Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Having a best friend is wild. Like , she’ll kill for me. But she also would just as easily throw a vacuum at me.
— Merriam’s secret thoughts
MERRIAM
The last thing that I wanted to do today was go home and spend any more time with my father, who’d let me have an earful after Jeremiah had left.
Not only had he yelled at me about Jeremiah , but then he’d yelled at me for not covering up the bruise on my face well enough that people were noticing it.
It fucking broke my heart that my daughter had been present to listen to him berate me in the empty candy store.
The only sale we’d made that day had been from the man that’d offered me help.
And now, Dad and I were both driving home because the winter storm had started.
It was cold.
So . Cold .
My heater had stopped working sometime last fall, and I hadn’t had enough time or money to get the thing fixed.
I was lucky that was the only thing that’d broken at this point.
At least I could bundle Anleigh up in her new coat.
My eyes took in the neighborhood as we drove past.
Everyone was home and preparing for the winter storm that was about to hit.
The weathermen predicted that we were about to get ten inches of snow.
In our part of Oklahoma , ten inches was the max we got in one year.
To be getting that in one winter storm was going to shut the town down.
Dad had given me thirty dollars to buy enough food to last us for the next week—which was laughable because thirty dollars wasn’t enough to feed one person for a week, let alone three—and I’d stopped by the store and did my best to stretch thirty dollars.
The lady that’d been working had been steadily shutting down the store, preparing herself to leave and not come back for at least three days.
Which was how I’d walked out of the grocery store with twice what I expected to get because she said “it’s going to go bad anyway.”
My back hatch was loaded down with groceries, and I was hopeful for the first time in weeks that my kid would have three meals a day.
When I got out, my hand went into my pocket again.
Pulling out the yellow paper, I stared at it.
I looked down at the number that was written on the Post -it he’d given back to me and knew now why he’d looked at me so hard when he’d handed it over.
He knew that my dad had been the one to hurt me, and he was giving me his number so that, if I ever needed a way out, I’d have it.
Little did he know that I didn’t have a cell phone to even call him.
Those cost money—and required a credit check which I couldn’t pass.
I shoved the note back into my pocket and got Anleigh out of the car, taking her straight to my room.
The groceries came in next, and the entire time I was freezing my ass off because of how cold it was getting.
The wind was howling, too.
Once I had everything put away, I went back for Anleigh , thankful that my dad hadn’t bothered coming out of his room to help me bring them in.
When Anleigh was in my arms—as well as her Christmas bear that she carried around with her everywhere— I walked back outside and hurried over to Mrs . Rawls’s house.
I knocked on the door and smiled when Mrs . Rawls answered.
“ Hey .” I smiled. “ I was coming over to see if you needed any help with anything before this storm hits.”
Mrs . Rawls reached for Anleigh and said, “ Oh , no. Not today. My grandson helped me with everything.”
“ Oh , good,” I said. “ I didn’t get here as early as I’d intended, and I was worried.”
“ Come in,” she said. “ Meet my grandson.”
I would like nothing less, but I smiled and did it anyway.
My feet had just hit the carpet when Mrs . Rawls said, “ Oh , dear. Where is your jacket?”
I laughed. “ Oh , yeah…well… I don’t have one.”
I hadn’t had one since I ripped mine up and made a smaller version for Anleigh .
She’d outgrown it for this year, already.
“ You don’t have a coat?” she gasped.
I shook my head. “ I cut my old one up and sized it down for Anleigh last year and haven’t gotten a chance to get a new one yet.”
“ You can have one of my old ones,” she immediately offered.
“ Oh , I don’t think that’s…”
She walked away with Anleigh , leaving me in the entryway.
I followed, finding her in her hall closet.
She pulled out a long coat that would cover me entirely and said, “ I haven’t worn this one in fifteen years. It’ll be out of style, probably smell like old lady, but you are certainly welcome to it.”
I took it, my fingers digging into the lush material.
“ Oh , Mrs . Rawls …”
“ Please call me Lucinda ,” she begged. “ Or Cinda .”
“ Grams !” a male voice called out from somewhere beyond the hallway. “ Come back here and tell me what you think about this height for your showerhead!”
Cinda grabbed my arm and hauled me toward the sound of that voice.
As I moved, my heart started to pound.
Because I knew that voice.
I’d heard it just hours ago in the candy store.
Heart in my throat, I followed behind Cinda and my daughter, coming to a halt in her bathroom doorway when my eyes lit on Jeremiah , snug t-shirt and tight jeans, arms stretched high over his head as he worked on a showerhead in Cinda’s handicap-friendly shower.
The way he had his arms up over his head had his shirt riding up, and a tight, tanned expanse of belly was displayed.
He had the V .
I’d always heard of the V but hadn’t met anyone that had one.
Jeremiah definitely had it, even if I could only see one half of it.
“ Higher or lower?”
“ Hey !” my daughter whispered.
Jeremiah’s head snapped toward that whispered word, and his arms dropped.
He smiled hugely, and my heart literally exploded at the way my girl waved.
“ You know each other?” Cinda asked.
“ Actually , yes.” He laughed. “ This little girl was at the candy shop and showed me all the sweets to get you.”
“ Ohh !” Cinda laughed. “ She is a little sugar addict. She helps me put away all of my candies.”
“ Looks like she’ll be doing that for you with all the stuff I got you today, too,” he teased. “ Hey , Anleigh .”
“ Hi ,” Anleigh whispered back.
I closed my eyes at that sweet, whispered word.
Fuck , I hated my father.
When I opened them again, it was to find Jeremiah staring at me, a worried look on his face.
“ This is my neighbor,” Cinda explained. “ She lives across the street with her father.”
He frowned, those frown lines between his eyes becoming more pronounced. “ I didn’t think anyone lived there.”
“ They don’t celebrate Christmas ,” Cinda added, trying to explain the unexplainable.
I’d lied to her.
She’d asked if I wanted help putting up Christmas lights, and I’d made up an excuse to explain away my father’s weird behavior rather than telling them the truth—that my father would rather die than put up Christmas lights.
“ Oh ,” he said.
I shrugged, looking away.
I knew what he saw when he looked at our house.
It was rundown.
The yard was unkempt.
There were no lights, or even personal touches—not even a welcome mat.
The only thing that we could boast having was a pile of newspapers that my dad refused to pick up because “he didn’t ask for a newspaper to be delivered.”
I’d tried to pick them up once and he’d thrown a fit. “ Told them to come get ’em.”
So there they sat, along with the leaves from this year and last.
“ Bear ?” Anleigh offered up her bear to the large man.
Jeremiah smiled at my child, making my heart utterly melt.
“ Oh .” He held up his hands. “ I can’t take that, darlin’. I have dirty hands.”
He sure did.
His fingers were covered in what looked like grease.
Where had that come from if he’d been fixing the showerhead?
“ Bear !” she declared.
“ No , baby. If you let him hold the bear, he’ll get it all dirty, then I’ll have to take it to the laundromat with me, and then you’ll have to part with it for an hour while I wash and dry it.” I patted her back.
“ Oh .” She curled it back into her chest.
Jeremiah’s half-grin was heart stopping.
His eyes also held a whole lot of patience and kindness—something I wasn’t used to from men.
That was probably why men tended to scare Anleigh , too.
But not this one…
“ She’s even sweeter than my own grandkids,” Cinda admitted. “ But don’t ever tell Noel that. She’ll have a meltdown if she knows.”
“ Her kids are maniacs.” Jeremiah snorted, then gestured to his grandmother. “ Is this a good spot? Come in here and see if you can reach it.”
Lucinda did just that, squeezing between the stall door and Jeremiah , who was still holding the showerhead up.
Lucinda reached for it, and it was just out of her touch.
“ Bring it down,” she urged.
After settling with the placement of the showerhead, I startled when I realized that I’d stayed way longer than I’d intended.
“ Oh , I gotta go get dinner on,” I replied, starting to make a hasty exit.
“ Be careful out there, dear,” Cinda called from her perch against the kitchen counter. “ And Merry Christmas Eve !”
I smiled. “ Merry Christmas to you, too.”
My eyes flashed once to Jeremiah , who hadn’t said a word about me leaving, and hurried out of the house.
I did, however, remember to snag the coat.
I needed one, and at this point, I wasn’t above taking charity.
I’d surpassed that point a long time ago when I realized that I couldn’t make ends meet. And when I couldn’t make ends meet, my child suffered.
Anleigh wouldn’t do well with me sick as a dog because I couldn’t adequately clothe myself.
I took one last look back into the house when I closed the door, and saw Jeremiah come around the corner to watch me go.
Our eyes met, and I froze there on the doorstep.
“ Bye !” Anleigh whispered, waving at the man.
Jeremiah whispered back, “ Bye , sweetheart.”