CHAPTER 3
GEMMA
It’s official—I’m a coward. I’ve driven past Keaton’s house about five times now and I haven’t stopped once. I haven’t even slowed down. How could I? If I slow down, if I stop, then I’ll have to do what I came here to do.
I’ve been stewing over asking Keaton for help for days now.
I saw him the other night when we were having a girl’s night out and it made me realize how silly I’ve been.
We didn’t even talk, only passively acknowledged each other from across the room and then categorically ignored the other.
Still, I was very much aware of his presence.
And his gaze.
He watched me more than I could rationalize. I still don’t understand it at all. Then again, maybe I don’t need to understand.
After thinking over Meadow’s advice and then seeing him, my complete suborn ridiculousness became crystal clear. What was I even doing? I had someone to go to. I had someone to ask for help, but I refused to do it because of a crush from girlhood which I’ve allowed to linger for far too long.
I have no reason to be crushing on the man now. We’re barely acquaintances. Do I really care what he thinks of me?
He’s also a teacher. Me showing up at his door should be like catnip to him. Right?
Or will it be insulting and presumptuous?
Damn it.
Before I can drive by for a sixth time, I force myself to pull along the curb and stop. I look up at the house where Keaton has lived for a few years now and try not to let out the soft sigh which wants to escape. It’s adorable and clearly big enough for a family.
It’s almost too much house for him alone, but that’s none of my business.
The garage is big enough for two vehicles and I love the black trim against the white of the house. It looks quaint and nothing is out of place. Even the landscaping is impeccable without being pretentious.
I hate it.
I love it.
I’d absolutely move in today.
Which is not a thought I should have at all. It’s too much. It’s always been too much.
My heart is pounding in my chest as I look at the house, but I can’t just sit here. I need to walk up the walkway to the front door. I need to knock on that door.
Then I need to ask a man I don’t know anymore, a man who I have spent years avoiding, for help.
It’ll be just great.
I’m sure.
I clear my throat as I force myself to climb out of my car. I smooth my shirt even though there’s nothing to smooth. After rubbing my palms over my hips, I push my feet forward and up to the door.
My knock is timid and I frown at myself before forcing myself to do it again, louder this time. I step back and wonder if he’s really here. His truck is in the driveway, but maybe he’s busy. Or in the shower.
He could be out and Gary picked him up?
I don’t even know.
When I look over my shoulder toward my car, I almost turn around and leave. Just as I talk myself into tossing this whole plan out the window, the door creaks open. My head snaps around so fast that my neck does a cracking spasm thing which makes my knees go weak and my face contort in a grimace.
“Gemma?” Keaton’s surprised voice has my eyes snapping open.
I’m blinking back tears, while awkwardly waving in his blurry general direction. “Hi, Keaton,” I chirp my greeting back at him.
His eyebrows furrow together, making the line between them become even deeper. “Hi, Gemma?” He shakes his head slightly. “What are you doing here?”
I hate the way my heart sinks, but I push the feeling away. My lips part before I press them closed again.
Keaton’s hands shoot up as he holds them out in front of him in surrender. “I’m sorry, that sounded much harsher than I intended. And super rude.” He huffs out a breath. “I’m just curious. I didn’t even know you knew where I live. You’ve never been here before.”
“Small towns are good for something,” I tell him honestly.
It’s not like it took a lot to find out where he lives.
The chuckle that comes out of the man in front of me ripples through me. Warmth suffuses through my chest along with the sound of his amusement.
“You have me there.” He leans against the doorframe as he looks me over.
Literally, the only option I have is to ignore just how sexy he looks. I shift from one foot to the other before blurting out, “I know you make a home brew and I’m trying to make one too, but mine is awful and I need help.”
Keaton blinks at me a few times before a huge grin takes over his face. “I should be mad at you,” he throws out the words.
I look at him with confusion written all over my face. “What are you talking about?” I sound as bewildered as I feel.
He shakes his head before standing upright and pushing off the doorframe to step back into his house. With a wave of his hand, he welcomes me to step inside. My body is screaming at me to take a step, but I find myself pausing.
I don’t even know why.
“I had no idea you were interested in home brewing. I just heard about it the other night when Gary mentioned it.” Even though Keaton is smiling at me, I can see the disappointment and hurt in his eyes. He tries to mask it, but he doesn’t quite manage it. “You know it’s a hobby of mine.”
Ah. Understanding dawns on me and I nod my head slowly. “I know,” for some reason shame washes over me and my tone matches the feeling.
“Why wouldn’t you talk to me about it before now? Like any time before now?” Hurt laces his words and it does something to my heart.
He’s not wrong. I could have easily brought it up. At some point. During one of the conversations we’ve had, even though I try to keep them brief.
I never did.
It was because I didn’t want him to misunderstand. My interest has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the need I have to bring more to the table when it comes to GMH. I convinced myself that if I told him about it then he would think I was only doing it to copy him.
Maybe he would have never thought that. I convinced myself he would which was more than enough to keep my lips sealed.
If I said something, then we would have had to talk for longer. I can only handle so much.
However, I can’t say any of that to him. Hell no. Nope. No, thank you. Pass. Hard fucking pass.
I’m shaking my head without even realizing it. “I guess it just never came up?” The words come out as more of a question than I intended, and I sound unsure as fuck about the flimsy excuse I’ve barely cobbled together.
Keaton’s face does something I’ve never seen before, and I can’t even start to explain it. I blink a few times right before he insists, “Come inside. Really. Are you here to talk shop?”
The easy grin on his face has me relaxing slightly and I take my first step inside his home. It’s masculine, which I expected, but it’s also cozy and homey. The sharp edges of the modern pieces are softened in ways I wouldn’t expect from him.
He has a lot more plants than I would have ever thought the man would have. I guess it makes sense, maybe, in a science adjacent way. Botany? He didn’t seem like the type.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a plant daddy,” I blurt out.
The moment the words leave my lips, I slap both hands over my mouth and spin around to where Keaton has frozen while closing the door behind me. My eyes are wide and the silence thickens for more heartbeats than I’m comfortable with.
Keaton’s face breaks first and then his laughter fills the living room.
I’m frozen in place, my hands still covering my mouth, while I take in the man in front of me.
My heart stutters strangely in my chest and I take a deep breath while forcing myself not to jump into his arms and wrapping my entire body around him like a lunatic.
Would he even catch me? I doubt it.
“How about you just ignore I ever said that,” I suggest while my face heats. I’m sure I’m bright red right now.
Keaton’s gaze sweeps over my face for a moment, his smile turning my insides to goo. I scurry over to the couch while forcing myself not to look at him. My lips are clamped together so tightly that I know my lips are turning white.
“So,” I hold the word out, trilling the sound of it slightly while I fully commit to ignoring my own outburst, “anyway. I came here because I do know about your slight home brew obsession. I’m kind of at a loss.
I don’t understand all the science behind what I’m doing which means it’s been mostly trial and error.
I’ve been able to successfully follow the directions and make a standard beer.
The problem happens when I infuse it with cannabis.
I’m not getting the results I want at all.
Every combination I’ve tried, every ratio, isn’t right,” the words tumble out of me.
“Now you’re coming to me for help?” His tone is light, but there’s curiosity written all over his face.
“Yes,” I squeak out the word, finding it just as difficult to admit as I knew it would be. “Not only do you know the science behind what you’re doing, which would help me, but it’s something you do yourself. I don’t know anyone else who could help me at this point.”
Keaton settles on the couch, not too close but more than close enough, and looks at me for a long time. I start to squirm in my seat, but I force myself to hold still.
“Of course I’ll help you, Gemma,” Keaton’s voice holds a softness which reminds me of the years I spent following him and Gary around. “You’re like a sister to me; all you have to do is ask.”
His words fall out of him like they’re natural, like they’re right. They make me go cold. I feel a muscle twitch next to my eye while my mouth goes dry.
Keaton’s eyebrows pull together slightly, like he’s unsure about my reaction. I force a smile onto my face, wide and bright even though it feels brittle. “Thanks,” my voice is bright, but wrong. “I knew you were the right person to come to.”
He tilts his head to the side slightly while studying me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I brush him off. “Nothing is wrong at all. Why would it be? I came here for help, and you just agreed to help me. Seems like everything is right in the world as far as I’m concerned.”
His eyes narrow slightly and his lips part like he’s going to argue with me. I keep my composure, refusing to crack right now.
“I’m thinking you should come over and I can walk you through what I’ve done and where I’m having issues?” I throw the question out there before he can try to press me any further.
I tuck away the disappointment trying to drown me. I’ve always known he sees me like a little sister. Hearing him say it out loud shouldn’t hurt at all.
But it does.
Now is not the right time to dwell on it, there will be plenty of time later for a little pity party of one.
Even with the hesitation written all over his face, he starts to nod slowly. “I agree, then we can figure out where the problems are and make a plan to correct them.” He makes a vague gesture towards where the garage sits next to his house. “How about checking out my set-up? It might help.”
Everything in me is screaming to leave. I can only hold back the tears for so long, and right now I’m far closer to breaking than I would like to be.
You’re like a sister to me; all you have to do is ask.
I swallow hard, but it’s difficult to push down the lump in my throat.
The need to get out of here is clawing at me. I stand up quickly, my sudden movement startling Keaton as he looks at me with wide eyes.
“I don’t want to see it,” the words rip out of me with a harshness which makes me wince and I quickly add, “not yet anyway. How about you come over to my place this weekend? That way I won’t be intimidated by whatever you have going on, and I won’t be making mental comparisons.”
“Okay,” he forms the word slowly, as if he’s unsure whether I’m in my right mind or not.
He doesn’t need to know the truth and how his words sliced into me. The next few minutes are blur of us making plans before I rush out of his house with a half-hearted wave and a goodbye which feels just as forced as it sounds. But he doesn’t stop me.
I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not.
The moment I’m back in my car; I take a few deep breaths and force myself to not look at his house again. Even when I pull away from the curb, I hold all the fragmented pieces of me together. Just a little while longer.
It’s not until I’m safely ensconced in my own home that I break. I don’t even try to stop the tears.
You’re like a sister to me; all you have to do is ask.
His words echo in my skull for a long time, and I don’t even bother trying to wipe my tears away.