Chapter 6
Six
Ally hung back on the porch’s edge, her shoulders slumped, and her fingers chilled as her mother pushed the front door open and allowed Chip into the house.
“So sweet seeing you two back together again.” Her mom peered over her shoulder and beamed back at Ally, who did her best not to pitch forth an annoyed scowl. Her feet took her inside, although her mind longed to run in the opposite direction. Just so she wouldn’t have to witness whatever happened next.
Suddenly, she inspected her home with new eyes. As if she were Chip, viewing this place for the first time in a decade.
The homely beige walls and wood paneling. An average-sized dwelling with a large couch and T.V. The two oversized furnishings made the place seem even smaller than “average.”
Not much had changed in the decade since Chip’s last visit, while so much about him seemed so evolved. She still didn’t know how she felt about his “evolution,” either, though the high ache in her tummy spoke some indelible truth on this latest exchange.
Their twenty-minute stroll from Oak Tree to her house had been a quick joyride through the past. One she’d wanted to end maybe less than him. And that right there was her problem .
A far too large part of her rejoiced in his return.
She grumbled past her mother and uttered a deflective, “You make it sound like we’re married.”
The door clicked closed, and she went about kicking her shoes under the cushion-covered bench along the entry’s side wall.
“Well, you never know, dear.” Her mom patted Ally’s shoulder and strolled past.
Soon after, Ally spun around to mouth an apology to Chip. The outer corners of his lips pulled into a slow smile, even though his stare seemed less jovial, more analytical—like he sought to discover what she really felt about her mother’s innuendo.
Delightfully barefoot, she shook her head and went about dumping her bag onto the same bench her shoes now lived under, the bag’s heavy thud a satisfying statement on how much she wasn’t into this whole setup.
Setup. What a great description of how she felt, and she’d no doubt have to endure more as other family members discovered tonight’s visitor.
“Holy crapola!” Right on time, her older sister by two years, Laila, bolted down the stairs on a thundering gallop. “What happened to Chip?”
While Chip laughed and made a point of looking Laila over in her cashier uniform of black chinos under a white shirt and burgundy vest. “What happened to you ?”
She threw her arms around him, the action muffling her next words. “Too much, Chip. Way too much.”
Ally pulled her focus from the way Chip’s white t-shirt stretched over his back muscles and expended her energy on tugging aggressively at her cardigan sleeves, then tossing the removed garment on top of her bag. Bare feet. Bare arms. Much better.
Meanwhile, Laila’s four-year-old daughter, Whitney, padded behind her mother, her blinking brown gaze pinned on Chip. “Who’s this?”
“Just an old family friend, Muffin.” Laila scruffed a hand over Whitney’s curly auburn hair, turning her focus back to Chip. “I’m grabbing a bite to eat, then I’m off for the long drive to my overnight shift over in Marston. Mama and Pa look after this one while I clock up the hours.”
Laila gave him a stiff smile and shook her head, maybe because the years had been kind to him and less so to her.
Though Laila had always had a certain classic appeal that Ally didn’t—these days, now that Whitney’s dad wasn’t around—Laila toiled double-time, working odd hours at the nearest twenty-four-hour grocery store while studying sonography, just to fill the financial gaps.
Ally could barely remember when her sister didn’t look overworked.
Meanwhile, the last time anyone in Harlow saw Chip, he’d been a skinny fourteen-year-old, with limbs too long for the rest of his body, his nose often buried in a book. By some freak of nature, he’d grown into his height, and his narrow features filled out to a striking “boy next door” sort of appeal.
And as if to mirror Ally’s thoughts on his changes, Laila chimed in with, “What about you? Married? Kids?”
“Too much to do first.” Chip was quick to laugh and shake his head. “Marriage and kids are a long way off.”
Despite Ally’s recent vow to also stop caring about settling down, his air of finality brought a pang to her chest… Not that she had all that much time to dwell on her feelings.
“Chip, buddy!” Ally’s father rounded the kitchen counter, likely fresh from tinkering with something in his tucked-away den. “Vel tracked you down after all.”
“Surprise.” Chip accepted her dad’s strong handshake. “I didn’t plan on an entire Egan reunion, that’s for sure.”
“Well, you should’ve.” Her mom squeezed in and pushed Chip toward the kitchen. “We’ve been waiting for ten years to have you back at our table. If only your sister were here, too.”
“We don’t have enough seats.” Instantly regretting the quip and what it revealed about her feelings on Sarah, Ally bit down on her lower lip and promised to shut up for a while.
Chip turned and stared at her, his narrow-eyed skepticism stirring a nervous energy within her, prompting her focus on pulling out a chair and ignoring him altogether.
Did he know about her problems with his sister? And why did the mere awareness of his gaze make her tummy lurch, flip, and flutter?
“Ally?” The abrupt sound of her name dragged her focus to her mother. “Not there, you sit over here. Next to Chip.”
Ally frowned down at the chair beneath her hands, her fingers curled around the top of the brown wood frame. “But I always sit next to Laila.”
“Not tonight.” Despite being the shortest person in the room, her mom pressed down on Chip’s shoulders and strong-armed him into a seat before eyeballing Ally and stabbing a finger at the chair next to him. “ Sit. You and Laila can chin-wag together any other night.”
Ally groaned and shuffled toward her designated seat, once again apologizing under her breath to Chip. “Mom likes to come on strong.”
She sat next to him and tried to escape the electricity seeming to ping within the small space between them. Did he feel it too? Or did that energy exist only in her mind?
Not the first time I’ve imagined a connection.
Given this was Chip, her “imagining” came with a strong edge of terror. Especially since his trace of body heat on her arm made her skin tingle, leaving her with regrets over removing her cardigan.
“It’s okay.” His low whisper—light but somehow molten—had her peering at his hazel stare, fluttering about her face. “I remember .”
She snatched her focus away and dug her elbows into the table, the reluctant tension in her belly giving way to her shoulder’s slight tremble. Though she tried to contain her burgeoning snicker, Chip did no such thing, his chuckle loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Oh, see, now look at you two.” Her mom lowered a bowl of salad to the table, her smile practically glowing.
Unchecked laughter cracked past Ally’s lips, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, which only forced her humor to escape through the tears gathering in her eyes. Chip’s amusement grew louder, drawing her attention back to him and an exchange of mutual elbow nudges played out at the private joke.
His familiar levity overrode her confusion, and she relaxed a little. With everyone now seated and Whitney already chomping on a bread roll, the prospect of food added another welcome diversion.
So, Ally whiled away dinner by dipping out of the chatter and allowing her parents a chance to grill Chip over his years away while pinning her mind on slipping more and more food into her mouth.
Unfortunately, Laila’s repeated sidelong stares from across the table reduced the places Ally could look, her sister’s scrutiny a gut-churning clue she suspected something.
The harder Laila stared, the hotter Ally’s cheeks got, her pale complexion already known to make her emotions all too easy to read. Especially for someone who knew her as well as Laila.
Even though Whitney’s birth meant they didn’t hang out alone much anymore, Laila had witnessed every one of Ally’s wild misadventures. Her years of perpetual singledom. Her failed crushes. Dean’s rejection .
No doubt Laila already predicted Ally falling for Chip too. Heck, Ally could see it happening as well—but maybe, just maybe—this one time, she’d succeed in letting things be.
He’s not here long. I’ll ride this one out and be okay.
Lots of men and women are just friends, right?
Besides, in light of our past, his rejection would downright crush me.
I’m NOT doing that!
The meal drew to a close, and Chip pushed his plate away, his bare arm brushing hers, though given the tight seating, not for the first time. She leaned away from his touch and tried to settle the solid thud of her heartbeat in her ears.
Her mom stood and clapped her hands, new excitement lighting her eyes. “Well, Ronny and I have a surprise for Chip, but we need him to leave the room for a few minutes while we set it all up.”
Chip turned to Ally, his eyes wide, while he mouthed the word, “What?”
She shrugged to indicate she had no idea what her parents planned while her dad now rose, quick to collect his plate and ferry it to the sink, while addressing her mom. “Where should we put him, Vel?”
Laila dragged her all-knowing stare over Ally, again. Not a good sign. So, Ally twisted to her mom and pitched a deflective joke. “Maybe we could fold him up and slide him into the utensils drawer?”
“Oh, Ally.” Her mom shook her head and tsked , pulling more plates from the table. “So silly.”
“Maybe he can wait in Ally’s room?” Laila raised a brow at Ally, her saccharine smile posed above the rim of her water glass. “It’s upstairs, outta the way, not littered with Whit’s toys.”
Ally opened her mouth to protest, but her mom got in first. “Great idea!”
“No, it’s not!” Ally’s voice shot free and high, her hard glare on her mom a hollow threat over what she’d do if this plan went ahead.
The woman just rolled her eyes. “Oh, Al, ease up. It’s only for a few minutes.”
“Yeah.” Laila stood, the conversation-ending move yanking this choice even more out of Ally’s hands. “You two spent enough time up there as kids.”
Her sister strode toward her thick work jacket hanging on a hook by the front door, soon jamming her arms through the jacket’s holes. “Maybe you can show him the pottery you’ve been working on these last years. You’ve got some talent there, Al.”
“What about my privacy?” Ally threw her hands higher and peered around the room at all her treacherous family members. “It’s not like I’m still a child.”
“Yeah, about that”—Laila threw Ally a wink and wrenched the door open, quick to call out from the landing—“you can thank me later, Sis.”