Chapter 26
Addison
Mom and I are babysitting at Jesse and Ella’s so they can get out of the house, just the two of them, for a few hours.
Cora’s lying on my chest, her little head of dark brown hair against my chin.
Her breathing is so quiet and sweet, and her little hands are fisted in my shirt like she wants to make sure I don’t go anywhere.
She’s been passed out for about fifteen minutes, and I know I should put her down, but I don’t want to.
“What time is it?” I look at Mom. She’s got a pile of laundry dumped on the couch, folding each piece just so.
Ella insisted we don’t do any of the housework, but I don’t think she’ll be too upset to come home to an empty laundry basket and sink.
“Six twenty,” she reads off her watch. “They should be back soon.”
“No, I know. Wes and I were going to hang out.”
“Oh, what time?”
“We said seven-ish.”
“Well, if you have to get changed and whatnot, I’d get going.” She laughs.
“I don’t want to…” I groan.
“I know, she’s so sweet.” She sighs, setting a newly folded towel on the pile with the others.
A diesel truck rumbles from outside and gets louder as it closes in on the house.
A minute later, in walks Ella with Jesse right behind her.
“Welcome home. How was it?” Mom asks.
Ella sighs. “Fantastic. Sorry, Cora.” She laughs.
“Everyone needs a break. Don’t apologize,” Mom insists.
Ella comes over to see Cora. “Aw, how long has she been out?” she asks.
“Just twenty minutes or so. She ate really good right before.”
“Oh good!” She runs her hand over Cora’s back, her attention then catching on Mom finishing the last little bit of laundry. “Maureen, I said no laundry, Miss Ma’am,” Ella scolds playfully.
“Oh, you did? Hm, I must’ve missed that order,” she teases.
“You—”
“Looks like she missed the part about no dishes too,” Jesse interrupts, pointing to the sink.
“Maureen!” Ella scolds. “Do we need to have your hearing checked already?!”
I can’t help but laugh. They go back and forth a few more times. Meanwhile, Jesse comes over and sits on the couch with me to see Cora.
“I want her,” he says, reaching for her before I can even argue.
Once she settles against his chest like she was mine, I watch her grip onto his shirt too.
I stand. “I have to get going anyway.”
“Where? You got a hot date?” Jesse jokes.
“Actually, I do, yeah.” I make my way to the door and slip my shoes on.
“Tell Wesley I said hi,” Mom says.
“Wait, that’s all she gets?” Jesse asks, looking at Mom, who looks confused. “She doesn’t get a whole spiel? Curfew, Jesus is watching, be back by eleven or your ass is grounded for a week?” he argues.
We all laugh, except him.
“Jess, I love you, but she has yet to give me even a lick of a heart attack compared to you.”
He gestures to Cora. “Even with the baby fever she’s had since she was nine?”
Mom laughs and shakes her head. “Believe it or not, yes.”
“Well, that’s not fair,” he mutters.
Ella laughs. “I don’t think Addie would believe half the things we did, let alone do them herself.”
“Now, what does that mean?” Maureen says and Ella’s cheeks blush.
“Don’t ask,” Jesse tells her.
“Well, might not be fair, but I can’t treat you all the same when you’re all very different,” Mom adds.
She’s right on that. Jesse would’ve ruined it for all of us if she did that. And Cody…he wasn’t much better. Mason and I wouldn’t have been allowed to leave the house if they treated us all the same.
* * *
Wesley sits across from me, the fire in the woodstove between us crackling. I look around the barn, pulling my arms in closer. It’s so cold, even with the fire going.
“It’s up to you, but we can go in? My sister isn’t home and my parents are upstairs. They offered us the living room if we want it,” he says.
I wait for my anxiety to rise, but it doesn’t.
“Maybe…yeah.”
“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, but I can also see you’re cold.” He laughs.
“Yeah. Well, I think I’m fine,” I say, praying I don’t jinx myself. I haven’t been in Wesley’s house much, we’re always outside—in the barn, in his truck…heck, in a combine. But almost never his house.
I follow him out and across the stone driveway. Snow is falling slowly, but the wind is swirling around, blowing down my shirt and up my sweatshirt sleeves.
The house is quiet, barely lit—only the light above the sink and a hall light are on. I hear faint sounds of a TV upstairs and his parents talking. I take my boots off and set them beside Wesley’s before I follow him to the kitchen.
He reaches into a cabinet. “Thirsty?”
“Sure.”
He fills two glasses and hands one to me. I sip it right away, still waiting for the anxiety to hit.
“We can watch a movie? Or we can talk? I don’t care,” he says, sitting down on the couch. I sit beside him. This is so strange. Not the being with him part, but the being in his house with him part. And watching a movie? We’ve never watched a movie together.
“Whatever you wanna do,” I offer, and he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Okay, I’ll turn something on. We can still talk.” He grabs the remote.
I look around the living room. It looks the same as what I remember.
Warm and cozy, mismatched furniture, a lot of pictures on the wall, a bookshelf in the corner full of books, his dad’s chair in the other corner just like how my dad has his.
A lamp on each end table because there are no ceiling lights.
It’s exactly what a farmhouse should look like.
“Are you hungry?” he asks.
“No, I ate dinner.”
“I didn’t…you care if I eat? I don’t have to eat in front of you if your—”
“I’m not anxious, it’s fine.”
“You sure?”
I smile and nod. “Mm-hmm.”
He brushes his hand across my back and says he’ll be right back. I make myself comfortable, pulling the folded blanket over my legs and adjusting the fluffy pillow behind me.
I hear Wes in the kitchen, cabinets opening and shutting, silverware clanking against a dinner plate, the microwave humming and beeping every so often.
I give him another minute before I get up to see what he’s doing. I didn’t think reheating food was such a big to-do.
When I turn the corner, I see a mess of things across the counter. Flour, chocolate chips, milk, sugar.
“Wes, what are you doing?” I laugh.
He looks over his shoulder at me. “I’m making us a brownie in a mug.”
“A what?”
“Like a single serving of a brownie? You don’t have to eat it. I want one, but I was going to offer you some too,” he explains while he wipes down the counter. I walk over to see his creation steaming in a big green mug. Smells like a brownie…looks like one too.
“Is there egg in it?” I ask, because that would have to be cooked, and I’ve never cooked an egg in the microwave. I think it’s possible though.
“No, it’s just flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking powder, salt, milk, oil, chocolate chips.”
I can’t help but smile at him.
“What?” He laughs.
“You’re cute.” I poke his stomach.
He pokes me back. “You’re cuter.”
My smile lingers, and he wraps me in a hug, his arms looped around my neck and head, pulling me close. His chest is warm against my cheek, and he smells really good. Better than usual, not just deodorant…something more expensive.
“I love you,” he murmurs.
I lift my head to look at him. “I love you too.”
I kiss him softly. He kisses me back, deeper, his hands at my waist. He gently spins us around so my back is against the counter. When Brantley did that, it used to make me feel boxed in, stuck…but not with Wesley. With Wes, I feel safe. Seen. Respected. And understood.
He pulls back just slightly. “So, you wanna share the brownie with me?”
I try to keep a straight face, but laughter bubbles out. “We have to work on your flirting game, baby.” I pat his shoulder.
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t go from kissing me like that to casually asking about brownies.”
“Okay, fine.” He grins, pulling me close again, voice dropping lower. “How about you and I move this party to the couch…and the brownie joins us?”
I burst out laughing, shoving him gently. “Wesley!”
He laughs just as hard. “I’m trying here.”
I shake my head. “And I used to wonder why you never had a girlfriend.”