Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
C rying had not been her plan for the evening. To be fair, from the moment Rafferty rushed out of her shop to jump into a fire, she’d found herself tearing up constantly. Her brain had the ability to think of the worst at all times and send her into a tailspin. So it wasn’t surprising that the minute they started talking about his grandparents, she had tears streaming down her face.
For someone who grew up with toxic people until the age of six, she didn’t know that family members could be loving and caring. It baffled her the first few years after she moved to New York, because nobody had ever shown affection like that. Rafferty’s grandparents became hers and they cared for her in ways she didn’t know was possible. Nonna fed her, and never criticized her body or appearance. She loved Daisy like she was her own.
Even her father was so caring, it all seemed so false at first.
Eventually she understood how much love had been around her when she was a kid, how fortunate she was to have people care about her for as long as they did. Knowing that Nonna was proud of her was what made her cry more.
They took their food and settled into big comfy chairs on the back porch. The sun had been setting when she got there and now the stars were putting on a damn good show. The soft lamp allowed her to admire the man sitting beside her, take in the way the sleeveless T-shirt flaunted his strong tattooed arms.
“Tell me about your tattoos,” she said, adjusting her saree around her legs once she had them tucked onto the chair. The silver lines she’d seen a hint of at the ice cream shop were now clearly visible. They really looked like lightning and when he moved or flexed his arm, it shimmered.
“These,” he started, stretching out his left arm, “are to cover up my scars. Between training and running into buildings, I accumulated quite a few wounds. Cal would play connect the dots sometimes and I liked the way it looked. The artist told me about Kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken items with gold paint, and that inspired me. But instead of gold, we went with silver.”
“Because you’re not broken.”
He chuckled, nodding as he set his arm down, drawing her eyes to his bicep. Where the silver lines ended, there were a bunch of New York themed tattoos, including one of their brownstones. She ate her dinner, eyes tracing every inch of his exposed skin.
“Is there any skin available?”
He laughed. “My back mostly and my left leg. Ran out of ideas after my first thigh tat.”
“What’s on your other arm?”
He hesitated and jaw flexed before he shifted to show her his arm. The inside of his forearm had drawings that looked like they were doodles by his son—a rocket ship, planets, weird looking stars, Callahan’s name and a small selection of badly drawn flowers that she recognized as her work. They ended where the trees wrapped around the portion beneath his elbow. Haphazardly drawn lines were inked around his bicep along with flowers that she couldn’t identify because he lowered his arm and turned away.
“Wait.”
“ Daze. ” His voice was strained.
“Show me.”
With a heavy sigh, he set his bowl down and turned so that his right arm was in full view. Her breath caught at the intricate detail. How did I not see this when he was cooking? His entire upper arm was covered in daisies, some with stems and leaves, others with petals fluttering away. There must have been close to a hundred. She swallowed the question as her eyes snagged on the three letters permanently added to his skin—DEH. Daisy Elizabeth Heroux .
“My god,” she whispered and he leaned back, reaching for his food. She wanted to ask him how long he had them and why. The thought that he might have felt the same way about her in New York was laughable, but he had kissed her back that night. He had wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against him.
“I got them soon after we lost touch.”
She stared, still trying to process his admission. She’d done the same by including his favorite flowers in her sleeve, but her decision was because he was her first love. The possibility that he held her that close to him all this time made her heart race.
Even though she had a million questions about the tattoos, she said, “What was your life like after I left?”
He glanced at her and she nodded, encouraging him to answer. No matter what he said or how much it might hurt her, she wanted to know.
“Lonely the first few years. Those phone calls kept me going, if I’m being honest. But classes, work and life just took over.”
“You were happy, right?”
“Eventually. I loved working with my dad, visiting public properties to turn into gardens and community centers to refresh them. But I felt like there was something missing. So I decided to become a firefighter.”
“I bet Nonna was not pleased.”
He chuckled. “She tried to change my mind multiple times. Eventually, she did her best to be supportive.”
“Why firefighting, Raff?”
“Why not?” At her unimpressed glare, he snorted and continued. “At first I wanted to give back in some way. Then it became a way to feel something, you know? After Cal’s mom left, it helped numb the pain. I had no regrets about being a single dad, but I was empty and a little lost.” His face softened as he said, “My first fire after everything, I walked out covered in soot and all I could smell was ash, but my heart was racing and…it was a rush.”
She nodded, like she understood it. But she didn’t. Despite how cautious and anxious she was, she wasn’t risk-averse. She just thought about everything a lot before taking the leap. Running into a burning building was a risk she couldn’t fathom. However, the passion in his voice told her that he hadn’t gone into this blindly either.
“The whole time you were at the fire, the only rush I got was from worrying about you. Which, I know, I don’t need to do. You’ll be careful.”
“I think it’s normal to feel that way for someone on the outside. In the beginning, Dad would call me multiple times and if he couldn’t reach my phone, he’d call the firehouse. It took us a while, but he finally trusted me to call when I was back.”
“So what you’re saying is that I need to calm the fuck down?”
He laughed loudly and her face split into a grin. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard his laugh, but her body recalled the way it used to make her feel.
He glanced at her, nodding as he said, “I promise I’ll text or call the first chance I get.”
“Okay.” She chewed on her bottom lip and stretched her legs out, flexing her toes.
“What about you, Daze? What was life in Greenville like?”
The question had her muscles tightening briefly. How would he react knowing that she continued to hate her body after they moved? It had taken her years of therapy and staring into a mirror to get comfortable in her own skin. The struggles didn’t go away, but she didn’t have too many of those days anymore.
“It was an adjustment, especially since there wasn’t a tall boy with a permanent scowl living next door,” she said, wanting to lighten the mood, and heard him scoff. “But it was okay. I got to meet a lot of my dad’s family and worked at my aunt’s flower shop.”
“The one who inspired you to open your own shop?”
“Yeah. But so did you, if I’m being honest.”
“Me?” He sounded confused and she chuckled.
“I was maybe eleven and struggling with, you know, everything. You’d come bounding down the stairs every morning with a different flower in your hand. Something you picked up at the shop during your shift. At first, I didn’t know flowers had been in your life because of Nonna, but it made me feel special. On our walks to school, you’d tell me everything you’d learned about it.”
“ I did that?”
She nodded. “I’d press the flowers into the back of my journal and make notes of what you’d taught me.”
“I remember working at the flower shop, but not this.”
“It was a long time ago. It stuck with me and was part of the reason why I wanted to work with flowers. But not in the scientific kind of way or anything, just to admire them and share them with the world.”
She could feel his eyes on her, but she stared at the way the moonlight danced between the clouds. She’d always talked about how Nonna and Aunt Magnolia inspired her, but so rarely did she admit that Rafferty was the real reason.
“You know what I do remember? Building pillow forts and watching scary movies.”
She laughed. “I recall a certain someone hiding behind their fingers every single time.”
“They were fucking terrifying!”
She continued to laugh, because even though he was shit-scared of the horror movies she picked, he would endure them. “I started picking movies that I knew would be scarier than the last.”
“By the time we watched The Shining , I knew you were fucking with me.”
Grinning, she glanced at him. “New York was the best time of my life and it had a lot to do with you.”
“It was the best time of my life too, Daze.”
She leaned back, face turned in his direction and he did the same. It would be so very easy to get lost in this man, to forget the ways she’d been protecting herself all these years. Knowing that he’d gotten tattoos for her, that his time in New York with her had been as special, made it harder to ignore the feelings burning through her. But there was so much to consider and right then was not when she needed to do that.
“Tell me about Callahan’s mother.”
“For fuck’s sake, Daisy,” he growled, a sound that she’d only heard in audiobooks, and it sent a shiver up her spine. She wondered how many times she could get him to do that again, but quickly shook it out of her head. There was no point thinking about Rafferty like that.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, wincing at the realization that she’d killed the happy mood. “We don’t have to talk about her. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s okay,” he replied and a heavy sigh followed. “I met her at a fire. We dated for a bit and it turned into a couple of years. Dad and Nonna didn’t particularly care for her, told me multiple times, but I ignored them. Zara was the first person I’d met since y—in a long time that made me happy.”
She heard the slip, but chose not to focus on that. That’s exactly how she felt when Clarke came into her life too—happy for the first time since she left New York.
“We weren’t trying, but a few years in, she was pregnant. We’d never talked about kids before and I wasn’t sure if we were ready. But Zara was set on having the baby, so I did my best to support her. Those nine months were both nerve-racking and exciting because we had to get our small apartment ready and take care of each other. But we did it. We made it work.”
He paused, inhaled deeply and shifted in his chair.
“Once Callahan was born, she shut down completely. The first few weeks Zara did the best she could, but I could see that she was struggling. We met with a doctor and they diagnosed her with postpartum depression.” Rafferty whistled softly before continuing. “I only knew what Dad said my mother went through after I was born, but every time I tried to help her, Zara would snap and push me away. One day she handed me divorce papers, gave up parental rights and walked out of our lives.”
She could hear the anguish in his voice and felt so awful for his ex as well. To feel so disconnected and unhappy from the people that loved you had to be hard.
“God, Raff, I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged, fingers flexing as he stared into the darkness past the porch. She remembered when he told her about his mother. Apparently her postpartum depression was so severe that she would leave the house without telling anyone. And even had a couple of affairs with married men in the neighborhood. That was before she was arrested for manslaughter when Rafferty was a little older. The story had scared her because it sounded so intense.
Back then, mental health struggles weren’t talked about as freely and it had clearly been difficult for her to get the help she needed. She wondered if his ex had gotten any help or if she had dealt with it alone, which was another reason to worry.
“You did really good with Callahan, though.”
“Had to, didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” he said with a hollow laugh. “Anyway, that’s me. Now it only seems fair that you tell me about the ex that didn’t like your laugh.”
Should have seen that one coming.
Huffing out a breath, she hitched up her saree and got to her feet. As she peered out into the darkness, she spoke. “I met Clarke during my MBA. Much like you and your ex, we flirted and dated for a while. Moved in together soon after graduating and everything was great. We were on the same page, we wanted the same things, life looked pretty good. Dad loved them, so when they proposed, of course I said yes. But it’s almost like getting married ruined everything. Apparently being on the same page was a figment of my imagination.”
Sliding her fingers through her hair, she tugged on the ends and sighed heavily. “We’d been together a few years by then, but you know all those cliché things people say about their partners? Working late nights, traveling a lot? Clarke did all of that and every time I brought it up, they weren’t happy. We drifted apart and I made the hard decision to file for divorce.”
She didn’t mention how when they’d been dating, she and Clarke talked about buying a big house, filling it with kids and animals. How once they were married, it was almost like those conversations never happened. Every time they discussed it again, Daisy felt like she was being gaslighted.
“I moved to Wildes soon after that and got my shop up and running. I always thought that I’d get what my parents didn’t have when I met Clarke. You know, falling in love with the right person, planning a future and sticking it out for the rest of our lives.” She laughed sadly and looked at the floor. “Joke’s on me, though.”
“You know that has nothing to do with you, right?”
“It has something to do with me.”
“It’s about both of you. I got so caught up in blaming Zara too, but I obviously hadn’t provided enough support either.”
She frowned as she considered it. Clarke hadn’t been as supportive as her, but they hadn’t been a terrible partner. They…lied. Which was worse, right?
“We’re both doing really well considering,” he said softly, leaning against the railing beside her. “And I think us ending up in this small town is a sign.”
Looking up at him, she arched an eyebrow. “Is it now?”
“Yeah.”
He was so close that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body. Even the light hint of smoke wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. His eyes glowed in the moonlight and her heart almost gave up with how quickly the mood had changed. Everything was charged now, those feelings were sizzling under her skin.
They stared at each other, almost like they were waiting to see who would take the leap. So many things had been admitted and feelings were clearly there between them, but it also felt so overwhelming. Like one wrong move and everything would fall apart.
“Daddy?” a soft voice called out and as quick as lightning, Rafferty was inside the house.
She exhaled loudly and tipped her head back, eyes closed. The realization that she might have taken a shot registered as her hand landed over her racing heart. Nothing good would have come from that. Once she felt steadier, she gathered their bowls and beers and carried them back into the house. She rinsed everything out, loaded the dishwasher and wiped down the kitchen as Rafferty returned. In the brighter lights, she could see the dark circles beneath his eyes and exhaustion was written all over his face.
“Is he okay?”
“Nightmare,” he mumbled, filled a glass with water and knocked it back.
“You should rest, Raff.”
“I look that bad?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Three days of no sleep will do that. Come on, you can help me make up the guest room.” When she hesitated, he tilted his head. “You’re definitely not getting a ride at this time of night anyway.”
“I can sleep on the couch.”
“I’ll even toss in coffee and breakfast.”
“Now you’re talking.”
He chuckled and before she could talk herself out of it, she tucked hair behind his ear. She froze at the end of the action and he gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist. He would definitely feel the speed of her pulse, know that her heart was racing because of him.
“The long hair looks good on you.”
“Everything looks good on you , Hero.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” She said it with as much sass as she could muster given the fire running up her arm at the contact.
“How about that guest room?” he said.
“How about it?”
He released her hand and she watched him walk off, eyes trailing the length of his strong body before she followed. Her bag was already in the room and she took a moment to look around the space. He told her where the bathroom was and started making the bed as she grabbed her things and hurried out before the most domestic thing distracted her all over again.