Chapter 11
Sorrow
The next day, I try not to think about what I’d said to Trace, that I felt nothing but regret, when truth be told, that last kiss of ours was the best kiss.
The doorbell rings.
I jog to get to the door before Trace beats me to it. My efforts are in vain. He hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch, watching a college football game. He doesn’t even glance over his shoulder to remind me of his lesson from last night, that I shouldn’t let Rush get me alone in the dark.
I open the door.
Rush is waiting for me with a bouquet of white and pink roses in his hand. “Hi, Sorrow.”
“Rush.” I bite down on my bottom lip. He looks handsome in a buttoned-up royal-blue shirt paired with black slacks.
“You look great.” He sweeps his gaze over me.
I blush. My hand darts to my matching brown headband.
I decided on a brown plaid square-neck belted maxi dress for dinner.
The long sleeves will keep me warm. The belt cinches my waist, highlighting my curves.
The hem hits well below my knees. It’s a conservative look for dinner with people I don’t know.
Trace took me to the boutique in the town center, where I bought new clothes and shoes with his parents’ credit card.
“Here.” He shoves the flowers near my face.
“Thank you.” I take them from him. “I’ll be right back.”
I find where Jesse Saints keeps all her vases, and grab one.
After filling the vase with water, I place the bouquet in it and set Rush’s gift on the kitchen counter next to the coffee maker.
Ignoring the steam coming from Trace’s ears when I quickly glance his way, I rush out of the house and close the front door behind me, shutting out the crackling of anger and jealousy that has hung in the air since I told Trace that Rush was on his way to pick me up.
Why is he angry and jealous when he doesn’t care for me in that way?
Shaking my head, I hike my small bag higher on my shoulder.
Guys are confusing. I hope Rush is more straightforward with his feelings.
I plan on being open with mine. He walks me to the passenger side of his truck and opens the door for me. I get inside and buckle.
We don’t speak until we’re on the road.
“Are you warm enough?”
“I am, thank you.” My hands are clasped in my lap. I turn and smile at him before returning my attention to the road. It’s already dark. There are a few streetlights along this stretch of the interstate. The moon is high in the sky and following us.
“My parents made a vegetarian dish too, in case you don’t eat meat. It’s steaks and potatoes. I hope you’re okay with that. If not, my parents said they can order in whatever you want.”
“That’s nice of them. I’m fine with vegetarian. Your parents are thoughtful. Thank you.”
“You can thank them yourself. We’re here.”
It’s a shorter drive than I thought it would be. Cambridge and Delridge are a stone’s throw away from one another.
He pulls off the main road and turns into a short driveway hidden from the road by a row of giant trees.
Rush parks in front of a house with three garage doors.
He jerks his head toward another building to the right of the main house.
“My father collects old cars. There’s also an airstrip.
He flies out for business often. Seattle. ”
Rush seems like a nice guy. I doubt he’s telling me all this to brag that his family has money. I go to open my door.
He stops me with his hand on my shoulder. “Let me.”
I nod. He’s a nice guy, but he’s not Trace.
We walk up to the front door side by side.
Rush reaches for my hand. I pull away and tuck my hands in my armpits.
Hopefully he gets the message. I’m not here to start anything with him.
I’m keeping my word to Trace. I’m only here to have an adult conversation with his parents about whatever judgmental thoughts they have about the Saints.
At this moment, I’m thankful for how my father spoke to me, using words as weapons. I’ll do the same with the Grays if push comes to shove. Rush opens the door, and I’m not ready for what’s inside. Were I to have a wish come true, what’s inside the house is it.
I step inside my dream.
His parents are in the kitchen, talking and laughing.
His mother is absolutely gorgeous and young-looking, probably in her mid-thirties.
She’s wearing an apron with polar bears on it.
His father is also youngish. Rush is the spitting image of his father with his bulk, height, blond hair, and deep blue eyes.
The scent of warmth and homemade apple pie hits me.
My stomach growls. I cross my arms over my midsection.
It’s been a long time since I had homemade pie.
My mom used to make it all the time. She also canned fruit and made jam from scratch.
“Mom, Dad.”
Rush’s parents turn toward us. Rush sets his hand on my shoulder. “This is Sorrow.”
“Hi, Sorrow. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Same, Mrs. Gray.”
“Call me Madeline, Sorrow.”
“Jack.” His father comes up to me and extends his hand. I shake it.
“She’ll have the vegetarian dish, Mom.”
“I hope you like roasted mushrooms and eggplant with white sauce.”
I nod. “Sounds delicious. Thank you. The lights, the Christmas decorations, the tree with all the beautiful ornaments and lights . . . It’s like out of a Hallmark movie.” I sweep out my arms.
His mother smiles. “That’s the best compliment, Sorrow. Thank you. Excuse me for a moment.” She rushes over to the oven and turns it off. “Pie is ready. Make yourself comfortable. The boys’ steaks are almost done. Jack’s grilling in the back.”
So that’s where Mr. Gray disappeared to after shaking my hand.
“They are a steaks and potatoes kind of guys. Could eat that for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if they had their way. Personally, all that meat is bad for the arteries.”
“You’re so young, though,” I blurt out before I can think.
She wipes her hands on her apron with a faraway look. “I had Rush when I was sixteen. Jack and I were high school sweethearts. I never thought we’d make it this far and with what we have after an unexpected pregnancy, but my Jack has worked hard to make sure we never go without again.”
What I initially thought of Rush’s parents, that they were judgmental jerks, falls to the wayside.
They’re good people who took the unexpected and made it into their version of success—a big house with an extra garage for Jack’s car collection and an airstrip so he can fly himself to whatever he does in Seattle, on the other side of the state.
Jesus, I’m a horrible person for thinking the worst of them when I don’t even know them.
Is that also my situation? Are they whispering behind my back that I’m strange and unapproachable because I’m holding back from getting to know new people? My shyness and quietness are my shield, but maybe it’s time I lower it and wave the white flag so others know I’m not as scary as they think.
It might take me a little bit to warm up to them and trust their intentions, but I could give it a try.
“Go make yourself comfortable.” She tips her head to the living room, where a fire is burning in the fireplace.
“Do you need help?”
She places her hand on my arm. “The table is set. Water glasses are out. There are bottles of sparkling cider on the table. Jack will be in soon. We’re good, Sorrow, but thank you for the offer.”
She pats my arm. I smile before following Rush into the living room. What is Trace up to? Is he okay? Of course, he’s not. The hurt on his face when I told him I regretted the kiss . . . I’m a jerk. Trace isn’t an unfeeling guy just because he likes to compartmentalize.
Didn’t our kisses and making out prove that he is full of feelings? Didn’t jealousy and anger roll off his body like steam when the sun hits the pavement after the rain?
I lower onto the fluffy, soft beige couch next to Rush and cross my legs. The ceilings are high. The ceiling fan circulates the warmth from the fire. Surprisingly, I’m not cold. I’m comfortable. Large picture windows give us a view of the trees surrounding the house.
“There’s a heated pool out back. One of these days, you’ll have to go for a swim with me.”
Trace’s parents have a heated pool too. Trace has never invited me for a swim with him.
I’ve been secretly in love with him since before the fire.
Leigh showed me a picture of her now boyfriend, Seven, and his friends, Malice and Trace.
Football stars. Sought after by all the girls in the school.
Leigh said Malice and Rue had a love–hate thing going for them. Trace? Trace was single, but not.
Leigh said she heard he was a commitment-phobe, but he was always nice to her and was the life of the party with his wild antics fueled by too much alcohol. It made me want to know more about him. The kindness in his eyes and his smile had me falling in love with him—a complete stranger.
Rush likes me. I don’t have to think back through my romance books or movies to know he’s interested. I never want my heart broken, so why should someone have to go through it if I can stop it?
“Rush?”
“Hmm?” He shifts his body so that we’re facing one another.
Sighing, I give him the truth. “I’d like for us to be friends. I’m thinking of moving to Alexandria after graduation, and it’d be nice to have a friend close by.”
He blows out a breath. “It’s Trace, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a jerk, Sorrow.”
I want to tell Rush that Trace is my jerk, but I don’t. “He can be a bit much.”
Rush scoffs. “The guy thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”
I can’t dispute that. I also find Trace Saints utterly panty-melting hot.
“I’ve known him all his life. You’ve known him for a few months.”
I tip my chin. “But I’ve kissed him, and you haven’t.”
Rush’s eyes widen, and then he breaks out in laughter.
“Fuck me,” he says in a low voice, “you have it bad for him if you’re admitting that you swapped spit with the manwhore of the town.”
I curl my hand until my nails dig into my palm. “Take that back.”
“No.” He crosses his arms.
I clench my jaw.
“Why are you so pissed, Sorrow?” He gets in my face.
“Why are you defending a jerk who wouldn’t know you existed had his parents not moved you in?
” He edges back and smirks. “You’re making it too easy for him.
He’s never had to fight for a girl in his life.
Make him work for it, Sorrow. He sure as fuck doesn’t deserve a girl like you. ”
“And you do?” I’m angry, and I don’t understand why other than I have to defend Trace.
Why, though, am I defending him? Rush has made great points.
He’s known Trace longer than I have. Trace does have a reputation for sleeping around.
How can he be faithful to one girl? Can one girl be enough for him?
Jesus. Rush is right.
He must see it clearly on my face. Rush chuckles. “Do you want to catch a predator and have it eating out of your palm?”
I shake my head. Rush is no match for an apex predator like Trace. I’m no match for him either. Trace has been playing this game of his with girls’ hearts for forever.
“Why are you doing this?”
“I like you. I can’t have you. You have a lady boner for Trace. Trace needs to be put in his place and to get off his high horse of being God’s gift to women, and you’re going to help me knock him off.” He ticks off each reason on his fingers.
Bypassing the part about Rush liking me and that he can’t have me, I cross my arms, lean forward, and hiss, “I’m not doing it. I won’t hurt Trace.”
“But you’ll let him hurt you? Fall for him, and he’ll break your heart, Sorrow.”
“I’ll risk it.”
“Rather than falling for a decent guy like me?”
I want to sock the smirk from his face. “You’re not decent if you’re asking me to pretend to be with you so that you can hurt Trace. Whatever beef you have with him, settle it with him and don’t use me to do your dirty work.”
I must’ve hit a nerve. He clamps his jaw and avoids looking at me.
Then it dawns on me. “You walked over to Phoebe after Trace threw the rock at you. Either you’re in love with her and she won’t give you the time of day, or you two were dating but she broke up with you for Trace.
Trace would never cheat with a girl who’s taken. ”
“You have that much faith in him?”
For some reason, I do. “Yes. So which is it?”
“She won’t give me the time of day.”
I shake my head. “You deserve better.” From what I heard from Leigh, Phoebe’s been around the block more than a few times. “Plus, she’s into college guys.” I take his hand in mine. He looks so sad and put out. “How about we compromise? You forget about Phoebe and let me pick the girl for you.”
“You don’t know anyone,” he mutters.
“There is someone, but you have to be extra careful and nice to her. Don’t mention what clothes she’s wearing or how bad she smells or that her hair is a mess.”
His eyes widen. “Who the fuck are you planning on setting me up with? Cruella?”
“Who played Cruella?” I want to make sure we’re talking about the Disney movie.
“Emma Stone.”
“Well,” I draw out, “she kinda looks like her.”
“You’re fucking with me for fucking with you, aren’t you?”
“I kid you not.” I’m stretching the truth to get Rush to meet her at least once.
When he talks with her, he’ll overlook her appearance and change his mind.
Ember reminds me a lot of myself after I woke up in the hospital with news of my father’s death—sad and lost with the longing to curl into myself and never emerge.
But my mother’s voice in the back of my head demanded I get up and face the world.
I needed to do what she couldn’t, so I did.
“But if I do this for you and things work out between you two”—I’m not sure they will. Ember is more closed off than I was after the fire—“you have to let go of whatever hang-up you have for Trace and go on a double date with us. Pinky swear?”
I hold out my pinky. There’s skepticism on his face before he smiles. “I’m in.” We pinky swear, and I smile from ear to ear. I’ve made a new friend, and bonus, my new friend Ember will have another friend too.