Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Kate wasn’t sure what she expected to see when she opened the front door the next morning, but it definitely wasn’t the two boxes on the stoop.
She felt exhausted. She’d barely slept all night. Unsettled by Marley coming to the house.
And the way she’d felt so… strange after he hugged her.
“We got a delivery,” Addy said, jumping up and down, because to her boxes meant toys. “Come on, let’s open them,” she said, her voice full of excitement.
The lids of the boxes weren’t taped together, just folded. Addy pulled open the flaps of the closest one and peered inside. “Look, Mommy! Cupcakes!”
“What?” Kate frowned. But Addy was already picking up a cupcake and holding it, the frosting glinting in the morning sun.
“Can I have one?” Ethan asked.
“Wait.” Kate put her hand up. “Let me see.” Opening the box fully, she could see there were at least thirty cupcakes in there. All expertly frosted.
“Who delivered these?” Ethan asked. “I didn’t hear the doorbell.”
“Are there more cupcakes in the other box?” Addy asked, her eyes widening as she turned her attention to the second box.
Ethan was already pulling the other box open. Addy bumped him with her shoulder so she could look in, too.
“What are they?” she asked, sounding disappointed. “They look like rags.”
“There’s a note,” Ethan said, pulling out a white letter. “It’s got your name on it,” he told Kate.
She took it from him and read it.
Kate,
Hopefully these cupcakes will be okay for the bake sale at school. My aunt is a heck of a baker and was happy to help. And the t-shirts are from Paul’s locker. I couldn’t bring myself to let them go when you asked me to empty it.
And if you ever need anything, please ask. We want to help.
Marley Hartson
She blinked at his words, willing herself not to cry again. Because this was so damn sweet she could taste it. She hated the fact that she’d needed his help. That she hadn’t been able to manage her kids’ needs alone.
“Mommy, what does the letter say?” Addy asked, rolling onto her tiptoes to try to read it.
“Marley dropped these off.” She let out a breath.
“Are they Dad’s t-shirts?” Ethan asked, staring at them.
“Yeah.” Kate nodded. Her throat felt tight.
“Can I have one?” Addy asked. “Please?”
“I’ll go through them later,” she promised them. “See what we have.” She could remember Marley asking her what she wanted him to do with Paul’s locker. He told her they’d keep it at the station for as long as she needed. But she’d been so overwhelmed and had told him to clear it out.
She guessed Marley couldn’t quite bring himself to toss it all.
Sliding the box of t-shirts into the hallway, she pulled the front door closed and locked up. James had caught the bus to school half an hour ago, so it was just the young ones she needed to wrangle today.
“Come on,” she told Ethan and Addy, because now she had another stop to make before she headed to work. “Let’s go.”
“You got another visitor,” Nate said, bumping Marley in the ribs with his elbow. He was standing at the makeshift table, staring at the plans the architect had redrawn for them after they’d encountered a problem with some drainage at the back of the lot. “She’s pretty hot, too. That your girl?”
Marley looked up, blinking. And sure enough, there was Kate, standing by her car, looking wonderful in a skirt and silk blouse that showed off her soft curves to perfection.
His throat tightened. “No, that’s not my girl. That’s Kate.”
“Kate?”
“My friend’s widow.” He grunted it out. And hoped that’d put an end to Nate’s questions, because he really didn’t want to answer anymore.
Nate blinked. “Oh, sorry, man.” Then, because he was clearly an asshole and Marley was already wondering why they’d given him the contract, he added, “So is she single?”
“Get back to work,” Marley said, rolling up the plans and walking over to the gate, annoyed by Nate’s question.
“Hey,” he murmured to her as he walked through the mesh closure. “Everything okay?”
“I just wanted to thank you for the cupcakes and the t-shirts.” She looked completely awkward and stupidly adorable. “You didn’t have to do that.” She reached her hand up to cup the back of her neck. She had her hair in a messy bun that revealed the slender curve of her throat.
He pulled his eyes from her. He wasn’t going to look at her that way. He wasn’t Nate, the asshole. Nor was he going to do anything to rock the boat. Not when she was finally talking to him again.
“I know I didn’t have to do that,” he said, walking over to where she was standing. “But it wasn’t hard. My aunt likes baking. I had the t-shirts.”
“Paul’s t-shirts.” Her voice was low.
His chest tightened. “Yeah.”
“Did you keep anything else of his?”
He lifted a brow. “His whole locker. Anything left in his desk drawers. I have it all.”
She let out a low breath. “I told you I didn’t want it.”
“I have space in my garage. It isn’t a big deal. I just didn’t want you to make any rash decisions.”
Her jaw jutted out and he knew he’s said the wrong thing. He didn’t know anybody with as much pride as this woman.
And yeah, she deserved to have pride. Not everybody would have been able to keep it together after losing their husband. But she had, and she’d done it well. Her kids were a testament to that.
“If you want anything else, you can come take a look.”
“I don’t want anything else.” She shook her head. “I just…” She let out a long breath. “I was in a bad place last night. I overstepped the mark. I’m sorry.”
“You overstepped the mark?” He was confused now. His gaze dipped to the base of her neck, where her skin dipped before it met her sternum. Fuck, it looked soft.
Eyes away, Hartson.
“I shouldn’t have let you hug me.”
She was worried about him trying to console her? He wanted to roll his eyes, but this conversation felt too precious.
“You were upset. It was a simple hug. Nothing more.” His voice was low. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
She took a deep breath, her chest rising beneath the silk of her blouse. “I don’t want you thinking I’m some kind of weak woman, burning my daughter’s cupcakes and having my kids screaming at each other. Because I’m not.”
There was that pride again. And fuck if it wasn’t the most enticing thing he’d seen.
“I’ve never thought you were weak, Kate,” he told her. “Never.”
“But other people do.” A fleeting smile pulled at her lips. “Some people think I can’t cope.”
“Then fuck them.”
Her eyes met his. “I think you might be one of them.”
“What gives you that impression?” he asked gruffly.
“Because you run past my house every night.”
“I told you, it’s on my route. I need to keep in shape.” Yes, it was a fucking lie. But he couldn’t sleep if he didn’t know they were okay. Not that he’d ever tell her that.
Her gaze dropped to his body, then shot straight back up again. And then her phone started to ring. She lifted it from her purse and looked at the screen and sighed.
“Bad news?”
“My mom.” She gave him that hint of a smile again. “So kinda.”
He remembered Paul talking about his mother-in-law. “High maintenance doesn’t even describe it, man.” Marley blinked at the memory of them talking about her over a beer at the station late at night.
God, he missed his friend. So much so that sometimes he didn’t know what to do with the emotions. Except push them away and run until he forgot them. The department had pushed him to have therapy after Paul had died in front of him. He’d lasted three weeks.
He wasn’t a talker. He was a doer. Action was his therapy.
“I have to go,” Kate said. “I need to open the library. I just wanted to stop and say thanks and… you didn’t have to. You don’t have to.”
“I know that.”
“Okay then.” She shot him the most fleeting of smiles. And yet it felt like he’d just won the lottery. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
Yeah, she would.
It wasn’t until just before lunch that she finally listened to her mom’s voicemail. Mostly because they’d had a mother and toddler group come in this morning, and she’d had to get her full quota of cute sticky baby hugs, as she read them a story about a cat who lost his mittens.
One of the little boys had taken a liking to her, and had kissed her cheek constantly as she read, much to his mom’s embarrassment.
But truth be told, she loved it. She missed her own kids being little. Even Addy, at six, felt grown up compared to these little ones.
It made her heart hurt a little to think about how fast her own children were growing.
But now the library was quiet, and from experience she knew it would be until school was out and the older kids wandered in to do their homework or find a new book to read, followed by the younger kids and their caregivers who would do anything to keep them amused until dinner.
It wasn’t a surprise that her mom’s message was every bit as un-urgent as she thought it would be.
She put the phone on the counter, listening to her mom’s breathless explanation of how her best friend’s niece was having Botox injections. And had Kate ever thought about it, because apparently it was best to start in your early thirties, and since she was already in her mid-thirties she’d be playing catch up.
Pressing delete had never felt so satisfying. She’d call her mom over the weekend, the way she always did. And she didn’t need Botox, did she?
She turned on the camera of her phone and stared at her reflection. Sure, she had a few extra wrinkles. But who didn’t? She wasn’t a kid anymore.
Wait. Was that a gray hair?
Before she could look any closer, her phone started to ring again. She almost expected to see her mom’s name on the screen, but instead it was James’.
So of course she answered.
“Hey honey, is everything okay?”
“Hi, Mom. One of my friends asked if I want to sleep over tonight. Is that okay? I’ll head home after school and pick my things up then go straight to his.”
“What friend?” she asked.
“Cal.”
“Do I know him?” she asked. There was a time when she knew all of his friends. All of their parents, too. They’d call each other up, make plans for playdates, stay and gossip while the kids played on the swing set or – when it was raining – tried to beat each other playing video games.
And then he’d gone to middle school. The students were bussed in from all around, and his friends were more scattered.
Now that he was at high school she barely knew any of the kids he interacted with. And James had left a friend group last year, anyway. She never got to the details of it, but she long since suspected it was some kind of grief response.
“He’s new,” James told her. “It’s Friday night and I don’t have any homework. So can I go?”
“Where does he live?”
James let out a little sigh. “Near school.”
“Wouldn’t you rather I pack up your things and bring them to you?” she asked him. Because yes, she found it hard to let her eldest go. She also didn’t like the idea of him spending the night with people she hadn’t met. How the hell she’d deal with him going to college, she didn’t know. But she’d face that problem when it got here.
“It’s fine. You don’t get off work until five. I’ll get my stuff and head out. Ethan and Addy are in after-school club, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Just send me the address. I’ll pick you up in the morning.”
“I’ll catch a ride home.”
“No, you won’t,” she said quickly. “Send me the address, please.” And yeah, she was totally going to check the house out on Google Maps. Just for her own peace of mind.
“All right, Mom!” He sighed. “The bell just rang. I gotta go.”
“Okay honey. Have a good evening. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Sure.”
Before she could say anything else, he’d hung up. She slid her phone into the pocket of her skirt. Damn, she loved skirts with pockets.
Why did nobody tell her that children got harder when they got older instead of easier? She thought of the little boy who couldn’t stop hugging her this morning. He reminded her of James when he was little and how every time she saw him he’d throw his arms around her neck and never let her go.
She missed that. She missed him. Why did teenagers not come with a manual? Maybe she should complain to the library about that.
“I hear you spent last night pretending to be Santa, delivering gifts all over town,” Pres said, passing a burger to his brother. They’d worked late tonight, even though it was a Friday. Then they’d stopped for dinner in the diner on their way home, because Cassie and the kids had already eaten with their mom, and neither Pres nor Marley had had time for lunch.
Marley lifted a brow. Word spread fast around here. “I delivered one thing. And I was just doing a friend a favor.”
“Don’t you want to know how I know?” Pres asked him.
Marley planned to eat dinner and head home to crash for the night. Not that he ever managed to sleep until the morning.
“Nope. I’m pretty sure it’s some convoluted story involving mom, Cassie, and the grapevine.”
Pres smirked. “Something like that. Is Kate doing okay?”
Marley nodded. “She’s fine. Her kids were just a bit overwhelming last night.”
“I didn’t realize the two of you were so close.”
Marley took a bite of his burger. Damn, that was good. His stomach gurgled in appreciation. “We’re not,” he said simply once he’d swallowed the mouthful down. He could explain the whole situation — about James and the junior firefighters. But he was tired and cranky and needed to eat. “I just happened to be around when she needed help.”
“So you got Aunt Becca to whip up a batch of cupcakes?” Pres grinned. “Man, I wish you’d brought some of those to the site.”
“Get your own cupcakes,” Marley told him, wondering how he could change the subject.
The truth was, he didn’t really care if people were in his business, but Kate would. He knew that. And last night was the first time she’d actually let him help her.
It was like he’d found the tiniest chink in her carefully constructed armor. He didn’t want that to change.
“Are you okay?” Pres asked, bringing Marley out of his thoughts.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Pres shrugged. “You just went quiet. Is there more to this thing with you and Kate than you’re letting on?”
A flash of annoyance rushed through him. “No, there isn’t. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t start blowing your mouth off about that. She doesn’t deserve people gossiping about her.”
Pres lifted a brow at Marley’s sudden outburst. “Okay, man. I was just wondering.”
“Yeah well now you can stop. Can we change the subject, please?”
“Sure.” Pres gave him a grin that was a little too knowing for Marley’s liking. “Let’s talk about next week. We still doing that fundraising thing next Friday?”
Marley was trying to raise money for the Junior Firefighter program. They always needed money for equipment, clothes, and training. This year, Pres had suggested the band they played in held a concert with all the money going to the cause.
“Yeah, as long as you and Cassie are okay with it.”
He shrugged. “We’re good.”
Pres and Cassie were both in the band, Altered Reality, along with Alex, the bassist who never knew how to shut up.
“Even though it’s at Chairs ?” Marley asked, a smile finally pulling at his face. Because he knew Presley disliked Chairs. Most of the men of the Hartson family did. It was a strange name for a strange tradition. Every Friday in spring and summer most of the townsfolk of Hartson’s Creek would gather together in the grass alongside the creek. They’d bring food and drinks and their own chairs to sit in and gossip for a while. The reason for the gathering having its name.
As kids, they’d loved running around by the water until the sun slid down under the horizon. Their parents would sit and chat while they played football or built forts.
And then they’d grown up. As teenagers, there’d been nothing more uncool than hanging out with your parents and grandparents on a Friday night.
But recently, now that he was a dad of three, Pres seemed to be hanging out with his wife and family there every week. Another sign that life for his brother was moving on.
He was happy for him, but he missed him, too. It was a strange feeling.
“Yeah, Mom and Dad said they’d keep an eye on the kids. Though of course Delilah wants to be on stage with us.” Delilah was Pres’ oldest, his daughter with his first wife, who’d sadly passed. She wasn’t far off from starting middle school, whereas Pres’ two other kids were still babies. Cassie, his wife, had adopted Delilah shortly after they married.
“Of course.” Marley smiled. This was better. He felt like he was back on an even keel. And after last night, he needed that. More than he’d realized.