Chapter 9 #2
“I stepped outside for my pizza,” I say, keeping my voice impressively calm considering my current situation, “and the door locked behind me.”
“Are you serious?”
“I wish I wasn’t.”
I glance toward the street as the driver’s car pulls away. Traitor.
“I’m standing on my porch,” I add. “With dinner. So at least I won’t starve.”
“Vivian,” she says, her tone morphing into something dangerously close to exasperated concern. “This is exactly what I mean. You get distracted.”
I let out a small, incredulous laugh. “It’s pizza. I didn’t enter a high-risk situation.”
“You weren’t thinking, were you?” she presses.
“I didn’t think I needed a strategic plan to answer my own front door,” I cut in.
“You’re being defensive.”
I tilt my head back, staring up at the sky for a second. Deep breath. Big ones. Is there enough zen in the world for me at this moment?
“Look,” I say, adjusting the pizza box against my hip, “unless you have a spare key you can magically send to me by way of a spell, I’m going to have to let you go.”
“I didn’t call for us to argue,” she says.
“Yet, here we are,” I reply.
We both stop; I know I’m tired and can’t go back and forth anymore. I hear someone in the background and the muffled sound of her hand on the receiver. In a second she’s returned.
“I need to go, Vivian. It’s work. I’ll call soon,” she says finally and the line clicks dead.
I pull the phone away, staring at it for a second before letting out a long exhale.
“Well done,” I mutter to myself. “You call, spin me out, and dump me for work. At least nothing’s changed.”
I reposition the pizza box as I glance down at my bare feet, then back at the locked door.
“Really nailing the whole ‘capable adult’ thing tonight.”
A breeze brushes over my legs, and I shiver slightly.
Cool.
So very cool.
I look down at the bracelet on my wrist. Strength.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “God willing.”
I turn slowly, scanning the quiet street, the neighboring houses, the very real possibility that I am about to have to knock on someone’s door and explain that I’ve locked myself out like a complete idiot.
“Okay,” I say, squaring my shoulders. “When in doubt, we adapt.” I glance once more at my door. Still locked. Still judging me. But it’s not going to open if I stand here and stare at it, now is it?
I make a quick circuit of the nearest houses, knocking once, twice, trying to look like a completely normal, fully dressed person and not a woman gripping her towel like it’s emotional support.
No answer at the first place. Or the second.
Just as I’m about to try a third, something rustles sharply in the hedge beside me and I let out a very undignified yelp before turning and speed-walking—fine, running—back toward my porch, fully aware I look like I’ve lost my mind.
“Great,” I mutter, dropping onto the step and grabbing my phone. “This is how I die. In a towel. Over pizza.”
I hit Lucy’s name. It rings. And rings. And then goes to voicemail.
“I need you to pick up, please,” I whine out loud to no one, hanging up and scrubbing a hand over my face. “Why would anything be easy tonight?”
I stare at the door, seriously considering whether I can break in without permanently damaging something, when my phone buzzes in my hand.
Lucy:
I’m in a meeting. You okay?
Yes, and no. Locked out of my house and need help getting in.
Lucy:
Oh man! I can be there in about an hour after we wrap up?
While an hour might seem reasonable, it isn’t when you’re in a towel. I snap a selfie of me looking my finest, pizza front and center, and send it to Lucy.
Lucy:
OMG! Okay, that’s next level. Give me a few minutes to figure something out.
“Thank God,” I murmur, pressing the phone to my chest for a second. Lucy always knows what to do. If there’s a solution, she’s already halfway to it.
My phone buzzes again.
Lucy:
Okay, Liam’s on his way. He’ll be there in 10. Hang tight. Is there a way in?
Relief floods through me so fast it almost makes me dizzy. I type back quickly.
Maybe? There’s a window on the second floor in grandma's bedroom that’s sometimes unlocked. If he can climb in, we can get inside that way.
Lucy:
Sounding positive! Also…why does your grandma keep her bedroom window unlocked? Isn’t she worried someone could break in?
She likes to climb out on the roof and threaten to sneak out. Also she keeps a baseball bat next to her bed. Good luck, burglars, she was a home run champion.
Lucy:
I want to be her when I grow up.
We can talk more about that another time. Just tell Liam to hurry please.
I hit send, then glance up at the house like it might suddenly become more cooperative.
“Ten minutes,” I say to myself, adjusting the pizza box on my lap. “You can survive ten minutes…probably.”
I sit on the step, tucking my feet under me like that’s somehow going to make this whole situation feel less exposed. The pizza box is warm against my thighs, the smell both comforting and mildly offensive considering I can’t actually get inside to eat it.
“Ten minutes,” I repeat, checking the street for what has to be the fifth time. “Easy. Totally fine. We’re thriving.”
A breeze kicks up again and I hunch my shoulders, clutching the front of my towel like it might suddenly decide to betray me.
I tap my fingers against the box, my gaze drifting back to the house, mentally mapping out the second-floor window. It’s doable. We only need to boost one of us up to the roof and it should be a breeze from there.
I spend a few more minutes tracing the creases in the wood flooring of the porch. It’s well-worn with deep groves, the kind of aging that only comes from years of being exposed to the elements.
Somewhere down the street, a car horn honks. Once. Short. Familiar. Then it does it again, a burst of two or three quick hits that make me giggle. I look up, knowing who it is before I even see the car.
“Liam,” I say, pushing to my feet, relief kicking in properly now.
The car turns the corner and starts toward the house, and I lift a hand, pizza balanced in the other, already halfway into an apologetic wave.
“I’m an idiot!” I call out, laughing at myself as I step off the porch still clutching my towel.
The car rolls closer, slowing as it moves down the street. That’s when I notice there’s someone else in the passenger seat. My smile falters.
“Oh no…” I breathe.
The car pulls up fully now, engine idling as the passenger door opens first. Ty steps out of the car like this is a completely normal Saturday evening and not the exact moment I am standing in my front yard, in a towel, barefoot, holding a pizza like it’s evidence of poor life choices.
Every single thought in my brain screeches to a halt.
“No,” I say under my breath, horrified. “No, no, no.”
Because Liam? Liam is fine. Liam has seen me at my worst. I’ve had the flu in front of Liam and his sister. I broke my arm one summer and Liam had to help me wash my hair. I can handle being a mess in front of Liam. But in front of Ty?
I catch the reaction on Ty’s face as he takes me in. His eyes widen, and I’m pretty sure if his jaw could hit the sidewalk, it would.
Fantastic. Exactly how I wanted tonight to go.
“Hi,” I say, because apparently, I’ve lost all higher-functioning thought and this is what we’re working with now. I lift the pizza a fraction like it explains everything. “I can explain.”
Liam shuts the driver’s door, already grinning. “I don’t think you can.”
“I locked myself out,” I say quickly, pointing at the house like it’s betrayed me personally. “I went to get my pizza, and the door shut, and now we’re here.”
“In a towel,” Liam adds helpfully.
“Yes, Liam. Thank you for that observation.”
Ty still hasn’t said anything, which is somehow worse.
I glance at him, immediately wishing I hadn’t. Because now he’s looking at me properly. It’s as if he’s trying to take in every detail at once, which is really not ideal when those details include bare legs, damp hair, and the fact that I am one poorly timed breeze away from a public incident.
“Hi,” he says finally, voice a little rough around the edges.
Oh. That does something entirely unhelpful to my stomach.
“Hi,” I echo, then immediately clear my throat and pivot back to Liam. “Grandma’s bedroom window. Second floor, you can get to it off the roof. That’s the plan.”
“Got it,” Liam says, already moving toward the side of the house. “You weren’t kidding about the urgency, huh?”
“I was very much not kidding.”
Ty follows him, but not before his gaze flicks to me again, quick and assessing. It lingers just long enough to make my pulse trip over itself. Then he’s gone around the corner with Liam, and I can breathe again. Barely.
I trail after them, clutching the pizza to my chest like armor. By the time I round the side of the house, Liam’s already looking up at the window.
“Okay,” he says. “That’s doable.”
Ty steps in beside him, rolling his shoulders like my predicament is just another thing he deals with on a regular basis—rescues women from their own front porches.
“I’ll get you up there,” he says easily, and I fight to keep my eyes from drifting to admire those arms of his.
Liam glances at him. “You boosting?”
Ty inclines his chin in the direction of the window. “Yeah, I’ve got you.”
They move into position, and I stand there, very aware of how little I’m wearing and how much attention I am trying not to draw to that fact.
“Okay,” Liam says, bracing his hands on the wall. “Let’s do this before the neighbors think we’re trying to break in.”
“Already tried them,” I say. “No one’s home. Just me, my poor decisions, and apparently, a rustling hedge that wants to murder me.”
Ty’s mouth twitches. “Murderous rustling hedge?"
“Serial killer, most likely.”
He shrugs. “Or a squirrel.”
“Could be that,” I manage, taking a second to look down at the towel I’m currently barely wrapped in. “But what fun is it being reasonable?”
Eyeing me with laughter in his eyes, Ty steps in behind Liam, hands settling at his waist. “Ready?”
“Always,” Liam says.
And then Ty lifts him. It’s effortless, like Liam weighs nothing. I blink, because that shouldn’t be as distracting as it is. But his arms. Those biceps…
Focus, Vivian.
Liam reaches beyond the gutter to the roof, hauling himself up with Ty’s help, and within seconds he’s halfway inside.
“Don’t fall,” I call up.
“Great pep talk,” Liam shoots back, disappearing the rest of the way in.
I glance away for a second, suddenly hyper-aware that it’s just me and Ty standing there now. Alone. In the side yard. With nothing but a towel between us.
“Rough night so far?” he asks, and there’s something in his tone—amusement, yeah, but something else underneath it. Something warmer.
“Living the dream,” I say dryly.
His gaze flicks, just briefly, to the bracelet on my wrist, and something warmer passes across his face.
He hesitates, like he’s debating whether to say something.
“You were good with them today,” he says finally. “With the girls.” He drags a hand over the back of his neck, a little awkward now. “I didn’t exactly stick the landing in there. So thanks. For stepping in.”
I shrug, like it’s nothing, even though I remember exactly how close he’d been when I touched his arm.
“It’s nothing. You just have to know how to talk to girls.”
His mouth ticks at the corner, like he’s not entirely convinced. “Yeah?”
I tilt my head, studying him for a second. “I mean…you know how to talk to women.”
He rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile there. “Yeah. Kinda. But for Emma’s team, I’m gonna need a manual for that.”
“Right,” I say, a little sharper than I intend. “Because instructions work out well, huh?”
Something in my tone hangs there longer than I want it to.
“You okay?” he asks, quieter now. “You seem frustrated.”
“I’m in a towel, Ty. And only a towel.”
“But it’s more than that,” he says, dark eyes boring right through me. “I know it sounds weird, but it feels like your energy is frenetic. More….taut than I’ve seen before.”
What is this guy, some kind of empath? Could he be picking up on my call with my mom? Or just the fact that I am in the circumstance I’m in? I’m too tired to unpack any more, so I swallow, nodding once.
“You’re picking up on the fact I’m mildly humiliated. You know. Standard.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “If it helps, I don’t think you’re pulling off ‘mildly.’”
I let out a breath that almost turns into a laugh. “Goals.”
The side door clicks open behind us.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Liam calls, “we are back in business.”
I close my eyes for half a second in relief.
“Best sentence I’ve heard all day,” I sing out, ready to get back inside.
“Vivian,” Liam says, dragging out my name like he’s about to ruin my life on purpose, “get in the house. The neighborhood has seen enough of you.”
I glare at him as he slips out of the doorway and dances around me. “You’re dead to me.”
“Get inside,” he says, grinning, giving me a tiny playful shove. “Mrs. Hargrove across the street is going to file a formal complaint.”
I swat Liam’s shoulder, then turn my attention to that glorious open and unlocked door, making my way back inside.
And then, because apparently I’m incapable of learning, I brush past Ty a little too closely on my way inside.
There’s something in his expression I can’t quite pin down.
It’s not amusement, nor is it that steady way he looks at me like he’s trying to figure something out.
This time, there’s something warmer. Something there that makes my stomach do a very inconvenient little flip.
For a second, neither of us says anything. Which is worse.
“Thanks,” I say finally. “You know. For the chat and all that.”
His gaze flicks to my face, then back to my eyes. “Anytime.”
I swallow, suddenly very aware of the fact that I am still in a towel, standing for all the world to see, and clearly having a moment.
“Goodnight, Ty.”
“Night, Vivian.”
I turn before I can make it weird. More weird. Maximum weird has already been achieved.
I slip inside, pushing the door shut behind me, and the second it clicks closed, I lean back against it, pressing my side against the wood like I need to steady myself.
What on earth just happened?
I squeeze my eyes shut, replaying the last five minutes on a loop I cannot seem to turn off. I drop my head against the door with a soft thunk. Cool. Great. Amazing. I will simply never leave my house again.
I drag in a breath, then another, forcing my shoulders to drop.
Everything is completely fine.