Next to Me

by Allie Everhart

  "Why are you giving him a pie?"

  "To welcome him to town."

  I give him a confused look. "You never welcome people to town."

  "He said he could help fix some things around here. If I welcome him with a pie, maybe he'll give me a deal." He motions me to the door. "Now get out of here. It's after three."

  I check the clock. It's ten after three. I'm off schedule and didn't even notice. That's weird.

  "See you tomorrow." I go out the back exit so I don't have to see Katie again.

  When I get home, I smile when I see a freshly mowed lawn at Old Man Freeson's house. It looks so much better. It even makes the crappy house look better. I pull the car up to the garage and see Nash walking up.

  "I got it," he says, waving at me as he goes to open the garage door.

  My jaw drops when I see him. He's shirtless and his chest is ripped. Pure muscle, with six-pack abs like you see in those photos of hot guys they put on calendars. I've never seen one of those guys in real life. I wasn't even sure abs like that were real. I thought maybe they just messed with the photo to make them look like that.

  "Go ahead," he says, waiting for me to pull in the garage.

  I park the car and go out to the driveway.

  "Thanks," I say as he closes the garage door. He's sweaty, which I'd normally think was disgusting, but on him, I'm finding it somewhat appealing. Or maybe more than somewhat.

  "What do you think?" He glances back at his lawn.

  I force my gaze away from his chest. "Um, yeah. It looks great. Even makes the house look better."

  "Yeah, I think so too." He points to my leg. "So how's the knee?"

  "It's better, but I'm going to put some ice on it while I watch TV."

  "Need some help getting to the door?" He eyes my crumbling walkway. "I need to fix this. It's really dangerous."

  "I'll call someone tomorrow. I'm just not sure who to call."

  "Hey." He sets his hand on my shoulder. "I said I'd do it and I will. It's my fault you fell and fixing this is the least I can do."

  "Fine, but I'll pay you for the supplies."

  "The supplies are cheap. Don't worry about it."

  "But don't you have to rent equipment? I can at least pay for that."

  "I've got the equipment. I'll see if my brother can bring it down this weekend. I'll make him help. He owes me."

  "Okay, well, thanks. That's really nice of you to do that for me."

  "I better get back to work. I was cleaning the deck when I heard you drive up." He smiles. "Dinner's at six. Don't forget."

  "Nash, I have to pass on dinner. I have things to do."

  "Like what?"

  "Just...things." I need to come up with better excuses. He's very persistent.

  "Are you eating with your family? If so, they're welcome to come over. I'll just order a couple more pizzas."

  "No, they're um...out of town. They went on vacation."

  "For how long?"

  "A week?" I said it like a question. That was dumb.

  "You're not sure when they're coming back?"

  "No. They're having fun. They're in no hurry to get back."

  "Where'd they go?"

  "You ask a lot of questions."

  He shrugs. "I was just curious. If they're having so much fun, I'm surprised you didn't go with them."

  A lump lodges in my throat. Why didn't I go with them? Why did I stay home? The words flood my brain. Not again. I hate this. I hate this so much.

  "I have to go." I race to the house, ignoring the pain in my knee as I run. When I get inside, I shut and lock the door, then collapse on the couch, leaning forward with my face in my hands.

  "Why didn't I go?" I whisper. "Why did I stay behind?"

  And then it begins. The thoughts that have tortured me for over a year start cycling through my mind. I try to count but it doesn't work. The questions just keep coming, like they're on a continuous loop.

  Why am I still here?

  Why am I here and they're not?

  Why did it happen to them and not me?

  Why was I left all alone?

  Why did I tell Ben no when he begged me to go with them? How could I say no to him?

  Why was I so selfish? My mom wasn't selfish. Neither was Greg. They were both good people. Both better than me. They loved each other. They had a good life. A sweet little boy. So why did this happen? Why them and not me?

  Why? Why? Why?

  I'm rocking back and forth, trying to breathe. Whenever this happens—the nonstop questions, the guilt, the regret—I feel like I can't breathe. Like something heavy is lying on my chest and I can't get it off me. Sometimes I wish it would just take me. Crush me. Squeeze out that last bit of breath so I could be with them. Where I belong.

  There's a knock on the door. It startles me and the loop of questions grinds to a screeching halt. My head is pounding and I feel dizzy.

  The doorbell rings, followed by more knocking. "Callie?"

  It's Nash. Now what does he want? Maybe if I ignore him, he'll go away.

  He knocks again.

  I wipe my eyes and take a deep breath, then get up and walk to the door.

  "What do you need?" I force out a smile as I greet him. This time he's wearing a shirt, a gray one with the words Wheeler Construction and Renovation printed in the corner.

  "Sorry to bother you. I just wondered if you had any kind of cleaner I could use for the deck table. Gramps didn't have much for cleaning supplies." He laughs, but then his smile suddenly drops and he gently grasps my arm. "Hey. Are you okay?"

  Shit. My eyes must be red.

  I nod, smiling. "Yeah. I'm fine."

  "Are you sure?" He rubs my arm a little and I want to beg him to continue. His touch is warm and comforting and I desperately need that. I need someone to comfort me and tell me everything will be okay. That I won't always be like this. That eventually things will get better.

  "I have some cleaner," I say. "I'll go get it." I hurry to the kitchen and take a spray bottle from under the sink, then meet him back at the door. "This should work."

  "Thanks," he says, a look of concern in his eyes. "You sure you're okay?"

  "Yep." I smile even wider. "Just a little tired from work." The mention of work reminds me of the pie. "I forgot your pie."

  His smile returns. "You brought me a pie?"

  "It's from Lou. He wanted me to give it to you but I left it in my car. I'll go get it."

  "I can get it." He takes off, and a few moments later he's back knocking on my door. I answer it and see him holding the pie. "Does this have to be refrigerated?"

  "Yeah. Sorry. He didn't know your fridge didn't work. I can keep it in mine." I take it from him.

  "Thanks. So I'll see you at six." He turns to leave.

  "Nash, I told you I can't have dinner with you."

  "I'm eating that pie for dessert so you'll have to bring it over, right?"

  "Um, yeah, I guess."

  "Then you might as well come for dinner."

  His logic hurts my head. It kind of makes sense, but not really. He's gone before I can argue with him.

  I can't go to dinner. It'll mess up my schedule. But this guy just won't give up. If I'm not there at six, he'll be back knocking on my door.

  So I guess I'm going to dinner.

  Chapter Six

  Nash

  I don't know what happened, but something was going on with Callie when I went over there earlier. Her eyes were red and teary like she'd been crying. But why would she be crying?

  She seemed okay when she got home from work. We were talking in the driveway, but then she suddenly took off. She ran in the house and shut the door. I've been trying to figure out what I might've said that made her run off like that, but I can't even remember what we were talking about.

  "Nash?" I hear a girl's voice but it doesn't sound like Callie's. "I walk to the edge of the deck and see a girl coming around the side of the house. "Nash?"

  It's the girl
I saved from getting hit by a car. What was her name? It was similar to Callie. Kaylie? Carrie? Cassie? Shit, I can't remember.

  "Over here." I go down the steps and meet up with her on the patio, which is just a slab of cracked concrete with weeds peeping through. Add that to the list of things I need to fix. At this rate I'll still be working on this house a year from now.

  "There you are." She sashays over to me holding a container of something. She has a different dress on. A shorter dress, in a red silky fabric with thin straps at the top. She's wearing heavier makeup than when I saw her earlier and her blond hair is held back with large sunglasses. "I brought you something."

  She hands me the plastic container.

  "What is it?"

  "Brownies." She steps in front of me and I can smell her perfume. It's much stronger now. "I felt bad that yours fell on the ground when you saved me. So I made you a batch."

  "You made these?" I hold up the container.

  "I'm pretty good in the kitchen." She bites her lip, smiling. "And other places."

  I take a step back to escape her perfume. "Thanks, but you didn't have to do that."

  "It was no trouble." She walks around me, inspecting the deck. I scrubbed it and hosed it down so it's cleaner than it was before but really needs to be power-washed and given a new coat of stain.

  "It looks a lot better," she says.

  "You saw how it looked before?"

  Her eyes dart back to mine. "No. But I imagine it was pretty dirty after being neglected for so long." She motions to the house. "So how long will it take to finish?"

  "I'm not sure yet. I have to make a list of what needs to be done, then put a schedule to it."

  "Is that the company you work for?" She points to my shirt. I forgot I was wearing a company t-shirt. I just threw it on before I went to Callie's house to get the cleaner, figuring she might not appreciate me showing up there shirtless. Or maybe she would. I smile.

  "Nash?" the girl says, and I realize I forgot to answer her question.

  "It's my dad's business. My brothers and I work for him and someday we'll take it over."

  "So you're a business owner?" She smiles as she saunters over to me. She runs her finger down my chest. "That's very ambitious. I like an ambitious man."

  It's clear why she came here, but I'm not interested. Working construction, I've seen this played out so many times I've lost count. The rich girl who wants a change from the stuffy rich guys she usually dates so she seeks out a blue collar guy to spice things up? I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that. She's just looking for sex and there's plenty of guys who will give it to her. Like Jake, my brother. He actually seeks out girls like this, saying they seem all prim and proper, but get them in bed and they're up for anything.

  Jake would jump at the chance to be with this girl, but not me. I'm not looking for a one-night stand. I'm not even looking for a girlfriend. I need to get over my anger toward Marissa before I even think about getting into another relationship.

  "Let's go out tonight," she says, her hand resting on my chest. "My father's having a cocktail party at the club. You can come as my guest. We'll stop by, have a drink, then see where things go from there." She runs her tongue over her lips. That should turn me on but it doesn't. Not even a twitch in my shorts. Her daddy comment is what killed it. She's hot, and just minutes ago, I admit I was attracted to her, but using me to piss off Daddy? I hate that shit. I've watched this happen with guys on my construction crew as well as my brothers. And when it happened to my brothers, I was pissed. Because for girls like this, it isn't about sex. It's about finding a guy she thinks is stupid and poor and unworthy of her so that her father will get angry and give her attention, or do whatever she asks in exchange for her never going out with guys like us again.

  This girl seemed nice when I met her earlier, but now? I don't like her, and I want her to leave.

  "Sorry, but I'm busy." I go around her and up the stairs to the deck.

  "How about tomorrow? I could pick you up at seven."

  Pick you up. She has to pick me up because she wouldn't be caught dead in my truck. I'm guessing she drives an Audi. White. Convertible.

  "What kind of car do you have?" I ask.

  She smiles. "A white Audi convertible. You can drive it if you want."

  I chuckle under my breath. "I really need to get back to work on this deck, but thanks again for the brownies. "I'll see you later, Car—" Shit. I almost called her Carrie and I don't think that's her name.

  "Katie," she says, correcting me. "And you're not really turning me down, are you?" She pouts her lips.

  "I'm not the guy for you, Katie," I say as I wipe down the deck chairs. "There's a strip mall being built along the freeway coming into town. Why don't you head over there?"

  "What's that supposed to mean?" She sounds offended.

  "I'll see you later." I go inside the house, hoping that'll make her leave. It does, and when she's gone, I finish wiping down the deck chairs, then go back inside to get cleaned up. It's five-thirty and I have to get ready for dinner. I'm not sure if Callie will show up, but if she does, I don't want to be all sweaty.

  At six, I set the pizza out on the deck table along with some napkins and paper plates. I found some real plates in the cupboard but they're coated in dust and I didn't have time to wash them. Same with the glasses, so I bought plastic cups. Since I don't have a working freezer, I filled a cooler with ice, which is where I'm chilling the cans of pop and bottles of beer.

  It's a great night, weather-wise. The sun is out, the sky is blue, and there's a gentle breeze blowing.

  "Am I early?" I glance up and smile when I see Callie there. For some reason, this girl makes me smile. She's changed out of her work uniform and is wearing denim shorts and a fitted red t-shirt. And I gotta say, Callie in that red t-shirt is a hell of a lot sexier than what's-her-name in the slinky red dress. I felt a twitch in my shorts just now. Or maybe more than a twitch.

  "You're right on time. Have a seat." I pull out a chair for her.

  "You're pulling out my chair? I thought this wasn't a date." She smiles but it's a nervous smile. Is that because she thinks it's a date?

  "It's not a date," I say, hoping to calm her nerves. "I was just being a gentleman. My dad told us boys to always help a woman with her chair. Open doors. That type of thing."

  "Some girls would think that's sexist."

  "Are you one of those girls?"

  She shakes her head. "No. Although you carrying me in my house was a little caveman-like. I'm not helpless. I can walk."

  "True, but you were bleeding all over the place. I was worried you'd stain the concrete."

  She laughs; a real laugh, not a nervous laugh. "I hadn't thought about that. Good thinking."

  "You need to put your leg up? I can move a chair over."

  "No, it's a lot better now." She checks her watch and that nervous look reappears.

  "Do you need to be somewhere after dinner?"

  "No, but I do have some things to do later, so could we start eating?"

  She keeps saying she has stuff to do but then never explains what those things are.

  "Help yourself." I open the pizza box and slide it over to her. "I got pepperoni, assuming it's what most everyone likes."

  "I love pepperoni." She takes two slices.

  I lift open the cooler. "Pop or beer?"

  "One of each?"

  "Coming right up." I set them on the table and take a beer for myself.

  "Thanks." She takes a bite of pizza. I've noticed she takes tiny bites. I take huge bites. It was something I learned growing up with three brothers. You had to eat fast or your brother would snatch your food off your plate, especially pizza.

  "I haven't had pizza in a while," she says. "This is really good."

  "You guys don't order pizza much?"

  "Not really," she says softly.

  "But I bet you eat a lot of it in college. I have a friend who delivers pizzas and he said the
majority of his deliveries are to colleges." She doesn't respond so I say, "You never told me where you go to college. Do you go out of state?"

  She hesitates. "I um..." She sets her pizza down. "I go to Northwestern."

  "No shit?" I raise my brows. "Wow. Congratulations. That's great. That's a hard school to get into. What's your major?"

  She takes a breath, her eyes on the table. "Math, combined with education. I was going to be a math teacher."

  "But you're not anymore?"

  Her eyes dart up. "What?"

  "You used the past tense. You said you were going to be a math teacher, so I assume that means you changed your mind?"

  "No. I mean—never mind." She gets up from the table. "I'm not really hungry. I have to go." She takes off down the stairs.

  "Callie, wait!" I hurry to catch up to her, which isn't hard because she's slow with her injured knee. "Callie, what's wrong?" I go around to face her.

  "I'm just not very hungry."

  "You were like a minute ago."

  "Well, I'm not now so..."

  "Then just sit and talk to me. You know how I hate to eat alone." I give her an exaggerated frown.

  Her lips creep up a tiny bit. "Just get a dog. Then you'll always have someone to eat with."

  "I'm not eating with a freaking dog." I pretend to be offended. "They can't even talk."

  "Then learn how to interpret their barks." She's smiling a little more now. "I think they have classes for that. How to speak dog."

  I cross my arms over my chest. "I'm not interested in learning to speak dog."

  She shrugs. "Then I'll guess you'll have to get over your fear of eating alone."

  "It's not a fear. I just don't like it." I get serious and lift her face up to mine. "Callie, tell me what I did to scare you off. Because I swear, I didn't mean to. I was just trying to make conversation."

  "I know." She closes her eyes, then opens them again. "I just..." Her voice trails off and she seems sad.

  "What? Tell me what you were going to say."

  She takes a breath, then straightens up. "You ask too many damn questions."

  Her sadness has suddenly turned to annoyance, which I find humorous.

  "I was just trying to get to know you."