The Apple Tree (Sunday Morning #2)

Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

PAT BENATAR, “LOVE IS A BATTLEFIELD”

Eve

“Hey, we thought you might be taking the night off. So I’ve managed to make a frozen pizza with one arm,” Kyle said when I stepped inside the back door. “As long as I can take it out of the oven with one hand.”

“I’ll help!” Josh ran toward the oven with a hot pad in his hands.

“Stand back, buddy,” Kyle said, opening the oven. “And keep Clifford back too.”

“I’ve got it.” I set my Gatorade bottle on the counter and took the cookie sheet from Kyle. Then I used the spatula to scoot the pizza onto it. “Oh!”

“Josh!” Kyle yelled as I bumped into him, and the pizza slid off the cookie sheet.

A blood-curdling scream filled the room.

“Dammit!” Kyle pulled Josh toward the sink and lifted him up.

“Eve, turn on the cold water.”

I stood stunned, staring at the hot pizza sauce and cheese burning Josh’s arm.

“EVE!” Kyle yelled.

I jumped and turned on the water.

Josh screamed.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, but it was barely a whisper because I couldn’t believe what had happened.

“We have to go to the hospital. It’ll be okay, buddy,” Kyle said.

“Eve, grab a clean towel.”

I stared at the burned skin along Josh’s arm.

“Eve!”

My gaze snapped from Josh’s arm to Kyle’s face.

That’s when we made eye contact.

Kyle frowned. “Give me the goddamn towel, Eve!”

I handed him the towel as Josh cried uncontrollably.

“Look at me,” Kyle said, wrapping Josh’s arm in the towel.

Everything felt like a bad dream. His cries pierced my ears.

“Look. At. Me!” Kyle demanded. It took him less than two seconds to get his answer. “Go home.”

“But he needs to go to the emergency room,” I said.

“Are you going to drive him?”

I winced at his sharp tone and slowly shook my head. “I’ll ride in the back seat with him.”

“Hold on to my neck, Josh,” Kyle instructed Josh to put his good arm around his neck.

“I’ll carry him.”

“You won’t,” he said, lifting Josh with his one good arm. “Shut off the oven and grab my keys.”

I turned in a slow circle, looking for the keys.

“On the counter, Eve.”

I found his keys and opened the door. Then I climbed into the back of the truck with Josh while Kyle drove to the ER.

“Shh … you’ll be okay,” I said, trying to soothe Josh on the way.

When we arrived, I helped Josh out of the truck and Kyle held him with his good arm and a grimace on his face. It was clearly hurting his injured arm.

“You can’t go inside. Just stay in the truck,” he said.

“But—”

“Eve! Just do as I say.”

After they disappeared into the entrance, I closed the truck door and wiped my tear-stained cheeks.

What had I done?

Two hours later, Josh had his arm wrapped, a sticker, and a pack of wafer cookies for being a good little patient, and Kyle was tucking him in bed. I stepped back into the hallway.

Kyle closed his door halfway and nodded toward the stairs. When we reached the kitchen, I turned and rested my hands on the counter’s edge behind me. Kyle picked up the bottle of Gatorade and held it between his legs to open it. My gaze dropped to the floor as he took a sip.

“Booze,” he mumbled. “You can’t be drunk around my son. What the hell is wrong with you? You dropped a fucking hot pizza onto him. He has second-degree burns that might leave scars all along his arm. What the hell were you thinking?”

I winced. The first tear landed between my feet, and then the next few hit my socks, disappearing into the white cotton. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“I’m not asking for an apology. I know you’re sorry. It’s been on your face all night. I’m asking what you were thinking?”

“I was just taking the edge off.”

“Christ,” he grumbled. “The edge off what? You’re eighteen. You have a home and food on the table. You have a family who loves you. A job. Friends. You have me and Josh. Please, please tell me what fucking edge you’re taking off?”

I wiped my tears and sniffled. “It’s us. I’m tired of keeping us a secret.”

“I can’t do this tonight. You’re all over the goddamn place. One minute, you’re dying to tell everyone, the next you’re not. Just fucking tell them.” He rubbed his temples.

“I can’t,” I whispered.

“Whatever. Then I’ll tell them. Just not tonight. I need you to just go.”

I shook my head. “You can’t.”

“Why not?”

My head continued to shake. “It’s too much.”

“Too much what?”

I lifted my gaze, eyes narrowed. “You don’t understand. But it’s just more than they can deal with.”

He studied me for several seconds before sighing. “Fine. But you can’t come to my house intoxicated. Do you understand me?”

I nodded.

“In fact, just stop drinking. You’re eighteen, and?—”

“Gah!” I clenched my hands into tight fists. “I know! I’m eighteen. I know my age. Everyone knows my age. Would you stop starting every sentence with my age? If it’s such a big deal to you then break up with me. Go be with someone whose age you’re not embarrassed about.”

“I’m bringing up your age because it’s relevant to our conversation about your drinking.”

“Welp,” I said, holding my hands out to the side, “I’m done drinking. I’m not smoking. No drugs. I won’t even vote in the presidential election next year if it makes you happy and takes the burden off bringing up my age in every single conversation. Happy?”

Kyle frowned. “My son’s upstairs with burns all down his arm. Do you think I’m happy?”

Everything hurt, and everything was my fault.

I pushed off the counter and marched to the door, shoving my feet into my sneakers.

“Eve …”

I hurried out the door, pounding my feet along the wood planks, down the stairs and toward the hill.

“Eve?” He followed me.

I picked up my pace.

“Stop, Eve! My fucking arm hurts. I’m not running after you.”

I didn’t want him to run after me. I just wanted to go home and be alone with my feelings and as many sad songs as I could find on the radio.

“Dammit!” he grumbled.

I could hear his footsteps getting closer. He was running.

“Stop!” I yelled when he hooked his fingers into the waist of my jeans. I swung around, arms flailing to get him to let go of me.

“Ouch! Fuck!” He hugged his slinged arm and buckled at the waist after I accidentally hit it.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled behind the hand I cupped at my mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re so stubborn and infuriating,” he seethed while standing straight.

Just as I opened my mouth to protest what was probably the truth, he grabbed the back of my head with his right hand, my hair gripped in his fist, and he smashed his mouth to mine.

It was a long kiss. Hard and punishing.

Considering everyone called me stubborn, I melted at his feet every time. I loved his hand in my hair, his tongue in my mouth, and the way he stepped so close to me that his leg wedged between mine.

He ended the kiss as abruptly as it started. “Now you can go home and be mad,” he said, turning one-eighty and making his way up the hill to his house.

After I caught my breath, I sprinted home to call Erin and tell her everything.