Chapter 9 Red - crushcrushcrush
Iwent to bed and woke up thinking the same thing.
I like the way Miller was looking at me.
In fact, I like it a lot.
I’m not unfamiliar with people looking at me.
Gawking sometimes. I’m tall. I have fire engine red hair that stops traffic.
Boys have never been shy around me. I’m even comfortable admitting I’ve used the attention as an ego boost a time or two.
But at the end of the day, I always knew it was surface level, shallow, superficial.
The way Miller has been looking at me though? It has me feeling like I could jump off the deep end, and I wouldn’t mind drowning.
But then I reign it the fuck back in because who am I kidding? He’s way too young, and I’m not what he and P need when I’m still picking up the broken pieces of myself that fell out along the way.
It sure is fun getting to play pretend though.
I open my closet and place my newest sticky note from Miller (& P) on the back of the door, next to all of the others.
Once I learned the notes weren’t a one off thing, I quickly realized I wasn’t going to be able to keep shoving them into the back of my phone case, and there was no part of me that even considered throwing them away.
So they go…here.
I let my finger rest on the small paper for a second, rereading the simple sentence for the twenty-fifth time since I got in my car last night to drive home after saying goodnight to Miller, and discovering he packed up the last serving of pasta and snuck the Tupperware into my bag before I left.
My now favorite, signature square note with chicken scratch handwriting was stuck to the top.
The color varies by the day, and last night’s was purple.
Thursdays have quickly turned into the Caswells’ favorite day of the week.
-Miller & P.
I smile like an idiot alone in my room, close the door, and flick off the light on my way out to head downstairs.
I grab my insulated water bottle from the fridge that I filled last night and swipe my bag from the counter.
I double check I have my planner, an extra charger, and keys before locking the front door.
When I reach the bottom of my bungalow’s front steps, I instinctively look to the house that was formerly Mrs. Johnson’s next door.
Mrs. Johnson was the sweetest next door neighbor you could ever ask for. I was ecstatic that she moved in when I was in middle school. She bought the small cape after her husband passed because she couldn’t bear to stay in the house they built their life in without him.
I clung onto that story with all the hope in the world that I’d end up with a kind of love like that, not caring about the end.
I’d bring Mrs. Johnson cafe pastries, and we’d share coffee over the years, me listening to her replay memories.
I was devastated when she passed last year, but she was ninety-seven and lived a good life.
Her kids are grown and have their own established lives in other states, so the house has been sitting empty for a while now.
Today’s different though. Today, there’s a realtor banging a For Sale sign into the edge of the front yard.
I guess her kids must have decided to sell the place.
I wave to the realtor (who the Johnson children must have hired from out of town because I don’t recognize her) so she doesn’t have to warn potential buyers of some bitch next door.
After I back out of my driveway to head to the cafe, I think about who the buyers might end up being. Maybe an older couple looking to live in a nice, quiet town? Or a new family, just starting out, wanted a safe place to raise their babies?
I could make them a welcome to the neighborhood basket with things from the cafe and flowers from Daisy’s shop.
I could even see if Miller wanted to make a jar of that homemade sauce for them.
I remind myself to make a note of it in my planner for when I see moving trucks hauling a new beginning in.
“Best fucking coffee I’ve ever had.”
“Sawyer, you say that to anyone who hands you a cup,” I say while chuckling.
“And it’s true every time, I swear.” One of my oldest friends shoots me one of those megawatt smiles that has always had every girl, and Chris, in Merrymount drooling over.
It never had that effect on me though. I’ve been watching Sawyer Hale behave like a grumpy idiot for far too long. We’ve acted like the town’s honorary siblings since we were kids. Good thing too, seeing as he’s stupidly in love with the pixie girl standing next to me behind the counter.
Margot barks out a laugh, and I watch her eyes glaze over in that same stupidly-in-love kind of way when that smile of Sawyer’s is redirected to her.
Sawyer leans over the counter, and Margot meets him in the middle, their noses almost touching, Sawyer having to bend almost in half, Margot having to stand on her toes.
I have to look away.
I love them both, so much. I love that they are so much each other’s person that it was obvious from the start. Well, to everyone except them, but they caught up.
But it still stings to see that kind of love on display. I hate myself for having to admit that.
I grab a towel to wipe down some freshly vacant tables to make myself busy and give them some privacy. Book Club should be here soon, and I can’t imagine a world where Judy wouldn’t throw a temper tantrum if her table wasn’t ready for her arrival.
This is one of the things I love about Red’s Place.
It’s the one thing in my life that doesn’t come with many surprises.
Aside from sometimes being the host of small town drama unfolding, the day-to-day is almost mundane.
I know what to expect, right down to who’s coming in on what day, and what they’re going to order.
I like the simplicity of it. I like the routine. The rug doesn’t feel like it’s going to be pulled out from under me. I know what’s coming next, and I have a back up plan for my back up plan most days.
Right on cue, Judy and her gaggle of ladies come trotting through the front door.
“Red! I could kiss you on the mouth!” Judy calls.
I hear Margot mutter, “She better get in line behind Miller then.”
I whip my head to her. She blows me a kiss.
“Bitch,” I mouth.
“You love me,” she replies before getting started on the Book Club ladies’ drinks.
It’s true. I do.
“And what did I do to deserve this honor, Jude?” I ask, referring to her offered kiss.
“My boy is going to college!” Judy exclaims, getting herself situated in a chair at the head of the two tables we push together for them.
Ah, yes. I forgot about my little pep talk with Chris. With how Judy’s acting, I’m taking an educated guess that Chris failed to mention the two week drop period. But, whatever. I got him to the door. He can handle the rest.
“Happy to help,” I say and lean over to plant a kiss on Judy's cheek.
“You always know what to say to him. I don’t know how you do it. Whenever you decide to finally settle down and have a boatload of babies of your own, they’re going to be so lucky.”
Sucker punch.
It’s always a fucking sucker punch.
Judy means well. They all do when they say shit like this.
But throwing around the word finally like I didn’t plan my entire life around becoming a mother?
Like I didn’t have to be the one to watch it go up in smoke and then clean up the mess afterwards?
It hurts, and I’m so sick of the kind-hearted reminders.
I shake it off though. No one needs to see me meltdown over something no one else can control. I mold my face into an expression of indifference. “Yeah, yep. You bet.”
Margot notices though. “Hey, I think I just heard the timer go off in the back. Did you have something going? Maybe in the dryer?”
She’s offering an out I desperately need but would have never asked for.
I make a beeline for the back and crash right into a solid wall.
Nope. That’s a chest. Two hands wrap around my upper arms, bracing me from falling backwards, and before I even look up, I know who I’m about to face.
“Fuck, Miller. I’m so sorry, are you okay?”
He doesn’t answer me. He keeps his hands firmly grasped and guides me away from the room of people watching. So I just keep rambling. “I didn’t even look where I was going. That was so stupid. Did we butt heads? No, my head feels fine. Shit, what an idiot.”
Miller’s hands suddenly move to my waist, and he swiftly hoists me up until my ass hits the counter. His hands release me, and I instantly miss his touch. If I wasn’t so frazzled, I’d probably ask how that was so easy for him.
I’m not one of the small girls. Dean never had an issue with reminding me of that.
“Gwen,” Miller starts.
I finally look up from the spot on his chest I fixated on to avoid his eye contact. Those bright, green eyes are full of such a deep concern that I immediately feel so silly stressing this guy out on the daily over nothing.
“What happened?” he asks quietly.
“Nothing,” I quickly answer.
“This game where we go back and forth is fun, but today I’d really like it if we skip all that, and you tell me what’s bothering you so bad you smacked into me going no less than lightning speed.”
“Look, I’m sorry I bumped into you. The dryer has towels I need to fold, and I didn’t see you there.”
“You didn’t see me, okay. Did you hear me?”
“Huh?” I ask.
“Did you hear me? When I called your name?”
I hesitate because no, I did not hear him. I didn’t even know he was there. Clearly. And my silence is apparently all the answer he needs.
“Gwen, tell me what happened. Please.”
“It’s embarrassing, and I embarrass myself around you enough. No need for another play-by-play.” I try to brush him off, but Miller’s fucking on one today because he doesn’t back down. He cages me in, his palms hit the counter on either side of me.
I should feel trapped. This should be suffocating and uncomfortable. Miller's crossing a line and getting in my space and not taking no for an answer.
I should be shoving him away and yelling at him about boundaries.
But he has a tiny birthmark on the right side of his top lip I never noticed until right now.
And the way he keeps flexing his jaw, internally working out what to say to me because I’m being a stubborn pain in the ass is making me feel squirmy.
It’s not the bad kind of squirmy, either.
He blows out a breath. “I just need to know if someone hurt you.”
I shake my head. “No, no. I let my own feelings get hurt.”
Miller closes his eyes. I count to five before he opens them again. “For the record, I’m not buying it. But I’ll drop it if you ask.”
I trace the P on his ring. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He checks the time on his watch. “What if…”
I tilt my head to the side. I don’t know where he’s going with this. It seems like he might not be sure either as he mulls it over in his head.
“What if I helped you fold those towels, and we take off? We can dismiss P from school a little early and get ice cream or something.”
This time I don’t hesitate. I nod my head once and hop off the counter. Miller backs up just enough for my feet to land right in front of him, my nipples are practically touching his T-shirt. If I got any closer, all I would have to do is tip up my chin slightly to—
Woah woah woah. Slow it down, Red.
I do what any normal person would do in a situation like this. I put my right hand up and wait for Miller to catch on. He doesn’t. So, I take matters into my own hands and grab his arm with my left hand and force a high five.
“Let’s fucking go!” I exclaim.
He shakes his head laughing, letting his waves flow around him, and I realize I definitely want to keep pulling those kinds of laughs out of him.