Chapter Seventeen
Evan takes me by surprise, once again, when he hauls me onto his lap so we can share the pie and watch the parade together.
Poor guy must be touch starved, because he hasn’t been able to keep his hands off me this entire not date.
I saw the look of shock in his eyes when Mom shirked his handshake and went in for a hug.
I don’t think he’s gotten many of those, but I can fix that for him too. I never grew up with a lack of touch and affection from both my mothers, that’s for sure. Both of them are convinced there isn’t much that can’t be fixed with a hug.
He gives me a weird look when I stop mauling the pie, in favor of not looking like a complete swine.
Sitting on his lap right now, I’m feeling more self-conscious than ever.
Feeling the weight—literally—of having let myself go for too long.
Though, I will say, if anyone’s thighs could carry my weight, it’s his.
“Why’d you stop eating? You looked like you were enjoying it,” he asks, concern etching his features.
Yikes, I guess he noticed my gorging as well.
“I’m good,” I reply. “You’ve barely had any.”
“More of an apple pie kinda guy.” He shrugs.
“Ev-an!” I slap his shoulder playfully. “You should have said something!”
He grins. “I’m treating you, baby.”
I roll my eyes, and he slides another forkful of pie between my lips. He watches as I slowly roll the bite off, and savor it on my tongue.
“You shouldn’t be calling me baby,” I warn him, after gulping it down—my mouth suddenly going dry on the term of endearment. “Might give me the wrong idea that you actually like me or something…”
He gives me a wry look, before gazing back out over the parade moving down Main Street. “Gonna call you that until you believe it,” he murmurs, without tearing his eyes off the sight of Marcia Hildebrand and her all-senior ladies motorcycle club rumbling by, all decked out in rainbow flags.
He’s so engrossed in watching the motorcycles, that I think he misses my reply, “Or until the summer is over.”
He doesn’t miss it though. Of course, he doesn’t.
He glares back at me. “This isn’t a jug of milk, Brooks.
There doesn’t need to be an expiration date.
You’re going to be reckless with me, until this either runs its course, and you get sick of me, or you’re going to put an end to this now—before it even has a chance to go any further. ”
I spin in his lap and gape at him. No part of me wants to end this now, it feels like something that’s just begun. No part of me fathoms becoming sick of him either. Quite the opposite, actually. But, it can’t be…
“So, what—we just date, even though we go our separate ways at the end of summer? That seems highly illogical. We’ve both got kids we can’t uproot for their last year of school.”
“Why can’t we try it now, and cross that bridge when we get there?”
I huff and roll my eyes. “You literally had a huge self-revelation yesterday.”
“Mhm, sure did. Still coming to terms with it, here and now.”
“You can’t possibly know you want to pursue a relationship so soon,” I protest.
He places his hands on my hips and sighs. “You’re going to sit here and tell me you know my wants better than I do? That’s kind of patronizing, isn’t it? I may have just been able to admit that I am gay, but I definitely know I’m not that kind of guy who fuckin’ uses someone for sex.
“You deserve something better than to be treated like a test dummy. You deserve someone who will take you on dates, who will buy you special sheets, who will buy you a year’s supply of your favorite treats, who will get your mind off your responsibilities every once in a while, who will take some of the burdens off your plate for you—you, Brooks, deserve that much.
So stop telling me what I should do, and think of yourself for once. ”
Alright, crap—I’m swooning. Hard.
“What’s it going to be, baby?” he asks, arching an eyebrow up at me.
My mouth pops open a few more times, like a fish out of water. I try to answer, but it comes out more like a choked noise, akin to “gnnrk.”
His brows now knit in confusion, a lopsided grin tipping up one side of his lips, and he huffs out a little chuckle.
“You’re cute as hell when you’re trying to grow a spine.
Maybe I could teach you a thing or two there.
Tell you what, you finish your pie, and think about your answer, Brooks Gallagher.
You deserve happiness and to be taken care of.
Question is, do you see a washed-up idiot like myself being the guy that can do that for you? ”
Pretty sure I know what my answer is, and I’m pretty sure he knows it too, without me having to say it out loud. His strong arm wraps tightly around my waist, and he lets me sink into him as I nibble the rest of my treat, and we watch the parade come to an end.
Guess I’m jumping into the deep end with Evan Waters.
We’ve made our way back to Mom’s art gallery just in time for Evan and I to help her load her table and outdoor booth display back into the shop.
In the time it took for us to go back to Brome’s and store the cooler in Ma’s industrial freezer until I can pick it up later, the skies have turned a threatening looking gray.
In the distance, the rumble of thunder echoes off the mountains.
Thunderstorms were not in the forecast today, but that doesn’t ever stop the occasional one from passing through, now and again.
Other vendors are also packing up quickly, and now that the art is all tucked safely inside, Evan is moving on, trying to aid the shopkeeper next door by bringing in her rolling carts full of books.
He just jumped right in and helped, of course.
If I hadn’t known Brenda nearly all my life, and known she’s happily married to Keith, I’d say she was checking Evan and his muscles out right now. I mean, I can’t really fault her. He truly is a sight, and he is way out of my league… kind of what I used to think regarding Kai.
Also, just like Kai, Evan will eventually learn he can pull way better than me, I’m sure.
“Honey, you’re drooling,” Mom chuffs, coming up behind me and wrapping her arms around me, nodding out the glass storefront at Evan. “Lizabeth tells me he’s been quite the helper around the diner,” she muses.
“And at the camp,” I tell her.
She nods appreciatively. “I like him for you.”
I bite my tongue, in lieu of a response.
Can’t very well tell her I’m not with him, since I guess I just agreed to give this a shot, after all.
But I still don’t know how this will all play out.
I still don’t see how this doesn’t have an end date.
I still can’t let myself take those mental arm floaties off, while swimming in the deep end.
“You’re allowed to have good things, you know,” she continues. “You beat yourself up so much after Ry’s passing. We’ve all suffered long enough, don’t you think? Time to let some of that survivor’s guilt out, and some good juju in.”
“It’s not like I have a lot of time to spare,” I explain. “I’m far too busy—”
“No,” she cuts me off firmly, “for the past eight years, you have purposely spread yourself thin so you don’t have to sit and wallow.
You’ve used Morgan as an excuse for that long, baby.
Don’t think I don’t know my own son. Morgan’s about ready to spread her wings and fly the nest in the next year or so; I worry where that will leave you after. What that void will create.”
“Thought about getting Snarf into some cat shows or something,” I tease. “I could make him a celebrity.”
She rolls her eyes and pats my chest. “Or, you could settle down and relax a little. Happy. Maybe with a man who buys you your favorite pies?”
“How did you know—”
“Mother’s intuition and a small town, dear.” She smirks up at me.
“Ma told you,” I guess.
She nods. “It’s charming. Say, do you think Lizabeth and I could sneak one of those away for us tonight?”
“Nope!” I chuckle. “Those pies are mine, all mine. Sorry Mumma, but you gotta get your own.”
She laughs and offers me a wink. “I probably ought to go visit with Pete anyhow, and I always did prefer the wild blueberry pie better. Keep an eye on things here for a minute, would you, baby?”
I nod, and she’s out the door in a beat, thanking Evan profusely as he makes his way in.
There’s no one in the gift shop right now, so I decide to show Evan around the gallery and some of the artwork the kiddos have created.
I bring him to one art piece in particular—a simple, yet poignant, piece that features a black and white lighthouse flanked by stormy seas.
Instead of sprays of yellow light from the top, however, rainbow beams are emitted.
“Beacon of Hope” by Colton Waters.
“My son—” Evan chokes out, looking startled at the art. “My son… drew this? What’s this mean? Could this mean something I should know about? Fuck, I didn’t even realize he was this talented at drawing…”
I rest my palm between Evan’s shoulder blades, rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back.
“I think maybe you need to talk to him about that, don’t you?
He’s very talented, yes. This would make a really cool tattoo.
Appears that now he’s taken his artistry to more law-abiding citizen mediums, and it’s going well for him.
” I point at the small ‘sold’ tag at the bottom of the frame, grinning.
“He just made two hundred dollars today.”
“Oh, Evan, you wouldn’t believe how quickly Colton’s piece sold today!
I think his boyfriend was a little bummed it sold before he himself could buy it.
It was the most adorable thing,” my mom notes as she blusters back in, blueberry pie clutched to her bosom like a precious baby.
Totally oblivious—like she didn’t just let a giant cat out of the proverbial bag.
Evan’s jaw drops. “Boyfriend?” he questions, whipping back around to face me. “ Colt has a boyfriend? But I thought he and Morgan were a thing?”