Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
J ulianna returned from upstairs carrying her overnight bag, declaring she would stay at Grams’ house. I watched her hug Lakey’s neck, and a weird ache radiated in my chest.
I had no say in where she stayed or what she did, but I wanted her with me. It felt essential to keep an eye on her and her condition. Isn’t that what Whit would do?
Yeah, but Whit doesn’t want to stick his tongue down her throat.
We were miles down the road when she remarked on the color of the trees and how they were so much brighter in the mountains than in Charlotte.
The scarlet leaves were her favorite, and when I told her the red color came from a specific pigment that was difficult for many trees to produce in bulk, she laughed.
“Of course, I love the most complicated color. You know a lot about trees, huh?”
“It’s my job,” I replied with a shrug, having to work to keep my eyes on the road and not on her. “I majored in forestry. I loved it. I got to be outside a lot. Well, until the football injury, at least.”
“That must have been so disappointing.” I heard the hesitancy in her voice. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to talk about it, but I wouldn’t cut her off. “Whit texted me when it happened. I was floored. It didn’t feel right reaching out to you, but I’m sorry. I probably should have.”
“There is nothing to be sorry for. You weren’t under any obligation to contact me.”
I reached over and turned the heat down as the truck cabin became stuffy.
“What did you do after it happened? Did you stay at college?” Her words were hesitant.
“No. I went to my Mom and Dad’s.”
“Oh.” Her tone told me she wouldn’t say anything further, so I continued, “I had to have surgery, and Elsie somehow morphed into a parent for five seconds. She stayed with me through the surgery and brought me home, even when Dad told her not to.
“Of course, she didn’t care for me herself. She hired a nurse for that. But she handled the logistics, which was much more than she did when I was younger. Dad was so angry. ‘How dare I make a stupid mistake,’ that kind of thing…”
“Why would he be angry at an accident? It’s not like you wanted to be hurt.” She looked indignant.
“It’s who he is,” I replied. “Failure of any kind was never an option for me. He didn’t look at me for weeks after the surgery. I moved out the second I was back on my feet. I finished college online and never went back to Alabama.”
“But you kept up with Whit?”
I nodded. “He was becoming more stable by then, more like his old self. He visited me here in Mill Creek a few times. ”
The trees swayed as we drove through a canopied part of the mountain road.
“I want to ask about Whit,” she whispered. “I have so many questions.”
“And I would love to answer, but don’t you think it might be better for you to ask him?” I hoped my words weren’t too sharp. To deflect, I brought the conversation back to myself. “I never told him, you know. About that night. You asked me not to, so I never did.”
I glanced over at her then. Her attention was fixed on the road, her face neutral to my admission. “Good,” was all she replied.
“I wanted to tell him,” I said. “But what you want is more important to me. I need you to know that.”
“Hmmm.”
I couldn’t bear to look at her as my heart pounded loudly in my chest. Instead, I kept my hands firmly on the wheel and my eyes on the road.
“It’s funny how we all three came unglued without Grams. She kept us together,” she mused softly.
What she said was technically correct. Grams had been significant to us, individually and together. And we’d all made poor choices in the aftermath of her death, but she didn’t have anything to do with those choices. Grams had taught us better.
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. Instead, I tried to lighten the mood. “How did you meet your best friend? The one with the bakery?”
It was the right move. Julianna pivoted and gushed about Kallie, her bakery, their long friendship, and their lives in Charlotte.
“I’ve been alone a lot since her fiancé Brandon entered the picture,” she tacked on at the end of her welcomed sharing.
“I’ve got other friends, but none as close as Kallie.
When she moved out of the townhouse, I didn’t know what to do with myself.
I’m happy for her, and I like being alone most of the time.
Nothing is better than curling up with a good book, a piece of pie, and some mood lighting after a long day. ”
“Still a pie gal after all this time?” I smiled, thinking of the Christmas party where she said Whit had lured her out of the house with the promise of pie.
“Of course. Pie isn’t something you get over or grow out of.” She pulled on her seat belt a little. “Not that I need to be eating so much pie, but?—”
“I think you should eat all the pie you want,” I interrupted, unwilling to let her go down that path. I’d never let her think I felt anything but appreciation and yearning for her body exactly as she was. “What is your favorite pie?”
“Blueberry,” she replied without hesitation. “Maybe cherry? I also enjoy a nice peach pie in the summer and apple pie on the Fourth of July.”
“So, you like fruit pies?” She was beautiful, with her long, dark hair cascading around her shoulders and full lips pursing into a thoughtful pose.
I loathed missing one second of her expressions.
I hadn’t paid enough attention years ago when my crush hadn’t fully bloomed.
I regretted the time I’d squandered. Now, all I wanted to do was watch her.
“Well, yes. But also chocolate pie, butterscotch, and peanut butter. Pecan, on the holidays. Kallie made me one a few months ago called a shoo-fly pie. It was a warm vanilla custard made with buttermilk and sugar. It was sinfully good. She said the recipe came from her great-grandmother and…” She continued on and on, nervously rambling, and I wanted to chuckle.
Not to poke fun, but because she was trying to remain calm about pie, and failing.
Watching her passion was both endearing and inspiring. I loved it when she lit up. I didn’t want to offend her with teasing, so I remained neutral and listened to her soothing voice, tinged with an Appalachian drawl.
“I could listen to you talk all day,” I admired when she wrapped up her pie talk. A fierce blush streaked across her porcelain cheeks, but I saw her smile reflected in the passenger window. I’m sure she thought I couldn’t see her, but I looked for her everywhere.
“Don’t try to butter me up, Bram Winchester.”
“You should consider my attentions a privilege, sweets. They’re not given to just anyone.” It was a lie born of sarcasm. There wasn’t anything special about my attentions, but I wanted to egg her on.
Her blush deepened.
“The only privilege I want is you agreeing to let Lakey come and stay with me at Grams’ house.”
I laughed. “Which, if you remember, might actually be your house.”
“I’ll be having a little talk with my brother about that.”
“You know what would really stick it to your brother? If you come and stay with Lakey and me while you’re in town. You’d have your own room. We can move you to the one downstairs after the surgery. Plus, it’s thirty minutes closer to Roanoke for the appointments and the surgery.”
“You’ve been thinking about this all morning, haven’t you?” she replied, reading me like a book.
“That doesn’t sound like me.”
She gave me a sly expression. “I can’t believe you’re trying to get us to cohabitate. What would Grams say?” Her feigned offense was endearing.
“I know exactly what she’d say. ‘Don’t give up the pig for a little bit of sausage.’”
She laughed, and I drank it greedily like ice-cold lemonade on a hot summer’s day. “I didn’t say a thing about your sausage, Dracula.”
“My bacon, then?”
She laughed even louder .
“You make it difficult to ignore you when you turn on the charm.”
“Good to know. Wonder how charming I could get?”
A few seconds ticked by unfilled, and then, slowly, I put my hand on top of hers on the center console.
She glanced at our hands, her face shaping into an adorable mix of nervous shock and pleasant acceptance.
I lowered my voice as I squeezed her fingers.
“I will take care of your every need, Julianna.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re putting it on thick,” she murmured.
“Hell, I’ll even let you see the sausage. Or bacon. Whatever meat you prefer.”
“You’re insufferable!” she squealed indignantly, then threw her head back with the biggest, most beautiful laugh yet.
I chuckled with her. She still didn’t push my hand away from hers on the console, and I felt like I’d won the lottery.
Why hadn’t it ever been this easy with any other woman?
I tried to file back through the years I’d had dates and short-term girlfriends.
All those conversations had been pleasant.
But none of them made me feel as alive as when I talked with Julianna.
“I thought of you every day.” I ran my thumb over the top of her soft hand.
She stilled then, and the smile that spread across her face sobered.
My heart dropped slightly, and my mind raced.
Was she thinking about the night of the wreck?
Or when I came to her in the hospital, and all the pain and heartache I’d caused?
Would I have to live the rest of my life wondering if she was thinking about my terrible choices, fearing the day she realized I wasn’t worth her time or effort?
“I never thought I’d be here again,” she whispered.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. My voice was sincere. “I’m sad and sorry for why, but I can’t tell you how glad I am that you are here.”