Chapter 17 #2
“You don’t have to read those right this second,” she said gently. “If you don’t want to, I mean. You have all weekend.”
I let out a breath, then nodded, tossing them onto the disarray of my coffee table before sitting back and scrubbing a hand down my face. I felt Maverick rest his head on my thigh, and I reached out to pet him.
“What were you going to make for lunch?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. I wasn’t sure I was going to eat at all, but I didn’t say that part out loud.
“You should eat something…” She stood from the couch, leaving me there as she walked into the kitchen area behind me. I heard the refrigerator door open, followed by the sound of her rummaging through the contents. I didn’t care enough to stop her. “How old is this grilled chicken?”
“Uh…” I thought for a moment. “From Wednesday night.”
“Can I use it?”
“Haley, you don’t–”
“I know,” she interrupted. “Can I use it or not?”
I lifted my hands in a gesture that said “go ahead.”
Behind me, I could hear cabinets and drawers open, the sound of a glass bowl being set on the counter, the clang of silverware, and the chop and slice of a knife. I had no idea what the hell she was doing in my kitchen or attempting to make, but I remained on the couch with my back to her.
A part of me felt ashamed. She’d seen my episode at work on Wednesday.
She’d seen me leave midway through my shift.
And now, here I was, looking like a damn mess, my house a mess.
She probably thought I was fucking pathetic.
I was waiting for her to start asking questions, to ask me what the hell my problem was, to tell me to clean my house and get in the damn shower and act like a fucking adult.
But at the same time, another part of me didn’t give a shit.
Ten minutes later, Haley walked back into the living room—she moved some things out of the way on the coffee table and set down a plate with what appeared to be some kind of wrap, along with a bottle of water beside it.
“Eat.”
One word. Gentle yet firm.
Then she walked back toward the kitchen. I assumed she was going to make herself one, which she should, since she took the time to make it at all.
I grabbed half of the cut wrap from the plate and looked at it—she appeared to have used the grilled chicken to make a chicken salad. I hesitated, then bit into it…then stilled, chewing slowly to savor the flavors. “This…this is pretty good.”
I heard her chuckle behind me. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
A ghost of a smile almost graced my lips. “Thank you…”
“No problem.”
As I started to eat, my eyes flickered to the papers she brought over, and I slid them closer to the edge of the table, reading over the top page again.
Between taking my time with the wrap and reading, I became distracted, drowning out the sound of running water and Haley’s shuffling footsteps behind me.
Twenty or so minutes later, she appeared beside me just as I stuffed the last bite of the wrap into my mouth.
I mumbled a barely coherent “thank you” when she took the empty plate as I blindly reached for the pen lying on the coffee table and scribbled my signature across the line of the first paper she brought.
“I’m gonna head out,” she said softly.
I glanced over my left shoulder toward the door where she was slipping her shoes on. I stood, rubbing the back of my neck as I walked toward her. “Thank you…for bringing those by.”
“Sure.” She chuckled as she pet Maverick, who flopped onto his back at her feet again.
“And for making me lunch.”
Haley stood upright and smiled. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you on Monday?”
“Yeah,” I answered with a nod. “I’ll be there.”
Then she was gone.
I watched her get into her car through the window panel by the door, feeling a little like a jackass for my lack of enthusiasm while she was there—I wasn’t even sure how long she stayed.
Thirty minutes? Forty-five? When she backed out of my driveway, I let out a breath, and I turned, taking two steps before I froze.
My kitchen was spotless.
The dishes were gone from the sink, and the counter was cleaned off and wiped down.
Clothes that had hung on the backs of the stools along the counter were gone, and when my eyes shifted, I noticed them in a pile, draped over the edge of the washing machine in the laundry room just off the kitchen.
Maverick’s toys that had been scattered across the floor from the kitchen to the living room were picked up and put in the large basket where I usually kept them.
Haley cleaned up my house. And I hadn’t even fucking noticed. And she did it without a damn word.
No questions.
No barbs.
No judgment.
Just silent empathy.
I blew out a breath as I looked around…and then I grabbed the broom from the small closet to finish what she started.
The following night, I walked along the sidewalk on Heritage Ave, just around the corner from the boardwalk.
When I reached the door, the bell above it rang as I opened it, and I stepped inside.
My eyes scanned the area until they landed on the table full of familiar faces, and I started making my way toward them.
Lucas was the first one to notice me, and he grinned. “Hey, big guy!”
“Hey, Blake!” Callie greeted me from beside him.
Gabe turned his head, surprise in his eyes as he smiled.
“There he is!” Wes stood, his chair scraping along the floor. “Beer?”
“Yeah,” I replied with a nod. “Thanks.”
Wes clapped my shoulder with a grin before heading off toward the bar. Morgan patted the empty seat between her and Gabe that my brother had pulled up for me. “You hungry?” she asked, sliding one of the bar menus in front of me as I sat down.
I nodded. “Thank you.”
After Haley’s impromptu visit yesterday, I started to come out of my funk, even if only a little.
And something about her visit made me realize I needed to make a better effort, not just on myself, but in every aspect.
And that included my brother and my friends. I needed to stop shutting everyone out.
As I scanned the menu, the others continued talking, and Gabe looked at me. “You good?”
I met my brother’s gaze. “Trying.”
He held my stare for a moment before clapping my back with a nod—the answer seemed good enough for him. Because it wasn’t some bullshit about being “fine” or me dismissing and brushing off his question.
For once, it was the truth.
I was trying.