Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Tess
No, I’m not sure.
That’s what I wanted to say. Words I desperately willed my lips to form, my vocal cords to speak. But self-doubt settled like a cloak over me, and nothing came out. Now Kit’s gone, and all I can think is that I’ve made some kind of mistake.
Whether that was kissing him or letting him leave, I couldn’t say.
What the fuck am I doing? I’m here to spend time with my uncle. To explore what’s left of the family I have in this world. This was not the time for some tryst, no matter how irresistible I find the dark, sarcastic deputy now driving away from me into the night.
I can’t even blame it on being drunk, unless you count my double dose of ice cream today. A sugar high. It still courses through my veins, making my heart beat so fast I can feel the pulsing in my ears. It drowns out everything else. The hum of the AC unit. The distant rumbling of what little traffic is left on the roads. The ringing of my phone in my purse.
Crap. I fumble for it, catching a glimpse of Alicia’s picture before I swipe to accept the call.
“Hello?” I sit at the edge of the saggy motel mattress, sinking into my own bones like I might dissolve entirely. Can my best friend hear how breathless I sound? How freshly kissed?
“I don’t know why I bother texting anymore, when I know you’ll never answer.” Dishes clang in the background. I picture Alicia—dark hair, doe eyes, some vibrant lipstick color despite the fact that she’s just doing late-night chores—bent over the sink of the little cottage in Alabama that she shares with her husband, Destin.
The familiarity eases some of my panic, and I flop onto my back, staring up at the pattern-stamped ceiling. “Sorry. It’s been such a hectic weekend. I haven’t texted anyone back, if that makes you feel any better.”
“It does,” she chirps. “So how’s it going?”
I hold a clammy palm to my flushed cheek, leeching some of its warmth. “Really good.”
“Yeah, your tone screams enjoyment.” Meanwhile hers drips with sarcasm.
“Sorry, it’s just…been a day.” I normally tell Alicia everything, but for some reason this feels too fragile. I don’t know how I feel about it yet, so I’m not ready to hear her thoughts on the matter. I swallow a deep breath and tuck away the doubt. The insecurities. The desire still electrifying my skin. Then I slip into the version of me everyone else gets, even if I can’t give it to myself. When I open my mouth again, my voice jumps an octave. “We’ve had the best time. It feels like I’ve always known him. And the whole town is so friendly.” So friendly they offer good-night kisses after giving you a ride home.
“I’m happy for you, Tess.” Alicia, savant that she is, is not fooled. “Are we going to just skip over how bedraggled you sounded when you picked up the phone?”
Shit. “Oh, it’s nothing.” I gnaw on my bottom lip, searching the swirls and loops of the yellowing ceiling for an excuse that’s believable. “There’s this guy, a friend of my uncle’s, who’s decided I’m the exciting catch of the day. Had a hard time taking no for an answer.” I chuckle, but it’s hollow. Guilt rings in my ears at throwing Kit under the bus, even if Alicia will never meet him. He deserves better, and I know it.
There’s no time to reel in the words, though, because Alicia is already howling. “Why am I not surprised? Tess Monroe strikes again, bringing men and women to their knees in every city from sea to shining sea.”
“Ha ha,” I say flatly. Time for a change in subject. “Why are you up so late anyway?”
“Destin’s on rotation tonight at the hospital. Figured I’d check on my best friend instead of binge watching The Office for the thousandth time.”
“I’m honored, truly.”
“As you should be.” She chuckles softly. “When do you land tomorrow?”
That reminds me, I need to check in for my flight. I put Alicia on speakerphone and toggle screens to pull up my airline app. “Not till late. I imagine I’ll be back to Fly Hollow by nine or ten, depending on delays.”
She clicks her tongue. “So no catch-up drinks, then.”
“Maybe later this week?”
“That would be nice.” There’s a muffled scraping, like she’s shifting her phone from one ear to the other. “Actually Delilah Ridgefield moved back to town recently. Would you wanna do a girls’ brunch with her? I think she could really use it.”
The name rings a distant bell. I rack my brain, finally pulling up an image of a girl who was in Alicia’s grade, with light brown hair and a father who taught music at our school. Said father had an affair with another teacher a year or so after I graduated, which became the town’s gossip topic of choice for months on end. I’m ashamed to say that, at the time, I was just grateful to share the tragedy spotlight for once.
No wonder she stayed away till now.
“Sure, I’d like that,” I say finally.
“Great!”
I glance at the glowing red numbers on the clock beside the bed. It’s close to midnight, and I’m supposed to meet Gary bright and early at his place. “I’ve got to go, Alicia. I’m already exhausted for me tomorrow.”
She chuckles. “Sounds good. I’ll text you once I figure out a day that works with my schedule. I’m almost done packing up the classroom for renovations, so should be available later this week. Love you big, you charming monster. Try not to steal the hearts of any more unsuspecting people before coming home, yeah?”
My throat constricts, but I force my words out in what I hope doesn’t sound like the nervous squeak it is. “Yeah. See you soon. Love you.”
“Good night.” She makes a kissing sound into the phone, which I return, and then the line is dead. It’s just me, the leaky faucet dripping in the bathroom, and my thoughts, which circle like vultures.
I have no faith I’ll be getting any sleep tonight.
* * *
Gary arranged for an impressive array of treats from the coffee shop downstairs, which he somehow convinced the owner, Rose, to hand deliver for him before my arrival. They sit alongside two to-go coffees adorned with the 8th & Main logo on his time-worn dining table in the small living space of his apartment.
I peer out one of three tall windows on the far end of the room, which overlook Main Street from a prime vantage point above Nomads. The perfect spot for some young student from the nearby college town, wanting nightlife at their fingertips, but all I can think of is how annoying it must be on Friday and Saturday nights when the bar stays open late and music vibrates the floors.
“Oh my God.” I turn to Gary, whose gaze sparks with amusement at my sudden outburst. “Am I getting old? All I can think about is how loud Nomads must get on the weekends, and how hard that would make it to sleep.”
He sucks on his teeth, leans forward on both elbows, and meets my gaze resolutely. “Not old, but perhaps a fuddy-duddy.”
I snort, disturbing the surface of my latte. “God, you sound like my parents.”
“An honor.” He dips his chin, his snowy beard nearly submerging in his cup.
“You say that,” I tease. In reality, I can’t imagine better people to emulate.
Silence settles between us. He’s studying me, perhaps smiling, though it’s hard to tell with the beard. It doesn’t feel uncomfortable. There’s no need to fill it like there is with everyone else. I’d forgotten how nice it is, to just sit in the acceptance of family. Not something everyone gets from their bloodline, but I had it in spades.
How many mornings did I sit with my mom before school, her sipping coffee while I picked at a frozen waffle and pondered my plans for the day? Something I took for granted, thinking I’d have a lifetime of mindless mornings to spend with her. Turns out lifetimes aren’t always the lengthy measurement you think they are.
“What are you thinking about, Tess?”
I bite at my bottom lip, gaze lifting from the scratched wooden tabletop to meet his gray eyes. “It’s going to bring the mood down.”
He chuckles dryly. “Try me.”
He’s right, I suppose. If I can’t be honest here, where else can I be? Aside from Kit’s car, apparently. “I’m wondering why my parents had to die. They were so good, you know? Just genuinely wonderful people. They deserved better.”
He nods like he understands completely. And perhaps he does. He lost his wife, Wendy, far too soon. Cancer, I think. We don’t talk about the details of their deaths often. Only the holes they created in our lives.
Age spots riddle his hand. It settles over mine, taking up a soothing pat on my knuckles. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that the universe doesn’t give a damn what we deserve. If you want better, you have to take it for yourself. Today. Because that’s all the time you can be sure you’ve got.”
I press my lips into a firm line. For a moment I can sense Kit’s hands heating my lower back. His mouth slanted over mine. Then it disappears, replaced by the forlorn resolution in his gaze when I froze on the spot. “I’m afraid I haven’t been doing that very well lately.”
“You came here, didn’t you?” Gary grins around the lip of his cup. Coffee dribbles onto his teal fishing shirt, which I’m beginning to suspect is the only kind of top he owns. “You took the DNA test. That’s something.”
I try to see myself through his eyes. A woman with no family of her own, late twenties, no career to speak of, who put herself out there and flew halfway across the country for just the shot at building a bond with the uncle she never knew. I like to believe I’d find that woman brave, too, if I didn’t see her in the mirror every day.
“That’s something,” I echo.
“Speaking of, I was thinking of visiting in the fall, if you don’t mind. And you could come here for Christmas, if you don’t have any plans.”
Christmas last year was spent working retail to keep my mind off the empty rooms of my house, a sprawling ranch-style home that once belonged to my grandparents. I can’t seem to convince myself to sell it, no matter how impractical it is for just one person.
I’m about to agree, but then I imagine running into Kit. What will I say to him? I can’t avoid him forever, not if I want to continue being a part of my uncle’s life. But just the thought of his wounded expression before he masked it over brick by brick and shut the door at my feet, has me wavering.
“Er, I might not get that much PTO with this gig.” The truth is, Harvey lets me have free rein of his gym and my schedule, so long as the dues keep coming in. But what Gary doesn’t know won’t hurt him. And besides, who knows how long I’ll be at the job anyway. “If you’d be up for spending Christmas with me, then maybe I can see about coming back here late next summer?”
A year feels like a good enough buffer. Kit will have long forgotten me by then, surely.
“Sounds like a plan.” Gary’s eyes glint as he smiles, crow’s feet forming webs on either side of his face. “I promise to be all healed up by then so I don’t have to pass you off to the kids to be chauffeured.”
“I could’ve easily rented a car.”
“You shouldn’t have to.” He shrugs one shoulder. “Besides, they all owe me for the endless entertainment I provide to their otherwise mediocre lives.”
We both gaze at his foot where it’s propped on a pillow in his other chair. He grabs a wooden spoon off the pony wall dividing the living area from the kitchen and slips the handle inside his boot, eyes rolling back when he scratches what must be a bothersome itch.
I wrinkle my nose. “Sure, I guess gore is entertainment to some.”
He swats at me with the spoon, and I squeal, lurching away.
“You’re a menace.” He yields the spoon like a waggling finger, admonishing me with a grin on his face. “But I love you.”
My heart is all at once too big for my chest, yet so small I’m not sure I have enough room for the way I feel to fit in it. I practically leap across the space between us, loop my arms around his neck, and plant a kiss on his polished head. “Love you, too, Gary. Thank you. So, so much.”
“Anytime, kiddo.” He pats my arm. His voice is thick. Strangled. He clears his throat and presses on. “Zoey will be here any minute to pick you up. I’m sorry I can’t come with you. Going that long without my leg propped up is, quite frankly, hell right now.”
I sit back. “I know you’d be there if you could be.”
“Sure would. I’d scream and jump up and down. Embarrass both you and Zoey without hesitation.” He smiles. “I really am sorry, though. I wanna make sure I’m doing this uncle thing right, and being tied down by this old boot doesn’t help.”
“You’re doing it perfectly. An old pro,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady.
“Who are you calling old?” He narrows his eyes, squeezing my arm where it rests on his clavicle. “I’m not the one complaining about the youths and their late-night partying.”
We dissolve into laughter, the bubble of emotion popped. We remain that way until Zoey arrives and I pile into her car, headed for Denver. It distracts my heart from thinking about Kit and how different this drive was with him by my side.
It’s for the best.