9. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
WESTON
M y head was pounding. I’d forgotten they were replacing all the plumbing at the office this week. That meant I had to work through continual banging on the walls all day. Not to mention the memories of my dad bombarding my every thought. This time of year was always intense. I pulled into Gray’s driveway and rested my head on the steering wheel. No. I couldn’t work in those conditions again tomorrow. I’d have to stay at home. But I’d keep a low profile and hope that Rebecca didn’t bother me. I loosened my tie as I climbed out of my truck, grateful to be away from the noise.
As I neared the front door, I heard music coming from inside. That’s weird. I was certain I didn’t leave any entertainment devices on before I left. Was Gray back? Had someone broken into the house? Now on high alert, I unlocked the door and went inside. My stomach rumbled as a delicious aroma teased my nostrils.
More perplexed than ever, I glanced in the kitchen’s direction and froze. There was Rebecca, wooden spoon in hand, twirling around in front of the stove. My first thought was that she was a sight for sore eyes, but then I came to my senses and realized she was trespassing in my house. Well, not my house, but Gray’s house. It didn’t matter; she was trespassing.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my patience already running thin. Rebecca just ignored me and continued wiggling about to the music. I tried again, this time louder. “Rebecca!”
“Oh, hi Weston,” Rebecca said in a singsong voice, as if she was shocked, yet happy to see me.
“What do you think you are doing? How did you get in here?”
“Oh, I climbed through the window, and I guess I lost track of time.”
I could not believe what I was hearing. I shook my head. “Am I being pranked? You climbed through my window? Do you have any idea how violating that is? I should call the police on you. ”
Rebecca’s expression changed to one of horror for the first time during this encounter. “I’m sorry. Please don’t call the cops. I didn’t mean any harm. I asked Gray, and he said it was fine, as long as I didn’t bother you.”
“Well, you’re bothering me. Now, please get out.”
I watched her, several expressions passing over her face, and I honestly didn’t know what she would do next. Rebecca calmly laid the wooden spoon next to the pot and removed her apron. I hadn’t moved from my position just inside the door. I still had my laptop bag in hand. Perhaps I hung onto it in case I needed to make a run for it. She marched over to me.
“Why do you do that?” she asked, with her hands on her small hips.
She was close enough that I could see the caramel flecks in her dark chocolate eyes as she looked up at me. Was she scolding me?
“Do what?” I asked, ready to get back on the offensive.
“Make me feel so unwelcome. It hurts my feelings,” she said, her brow furrowed and a small pout forming on her full lips.
“Well, I’m sorry about your feelings, but you aren’t welcome here. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“I realize you hate me and everything. But can’t you just pretend that you don’t mind me being around? ”
“I don’t pretend anything. Maybe other people enjoy having you in their personal space and talking to them, but I don’t. Like I said, I am sorry about your feelings. But I don’t need or want any new friends. It has nothing to do with you,” I said, hoping this candid chat would finally get her to understand.
“Like it or not, mister, I’m going to be in your life as long as you are friends with Gray. Why won’t you just try to accept me? I’m trying my best to be your friend. I mean, I just made you my famous one-pot chili. It will taste worlds better than that boiled chicken you ate last night,” she said, pointing to the pot on the stove.
This girl was nothing if not determined. “I’m not the one who needs to change,” I said. “You need to stop being offended by me and just leave me alone. Thank you for the meal, but I didn’t ask you to cook it.”
“That’s what friends do. They do kind things for each other,” she said, and lifted her head, trying her best to look down her nose at me but failing dismally because of our height difference.
“Well, we aren’t friends.” I said, not intending to be mean. I just wanted her to get the picture.
The moment Rebecca’s eyes dropped to the floor, a part of me crumbled. Before I could say anything more, she stormed out of the house. As the door swung shut behind her, it felt like an immense weight had been lifted off my chest, allowing my brain to finally clear from the haze her presence always seemed to cast. I leaned my laptop bag against the wall near the door and made my way to the kitchen, yet the lightness I felt was short-lived.
As the aroma from the kitchen tickled my senses, a deep pang of remorse knitted my brows together. If the food tasted anything close to how it smelled, my earlier remarks to Rebecca were not only unjustified, but downright harsh. I palmed my face, suddenly feeling the fatigue crawling under my skin. What was wrong with me? Did I really just call Gray’s sister-in-law a criminal?
I had never been this way with anyone before. Yet, whenever Rebecca was in the vicinity, it seemed like my brain short-circuited, replacing what should have been normal responses with sharp retorts. And for what? To shield my already bruised and battered heart? Guarding myself at the cost of others was far from the existence I desired. I knew I needed to navigate this better.
I leaned against the kitchen countertop, closing my eyes and clenching my jaw as I processed the reality of my actions. The house felt different; her absence loomed in the air, making it thick with regret. I sighed, knowing full well that I owed her an apology.