32. Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Two
Maggie
G inger purred on my chest, her little paws kneading my shirt. Was there anything more perfect than a contented cat? The purring and the kneading motion were soothing.
When the door vibrated with someone’s fist after the doorbell had gone off three times, I knew I should get up, but I just couldn’t summon the energy.
Beside me, my phone started up a familiar chorus. Great, now Trent was trying to check up on me. I sent him to voicemail.
Another boom, boom, boom sounded on my door, followed by the repeated ring of my doorbell.
“Maggie! Get your ass to the door. You’re starting to worry me. If you don’t answer this door, I’m going to think something has happened to you, and I’ll break the damn thing down.”
Dropping Ginger to the ground, I heaved myself off the couch and ambled to the door, defeated. Opening it, I leaned against the edge of the frame. “Don’t break my door.” I hadn’t showered or left the house in almost two days. The pharmacy was being run by a semiretired pharmacist friend who’d heard about my dad’s death. The offer to take over the store for a week had been a weight off my shoulders, but the absence of something to do with my time was letting me sink into grief in a way that wasn’t healthy, but that I couldn’t seem to prevent.
“Don’t ignore me. It’s rude,” Trent said.
“If you’re here to plead Grady’s case—”
“We were friends before my brother ever got involved.” His pissed off expression would be intimidating if I didn’t know him so well. “I’m here because people are worried about you.”
Should I be happy or sad Grady hadn’t sent him? Not that I had a choice. Sadness was all I was capable of feeling right now. “As you can see, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” He huffed out a breath. “Let me in, Mags. You gotta let someone in.”
Of all the people in my life who could have come banging on my door, Trent was the easiest to deal with. He wouldn’t ask me to reconsider breaking off my relationship with Grady or try to say I’d get over the loss of Dad. I stepped back from the entryway, leaving the door open for Trent to follow.
Once we were in the living room, I resumed my sprawl on the couch, and Trent took one of the recliners to the right. When the silence became too much, I said, “Is everything all set for tomorrow night?”
“You don’t need to be worrying about that.” Trent waved me off.
“What should I worry about? My dead father? My boyfriend who kept his impending move across the country from me?”
“Maggie.”
“What? It’s a legitimate question. Maybe I should think about the election for mayor and how I could be beaten by someone who doesn’t even want the job. How’s that for something to worry about?”
“I didn’t come here to talk about Grady. I told you that.”
“Well, maybe I want to talk about him. You told me this would happen. That he’d leave. Would never stay.”
Trent grimaced. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why not? Looks like it’s coming true. He had a job offer on the other side of the country, and he didn’t even mention it.”
“Maybe he had a good reason.”
“Are you really defending him? Really?”
Trent flushed and ran a hand across the top of his hair. The arms of his T-shirt bulged when he crossed them. “He’s my brother. I’m not going to not defend him.”
Resentment flared before I pushed it aside. I’d be the same way with my siblings. Whatever flaws they had, I could point them out, tease them, be annoyed by them, but God forbid anyone else say a word against them. “Are you two getting along better?”
Trent shrugged. “We got a ways to go. You’re not seriously worried you won’t win the election?”
I brushed my tangled hair out of my face and sighed. “A little worried—super low on my list of concerns. But I—I originally ran for mayor as a way to, I don’t know, make amends to everyone for what you and I did.”
Trent shook his head, his jaw tight. “Not what you and I did. What I did.”
“I never got in trouble, but I was part of the process. I gave you advice that let the business grow, gave you more confidence, lured in more people’s sons and daughters.”
“We all made our choices. Those kids, every single one, knew exactly what they were getting into. You didn’t know.”
“Maybe. Didn’t make it any easier to see all those people hurting.”
He huffed out a breath. “That’s what Saturday’s about. Trying to make amends or start to, I guess. I want this town to remember me for something other than a drug ring and a long jail sentence.”
“They will. Just takes time.”
Ginger wound herself around Trent’s legs, begging for attention. He stroked her long tail, and she banged her head into his leg in approval, pressing her face against his jeans. She’d loved Grady too. Something about the Castillo men made anything of the female persuasion want to rub themselves all over them.
“He didn’t mean to hurt you,” Trent said, his tone gentle.
“Didn’t he?” I pressed my fingers into my forehead. Ginger wandered past my dangling hand, arching her back, eager to be touched. “Historically, Grady has been very good at hurting me.” And the possibility that might be true this time has haunted me. Deep down, I’m not sure if I really believe he’d hurt me on purpose again, but picking apart my feelings was more emotional labor than I was capable of.
“I know. Trust me, I know. But I also believe he’s trying to be better.”
“Why not tell me? If I was a factor in any decision, why not tell me?”
“I don’t know.” He took a deep breath. “He’s crazy about you.”
For the last few days, I’d let myself live in the numbness. It felt like the only way to survive. Block out what happened to my dad. Block out any feelings for Grady. All I could manage to do was exist.
“My heart feels really broken right now, Trent.” I could barely keep the tears in check. “Like… Unmendable. I don’t know what to do about Grady because I am terrified, absolutely terrified that he’ll discard me, treat me like I don’t matter, just like he did last time. Maybe not on purpose—like taking a job and not considering my feelings—but his behavior last time wrecked me in ways I’m only starting to understand. And I can’t fall apart more than I already am. I can’t. I won’t survive.”
“He’s not gonna do that, Mags.”
“You don’t get it. Can’t possibly understand. We slept together and he ghosted me. Cut me off completely. Looked past me, around me, through me whenever we shared the same space. And I think I’ve spent the last however many years avoiding any relationship that might do that to me again. It seems particularly foolish to walk back into one with the person who did the damage in the first place.”
“He wants to make things right. I believe that.”
“How do you know, though? We were together, like, together-together, and he didn’t tell me about LA. If I was him, if I was in his shoes, I’d only keep news like that a secret if I didn’t want the other person to be a factor. If I was only worried about doing what was best for me.”
“I get that. Grady’s a fucking idiot because I’m positive that’s not what he intended when he didn’t tell you.”
“I just… I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to sort out what’s real and what’s not real. I don’t know how to do that right now when I feel this lost.”
“But you love him?”
“I don’t know.” But I did. I knew I did. Admitting that felt like another slice across my emotions, and I was barely keeping a lid on what was bubbling under the surface. “I can’t go there right now.”
“I think the two of you have been in love with each other for years.”
“Sometimes love isn’t enough.”
Trent moved from his chair to lift my legs and sat on the couch, setting my legs on his lap. He grabbed the remote off the armrest, and he flicked on the streaming service I paid for, searching through all my recommendations. Ginger jumped onto my legs and stretched along Trent’s chest, kneading his shirt, practically begging for attention.
“Your taste in TV is shit,” he said, scrolling with one hand while stroking Ginger with the other.
“You’re not going to try to talk me around?” I asked, my voice small.
“I tried,” he said with a shrug. “I told Grady I wouldn’t even try, but I think you need him right now, even if you don’t want to need him, even if you don’t quite trust him. Sometimes,” he said, trying to catch my gaze, “the only way you know if you can trust someone is to give them that trust and just hope they keep earning it.”
“I don’t know when I’ll feel ready to do that,” I admitted.
“What you need right now is comfort and certainty,” Trent said with conviction. “ Mean Girls it is.”
“That’s going to give me comfort and certainty?”
“You know the outcome. That’s certainty. And Rachel McAdams is still hot, even after all these years. That’s comfort.”
“Comfort for who?” I asked, but I could feel the hint of a smile rising for the first time in days.
Trent didn’t respond, he just patted my legs and pressed Play. I turned onto my side, trying not to let the numbness envelop me quite so completely this time.