Chapter 35 Adam
Currently playing: Close To You by Neon Trees
***
When I got a call from Calla with her screaming “We need all hands on deck now!” this was the last thing I pictured.
And yet here I stood, among all my siblings and their spouses, holding a drill, screwing together a working windmill for a miniature golf course. Over the last few weeks, Liam and Marigold had been working to put together a project for my nephews’ school. Apparently last night during the storm, it got completely ruined. Which was what led Calla to abruptly calling me and shouting in my ear about “grand gestures” and “second chances.”
I’d been working on getting this windmill going for about two hours. Crew cut out the wood for me, and I was making the logistics of it work. It wasn’t like I could do anything electrical to make it move, but it was supposed to be windy during the festival, so if I positioned everything just right, it should seem legit enough.
Though I’d been dropping screws and staring off into space since Rachel’s tiny car pulled in thirty minutes ago and she walked toward us in her denim overalls, lifting up her tiny portable speaker.
“I’ve got music and whatever is easiest.” She held her speaker in the air and shook it, not looking at me. I turned my back to her, knowing good and well that if I was to face her while working on this thing, then I wouldn’t get anything done.
Yet even my eyes weren’t safe. Because her voice, that beautiful raspy voice that I knew better than my own was all around me. Hence, why I had to screw this last piece in approximately six times.
She was off to the side, painting animals with Layla and Calla, laughing away like this wasn’t pure torment. Maybe it wasn’t for her. Maybe to her, this was entirely normal. Maybe she was over our mutual silence and didn’t care. That would make one of us.
After dinner on Wednesday night, we hadn’t spoken much. It’d only been a few days, and I still called when she was getting off work. Our mixed emotions didn’t mean I was willing to risk her safety. Her answers were always curt and dry. She didn’t want to talk, that much was apparent, but she could be upset with me all she wanted, as long as it meant I knew she wasn’t going to her apartment entirely alone.
“Speaking of work,” Calla said with this suggestive tone. “Rachel, have you thought any more about possibly going on a date with Mason?”
My hands froze, and I had this immediate urge to rub between my pecs. Rachel was quiet for a minute. “I don’t know.” She was smiling. I could hear it.
“Who’s Mason? Why haven’t I met him?” Layla asked.
“One of the players I work with. He’s so sweet. Here, let me find his Instagram.”
I could hear them shuffling and some silence before Layla gasped. Loudly. “Oh my gosh. Look at those legs!”
Calla laughed. “Well, he does work out constantly, considering it’s basically his full-time job.”
I looked down at my thighs. My black athletic shorts covered most of them, but I still flexed a little. Did I still have muscled legs? Muscled enough for what Rachel liked? She’d liked them the night we met. I knew that much. Maybe it wasn’t enough, though. Was I letting myself go? I was reaching my midthirties, but still. She was young. Young enough to be surrounded by muscled single men.
“Rachel.” Layla’s voice dropped in a serious tone. “You have got to at least meet him once!”
My mom chimed in. “Let me see this young man. Oh, wow. He is something. Do me a favor and bring him to family dinner sometime.”
Wow. Thanks, Mom.
My dad grumbled a curse beside me, and she spoke up again. “Kidding, hun. I still love your legs.”
All of my siblings and I simultaneously groaned.
“Well, Rach?” Calla egged on.
She said she didn’t know. Did we have to do all of this pulling stuff out of her bull crap? Was no one listening? What was so great about a guy named Mason? How tall was he?
“I…I mean, the timing isn’t ideal. Most guys don’t like how much time I have to dedicate to my dad lately.”
I loved that about her. It had been one of my favorite things about her from the day we met. She was loyal, even to her own detriment.
“Okay, I get that…but one night? Come on, I already showed him your picture, and I think I got him a little too excited.”
“Calla!” Rachel scolded with a laugh. Layla and my mom giggled with them. It wasn’t even that funny.
“Think about it. You haven’t gone out in how long?”
“Almost two years.” Rachel sighed. Exactly when we met. That was the last time she went out, same as me.
“Hmm. Yeah, it’s time,” my mom said. I was fully prepared to turn around and give her a death glare. She was not helping.
“Okay, yeah, maybe.” I turned my head enough to look over and see Rachel staring right at me as she nodded. “I guess it’s time.”
My chest ached a deep pain down to behind my ribs, my palms itching and my mind racing. She was going to do it. She was going to go out. You told her to, dumbass. Not in so many words, but I guess, technically, I did push her away a bit.
It’s just that I was easy picking for her. I was here and simple and knew her situation. It was the route of least resistance for her, and I wasn’t going to be a default. I needed her to want me on her own, fully. Not as the guy next to her at the bar. Not as the guy walking side by side with her down the aisle of a friend’s wedding. Not as the guy who was always there for her. I needed her to see this for what it was. I wanted everything with her, and I wasn’t going to settle for less. If she wasn’t ready for that, then I would be fine waiting. I’d wait forever if I had to. She could go on as many dates as she wanted, and still, in my head and heart, she would be mine.
We quickly finished up the majority of the project. Rachel did eventually sit next to me, sprinkled in glitter like she was made for it. After a few awkward moments—which in reality, were only awkward for me—she moved back to Calla and Layla.
Liam said the event wasn’t until tomorrow night, so he would come and wrap up minor details in the morning. It was getting dark, and there was only so much work you could do while Crew was flicking two flashlights on and off and beatboxing as if we were at a rave.
I wiped my hands off on a spare rag, attempting to get any leftover paint out of the calluses on my fingers. Luke and Layla had already taken off. Calla and Nathan were right behind them. Crew yawned and said something about meeting someone at his food truck early in the morning, and my parents had left as soon as the sun was setting. Which left only Liam, Rachel, and me.
We hadn’t said much to each other, other than an occasional “hey, can you pass that?” or me asking if she was okay when I heard her wince at one of the tools pinching her. I reached for my keys in my back pocket, turning to Liam. “You gonna stay here for a while?”
He nodded. “Yeah, gotta make sure it’s perfect, you know?”
I didn’t. Not really, anyway. But he had his reasons for winning over his ex-wife, and I imagined if I were in a similar position with Rachel, I’d probably be doing the same thing. I simply dipped my chin at him.
Rachel stood and reached for her speaker, turning it off and putting it in her back pocket. “I should go too. Not much I can do until this paint dries.”
“Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it.”
Rachel and I both nodded at him and started walking to her car and my bike.
The silence of the night fell between us, the only noise being our footsteps on the gravel and an occasional bird in the distance. My chest burned, aching to ask her any questions I could. I wanted to pull her close, drive her home, and kiss her good night, knowing exactly where we were leaving things. Every time I tried to ask her, though, tried to tell her the truth, my tongue got caught in my mouth. The words fell out of me like they never belonged there in the first place. She deserved to know everything, every piece of this, and yet I couldn’t make myself do it.
We reached our vehicles, both of us fumbling with our keys.
“So, I’ll, uh, see you later?” she mumbled, her voice wobbly and her throat bobbing.
I didn’t answer back. Just dipped my head in affirmation. She sniffled, and I didn’t look her way. I couldn’t take it. One tear, and I was done for.
We turned away from each other, her walking to her car and me to my bike. I reached for my helmet, thankful to have something covering my face so she couldn’t read me. She was always so good at that.
Her car door opened and shut, and I sighed in relief, knowing she was safe there. Or I assumed so until I heard her feet stomping against the pavement toward me. I turned my head. She wasn’t crying. There was no sign of tears or distress. No, she was pissed. Nostrils-flaring, red-cheeked, nails-biting-into-her-curled-palms pissed.
“Are you not going to say anything?” She raised her shaky voice at me, and it was honestly relieving. I would gladly take anger over tears.
“About what?”
“You’re going to let me go out with another guy?”
I bit back a smile. Another guy. As if we were actually going out.
My arms crossed. “I want you to be happy.” Even if it meant me being on the sidelines.
“And me going on a date would do that?”
“You said before that you missed dates.”
She let out a closed-mouth scream and stomped her foot. “You’re supposed to tell me not to go. You’re supposed to give me a reason not to.”
“Is there a reason not to?” I asked.
Rachel lifted both hands to her face and palmed her eyes. “Adam.” She sounded exhausted. “I give up.”
“So you’re going? On the date?”
“Give me one reason not to.” She challenged me. As much as I wanted to take the bait, I didn’t.
I shrugged, not replying. I had a million reasons for her not to go, each one ending with some form of mine.
We stood in the silence for a moment, until she scoffed a laugh and stormed off to her car, peeling out of the parking lot.
I waited an hour before texting her.
Are you home safe?
She read it and never responded.