Eighteen | Cole
Eighteen
Cole
I sat at the kitchen table, making a grocery list while Chloe told my mom the longest story about her stuffies and the fight they had gotten into.
I shook my head and laughed under my breath at how dramatic she was being.
My mother’s eyes lit up as she listened, nodding as she held onto every word as if it were the best thing she had ever heard.
Lyric had been sleeping for a few hours and I was thankful that she was resting.
I remembered the first time Lyric had gotten a migraine and how helpless I had felt, not knowing how to help her.
Hell, back then, neither of us knew what to do.
But then she started getting them so frequently that I learned as much as I could so I could help her through them.
“Do you need anything from the store?” I asked my mom once Chloe took a break to get some toys from her room.
“I think I’m good, but thank you. I can always send Dad later if needed.”
“Alright, I’m going to head out before Lyric wakes up. Call me if you need anything.”
I got up and pushed my chair in, thankful for my parents' support.
I had no idea how Clay had handled things on his own for so long, because I felt like I was drowning most days, even with my parents' help. While I knew Lyric was strong and would figure things out, as she always did, I didn’t want her to struggle to do this on her own.
Traffic was light as I made my way to the store.
I went inside and beelined to the aisle I needed, loading things into the cart as if I were back in time, shopping for my wife.
My heart fluttered at the memories, recalling how happy Lyric would be when I came home with a different surprise for her each time.
Sometimes it would be her favorite snack; other times, something nice for the bath.
It was always something that I knew she would love and appreciate, and it made me feel good to love her in the little ways she didn’t expect me to.
I was just about done when I pushed the cart around the corner and bumped into another cart. I looked up to find Mrs. Crawley slowly looking up at me as she pushed her bifocals up her nose and squinted to see me better.
“Sorry about that, Mrs. Crawley,” I said, making sure to speak loudly so she could hear me.
Even if she couldn’t see my face clearly, I knew she would recognize my voice. She always did.
“No worries, dear,” she croaked, the wrinkles around her mouth crinkling as she smiled at me. “I was a little distracted and didn’t see you there.”
“It was my fault for rushing,” I admitted, scanning her cart and noticing the heavy items in it. “Is Mr. Crawley with you today?”
“No, he was feeling under the weather, so I came to do the shopping by myself. He offered to send Jack, but I know he’s busy with work, so I didn’t want to bother him.”
I glanced at my watch, checking to see how long I had been gone. I could call Jack and tell him his mother needed help, but by the time he left work and got there, I could already have her stuff loaded inside her house for her.
“I have some time this morning,” I said, trying not to let her hear anything in my voice that would convince her that I didn’t. “I can help you if you’d like.”
She tilted her head as she studied me, her lips trying to lift into another smile.
“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure you have better things to do. I heard Lyric was back and—”
“It’s really not a problem at all,” I said, interrupting because I didn’t want to talk about Lyric or entertain any of the rumors going around about us getting back together. “I’m going to go check out and put my stuff in the truck, then I’ll be back in to help you.”
She nodded and pushed her cart forward to finish her shopping while I headed to the register.
By the time I finished getting Mrs. Crawley settled and got home, I found Lyric at the kitchen table with my mom. There was color in her cheeks, which was good, and she had a bowl of soup in front of her.
“Hey,” she said softly, her eyes sparkling the way they used to when she would look at me.
I ignored the tightness in my chest and pushed the memories away as I set the grocery bags on the counter and smiled at her.
“How are you feeling?” I asked as I started unpacking them. I kept my attention on her while also making sure I didn’t accidentally pull out the surprise I had picked up for her.
“Better, thank goodness. Your mom heated some soup for me, and so far I’ve been able to hold it down.”
“It would be much better if it were homemade,” my mom countered. “But I had to work with what I had. My chicken noodle soup would have been so much better, though. We’d have you feeling better in no time.”
“Trust me, I will never say no to Sherry’s homemade chicken noodle soup,” Lyric replied with a laugh. “One time I got super sick in New York and kept telling everyone about your soup and crying because no one could make soup like you do.”
“Aww, honey, you should have called me,” my mom said, walking behind Lyric and gently squeezing her shoulder. “I would have found a way to get some to you.”
I turned away to keep Lyric from seeing the look on my face, because neither of us was ready to talk about her time in New York or what it did to me. I put the groceries away and set the medicine on the island so she could choose what she wanted when she was done with lunch.
“I’m going to go check on the goats,” I said, clearing my throat as it suddenly felt dry.
My heart raced as I watched Lyric study me, knowing the moment she realized why I was suddenly acting so strange. She folded her hands in her lap and lowered her gaze, giving me a reprieve as I slipped out the back door and took a deep breath of fresh air, hoping it would help clear my head.