Chapter 8 #2
She charged out of the kitchen, passing the counter that held the remains of the pie. Hesitating for a second, she snagged the dish in her other hand.
“The pie…” Mom’s protest faded as Brigit walked away. Justin reclined with Dad in front of the TV, his brows popping when he saw her load and her trajectory straight for the door. His gaze lifted beyond her to where Mom must be wringing her hands. He kicked the footrest down and sat up.
Dad barely spared her a glance and it was back to the game.
There was no good way to set her items down and get her shoes on, so she stomped her feet into each boot. The tops pushed her jeans up her legs, but she didn’t care. She managed to juggle the dishes in one arm and grab her coat.
Then she was out the door, her Mom’s call of “Brigit” dissipating in the cold air.
She stomped down the steps and as soon as her shoes hit the dirt, she clenched her teeth. “Dammit.”
She had no vehicle. After her dramatic little exit, she couldn’t very well go inside and ask Dad to borrow the car.
The screen door squeaked open and a set of keys jingled. She looked back. Justin was grinning as he came to a stop on the last stair.
Her relieved smile had to take up half her face. “Thank you.”
“Moore-tel.”
She knew, but the extra show of support warmed her.
He jogged back inside, probably for a night of tight-lipped glaring from Mom, but he would handle it better.
Brigit had already endured an interrogation over where she had applied for jobs, what cities she was looking at, why law school was out of the question, and if she’d talked to Oliver.
All before she’d been told she shouldn’t have seconds on pie.
On the way into town, her heart rate kicked up instead of slowing down. This didn’t mean anything. It was just bringing dinner to a friend.
Was Caleb even a friend? Lord knew, she’d pushed him far enough away she could see why she questioned herself.
The motel’s parking lot was lit, and Caleb’s old beater pickup was parked in front of room four. She pulled in next to him and killed the engine. Her stomach flipped as she stared at the blue door.
Well, she’d come this far. It’d be cruel to chicken out now and drive away with all the food. Not that Caleb knew she was coming.
Sliding out, she winced as the freezing air hit her face. Her pants were gathered in a messy bunch over her cowboy boots, and she wore the same long-sleeved V-neck purple shirt she’d had on all day. Not fancy, but not pajamas. And not a towel.
A punch of heat warded off the chill. She steeled herself, gathered the food, and marched to the door. She kicked at it in place of knocking.
Two seconds later, the door opened a crack, a chain breaking Caleb’s face in two.
Surprise, then concern, flashed over his features. “Brigit. Everything okay?”
She pushed for a smile and held the plates up. “I assumed you’d be hanging out with Farah today, but I heard they went to Brock’s. So…”
The door closed, but the rattle of the chain was crystal clear. Then he whipped open the door and ushered her in.
“Holy crap, it’s hot in here.” If she’d been wearing her coat, she would’ve started sweating.
Caleb locked the door and circled around her. Her mouth went dry.
He was shirtless.
His hair wasn’t slicked from his shower this time and his jeans were on, but the effect packed no less punch than last time.
“I legit think I have to open a window. I’ve turned the heat off, but there’s no circulation in here and I think the owner cranked the thermostat in the neighboring rooms.” He accepted the plates and set them down. She stepped out of her boots, not bothering to ask if she was welcome to stay.
“I think you could leave the door wide open and it might drop below eighty in an hour.” She went to the window on the opposite side of the door and cracked it. The blast of wind should help take the flush out of her face.
Caleb waved at all the food. “Is this… Thanks.”
“No problem.” And it wasn’t. He was staring at the food like it was a feast for kings. This was worth whatever fallout happened at home. “It hasn’t been in the fridge long, but it might need a quick reheat.”
A scan of the room said no, that wouldn’t be an option.
Caleb chuckled. “Believe me, it’s better than the apple I had.”
“Is that all you’ve eaten?”
“And a gas station burger.” His gaze strayed to the garbage can next to her.
She looked down. “Ah. At least I remembered a fork.”
“Just one? Aren’t you going to join me?” He tossed his jacket off a chair and carried the seat to the bed. To her dismay, he found his shirt and rolled it on. “Take your pick while I bring the table over.”
She settled on the uncomfortable chair and he took the bed. He shoveled into the potatoes with one hand while lifting the foil cover off the pie. “Half a pie. Damn.”
“I know it’s too much.” She couldn’t explain the situation without hurting his feelings. He didn’t need to deal with her mom’s opinions on top of…well, hers. “I wasn’t sure what you like, or how you like it.”
“Now I didn’t say it was too much.” He scooted the pie tray over. “Half is yours.”
Her mouth watered. Pumpkin pie was her favorite. “I should’ve packed another fork.”
He shrugged and finished chewing his mouthful, another forkful poised and ready. “Use your hands.”
Her smile had a mind of its own. “I can’t eat pumpkin pie with my hands.”
He winked. “Betcha you could.” He held the handle of his fork. “But if you’re too scared, you use the fork and I’ll use my hands on these potatoes.”
She scowled at him and grabbed the pie pan, strategizing how to manage without wearing half the pumpkin custard.
His grin was unrepentant and he went back to his food. Once she loosened her piece, the rest was pretty easy to eat. She polished off a slice.
Caleb tapped the tin. “I’m not done yet. Might as well have another.”
She wiped her hands down her jeans, liking their makeshift picnic. “I’d better not.”
“Full?”
“I can always eat pie.” She held her breath for a moment, then let the words spill out. “You know why there was half a one left? Mom suggested we save it for tomorrow. After she commented that I might have to buy a new wardrobe. Black Friday deals and all.”
Caleb’s fork hung from his hand and he had a you’re shitting me look. He set the utensil down. “The only problem with your weight is the people who comment on it.”
“I wish it were that clear-cut.”
He stared at her for a heartbeat. “I was going to say something like ‘it could be that clear-cut,’ but I’m not a girl.”
The corner of her mouth hitched up, and the flush came back as she recalled him with his shirt off. “No. Definitely not a girl.”
“I like the way you look. I’ve always liked the way you look.
And I think you look better now than ever.
” He shook his head as a shadow crossed his face.
“This thing with your mom. She has some baggage that she’s been handing off to you.
The perfectionism, the way she lives vicariously through you, the weird shit about your eating.
It’s not right, and it’s about her and not you. ”
Brigit folded her hands in her lap. She couldn’t nod, but he was right.
It wasn’t like she couldn’t see it. What she couldn’t see was that her mom was incorrect.
“The thing about Mom is… she’s right sometimes.
Her nagging about my career? She was there when I came home from high school and finally broke down.
I was such an outsider. Taller than the rest of my classmates, even after they hit puberty. Justin was the popular one, not me.”
“I didn’t realize it was so bad.”
“You were Justin’s friend and had a little cult following you were oblivious to.
When I moved for college—” Her voice cracked.
Those days were the epitome of bittersweet.
“Mom and I went shopping. New town, new look. It was…exhilarating freedom.” Brigit shifted her gaze to the wall.
The flash of hurt in Caleb’s eyes inspired a new round of guilt.
“I walked into the grocery store and no one knew who I was. No one commented on my clothing. No one compared me to my brothers. The anonymity was addicting.”
“And your mom knew what waited for you.”
She nodded. Mom had had the same experience in a different small town. Things should be different now that Brigit was an adult. But nothing had changed. “Did you know Justin’s seeing Maisy again?”
“Priya mentioned it last week when I saw her.”
Priya was back in town? And Caleb had talked to her? That wasn’t jealousy piercing her gut and churning the dessert she’d eaten. Who Caleb dated wasn’t her business.
“Relax. I think Priya would go after Justin if she thought she’d survive Maisy’s assassination attempts.”
Her tension faded. “I wish Justin weren’t rebelling against the woman who broke his heart. I wish he had a thing for Priya instead.”
His dark eyes twinkled. “I seem to have a thing for tall blonds who can work cattle like a boss and keep trying to get away from me.”
“It’s not you I’m getting away from.” Being close to him made her question what was so important that she had to leave Moore and him behind. The longer she was around him, the more the answer faded away.
His nod was curt. “Fair enough.”