Chapter Thirteen #2
He told her it was and then they disconnected.
“Sorry,” she said to Kolby once she ended the call. “That was Tom. He’s on his way over to take me to lunch.”
“Oh. I got us lunch.” He pointed to the paper bag. “There’s a diner down the street that makes those grilled chicken sandwiches you love.”
Surprise shot through her, mixing with a little guilt. “I didn’t know. Sorry. Tom sounded so excited that I was in town, I just accepted his lunch offer right away.”
Kolby nodded and began pulling things from the bag. His shoulders were up around his ears, and he looked worn, tired, and maybe even a little dejected.
“How’s your mama?”
“Physically? In pain. They’re keeping her medicated for it. Psychologically?” He shrugged. “Angry. Depressed. Pissed off. All at me.”
“Why you?”
He filled a glass with water from the sink. “It’s how she gets when she comes down from an episode. She needs someone to blame for what happened, what caused her to go...” He lifted a hand, then shrugged again.
“That’s not fair, Kolby. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
He sat at the table and opened one of the wrapped sandwiches. He didn’t eat though, just stared down at it while he said, “She needs a reason and someone to accuse, someone she thinks made her act the way she did and I’m the only one she’s got, so.” He lifted the sandwich, took a bite.
Charity had no words or wisdom to impart for that. She couldn’t imagine a world where either of her parents blamed their kids for their downfall or any of their problems.
“Is she back on her medication for her bipolar disorder?”
He nodded.
“Well, then I’m sure once her blood levels come back to where they should be, things will change and she won’t feel that way.”
“We’ll see. For now, I’m the person she’s got in her sights to rage at.”
Her heart went out to him. He’d raced to the woman’s side the moment he’d heard she was in trouble, and his reward was to suffer her anger.
“You wanna take that back to Heaven with you?” he asked, thrusting his chin toward the unwrapped sandwich. “You can have it for dinner or lunch tomorrow. Seems a waste just to throw it out.”
Her brows slammed together. “What do you mean?”
“Isn’t Tim—”
“Tom.”
“—going to drive you back home? After your...date?”
The edge in his voice told her he was dealing with his own anger at the situation with his mother. She couldn’t fault him for that. It was a lot to process.
“No. I wasn’t even going to ask him to.”
“Why not? Seems easier and cheaper than taking car service. I’m staying here for a few days to get things taken care of.”
“Because I promised I’d help you with all that.” She slashed her hand in the air toward the living room. “I’ve got a good start on it, but there’s still a lot left to do. I figured you’d go back to the hospital after this and later we could tackle the rest of it together.”
His expression went from cross and angry to surprised and something she couldn't read. Happy? Relieved? Whatever it was, his entire body relaxed with her words.
“While I was organizing, I found a stack of bills. I put them on the coffee table. It looks like there are duplicates of a few of them. Electric bill, something from a bank.”
His face fell and he dropped his sandwich, half eaten, back into the wrapper.
“She forgets to pay them when she’s raging.
The bank one is the mortgage. That’s the one that worries me the most, because if she loses this house, she’ll have nowhere to go.
Thanks for telling me. I’ll pay them right away.
Might even drive down to the bank to get the mortgage all squared in person.
No. Wait.” He dropped his head back and closed his eyes.
“It’s Sunday. I’ll do it first thing tomorrow. ”
Righting again, he cocked his head toward her. “You don’t have to stay if you want to get back, Charity. This situation isn’t your problem, it’s mine.”
Ignoring the comment, she told him instead about how she’d found his mother’s bedroom and what she’d done, showing him the pictures she’d taken on her phone.
“I’m fairly certain I got all the glass. You might want to give it a once over though, to make sure.” His hair fell forward on his face, blocking it when he shook his head and stared down at the table.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned once again that she’d overstepped. Was he angry that she’d taken it upon herself to invade his mom’s privacy and clean her room?
He lifted his head and flicked his hair back, his eyes focused on her face.
“Kolby, what’s wrong? I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to clean your mom’s room, but you were busy at the hospital and I just figured,” she lifted a hand, “why not? I’m here and I thought it might be, I don’t know?
Too much emotionally for you to deal with.
You’ve got a lot going on right now and this was one thing I could help with.
That’s all. I wasn’t snooping or anything. I—”
Kolby halted the rest of her explanation when he rose in one fluid move, pulled her into his arms, and hugged her so tight, every plane and edge of his torso molded against her.
Okay, so this wasn’t the behavior of someone who was angry, and thank you, Jesus, for that.
His hands circled her back as he dropped his head on top of hers and heaved out a sigh so full of emotion she’d be deaf not to hear it.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
“Oh, well,” she patted his back and tried not to think about how darn good it felt to be pressed against him. “You’re more than welcome. It was the least I could do.”
She wanted to say more, but when his fingers ran up and down her back, slowly and seductively, she turned mute.
The beating of his heart against her ear thrummed in a steady, powerful rhythm that did something crazy to the lower half of her body, which, she realized with equal parts horror and delight, was plastered against his.
Not even a wisp of air could have slipped through their bodies to the other side.
Why the notion she could have stood rooted to the spot for the rest of the afternoon with him caressing her back was a viable one, she couldn’t explain. But, Lordy, she didn’t want to move.
Reality slammed through her when she remembered she was supposed to be getting ready for her lunch date with Tom.
With a final back pat, Charity shifted and pulled away until she was standing half a foot from him. She dropped her arms to her sides. It took him a few more beats before he did the same.
“I’ve got to get ready,” she said. Her heart slammed against her ribcage at the expression covering his face. Gone was the cocky, self-assured, always quick with a smirk guy. In its stead was a face filled with such raw longing that she lost the ability to think.
Maybe it wasn’t really longing. Or even desire. Maybe it was relief? Knowing he didn’t have to do everything by himself for once?
CarlieRae’s voice bounded into her head.
“Baby-girl, if you cain’t tell the difference b’tween a man wantin’ you in that way and being relieved 'bout somethin’, I ain’t raised you right. And I know I raised you right.”
Unfortunately, as usual, she was correct.
But did he really want her in that way, or was she just the only female in the vicinity and he’d been through a great deal of stress in the past twenty-four hours? Stress he usually got rid of by doing something physical. Something carnally physical.
She was going to give herself a headache with all the overthinking, that was for sure. Charity took a breath and folded her hands in front of her.
“I’ll help with the rest of it when I get back from lunch. I shouldn’t be more than two hours, tops. Are you going back to the hospital?”
She wanted to high-five herself because her voice gave away nothing that was raging inside her mind.
And, let’s be honest, body.
“No.” He shook his head and wove his fingers through his temples, a gesture she’d come to know, he made when he was distracted. “I’ll head back around dinnertime. Help feed her. She tends to not eat when she gets like this, but if someone feeds her she’s okay.”
“The nursing staff can do that.”
“From past experience, I know she won’t eat for them. Me? She will, even if she's mad at me.”
Just another burden placed on his head. What kind of mother does that to her son? Well, obviously, Charity, one with a mental illness.
“Okay, well, I’m gonna go get ready. Oh, I meant to tell you, I can’t find receipts for half those bags in the living room. Does your mama keep things someplace? Someplace she considers safe?”
“I have no idea. If there’s no receipt, she might just have thrown it away.”
“That’s going to make returning them hard. Would you look around while I’m gone? See if you can find anything? I put the bags without receipts up against the couch, so you’ll know what stores to look for.”
He nodded.
She returned the gesture, then said, “Okay. Off to change.”
In the guest room bathroom, she brushed her hair, washed her face and swiped a coat of mascara across her lashes. A quick dab of concealer hid the tiny half-moons under her eyes that too much work and travel and not much sleep had caused.
Wardrobe choices were limited since she’d come directly from the wedding, so she was forced to settle on the same sundress she’d worn that first night on the island.
Goodness, that seemed like a million years ago.
The doorbell chimed just as she was coming down the stairs.
“Uh, hi. I’m Tom. I’m here for Charity.”
“Hey, Tom,” she said, sidling by Kolby, a broad smile on her face. “I’m ready.”
His smile blossomed as he bent to kiss her cheek.
A swift inhale hissed behind her.
“See you later,” she told Kolby.
He barely nodded, his attention focused on Tom.
“Um, nice meeting you.” Tom said as he went through the door after Charity.
Charity opened the car door and slid into the passenger side. A quick glance at the house and she found Kolby standing in the doorway, his hands slung in the pockets of his jeans, a weird look on his face.
Visions of her brothers standing exactly the same way many moons ago ran through her mind.
Lord, save me from overprotective men.
“So,” Tom said as he put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. “Who’s the ripped guy?”