Chapter 19 Lucy
LUCY
“Over there,” Catfish says, pointing in the direction of a second sprawling home on the Addams estate. It’s a beauty, but the garden around it is in need of some love and attention.
I navigate the driveway up to it. “For some reason, I’d forgotten just how big Atom’s family land is.”
“Yeah. Can’t imagine what it must feel like to be tied to such a legacy, though.”
“Hmm. Know what you mean.” It’s why I’m a lawyer. It’s only in the last few years I’ve carved a path in the legal system I feel proud of.
Catfish pulls down the passenger-side visor and checks the cut and bruise on the side of his head. “You really think I can get some cash for this?”
I glance over. “Stop poking it with dirty fingers. It’s going to get infected.”
He drops his hand and closes the visor. “I want every penny, Lucy.”
“I’ll help you get it. You can be my first client. No win, no fee.” The words slip out without me really thinking them through. But somehow, they settle me.
Catfish turns to me. “You’re staying. For Prez?”
I blow out a breath. “How about you let me get comfortable with simply saying, ‘I’m staying’ first?”
“Whatever you say.”
When I park up outside, Catfish is quick to exit the vehicle. “Thanks for the advice, and getting me out so quick, Lucy. And I’m serious about suing the fuck out of them if you think we can.”
“You weren’t named on the warrant, they broke into your room, they executed an illegal search of your person without probable cause. Then, they hurt you getting you into a vehicle.”
“Greer can take a look. Don’t think it needs stitches.”
I smile at that. “Persuade her that you do need stitches. Stitches make injuries seem more credible.”
Catfish grins, and I can see why he got his name.
He explained it to me while we were waiting for his interview.
How some lady had been scammed by a person using his image when he was a prospect.
He’s damn handsome. But more the pretty kind than the rough and gruff man I love…
loved. “Why, Counselor. Are you telling me to make my injuries appear worse?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m giving you advice on how to make sure no judge can minimize what happened to you.”
“That feels like semantics,” he says, tapping the roof of the truck. “But for what it’s worth, a lawyer like you could be a good addition to the club.”
He closes the door, just as Grudge walks out. I don’t hear what the two men say to each other, but Grudge playfully taps the side of Catfish’s face, and then, gestures into the house.
Grudge watches Catfish disappear, then steps up to the truck window, and I wind it down. “Everything go okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. He’s good. Probably has a case against them for the injury he received. Told him I’d help, if he needed.”
Grudge smiles softly. “Thanks, Bug.”
“You’re welcome.”
Silence settles between us. There are so many words, that unleashing them would cause a flood. Worse, a tsunami we can’t recover from.
“Come home with me,” Grudge says. “I need to go by the house.”
“I don’t know. I think we—”
“Please.”
I sigh. “Okay.”
“Just follow me home.”
I watch as he jogs to his truck, which I guess someone moved over here for him after the raid. When he pulls out, I turn and follow him.
New York City, for all its positives, made me feel a little claustrophobic. With all the tall skyscrapers looming over me the whole time, I felt boxed in. Exhaust fumes clogged the air as wind tried to dance its way in and around buildings.
Depending on the weather, I tried to make it to the water that surrounds Manhattan.
Not that much of it is safe to dip your toes in.
But just the sight of the Hudson River from the West Village, or the East River from the Brooklyn Bridge, brought me a peace I felt as though I were continually chasing.
But here, as we wind our way to Grudge’s home, I find myself taking bigger breaths than my chest should be able to allow.
Excitement ripples through me at the thought of seeing Grudge’s home. Perversely, I wonder if it’s the kind of home we dreamed of in that awful apartment of his.
And a wave of nostalgia hits me when I realize it is. It’s a stunning split-level ranch property with so much land and outbuildings and a huge wraparound porch painted red.
The long drive snakes around the back of the property, where there’s a large lake with a dock. We pass a barn that has a large tractor outside, and end up in front of his home.
Zach pulls his truck up in front of the house, then signals that I should park in front of the large garage doors. Then, he hops out of the truck and waits for me by the steps as I grab my briefcase.
“This property is beautiful,” I say.
“It’s fourteen acres and a bitch to snow plow in the winter, but it’s the privacy and space we…I always wanted.”
I guess the slip of the tongue is fair. Living in New York all these years probably does make it look a little like I gave up on the dream.
“How long have you been here?” I ask as he pushes the door open and holds it while I step inside ahead of him. There is a rack with shoes and boots on it, so I toe off my sneakers and add them to it.
“Bought it about six years ago. Ray, who used to live here, was friends with my father.” Grudge copies me and toes off his own boots.
“After his wife died, he wanted to downsize and move to Utah to be closer to his grandkids. He’d heard I was looking, so we did a private deal to avoid broker fees.
He also threw in the heavy-duty equipment, like the snow plow and tractor. ”
From the front door, we’re immediately in a large open-plan living area.
To my left is a dark gray sofa, facing a large wall-mounted television.
Beneath it is a real fireplace made of brick.
To my right is a rectangular dining table with six matching chairs.
In the corner is another fireplace, this one a large cast-iron affair, that I imagine does yeoman’s work in keeping the house warm in winter.
Across the room from the front door is a large kitchen, with an island that has four bar stools beneath it.
There are mismatched and dated accessories around the place. A large tin jug with dried flowers and the word hello in white wooden blocks on top of the fireplace.
The walls are painted an uninspiring taupe, and while everything looks a little tired and worn, it’s a pretty space. But the two large windows are the feature.
“It’s deceiving how high we climbed,” I say, taking in the gray skies and swaths of trees.
Grudge shakes out of his coat and hangs it on the hook by the front door. If I lived here, I’d build a closet in the corner of the dining space for coats, so they weren’t messily out on display.
Grudge comes to stand next to me, and I feel the warmth of him.
“It was one of the things that sold me on the place. Always liked the idea of being above the tree line. See where the mountain starts to rise again over there?” He points ahead, dipping low so his outstretched arm is in line with my eyes.
I squint into the distance. “I do.”
Grudge nods. “That’s part of the boundary. No one can build or disrupt the view unless I decide to sell any portion of the land.”
The smile comes unbounded. “You found an uninterrupted view.”
It was our dream. To find a place where we could sit out on the porch for the rest of our lives and never have to worry about the view being taken away from us.
“I did. Here, let me take your jacket.”
I place my briefcase down and shake out of my thick winter coat. “Thank you.”
He hooks it over his denim jacket with the bright Iron Outlaws patch on the back.
“You want a coffee?” He walks to the kitchen, and I can’t help but look at the way his jeans hug the curves of his ass.
Always did like the way he looked in a pair of jeans.
Never loved washing them, though. One pair of jeans and one of his hoodies that could house three average-sized people used to take up the whole washing machine.
“I’d love one.”
In the kitchen, the decor does not improve. While the counters are an innocuous bleached wood, there is a large wooden sign above the window that says family. And, randomly, on the wall next to the fridge, are a giant fork and spoon.
Grudge sees where I’m looking and tips his chin to them. “Mom. She means well, but she keeps bringing random shit over and hammering it to the wall wherever she sees space.”
The loss of his mom was the second-worst thing about our breakup. She was so kind and welcoming to me from when we were kids. She sat next to me at the trial, holding my hand, reassuring me that everything was going to be okay.
I point to the wooden family. “Is she trying to drop hints or something?”
Grudge chuckles. “Maybe. She comes over every season, though. I got totes in the garage filled with seasonal shit she buys on discount. She waits until Christmas is over and goes to the store and scoops up whatever they’re throwing out at sixty percent off.
That’s her threshold. Has to be sixty. Fifty, she feels like they’re just playing around.
Pretty sure the fork and spoon were eighty percent off. ”
I raise an eyebrow. “I can see why.”
He grins. “I used to say I didn’t care one way or another, because it gave her pleasure doing it. But I’m starting to feel a bit like this isn’t my home anymore.”
“Then, ask her to stop.”
Grudge puts a filter in the coffee maker and scoops out some delicious-smelling coffee. When he adds water and turns it on, the machine bubbles and hisses before the coffee starts to fill the pot below and the scent intensifies.
“I feel like it would hurt her feelings.”
I shrug. “Perhaps if you said you were redecorating in a new vibe. Gave her some specific details of things you felt worked and didn’t work in your new design scheme. Maybe you could redirect her efforts to things you’d actually like.”
Grudge stands and looks around his home, as if seeing it with new eyes. “What would you do with the place?”
I glance around. “Honestly?”
He folds his hands over his chest. “Yes. Honestly.”
“I’d gut it and start again. The space is lovely.
Between the large windows and the sliding doors out to the deck, it’s bright and light.
I’d leave the two fireplaces. I’d put a closet to the left of the door, for coats and boots and things, to make that area neat.
I’d get rid of the hutch thing, over there, and instead of the large rectangular table and chairs, I’d get a long narrow table and put benches on either side.
It would lower the profile of the dining area and make it less visually distracting.
Perhaps put it on a large jute rug to differentiate the space a little.
And then, I’d put in a nice modern kitchen.
Two ovens. I’d keep the big double-door chrome fridge because it’s really nice. ”
Grudge grabs two cups and pours us both a steaming mug of coffee. “You’re hired. Make it happen.”
Something inside me shifts uncomfortably. I still haven’t seriously decided if I’m staying. Or maybe I just haven’t let my heart believe that coming home was ever going to be possible.
It’s like, when we divorced, Zach got the whole of Colorado in the split.
Anywhere quite like it was always going to remind me of how it could have been between the two of us, so I chose to live in the most opposite of places. A brick city with an intensive transportation system and a plethora of restaurants, but no fresh air.
“Here,” he says, handing me the cup. “Thank you again for stepping in like that. With Catfish. With the FBI.”
“Is it a regular occurrence?”
Zach shakes his head. “Not really. We haven’t had a serious run-in with law enforcement for a good long while.”
“Is that because most of your enterprise is now legitimate?” I realize I’m asking the question with a lot of hope in my heart.
“You really want to know the answer to that?”
I shake my head, immediately feeling deflated. “Not really. But I’m glad I could help and that you thought to call me.”
It means there’s a thawing between us.
Perhaps a pathway.
To what, I don’t know. But the idea that the two of us might be anything more than we have been the last few years, is an improvement.
“It’s good to know we can use you if we need to.”
There is something about his use of the word use that rankles me.
The sigh that escapes is loud. “I should probably go. And I’ll send you a bill.”
My feelings are all over the map.
“What did I say?” Grudge asks, concern on his features as he puts his mug down. I do the same, placing it on the kitchen island.
“Nothing. It’s fine. I’m going to—”
“You know,” he says, cutting me off. “This. You and me. I think we need a rule.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m pretty sure it’s the last thing you and I need.”
He reaches for my chin, grips it deliciously tight. “Honesty.”
“Honesty?”
Grudge nods. “Honesty. We’ve been fucked up before because one of us wasn’t honest. So, if we’re going to be back in each other’s orbit, I feel like honesty is the one thing we owe each other. So, what did I say?”
“You said ‘it’s good to know we can use you if we need to.’ And, honestly, I’m very over feeling used. My ex was using me. My parents are using me right now. I don’t want to be used by your club. And I don’t want to be used by you.”
He shakes his head. “You misunderstood. I meant, it would be good for you to be a part of things because, despite everything, I trust you to show up and do the right thing like you did today.”
“Oh.”
He tugs me closer, leading me by the chin, with a look on his face so intense, I feel as though I could combust. “But the look on your face tells me you wouldn’t mind if I used you a little more, though.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
His thumb rubs along my cheek, then over my lip. I hear myself gasp.
“How has staying away from me worked out for you?” he asks.
I want to yell at him; tell him my past is none of his business. But I can’t when he’s looking at me with a hunger that sets my core alight. “We shouldn’t.”
“I know that. But is that a no?”