Chapter Sixteen
TRISTEN
Reese’s mouth falls slack, frozen in place.
I rush to say, “You don’t have to say anything because I did. We can go as slow as you need to.”
“I just . . . um . . . When? How?” Her eyes dart around. “Me?”
“Yes, you. I sense you’re in a bit of shock. I was too when I found out.”
“Can you blame me? A few days ago, we barely got along. This road trip has been a whirlwind.”
“In a good way, I hope?” I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
“Tris.” She reaches out, cupping my jaw gently as she leans close. “So unbelievably good. I’m thankful you didn’t listen and came along with me anyway.”
“Can I kiss you again?” I ask, ready to erase the ache from the last thirty minutes.
Biting her lower lip, she nods.
I need no further coaxing and seek her lips on instinct. It’s a soft kiss this time, sweet and slow. A hint of salt has me drawing back and noting her puffy eyes.
“Are you all right? This isn’t too much?”
“Yes, I’m better now that we’ve talked. But I still don’t understand why you’re giving up on LA?”
“Like I told you, this isn’t my dream job, so I don’t want to leave Rocosa—not when there’s a future for us there together.”
“I just don’t want you to regret staying.”
“I won’t.” I slide my arm along the back of her chair, letting my hand rest on her shoulder. The long blonde tresses flow over my fingers like silk.
“And if Nicole calls back and says you got the part?”
“I’d see if they’d allow me to record at my house or in Denver. I’d take an occasional trip out if they required it, but nothing permanent. After spending three days away from the crisp mountain air, I’m ready to return home.”
“You’ll have to show me your recording studio at your house when we get back.”
“Sure. If you want.” My cheeks flush at her interest.
I fiddle with a strand of her hair, hoping this becomes our new normal.
My heart skips at the thought, and I wonder how our lives will mesh together once we get back home.
Reese hanging out at my place after work.
Eating lunch together at Lula Belle’s. Visiting her at the shop and kissing her before I head to work.
Life in Rocosa is about to get more interesting.
“Do you have a date for the wedding?” I ask, suddenly desperate to see her sparkling in that pink gown again.
Batting her eyelashes, she smirks at me. “Why? Do you know someone who’d want to take me?”
I squeeze her shoulder. “Yeah. Me.”
The air rushes out of her, her eyes locking on mine with an expression I’m beginning to recognize—desire.
She throws a hand out, holding me at bay as if she can read my thoughts. “I need a moment. Whew. Even just being close to you is intense.”
When she starts fanning herself, I bite my lip to keep from smiling. To know she’s on fire for me as much as I am for her only makes me want her more. I blow on her neck, hoping to help cool her down, and she springs out of the chair.
“Not helping.”
“Sorry. What can I do to help? Do you need to eat something?”
Her eyes flash for a second, but then she shakes her head. “You’re probably right. I’ll grab what’s left of dinner.”
With two plates in hand, she returns to her seat and passes one to me. Her brows pinch as she pokes at the squishy bread. “I’m sorry they’re so cold. Maybe I should have waited until after we ate to start a fight.”
“I’d rather eat a cold grilled cheese with you than a hot one by myself.” To prove my point, I chomp off an oversized piece.
The corners of her eyes crinkle as she laughs at my stuffed cheeks. Not to be outdone, she takes a big bite of her own.
She’s perfection. Something flutters in my chest the longer I watch her, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders, unable to resist the need to keep her close.
We spend the rest of the evening reminiscing about old stories and stargazing. And I realize, as she snuggles closer to me to rest her head on my shoulder, that there’s no place on earth I’d rather be than right here with her.
The next morning, a gangly teenager bangs on the door at seven sharp, dragging Reese and me out of bed in confusion.
“Good morning,” he says, drawing out his words in an I-don’t-care attitude.
“I’m Travis Jr. from Milton and Son’s Auto Repair.
I tried to give you a heads up I was coming, but it went to your voicemail.
” Wearing a stained t-shirt and ripped jeans, he looks like he’s skipping school rather than showing up on a work call.
“Oh, heeey,” Reese says, slowly connecting the dots. “Sorry, I’m not quite awake yet. I appreciate you coming so quickly.”
“Pops told me to come first thing in the morning. I didn’t have much to do today anyway.” He shrugs and heads down the stairs. “Let me go get my clipboard.”
We change out of our pajamas and run outside. The kid strolls past Reese to stand in front of me. “What seems to be the problem?”
I can hear her teeth grinding from six feet away.
“There’s a transmission leak, I think.”
“What makes you think that?” Travis asks, jotting it on his notepad.
“Uh . . .” My eyes land on Reese. “She would know more. This is her area of expertise.”
Travis pivots back to her, eyebrows high. “All right, miss. Why do you think there’s a leak?”
“The ATF was full one day and bone dry the next day. I’ve also found the spot where it’s dripping. It’s inside the bell housing, but I’m going to need some help taking it off.”
The kid taps his pencil on his chin. “All right, let’s go take a look.”
It doesn’t take him long to warm up to Reese. More than I care to admit. Scowling, I sit at the picnic table, wishing I could be more useful. Half the stuff they say, I don’t understand.
“I see the new fuel line hose here. Did you do that?” Travis asks.
“Yeah, I installed it yesterday.”
“It looks good.”
“I know.”
At the sound of her laughter, I shoot up and peek under the motorhome.
“How’s it coming?” I ask.
Reese turns her head, a black smear mark on her cheek. “Good news. I think we figured it out. Travis said he can go fetch the replacement part and we can be out of here before noon.”
Four hundred and twenty-six dollars later, we’re loading the motorhome back up, ready to hit the road. Reese texts Des the update as I merge onto the interstate, almost comfortable behind the wheel.
“Where did you get those camping chairs?”
“Gary’s sister has a ton of stuff in the outside storage. You probably won’t believe me, but there’s even holiday cat decor in a storage bin. You’re set for year-round camping.”
She rolls her eyes, snorting a laugh. “We’re gonna have to clear it all out.”
A slow smile curls up one corner of my mouth at the word “we.” I’m glad she’s finally getting used to it.
When we cross the Colorado state line, we let out a whoop of excitement and high-five over the cup holders. Only three hours left if we drive straight through. The thought of sleeping in my bed has me pressing down the gas pedal.
But my bladder refuses to get on board, so we stop for a bathroom break, lunch, and to refuel.
Maneuvering this beast next to a gas pump is a feat of its own, especially when I add in all the clueless pedestrians darting in front of me.
While I fill it up, Reese checks the transmission fluid level, pleased it’s still the same.
Then just before we hop into the motorhome, she leans her head back and groans dramatically.
“Are you kidding me?” She kicks the tire by her door.
“What is it?” I ask over the hood. Please don’t let there be another leak . . .
“The passenger tire is deflated. We can’t seem to catch a break with this hunk of junk.”
“Isn’t that usually an easy fix? We just need to top it off with some air.”
Apparently I said the wrong thing. Her eyes flick up, narrowing in on me.
“This isn’t a little bit of air. It looks like it’s been leaking air for a while. Hopefully we don’t have to call another shop today.”
She tosses me the plastic bag with our subs and squats down to inspect the tire.
“See that piece in the tread? A nail wedged in at some point. Thank goodness we didn’t have a blowout. There might be a patch kit in my suitcase, or I can purchase one in the gas station. Let’s drive over to the air pump, then I’ll check my bag.”
It’s less crowded on this side of the gas station. I lean against the hood, inhaling my meatball sub as I wait for her.
With a victorious cry, she returns with the kit and pliers in her fist. “Lucky me, I remembered to pack them. If it holds, we’ll be on the road in no time.”
“You really have everything in that Mary Poppins suitcase, don’t you?”
“Who knows how long we’d have been stuck if I hadn’t?” She kneels by the tire and clamps the pliers on to the tiny nail, twisting and tugging to get it out. “You would have been sick of me.”
“I doubt that. It’s more like the other way around. For the last year, it felt like you bolted as soon as I walked into a room.”
Her hand stops mid-motion, her posture tense. “Because I did.”
My smile slowly slips from my face. I always had an inclination, but to hear her come out and say it hurts more than I expected.
“So you were avoiding me.” There’s a bite to my words I can’t seem to control. “Why? Did I do something to offend you?”
“No,” she whispers.
“Say something?”
“No.”
“I don’t . . . understand.”
“I guess I was embarrassed.” She ducks her head, her blonde hair shielding her face. “You’ve always been there.”
I lift my hands up and throw them down to my sides. “That doesn’t make any sense. You’d think that was a good thing.”
“But you saw everything. Every mistake, every flaw, every stumble—no matter how I fell short, you were there to witness it. And that’s just of what I remember.
Drunken moments where I blacked out or the missing memories from my head trauma.
Sometimes I wonder what else I can’t remember.
What did I say? What did I do? How many more apologies do I need to make?
” Her head tilts up, and I catch the watery haze in her silver eyes.
“You were a reminder of all my mistakes.”