The Apple Tree (Sunday Morning #2)

Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

REO SPEEDWAGON, “KEEP ON LOVING YOU”

Eve

I went to work.

If I was going to prove to everyone that I was worthy of Kyle’s style of epic love, then I needed to be a grown-up. And since that didn’t involve college, I had to go to work.

But as soon as I clocked out, I headed to the nursing home.

“There’s my sweet Eve.” Grandma Bonnie glanced up from her yarn and crochet needle. “How was your day, dear? Your mom told me about Mr. Collins. Is he home?”

“He’s home,” I said, closing the door to her room, kicking off my sneakers, and sitting cross-legged on her bed. “And he loves me.” I laced my fingers together, squeezing tightly to control my excitement.

Grandma’s thinning eyebrows lifted.

I nodded a half-dozen times at her unspoken questions. Then I spilled every detail, every word that was exchanged that morning. I knew my parents would be furious.

Sarah and Gabby would be happy for me in a reserved way, knowing I’d be in trouble.

Erin would share my joy, but she’d share it as an eighteen-year-old with her questionable behavior and choices too.

But Grandma Bonnie loved me through and through. She knew all about love and life. She championed my desire to choose my path. Her opinion mattered the most. And when she smiled, it was genuine—it was everything.

“He’s a keeper,” she said with a soft smile and easy nod.

I beamed. “I think so too. Would you mind telling Mom and Dad for me?”

She barked a laugh. “Oh dear. No. I’m sorry. That is a very important experience you need to have in life. It’s necessary for personal growth. You want to be a strong woman, don’t you?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Well, it’s not a big deal to me. I had a terrible time starting Kyle’s boat. I’m a runner. My upper body strength isn’t the best.”

Grandma laughed. My mom would have rolled her eyes and told me to be serious.

With a slow sigh, my smile faded. “I know I need to tell them. I just have never forgotten listening to Sarah and my dad yelling at each other when he kicked her out of the house. My mom was crying, and it was awful. And I think Dad loves her more than he loves me. Sarah was always the golden girl. She could do no wrong. So imagine what he’ll do to me—the daughter who has been the biggest disappointment.”

“Love is a funny word, Eve. We use it indiscriminately. It can mean everything, like what you felt when Kyle said it this morning, or it can be very little when we try to use it as a measurement for favoritism. I promise your parents don’t love one of you girls more than the other. It’s just that you’re all three very different. And your parents’ tolerance for certain things feels like a measure of love, but it’s not.” She shook her head. “Your Uncle Andrew used to try my patience like no one else, but I’ve never loved him a single ounce less than I love your mom.” She held up a finger. “But if you ask either of them, they’ll say your mom was my favorite.”

I smiled. “Okay. I believe you. But I still think my dad is looking for any reason to kick me out.”

“Wherever would you go?” she asked, focusing on her needle and yarn.

“I’d stay at the hotel or live in sin if Kyle lets me move in with him.”

“It’s better to live in sin than die in sin.”

I giggled. “You think?”

“Oh yes. When you die, that’s when you do all that confession stuff, begging for forgiveness, requesting permission to cross the golden arches.”

“Grandma, I think it’s a golden gate, not an arch. McDonald’s has golden arches.”

“Potato potahto.”

“I’ll tell them this Sunday after church.”

“During dinner?” she asked.

An idea hit me, and I grinned. “Yes. That. Definitely that.”

“Where have you been?” Mom asked when I peeked into the kitchen.

“After work I went to the nursing home, then I stopped to talk to Erin. Need help?”

“No. It’s just chili. It’s simmering, and the cornbread is on the cooling racks. Do you want to take some over to Kyle and Josh? Or do you want me to run over there? Your dad said we needed to give Kyle a little space. Last night, Kyle and Fred had quite an argument over everything. Kyle thinks he can do it all alone, but I know he’ll feed Josh TV dinners every night if we don’t send over some food.”

“I’ll take it over there and eat with them. Then I can make sure Josh gets tucked into bed. He might want me to stay again. If he wakes in the middle of the night, he could try to jump in bed with Kyle and hurt his arm.”

Mom cringed. “I didn’t think of that.”

“Yup, it could be bad. I’m going to run upstairs and take a quick shower.”

“Okay, hun. I’ll wrap up some bread and ladle the chili into a smaller pot.”

I took a quick shower and fully dried my hair. Even though Kyle was in a sling with a broken arm and plenty of pain, I wanted to look nice for him.

Since I had so much to carry, I packed it in my car and drove to his house.

“Eve’s here!” Josh and Clifford ran down the porch steps as Kyle slowly stood from the swing.

“Hey, Mister. How was school?”

“Good,” Josh said, taking the bread while I carried the soup.

Kyle held open the door with his good arm.

I stopped while Josh continued toward the kitchen. “Hi,” I whispered.

Kyle’s grin mirrored mine as he ducked his head to kiss me. “Hi,” he said after a slow kiss.

“How are you feeling?” I headed toward the kitchen.

“Better now.”

I shot him a flirty look over my shoulder. And he winked. God, I loved that wink.

The three of us ate dinner together, and it felt so natural. Afterward, I ensured Josh bathed, put on his jammies, and brushed his teeth. While Kyle read him a story, I tidied up the kitchen, took Clifford outside, and put a load of laundry into the washing machine.

“You don’t have to do our laundry,” Kyle said.

I turned on the washer and pivoted to face him. “I know. You don’t have to love me, but you do it anyway. So laundry seems pretty simple in comparison.”

With his good shoulder leaned against the doorframe, the corner of his mouth twitched. “Where did you go earlier?”

“To work.” I stepped closer.

“Is that it?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just kiss me,” I whispered.

He gazed down at me with what I’d come to recognize as love in his eyes. “I need a shower.”

“You mean a sponge bath since you can’t get your incision wet.”

“Yes. I need help bathing. And it’s a little degrading.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Not when I’m looking at you.”

I slowly shook my head. “That’s code for you’re hiding your pain from me. Let’s go.” We shut off the lights on the main level, and I locked the doors. Then we headed upstairs.

I ran water in the bathtub and helped him out of his clothes. The water hit just above his waist when he eased into the tub. I grabbed his soap bar and started washing what I could without getting his injured arm wet.

“Ignore my erection,” he said.

I grinned, kissing his ear. “I can’t ignore it, but I won’t acknowledge it if it makes you feel better.”

We stared at each other while I washed him. It wasn’t sexual, despite said erection. But it was intimate. Sometimes, he let his eyes drift shut like my touch took away some of his pain, especially when I guided his head back and washed his hair, massaging his scalp.

Our flirty glances continued as I helped him out of the tub and dried him off.

“I could get used to this,” he said as I pulled his boxer shorts up his legs.

“Says the guy who kicked his family out because he wanted to do everything himself.” I hung up his towel and then squirted toothpaste onto his toothbrush.

He took the toothbrush from me. “Did it ever occur to you that I kicked them out so you could bathe me?”

I rolled my eyes.

After he finished brushing his teeth, he eased into bed. I stole one of his T-shirts and returned to the bathroom. A few minutes later, I opened the door, and he eyed me in his shirt as I made my way to the other side of the bed, reaching for the lamp to turn it off.

“Wait,” he said, eyeing me. “Let me look at you in my shirt.”

I glanced down. It was just a gray T-shirt with a Nike swoosh.

“I’m scared,” he said.

My gaze shot up to his.

Tiny lines formed along his forehead. “My life felt perfect.” His gaze affixed to the shirt, but it looked like he was seeing something that wasn’t in the room or the present. “Maybe not perfect by other people’s standards, but it felt perfect to me. I was in love. We were having a baby. House. Jobs. 401(k). It all seemed logical. The dream was there. We just had to take it. But she didn’t want it.” His brow tensed more, eyes narrowed. “How do you carry a life inside of you for nine months, push it out of your body, hold him in your arms, and then just walk away?”

Kyle looked at me. “How did I fall in love with someone who would do that?”

I swallowed, but there was no right response. I felt only eighteen under the weight of his question.

“When Josh was born, my heart exploded. It was like everything I had done up until that point was frivolous and inconsequential. When they let me hold him, I didn’t want to let him go. He’s just …” Kyle’s eyes reddened. “He’s the best part of every day. Everything in my life is better because of him. I am better because of him.”

I used his shirt sleeve to wipe my eyes and snotty nose.

“So I’m scared, Eve. I’m scared because I don’t trust my heart. And that little boy trusts everyone.”

“You don’t trust me,” I whispered.

“I love you.”

I nodded slowly. “But you’re scared to love me.”

He stared at the ceiling.

I waited.

And I waited.

“Eve, I’m terrified to love you. And I knew it the second I saw the look in my brother’s eyes. It was the look he gave me when I said I was going to be a dad and ask Melinda to marry me. He’s always thought I make rash decisions.”

“I don’t want to be your regret.”

“I would never regret you.”

“But if we don’t work?—”

“I would never regret you.” He stretched out his good arm. “Come here.”

After a slight hesitation, I turned off the light and crawled into his bed, hugging his arm and holding his hand.

“Regret isn’t the right word. It’s the pain that terrifies me. It’s the loss. The self-doubt. The responsibility I feel for Josh’s well-being. Telling my brother and Anne felt like the point of no return. That’s a lot of pressure to put on you at your age.”

“Why does everything come back to my age?”

“Because it matters, Eve. You’re trying to figure out where you fit in the world now that you’re out of school. You have a job, but you live at home. You’re impulsive, and you have a need to push boundaries, which is?—”

“Why does everyone say I’m impulsive?” I released his arm and rolled to my back with a harsh sigh.

He chuckled, and it infuriated me. It felt condescending.

“You’re making my point by not letting me finish. It’s natural to be this way at your age. And it’s one of the things I love about you. But it’s also really fucking scary because it makes you unpredictable. So, yeah, I’m glad you’re here in my bed. I’m beyond grateful for what you’ve done for Josh and me. And I want things to work out between us, but I don’t see it happening without a lot of battles, blood, sweat, and tears.”

He reached for my hand. “But I’m in. I wouldn’t have told my brother and Anne unless I was fully committed. But I won’t lie to you and say I’m not terrified. Every day won’t be fishing and hiding in a hut by the creek.”

“I know that,” I grumbled.

Again, he chuckled.

“Stop laughing at me.”

“It’s joy. You bring me joy, even when showing your stubborn side.”

I rolled again to turn my back to him. I wasn’t being stubborn. I was pissed off that there was no way to expedite my way into being a “mature” adult. I was still a fucking teenager.

He hooked several fingers into my underwear’s waistband and pulled me closer to him, giving me a wedgie.

“Stop,” I said, wriggling to fix my underwear.

“You stop.” He tucked me under his good arm. “Sweet dreams, my love.”

My love …