29. Chapter 29
Chapter twenty-nine
Brandy
I pulled out of the parking lot with sweat rolling down my face and turned the air conditioning on full blast.
Just what I need. A damn hot flash.
I drove home on autopilot, the kind of driving you do when your brain has checked out and your body just knows the route. Clover Street to the little yellow house. The porch with the flower boxes I was so proud of three weeks ago when everything felt possible and new and mine.
She's good, like really good.
I got out of the car and went inside. The house was quiet and cool and mine.
I changed out of my work clothes into my oldest, most comfortable pair of leggings and an oversized tank top that had been washed so many times it was practically translucent.
I twisted my hair up off my neck because the hot flash had not finished making its point yet and stood in front of my bedroom fan with my arms out for a long moment.
Did she take charge?
Hell yeah.
I got my phone and returned to the fan.
One rotisserie chicken. Already cooked because I was not cooking anything today.
Two pints of ice cream. Make that three.
One bag of Doritos. The big one.
One box of microwave popcorn. The extra butter kind because I wanted it.
One package of chocolate chip cookies because Ruthie's were better, but Ruthie's required talking and I was not talking to anyone today. I added a bag of iced animal crackers and one of peanut butter cookies.
I looked at my cart.
Added a second bag of Doritos.
And checked out.
Estimated delivery: an hour.
I passed the thermostat on my way to the living room.
I adjusted the temperature down two degrees.
Then I continued on to the living room, positioned myself directly in front of the box fan on the highest setting, and sat on the floor with my back against the sofa because the sofa retained heat and the floor did not.
They were talking about me.
Sam told Hank. Hank came to get details. Nick gave them.
I actually thought—
I stopped that thought before it finished itself.
No.
I was not going to sit here and finish that sentence because finishing that sentence required admitting how far down that road I had actually let myself go, and I was not ready to look at that yet.
She's good, like really good.
The fan blew my hair back from my face.
I shaved my legs.
Twice.
The groceries arrived in forty-five minutes. I tipped the delivery driver generously for being early.
I set everything on the coffee table, sat back down on the floor in front of the fan, and began the methodical process of eating my feelings.
The rotisserie chicken was excellent. At least something about today was good.
The Doritos were exactly what they always were. Reliable and uncomplicated.
I watched three episodes of a cooking competition show I'd seen before and didn't care about.
Then half an episode of something with detectives.
Then I turned the television off entirely and sat in the quiet of my living room with the fan going and the second pint of ice cream and had a very honest conversation with myself about what was happening.
You let someone in, I told myself. That's not shameful. That's brave.
He let you down. That's not your fault. That's his.
You've been let down before and you drove away with the windows down.
You can do it again.
I ate another spoonful of ice cream.
You built something here. A job you love. Friends who show up without being asked. A town that's starting to feel like yours. Sure, Nick Carson lived here too, but that was manageable. I’ll just stay away from him and his fire station.
My phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, so I didn’t answer. Honestly, I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Tonight I was a woman on her floor in front of a fan eating chicken, Doritos, and ice cream, and that was exactly as much as I could manage.
I went to bed at nine fifteen.
Fine, I thought, staring at the ceiling.
Fine.
I scrolled social media until three a.m.
The next morning I called the office at seven fifty and told Connie I wasn't feeling well and would be working from home today.
Connie said she hoped I felt better and to rest.
I had coffee, cookies, and leftover Doritos for breakfast because there were no rules today. I spent the majority of the morning watching I Love Lucy reruns.
I did not think about Nick Carson. Except for when I did. Which was every twelve to fourteen minutes, roughly.
At twelve fifteen there was a knock at my door.
I reluctantly got up and opened it.
Ruthie was standing on my porch holding a large container of something and a bag. She looked at me. I looked at her. We did not say anything for a moment.
"What’s wrong with you?" she asked. “Connie said you were sick.”
"I'm not actually sick," I said.
She held up the soup. "I made you get-well soup, chicken tortilla and homemade sourdough. Can I come in?"
I stepped aside.
Ruthie set the soup and bread on my kitchen counter and came back to the living room where I’d already deposited myself on the sofa, not wanting to miss any more of this episode. She looked at me the way she always looked at me. Fully. Without rushing to fill the silence.
“What happened in here?”
Ruthie picked up the chicken bones, a long-gone bag of Doritos, and an ice cream container that had valiantly given up its life. She didn’t wait for me to answer.
“Brandy, turn the TV off and come talk to me.”
I groaned and did as I was told.
Ruthie had two bowls of soup and the bread sitting on the dining room table.
I looked at the soup. It looked and smelled delicious.
She ladled soup into the bowls, then tore a chunk of bread off.
“Want to talk about it?”
“About what?” I asked.
She pointed to me. “Whatever this is.”
I blew out my breath. "I overheard something," I said. "At the fire station yesterday."
Ruthie didn't say anything.
“The other night Nick showed up here with a bottle of bourbon.” I told her the whole story. Everything through me dismissing the guys and leaving. “I’m not ashamed to say last night I sat on my floor and used Doritos as ice cream scoops.”
When I finished, Ruthie was quiet for a long moment.
“Okay, first, hot damn for you and Nick having sex. Jo and I had been hoping that would happen.”
“I want to wish it hadn’t happened, but it was so good.”
Ruthie giggled her little laugh.
"Alright, now, you're sure," she said carefully, "that they were talking about you and Nick?"
"Ruthie." I looked at her. "He said my name."
Ruthie pressed her lips together. "I hear you," she said. "I do." She turned her water glass slowly. "Can I just say one thing?"
"You're going to say it even if I say no."
"Correct." She looked at me directly. "Nick Carson is many things. He is stubborn and guarded and seems to want to live with his foot in his mouth." She paused. "But for him to tell Hank something like that? That’s not Nick."
"I’m not making it up."
"No, no." She put her hands up to stop me. “I'm not saying that. I believe you. And you're not wrong to be hurt." She put her hand over mine. "I'm saying wait. Before you decide what you heard, you should talk to Nick."
I looked at my soup.
"He still could have said yes at Pins and Grins," I said quietly. "That's not about what I overheard. I was right there."
"You're right," Ruthie said. "That's completely true and completely on him."
We sat with that for a moment.
My phone showed a text from Nick. “It’s from Nick.”
“What’s it say?” She sat up, craning her neck to see.
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t care what it says.”
“You do and you know it. Now, what does it say?”
I opened the app. “Sorry I missed you leaving yesterday. I hope you’re having a good day today.”
“See, that’s the Nick I know.”
“I’m tired of being apologized to.”
"Eat your soup," she said finally. "It's getting cold."
I picked up my spoon. "The event's next week."
"I know."
"The boxes are sorted. The vendors are confirmed. The poster's at the printer." I ate a spoonful of soup. It was extraordinary. "There's nothing I need to go to the fire station for. Safety Week starts Monday. He'll be busy. And then it'll be over and I won't need to see him or talk to him again."
Ruthie looked at me with the expression of a woman who had several things to say and was choosing which one to lead with.
"Fine," she said.
"Okay?" I looked at her. "That's it?"
"You need to rally right now," she said simply. "You built something incredible and you need to be present for it." She squeezed my hand. "So rally. And when it's over we'll figure out the rest."
I looked at her and straightened my spine.
"I ordered a costume," I said.
Ruthie's face broke into a full smile. "Now THERE she is."
“Red Riding Hood,” I told her. “The non-slutty one.”
Ruthie giggled again. “I get it, because you have to battle the big bad wolf.”
“Exactly.”