Chapter 38
CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT
GUNNER
I see Rebel off, hiding my smile the entire time.
The moment her truck zooms off the property, I let loose the sappy grin that’s been tugging on my mouth.
Rebel Hart is my girlfriend.
How did I get so lucky?
As I near the house, Mom throws the front door open and launches down the stairs.
“I saw the Hart girl leave in her truck. Were you two on the farm?”
I don’t answer, but mom reads my face and her mouth twists into a scowl. “How could you bring that woman here?”
“She’s my girlfriend and this is where I live.”
“Yes, but it’s where I live too. She shouldn’t be here when she’s trying to take over the Society!”
As usual, mom is being dramatic.
“Don’t give me that look, Gunner Kinsey. Marjorie and the girls went behind my back and gave the Hart girl access to one of our biggest donors. Rodney Howard won’t even pick up my calls anymore. He had his secretary send me an email saying he’ll only work with Rebel now.”
I frown. Rodney Howard isn’t high on my list of favorite people at the moment.
“Maybe you shouldn’t accept his money then.”
“I can’t do that!” Mom shrieks.
“Why not?”
“Do you know how many teachers from the school stopped by to thank me? Whether I like that girl or not, it’s true that we haven’t been as… dedicated to her side of town as we could have been. I don’t want the Society’s power struggle to affect the people who need help the most.”
I study her, pleased to hear that her heart is still to help the town.
Mom rolls her eyes. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Even if I’ve changed my mind a little bit, I still don’t approve of that girl.”
Sure, but she respects Rebel’s cause now and that’s a step in the right direction.
I lean down and give mom a hug.
She grouchily smacks my shoulder. “Harumph. You haven’t been back for a proper hour yet and you’ve already ticked me off. And where are your bags?” Mom nudges me away to look around.
“In Chance’s convertible. I’ll get them from him later.”
She motions me inside. “I made your favorite, mashed potatoes and steak. And there’s pie in the fridge.”
My stomach grumbles. I skipped breakfast so I could be early for the meeting with the lawyers—a meeting that went as well as a defenseman wearing two left skates on the ice. It looks like the only way to get the information I seek is by digging around myself.
Mom hums as she fixes a plate and sets it in front of me. When she sees me looking at her, she stops. “Is something on my face?”
I shake my head.
“I’m almost done here. Go wash up and I’ll have the table set.”
“Mom?”
“Mm?” She continues stirring the gravy.
I’m not sure how to ask what I need to and the silence lengthens.
Mom lets out a nervous laugh. “What’s the big announcement, Gunner?”
I look down, trying to find a way to interrogate my own mother.
Mom goes pale. “You didn’t… you didn’t propose to that girl, did you?”
I shake my head.
She folds forward, her shoulders sagging in relief.
“But someday…”
Mom’s eyes zing to me. “Someday what?”
“Someday I’d like to.”
“Gunner.”
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” I ask, watching every twitch of her face. “A good reason?”
“If you’re asking my opinion, you know what I’ll say. I don’t think she’s the right girl for you. She and I don’t get along.”
“Why not?”
“Because she stood in front of everyone at the charity luncheon and said terrible things about the Lady Luck Society. Why, she basically accused us of being useless! After all I’ve given to this community…” Mom shakes her head, aggravated. “And she’s not humble at all. She goes out of her way to have the last word. Very argumentative girl. I can’t imagine spending Thanksgiving and birthdays with someone who’s so unpleasant.”
Rebel and mom share the same spit-fire, outspoken personalities. If mom finds Rebel ‘unpleasant’, it might be because she reminds her of herself.
“Is that the only reason, mom?”
Mom furiously stirs the gravy. “What other reason could there be?”
“Did we…” I lick my lips, “did our family ever do something to Rebel or her mom that we shouldn’t have?”
Mom looks baffled. “Gunner, what kind of question is that?”
“Did we hurt them in any way?”
“Is that what Rebel said?”
“I’m just asking a question.”
“Well, it’s a dumb question. When Ms. Hart was our cleaner, I treated her with respect. So did your dad.”
Mom’s voice is high pitched with annoyance, but that’s on brand for her. She’s maintaining eye contact the entire way through her speech too, all signs that she’s not lying.
I breathe easier. “What about Mrs. Hart’s relationship with the rest of our family?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did she ever date Uncle Stewart?”
Mom snorts. “Now that would be something? As far as I can tell, they never had that sort of relationship.”
“What about one of my other uncles?”
“Where is all this coming from?” Mom winds her wooden spoon around in the air.
“I heard rumors.”
Mom scoffs. “Rumors are nothing but idle talk. Why, Mrs. Hart was cleaning this house since your grandaddy was alive! At one point, folks thought she was his secret daughter.”
Now that I think about it, my grandfather had always treated the Harts like family. I remember him handing out pocket money to both me and Rebel equally when we were kids.
“My disapproval has nothing to do with her mother being a cleaner. I don’t hate families like the Harts. They’re good, hardworking folks.” She humphs. “If that girl wasn’t so outspoken and determined to have you, I wouldn’t have a fuss with her.”
I cringe. It was going so well, mom.
“I’m the one who’s determined to have Rebel. Not the other way around,” I correct her.
“Yes, well…” Mom’s brain audibly whirrs as she cooks up a way to pin this on Rebel, “you wouldn’t have thought you had a chance if she didn’t give you that impression. So it’s still her fault.”
The conversation is turning into a mess, so I focus on setting the table instead of arguing.
After dinner, I wash the dishes and head up to my apartment so I can grab my laptop and start some work for Uncle Robert. He emailed me with business questions while I was on the road and I promised him I’d take a look at it the moment I got back.
The task is more complicated than I expected and, by the time I come up for air, it’s nightfall.
I lift my arms over my head in a stretch and my thoughts instantly go to Rebel.
A smile works its way over my face. I pick up my phone and type out a message.
Hey.
I stare at the three letters.
Then I hit the backspace until they’re gone.
Hi, Rebel.
I erase that too.
Cracking my knuckles, I stare at the phone and think for a minute.
Suddenly, I get a notification.
It’s Rebel.
REBEL: What are you up to tonight?
I feel my lips pulling up into a foolish grin and smack my cheek a couple times. Unfortunately, the warmth spreading in my chest isn’t so easy to disguise. It’s like I’m being buried in the middle of a supernova, one that’s been hidden in ice and set to hibernate for centuries. But now the ice is thawing and there’s no containing the pure, nuclear energy that’s about to crack out of the ice.
I type back immediately.
ME: Nothing much. You?
I let my phone clatter back to the table and spin my chair around as I wait for her response. It takes fifteen minutes for the phone to buzz and I launch at the device immediately.
REBEL: I’m out with April, May and Delia.
ME: The Tuna?
REBEL: The mall. April’s idea.
ME: Having fun?
REBEL: Me and May? Yeah. April and Delia? Not so much.
ME: ??
REBEL: I think April’s trying to cheer me up after what happened this morning. Poor thing. But she’s miserable.
ME: She’s a good friend.
REBEL: She’s suffering for no reason. I’m in a great mood even without the mall.
The grin is back on my face.
ME: Does your good mood have anything to do with me?
REBEL: We’ll never know…
I run a hand down my face, massaging my cheeks that are spasming from holding a smile for this long.
ME: I’ll take that as a yes.
REBEL: I neither confirm nor deny those allegations.
I laugh.
REBEL: Do you have practice tomorrow?
ME: Bright and early. Max has no off-switch.
REBEL: You should get some rest then.
ME: I’ll be up a little longer. Text me when you get home safe.
REBEL: I will. Goodnight, Gunner.
ME: Goodnight, Rebel.
I toss the phone and flop against the mattress.
Something bright and warm hums in my veins.
It’s hard to explain…
I’ve only felt this type of rush on the ice.
And it’s usually seconds before I hit the puck straight into the net and hear the crowd roar in the stadium.
But there’s no crowd here.
It’s just me.
Alone.
In my bedroom.
Texting back and forth with my dream girl.
The girl I’ve been silently in love with for decades.
I get up to pace around my bed, too amped to go back to work on Uncle Robert’s finances. Instead, my thoughts are filled with all the ways I can make Rebel happy tomorrow, the day after that, and a million days after that.
I’ve waited my whole life for this moment.
Even with all the obstacles coming at us, I’ll throw my heart and soul into showing Rebel Hart she made the right decision to be mine.