33. Grady
CHAPTER 33
GRADY
“Earth to Grady.” Finn’s voice reaches me through my zoned-out state and the cacophony of the crowded bar. “Table nine needs a refill.”
He’s busy pouring some beers for a group of guys that just walked in and took the last free table, and points with his chin at the table with empty glasses.It’s a full house, and even the bar top is starting to fill up. I need to get my head in the game tonight, and it is decidedly out of it.
“On it,” I answer, and I head over to ask who wants another round. I write their order down on the small pad of paper I keep tucked in my black apron, something I rarely have to do anymore.
Fuck, I’m tired. I scrub my hand down my face and shake myself awake.
Spencer and I stayed on the phone way too late last night. She fell asleep on the other end. I knew as much when the line went quiet except for her even rhythmic breathing.
I stayed on the call for another few hours anyway, in case she woke up and wondered where I was. I finally fell asleep too, and the call dropped at some point in the night.
If this is what long distance is like, I don’t know how long I’ll last. I hate this. I hate that I couldn’t hold Spencer as she fell asleep last night. I hate that she wasn’t here when I woke up. I hate that even though we spent hours on the phone with each other yesterday, it didn’t feel like enough. Mostly, I hate that those kinds of conversations, the ones where we have all the time in the world, will be an anomaly. It may never be that easy to talk on the phone again. All I’ll get are snippets of time and I’ll hold my breath waiting for her next call.
The drinks get delivered to the table, though I barely remember doing it, and I tell Finn that I’m going to take a breather in my office. Guests have been trickling out slowly as the night nears last call, so I retreat to do some work on the books before heading home.
I’ve strictly avoided going into the office since Spencer left. There aren’t many places around town where I can avoid remembering what it was like with her here, but when I’m at the bar, I do everything in my power to avoid the office.
But tonight, there’s no way I can delay the bookkeeping tasks any longer. I’m already behind and the longer I wait to look, the worse it will get.
I sit down on the worn leather office chair, and eye the plate with the remnant crumbs of the cheesecake Spencer and I shared. We had left in a hurry the night I brought her here, and I can still make out a faint smudge of her lipstick on the fork.
She looked absolutely radiant that night, and my chest seizes at the thought of how comfortable we’d been together. Our first date, and it didn’t feel awkward. It felt just right. How many dates will we get to have like that now?
My vision blurs and I’m unable to focus on the spreadsheet of expenses and order sheets to review. I click through a few windows absentmindedly. It takes me twice as long to do the weekly budget and send in the order for next month, and I’m certain that Doug will give me an earful when there are inevitably items missing. I click the window closed finally and turn in my chair when I hear a soft knock on the door frame.
“Bar is closed. There’s just one guest left, and then I’ll lock up,” Finn informs me.
“They won’t leave? Tell them we’re closed now,” I say, not surprised that Finn is too nice to tell someone to get out.
“It’s just one lady sitting at the bar and I didn’t have the heart,” he answers.
My heart jumps at the possibility … no … it can’t be.
I whirl around in my chair and get up to go look out at the bar, to see if it’s the person I’m hoping it is. But when I swing open the double doors, I see a woman with long chestnut hair where I was hoping to see red.
It was stupid of me to hope. I just talked to Spencer today, and she sounded like she had no intention of coming back. She’s determined to do what she set out to do, and I can’t blame her for that.
“You can get out of here, Finn. I’ll finish closing up,” I say. Anything to keep me from going home tonight. The only thing that held me together last night was having Spencer’s voice on the other end of the line, and I’m doubtful we’ll have a repeat of that now that she’s started her new job. I don’t feel like sitting in the silence where she should be.
Finn leaves, and I spend another hour poring over the books. The bar is doing well financially, and will continue to do well, thanks to Spencer. Thanks to the work she put in to help me preserve local business. Spencer did that for me, but she mostly did it for herself and her own ends. Ends that, unfortunately, didn’t include me. Not in the way I was hoping, at least.
I should be angrier than I am at Spencer. But where she portrays a larger-than-life bubbly, outgoing woman on the outside, inside, she’s still just that girl who felt abandoned when it really mattered. She’s just the girl that fought for everything she’s ever had.
I tried fighting, too, for the things I care about. Look where that got me. I’m not a fighter, clearly. I never have been.
By the time I’m done in my office, the last straggler is gone from the bar, and I meander between the tables to lock the front door. I make my way back through the kitchen, shutting off the lights as I go, heading out the back door into the alley, and climbing onto my bike to go home.
When I pull into the driveway and approach the house, there’s a light coming from inside that I don’t remember leaving on. Then again, I was so tired and distracted when I left, I wouldn’t have been surprised if the house burned to the ground because I didn’t turn the oven off.
I open the front door, but instead of stale, dark silence, I’m met with soft acoustic music and a smell that makes my mouth start watering. My stomach growls. I didn’t have an appetite all day, and I’m just now realizing I forgot to eat dinner.
There’s a clatter in the kitchen, yet I’m not worried that there’s someone in my house that I wasn’t expecting. Break-ins are rare in Heartwood, and I know that the music doesn’t belong to an intruder. Because there’s only one person that has my spare key.
And she was wearing it on a chain around her neck before she left.
A soft smile spreads across my face.I take my time hanging up my coat, wanting this to feel like any normal night. To soak in the feeling of coming home to Spencer cooking in my kitchen. Of coming home to her listening to music or doing whatever Spencer does when she’s alone.
She appears at the top of the stairs and my smile takes over my face when her eyes meet mine. We stand there a moment, staring at each other. My heart pounds at the sight of her, my apron tied crooked around her waist, her wool socks bunched around her ankles meeting the frayed hem of her jeans, her crimson waves falling out of the messy knot on her head. Everything about her is wild, undone, untamed, and she’s chosen to come home. I don’t ask what she’s doing here, because it doesn’t matter to me right now. Whatever the reason is for coming back is more than fine by me. Even if she tells me she’s only here for tonight. One more night with Spencer is all I need.
“Have you eaten?” she asks. “I made the risotto, just like you showed me, and it made way too much, so I thought you might want some.”
The question is so casual, and it comes out as if she never even left. It’s a seemingly small gesture, but for Spencer I know it’s not. It’s the way she experiences love. In the small actions that make her feel cared for. Having someone cook for you, having someone get you a cup of coffee, remembering the small details of who you are. Not grand gestures, but little moments. Here she is, giving it back to me.
“I would love some, Rebel.”
“Great.” She turns on her heel and goes to scoop me out some risotto. I follow her and sit at the island, like she and I have done so many times before. One of us cooking while the other watches. Except, usually, it’s me cooking, and her watching. Tonight, I can’t take my eyes off her.
She rounds the island and hovers next to me as she places the bowl in front of me. My eyes roam over her, still in disbelief that she’s here.
“Spence,” I start. Now I need to know what she’s doing here—my curiosity is killing me. Is she here because she’s gotten more time off before she leaves? Does she need me for something? Whatever it is, I can’t ignore it any longer. I can’t get my hopes up just to have my heart ripped out again. Spencer speaks before I can get the question out.
“I love you,” she says. The words crack a little and sound like they come from the depths of her chest. I believe her. Her green eyes pin me. “I love you, and I’m tired of believing that I can’t have the kind of relationship that I want with you. I refuse to believe that you are the kind of person who would leave me. More than anything, I’m tired of self-sabotaging and shutting myself off to love for fear of getting hurt.”
“What about your job? Your apartment?” Spencer just poured her heart out and here I am asking about her apartment, but there are still details of her change of heart that I need before I celebrate her being here.
“I told Sasha I couldn’t take the job. It’s not what I want. I thought that it would give me stability, certainty, and now I’m not sure that anything can. I’ve been so busy chasing a sense of security I’ve never had that I’ve completely neglected the people in my life who make it worth living. Some people are worth taking risks for. You are worth taking risks for.” The fact that Spencer still feels like this is uncertain ground, that this is a risk, tugs at my heart. All I want to tell her is that this isn’t risky because I’m not going anywhere. I know that. But her heart is wary, and that’s okay. In time she’ll see, she’ll trust me, she’ll know that she’ll always be safe with me.
“Where are you going to live?” I ask with a quirk of my lips, a playful smirk forming.
“I thought … I don’t know. I thought I would—” Spencer stammers, and I reach down for her hand. I pull her into me, into a tight hug, and I breathe in the scent of her hair.
“I’m kidding. Of course you can live here. I told you your room was here for you whenever you wanted. It’s not going anywhere. I am not going anywhere. I love you, Spencer.”
She pulls back to look at me, her watery eyes searching my face. God, it feels good to have her back here, in my arms.
“I never thought I deserved this. You.” Her voice wobbles and I reach up to her, standing between my legs as I’m seated on the barstool, and gently brush a hair off her face.
“You deserve the world. I will do everything I can to give it to you,” I promise. She wraps her arms around my neck tightly and buries her face into me. The action makes the knot in my stomach loosen and come undone, because I know that she’s here to stay. She’s mine now, but I’ve been hers since the day I met her.
“Well, I guess you were right,” she says.
“Oh, I’m right, huh? I never thought I’d hear you admit that,” I say. “But I’m not sure about what.”A smile tugs at her beautiful, soft, pink lips.
“You and I are inevitable.”