a little bummed to discover that Jack isn’t very active. He has accounts on the typical sites, but rarely does he post anything. Though, we aren’t friends so maybe he does post and I just can’t see it because of his settings. I request to follow him.
Jeff, on the other hand, posts almost daily. I scroll through his page and roll my eyes. Why I ever went out with him is beyond my understanding. The most recent post is a gym selfie with the caption: “Feels good to drop the extra weight I’ve been carrying.”
“You fucker,” I grumble, knowing he’s talking about me without coming out to say it. “I’m the one who broke up with you, not the oth
er way around.”
The previous posts are less douche-filled but still annoying. A lot of selfies, because he loves himself more than anything, a few random memes or shares to news stories. A link to a movie trailer that I know he’s been looking forward to seeing with the caption: “Who’s coming with me?” In the comments someone’s tagged me, he liked the comment and replied, “She can’t wait either.”
It’s true that I’m excited to see the movie but how annoying that I’m still being associated with him. Though, I don’t think either of us have made it social media official that we’re now owning a single status once again.
I suppose that’s the problem of relationships in our modern time. Everything has to be announced publicly and with fanfare.
I shoot him a quick text.
Me: Just a head’s up, I’m changing my status to single.
Jeff: Why? You’re coming back.
Me: Uh, no. I’m not.
Jeff: I don’t understand.
He doesn’t understand? How is that possible? My gosh, he’s such a jerk. Did he seriously think I’d be okay with his revolving door of women and not get mad about it?
Me: That’s like 100% of the problem. You thinking it was okay to cheat on me…
Me: Anyway, I just wanted you to know. Since you’re dropping all that extra weight that you’ve been carrying around figured we’d make it official.
He doesn’t respond to that and I’m not surprised. He doesn’t do well with being called out on his shit, obviously. Rarely takes blame for anything.
I open my social media back up and change my status to single, let out a sigh of relief, and feel the tension release from my shoulders then close it down. I play a game of solitaire on my phone while I continue to wait for Kyle. I briefly considered opening my Kindle app and reading, but I tend to get wrapped up in whatever book I’m reading and know that I’ll be annoyed if I have to turn it off.
Three games later, Kyle climbs back into his pickup and hands over a large folder.
I take it and turn to put it in his back seat but he stops me. “That’s something I need to talk about with you. Hungry now or want to hit up Walmart first? We can look at it together over lunch.”
“What is it?”
The Other Guy: A Textdoor Neighbor Romance Page 16