CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LIZ
Waking up with my head on Jovi's chest and his arm wrapped around my waist, arguably makes our first night back in the house a strange one. But since I'm able to crawl out of his embrace without waking him, I'm willing to count it as a success.
Until my anxiety starts up all over again when I remember Holly’s flight leaves at noon to take her back home. And away from me.
“Are you sure you can’t stay through the week? Start fresh next Monday? Keep the cycle clean?” I’m bent at the waist, reaching down to scratch a reluctant Harriet behind the ear. She'll remain on lockdown in the den for the next two weeks until her inner GPS reprograms itself to our new location.
She's been surprisingly calm and willing to stay put and silent. But then, I'm guessing she’s willing to do damn near anything right now to avoid being shoved back in her carrier. She hates that thing. And while she’s not complaining about being locked inside the house when she'd rather be out roaming the wild, she’s been in a mood.
So much so, I’ve yet to let the kids in to come see her.
“I could stay,” Holly says and for a moment, my smile tempts fate, curving the corners of my mouth with hope. Then she pulls the zipper on her travel bag in one smooth swoop, sealing her belongings inside. “But I won’t.”
My face falls as I straighten up, and I have to fight the urge to outright scowl at her. “That was mean.”
“Tough love, babe. That’s what I’m here for.
” She pulls her bag from the sofa bed and drops it on the floor beside the door causing Harriet to bolt into the closet.
“You want cuddles and softness, snuggle your cat. Or better yet, go out to the barn. Cozy up to a cute and furry critter out there. I’m sure they’ll deliver what you’re looking for. ”
“No, thanks.” I grimace, crossing my arms. “The barn is where Jovi hangs out.”
Holly winks. “I know. He’s the cute and furry critter I was referring to.”
“You’re insane.” My lip twitches with disgust. Or maybe it’s habit at this point. Jovi’s name is mentioned, and my face responds accordingly. Not that my body got that memo last night.
I shake off the memory of waking draped over his body and force my mind back to reality. “And you’ve obviously forgotten about the chat we had on the drive down here.”
She smirks, eyes twinkling with a smugness that makes me want to physically shake it out of her. “I haven’t forgotten.”
I drop both hands at my sides and start backing out of the room. “You’re delusional. And you’re becoming part of the problem where Jovi’s misguided ego is concerned.”
“If you say so.” She grabs the handle of her bag and starts to follow me out.
“I’m not claiming he was an angel when you were kids.
I don't doubt he put forth the effort to warrant your disdain and distrust over the years,” she goes on, following me down the hall and toward the stairs.
“I’m just saying, since we arrived, he’s been here damn near the entire time.
And the dude I’ve seen, the one showing up to take care of his best friend’s business, to spend time with his kids, to help get them and you settled again after everything that’s happened the last few weeks, that dude isn’t the same piece of shit you told me about on the drive here.
That dude, isn’t a piece of shit at all. ”
“Yes,” I agree. “He’s managed to not be a piece of shit for almost twenty-four hours. One could argue that even the biggest douchebags in existence should be capable of such a feat under these particular circumstances.”
She shrugs, both of us stopped where the hall splits off toward the kitchen. “Or one could argue that these particular circumstances would only encourage a douchebag to be a bigger, more selfish piece of shit than ever.”
I hate when she makes more sense than me.
“I can’t talk to you about this anymore.” I turn and start toward the front of the house.
She keeps up behind me. “Because you know I’m right.”
“Because I don’t have the energy or emotional capacity to consider it either way.”
“Fair enough.” We reach the foyer and she clasps my wrist to stop me. “But promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Let him not be a douchebag right now. Let him be the decent guy who’s showing up to do this with you.
Accept his help. You deserve some support with all of this.
” She squeezes my arm gently. “I’m sure you’re right and he’ll be an asshole again soon enough.
But while he’s not, maybe let him give you this.
For me. Let him do for you what I can’t stay and do myself. ”
My lip wants to curl again. This time my disgust is genuine and in the moment. And directed at her. “I can’t believe you took it there.”
She grins. “Worked though, right?”
My jaw locks and I exhale through flared nostrils. “You’re a jerk.”
“A jerk who loves you.”
My chest heaves high on the inhale and then drops in surrender. “Fine. I’ll let him be nice to me and I won’t be a jerk to him until he deserves it again.”
“And?”
“And, I’ll accept help.”
“And?” She leans forward, green eyes growing larger as her eyebrows climb higher with every ‘and’.
“Forget it. I’m not asking for help.” I swipe an X through the air with both hands.
“No way. Not happening.” I stab my finger in her direction.
“I wouldn’t ask you either. A fact of which you're well aware, since you invited yourself to be here in the first place. So don’t bother trying that route. ”
She lets out a laugh. “It was worth a shot.” After a moment she quiets down, bending forward to peek toward the living room. “Meanwhile, where are the kids? Still sleeping?"
“They're watching cartoons while they wait for breakfast.” After our late-night cookie shenanigans, both kids did sleep in this morning, but they made an appearance about half an hour ago.
Holly’s phone dings, notifying her of her Uber's arrival. "Perfect timing then." She tugs the strap of her bag over one shoulder. "Walk me out before you make your way to the kitchen."
I nod, swallowing back the permanent lump living in my throat. I hate crying. Hate it so much, the sheer will not to do it provides as much distraction as anything.
Before I know it, I've hugged my friend goodbye and made my way to the stove to prepare pancakes from a mix that requires nothing but water. Because that's about all there is to work with in this kitchen.
After I serve the results to Remmi and Gavin—slathered in strawberry jam because there was no maple syrup to be found—I dive headfirst into the next project.
One both necessary and guaranteed to occupy my thoughts, squeezing out every annoying, lingering word Holly uttered still ringing in my ears.
And every disturbing image of waking in Jovi's arms while he smiled in his sleep along with it.
JOVI
I wait until after I watch Holly’s Uber show up to take her to the airport before I slowly make my way up to the house.
After pretending to still be asleep while Liz snuck out of our shared bed this morning, I did my part and crept out of the house unnoticed.
No that I have a reason to avoid her.
So we shared a mattress last night. Big deal.
And fine. Maybe I felt myself leaning toward her as I was dozing off last night. And it's possible my instinct to tug her closer as I was waking up can't be entirely blamed on my state of sleepiness.
But it's Liz. So none of it means anything. Not like it might if she were anyone else.
Besides, I had work to do in the barn. Horses to feed and turn out. Stalls to muck. I had every reason to be absent. It's not like I was hiding.
If I was, I wouldn't be headed for the front door now.
Liz wanted everyone to have a chance and get settled before starting regular routines like school and such again. So, all three of them are tucked away inside right now.
If she knew I was steps from reaching her front door, she’d probably argue I have no reason to come up here.
The barn is my business, the kids are hers.
But she also wouldn't expect me not to check in on the kids.
And since they were still asleep when I left earlier, that's what I'm doing.
Checking in to see the kids. After their first night back in the house. Nothing more to it than that.
The invisible tether tugging at me all morning certainly has nothing to do with this unscratchable itch under my chest that's been plaguing me ever since I woke up, Liz's head resting atop my heart.
I'm probably allergic to her shampoo. Which I should tell her.
Because it's just one more fucking thing she's done to annoy me.
Except she's not the reason I'm walking up to the front door.
The kids are. That's all.
“It’s strange how much emptier a house can feel with one less person,” I remark when I find Liz poking around in the pantry, a notepad and pen in hand like she’s doing some sort of inventory.
“I think you’re referring to the silence that comes with two kids stuffing their faces with sticky pancakes.
Not the absence of a woman who spends more time observing than actually speaking,” she mutters dryly while sliding canned veggies from one side of the shelf to the other one at a time. “Who needs seven cans of creamed corn?”
I make a face. “Who needs one?” She snorts in response, and I take a step closer. “Also, say what you will, but the lack of Holly’s non-stop commentary is definitely not going unnoticed. That shit was like living with a narrator.”
She turns over her shoulder, brow crinkled and eyes narrowed like she thinks I’m an idiot. I know. She gives me that look a lot. “You’re ridiculous.”
“That insult meant more before I learned what company you keep.”
She scoffs but remains otherwise silent as she replaces the can of corn and moves on to counting all the opened boxes of macaroni.
“We’ll have to check every one of these for sweets,” she mumbles, making a note on her pad of paper before turning her attention to the top shelf, piled to the ceiling with a wide variety of chips and pretzels.
All of them opened and haphazardly sealed with clips and twisty ties.
“For fuck's sake, did these dingdongs ever finish anything?”
I shrug. “No one likes stale chips.”
“No one needs to keep stale chips they’re never going to eat either,” she counters.
Can’t really argue that point. Not rationally anyway.
I’m on the brink of making an effort for the sake of pushing her buttons some more, when she sighs loudly, bends forward and pulls a large trash bag from the box on the bottom shelf.
“If you want to save any hidden stash of candy, do it now,” she orders, reaching up to grab a handful of bags from the top shelf.
“Some of those might still be good,” I point out as the second round of chips lands in the trash.
“Did you want to sample every single batch to find out which ones?”
I only stare in response.
“Didn’t think so.” Another handful bites the dust.
“So,” I say, tapping my fingers over my thigh. “I take it we’re going grocery shopping after the kids finish their pancakes?”
She pauses, the last batch of chips hovering between the shelf and her waiting trash bag. “Why would you come?”
Shit. Why would I come? “I need to stock up the mini-fridge in the barn,” I blurt out the first semi-logical reason that comes to mind.
And it’s not all that logical. At all. I brought all the basics from my own kitchen when I moved my stuff in.
But I’m sure I could use something. A back up milk?
A jug of juice for when the kids hang out in the barn?
Sure. We’ll go with that. “Might as well do it all in one trip.”
Her gaze is agonizingly scrutinizing, like she’s carefully searching for a loophole in my reasoning. Any excuse to get out of spending more time with me. Not that she ever needed one before.
Guess that’s another thing that’s changed around here.
“Fine,” she stuffs the last of the chips into the bag. “You can come.” She redirects her attention to the pasta, hand ready to launch her next attack. “You gonna pull the box hiding the sour candies or what?”
I do. Though I have no clue how she even knew they were there. That’s not Trent or Lena’s stash. Those sour candies are fucking mine.