Wonderful because we’re building a whole new client base that will keep my dad busy through the entire winter; painful because my current kitchen status consists of a tiny sink, a hot plate, and two small cupboards.
One thing I did as soon as we started working on the Bowmans’ place was to have signs made so we could stick them at the end of the driveway and another on the lakeside for all the nosy boaters. Since I took that step, we’ve had at least two calls a day from other interested lake dwellers. We’ve more than made up for the two lost clients resulting from Billy’s accident.
With enough winter projects, my dad won’t have to take on quite so many snowplowing contracts. Those contracts are lucrative but also dangerous, because the winter storms can be particularly fierce here, and a lot of car accidents happen as a result.
Limiting the snow removal to driveways and local businesses will mean my dad is safer, and we’ll have less wear and tear on the company vehicles. It’s a win all the way around.
My dad takes the wheel on the trip back home, and we stop at the diner to grab a bite to eat and pick up Mom, who sometimes works the Sunday-morning shift. She doesn’t have to—the house is paid off, and my dad can easily afford to maintain their simple lifestyle on his salary alone—but she loves the socialness of it.
She tried to scale back her hours a few years ago, but she didn’t like being idle, and she missed the conversation and the people. I also think she likes the opportunity to keep tabs on what’s going on in town, and she doesn’t want to get sucked back into the bookkeeping for my dad.
“Do you know what time Billy came home last night?” I ask as we pull off the smoothly paved road and back onto the pitted one that will take us through town.
Dad taps the steering wheel. “I figured he came home with you.”
“I lost track of him when the storm rolled in.” Worry and guilt make my throat and shoulders tight.
“Well, his door was closed this morning, and he left dirty shoe prints all over the kitchen floor, so he made it home fine either way.” He gives me a small smile, the kind that holds strain.
“Do you know what’s going on with him? I know he’s always been a bit of an ongoing concern, but he’s not a teenager anymore, and he’s still kind of acting like one.”
“You know boys are slow to mature.”
I nod. “Sure, I get it, and he and I talked about how it’s hard for him with me being back home, but I don’t know . . . I worry that there’s more going on. He has such huge ups and downs. Last night he was trying to do keg stands with a cast.”
“He was just looking to impress his friends.”
I should know better than to expect my dad to admit that there are more things wrong than he’d like there to be. It’s not that he doesn’t see it; it’s more that he doesn’t want to make Billy feel worse. Living in the shadow of a sibling isn’t easy, and I’m sure finding the balance between celebrating one child’s glowing accomplishments and another’s less flashy ones is tricky.
“Probably,” I agree.
I know he doesn’t want Billy to feel like his path is any less valued than mine, and having me home, working with Dad, makes that so much more of a challenge. I let it be for now.
“Do we have any more news on the court date?” I took Billy to meet with Bernie not that long ago, but I haven’t heard anything back yet, and I worry that if we don’t obtain the information directly from the source, Billy might accidentally forget to say something and miss it.
“Not yet. Hopefully next month, though. It’d be great to get that over with so it’s one less stress for your mom. I think we’d all like to move on.”
Again, I bite my tongue. There’s more to this than just getting it out of the way, but I don’t want to make more waves than necessary right now.
It’s early afternoon by the time we get back home, and I still have to tackle the mess that is my trailer. At least the sun is shining, and we’re not expecting another storm, based on the current weather reports.
I spend the next couple of hours tidying up, but there’s a musty smell in the trailer. I open the windows and haul everything out, fill a bucket with water, add bleach and soap, and get to work scrubbing down the surfaces. I also mark all the spots that leak and search my dad’s garage for the supplies I need to patch things up.
The entire trailer probably needs replacing, but I can’t see doing that now—not when I don’t have plans to stay here past Thanksgiving. But even as I think it, I wonder if it’s actually true, because as much as I love the city, I’m starting to find that I’m getting comfortable here, maybe more than I realized.
I’m in the middle of patching one of the bigger holes when my phone rings. The sound is muffled and probably coming from my purse. I drop what I’m doing, aware I haven’t heard anything from anyone all day.
I find my phone before the call goes to voice mail. I’ve missed more than forty messages.
“Hello?”
“Why is it dinnertime and we still don’t have an update on what happened last night?” Tawny barks.
“Unless you’re still with Van the Man? Oh my gosh, you’re breathing heavy. We totally interrupted, didn’t we?” Allie asks, which means they’re both on the call.
I check the time, worried I’m going to be late for my date, but it’s only five. When I was growing up, Tawny’s family always ate dinner at four thirty because her mom didn’t like to eat after dark. “What? No. I wouldn’t have answered the phone if I was having sex. And Van the Man is a terrible nickname.”
“Not if he is the man.” I can hear her brows waggling. “So? What the heck happened? The last message you sent was yesterday night at ten.”
“We ended up taking cover and waiting out the storm.”
“In the back seat of your truck?” Allie asks, voice vibrating with excitement.
“I would not have sex in my dad’s truck!” I shout and then peek out the window to make sure no one’s around to hear me. “I’m not in high school anymore. Back seat sexing is not in the cards. Besides, it’s awkward as hell.”
“So you waited out the storm. Then what?”
“We went back to his place.”
“For heaven’s sake, Dee, will you stop making us drag it out of you? Did you or didn’t you ride the Van Express?”
“The Van Express? What is this, high school?” It certainly reminds me of the days when we used to go on dates and then tell each other all the gritty details—the good, the bad, the ugly, and the disappointing.
“Stop evading and answer the damn question,” Allie demands.
“Am I on speakerphone?” The last thing I want to do is tell everyone in town about last night’s sexcapades.
“Yeah, but we’re inside my house,” Tawny assures me. “No one can hear you except me and Allie . . . and my cat, Narbles, but your secret is safe with her since she can only communicate in high-pitched yowls.”
“I did ride the Van Express. More than once, actually.”
“Yes! I knew it! You owe me twenty bucks!” Tawny’s shrill voice forces me to pull the phone away from my ear.
“You two made a bet?” I chuckle.
“As if you’re surprised. I figured you wouldn’t make it past third base; obviously you’ve changed since high school,” Allie mutters, clearly annoyed that she didn’t win.
“Are you slut shaming me?”
“What? No! Of course not. I’m just saying, you made Tucker wait forever before you let him get past third base.”
“He was relentless, and not worth losing my virginity to.”
“But this sex was good?” Tawny shifts the topic back to Van, probably because talking about Tucker always put me in a sour mood back in the day, and nothing has changed.
“Mind-blowingly fabulous, actually.”
“Does this mean we’re getting together later tonight so you can share all the juicy details then?”
“Uh, detail sharing will have to wait; I’m having dinner with Van toni
ght.”
“Like a date? Is he taking you out somewhere? Are you going to the Pearl Tavern? I hear they have amazing steak, but it’s, like, sixty dollars for a tiny little piece. I mean, it’s wrapped in bacon, but they apparently don’t even have barbecue sauce or A1 either.”
This time when I laugh, I snort.
“Seriously, Allie?” Tawny chastises. “Everyone knows if the steak is really good, you don’t even need the barbecue sauce.”
“Well, obviously I’ve never had steak that good, so excuse me for liking it with barbecue sauce. At least I don’t use ketchup!”
I hear the sound of shuffling in the driveway and peek out the window. I catch a shadow, but whoever it is disappears around the side of the house. I worry it’s one of Billy’s friends. I haven’t seen my brother at all since last night, and I have to assume that he’s sleeping off his hangover. “Hey, can I call you back? I think there’s someone here.”
“Tomorrow night you have plans with me and Allie—seven o’clock, drinks at my place.”
“Tomorrow at seven. Got it.”
“And there will be details. We’ll be worse than the football team after a keg party.”
I make a fake gagging sound. “I sincerely hope not. Those guys were always gross times a million after one of their postgame keggers. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Have fun tonight!”
I end the call, smiling to myself. It’s nice to have Tawny and Allie back in my life. They were always such great friends. Even when I decided to go away to college, they were supportive of my decision.
I fling open the door to the trailer, intent on checking on Billy and getting ready for my date with Van, when Tucker, of all people, comes staggering around the side of the house. I used to think he was so gorgeous. Everyone did. He was a classic all-American football player who got good grades and was prom-king material, went to college upstate, and came home all the time to brag to his friends about all the fun he was having, and yet he still ended up back here. Ended up with my frenemy.
Except maybe appearances are far more deceiving than I first believed them to be.
“Hey. I was looking for you. No one answered the door, and now I know why.” He jams a hand in his pocket and weaves two steps to the right before he overcorrects and stumbles on a divot in the grass.
I cross my arms. “What’re you doing here, Tucker?”
His gaze slides over me, not quite tracking, and he smirks. “I came to see you. What else would I be doing here?”
“Are you drunk? Did you drive here?” I glance behind him, looking for a car, but there isn’t one.
“I walked with my friend Johnnie.” He pulls a flask from his pocket and shakes it around. It doesn’t make any sound, which tells me it’s empty.
I sigh, annoyed that he’s drunk and obviously here to stir up shit. “Why would you be here to see me when you have a baby and girlfriend at home?”
He runs a hand through his hair. “The kid’s not mine.”
“What does that mean?”
He unscrews the flask and tries to take a sip but discovers what I already know: there’s nothing left. He sighs and gives me a wry smile. “I’m shooting blanks.”
“I’m sorry. What?”
“I can’t have kids. Got tested a while back, after Sue got pregnant, ’cause the dates didn’t line up.”
“Should you be telling me this?”
He shrugs. “You’ll find out eventually. Everyone will, ’cause Sue is sleeping with Sterling. Has been for a while now. Based on our kid, for at least a year.”
That’s what Tawny and Allie were saying last night at the beach party, but sometimes gossip is fiction, not fact. That doesn’t seem to be the case here. “Geez, Tucker, why are you telling me all this?” I don’t want this kind of information. This is one of the reasons I wanted out of here when I was a teenager. I’m happy in my bubble, one that doesn’t include Tucker and his messed-up relationships.
He lifts a shoulder and lets it fall. “I fucked up, Darlin’. With you, I mean. I didn’t realize what I had until I lost it.”
“You cheated on me all the time or called breaks when you wanted to rub your hookups in my face, and then you ended up with freaking Sue.”
“I know.” He hangs his head. “I made so many mistakes. I thought . . . I don’t know. I was mad that you were leaving.”
“And you thought cheating and hookups would somehow communicate that to me?”
“If you knew, why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you ever call me out on it?”
“What would it have changed? The damage was already done, Tucker. I’m not saying this to hurt you, but I was biding my time. We weren’t meant to have a forever, but we were too connected by all of our friends to break up and it not be awkward. I didn’t want my last summer to be ruined. Should I have called you out? Probably. But I can’t go back and change things.”
“You’re here now, though.” He rocks back on his heels.
“I didn’t come back for you, Tucker. I came back for my family.”
“Word has it your boyfriend dumped you, and now you’re hooking up with your neighbor.”
“This freaking town and the gossip mongering is ridiculous,” I mutter. “My ex-boyfriend and I split amicably because he wanted to move to Connecticut for a job and I wasn’t interested in following him.”
“So you just came back because of what happened with Billy?”
“And because my dad needed my help.”
“There’s no chance for us, then, huh?”
I blow out a breath, frustrated, but aware that this is a conversation I should have had years ago. “There wasn’t a chance for us the second you started sleeping with people who weren’t me when we were still dating. Or calling a break and hooking up with people in front of my face.”
“I just wanted you to stay.”
“No offense, but that was a stupid way to show me you wanted me to stick around.”
“My ego got in the way back then.”
“Does Sue know that you’re aware of what’s going on?”
He shrugs.
“Does Sterling?”
“I think he thinks he’s been all sly about it.” He hangs his head. “I wanted you to come back and be jealous, but it’s pretty much the other way around now, isn’t it?”
Despite all the crap he put me through, I feel bad for him. He might have hurt me back then, but I let him get away with it, which probably didn’t help things. And then I disappeared. Neither of us ever got the closure we needed.
“I should probably go home, but I can’t.”
“Because Sue will be upset that you’re drunk.”
“Nah, she won’t care about that. I drove by the house earlier this afternoon and saw Sterling’s tow truck parked two streets over. I don’t want to go home and smell him all over her.”
I sigh. I would like to get ready for my date, but at the same time, sending Tucker home in his state probably isn’t the best idea.
“Why don’t you come in? The trailer’s not in the best shape, but I can make you something to eat so you can sober up and get a handle on yourself before you go home.”
“Why are you always so good to everyone, even when they screw you over?” He stumbles forward a couple of steps.
“It’s a personality flaw.” I take him by the elbow and lead him into the trailer. He almost hits his head on the top of the door but manages to duck just in time. “Do you still like peanut butter and honey, or have your taste buds matured since high school?”
“I still like peanut butter and honey. You got the clover stuff?”
“Is there any other kind?” I pull the peanut butter and honey and bread out and set them on the tiny counter as Tucker slides onto the bench and folds his hands on the table.
He looks so broken and defeated, like life has beaten him down. It makes me sad to see Tucker like this, the creator of his own demise, unable to break the cycle he perpetuates. A victim of his own m
aking.
CHAPTER 17
ECHOES
Van
Dillion should be here soon, and I have zero chill, so I head outside to check the truck and make sure I haven’t left a bunch of take-out cups on the floor. Grammy Bee couldn’t stand garbage in the truck. When I was a teenager, if I left so much as the corner of a wrapper on the floor, she’d make me scrub the whole thing by hand as punishment.
I consider, for half a second, taking the BMW instead. It’s a much smoother ride, and a nicer car, but Dillion is as impressed with material things as I am with soggy breakfast cereal. And I’d rather drive the truck anyway. It might not have the best shocks, but it fits in better here than a sports car. Also, the front seat is a bench, with no center console, which means no physical barriers.
I find an empty coffee cup in the holder on the dash, but otherwise it’s clean. I toss it in the garbage and hear the sound of Dillion’s trailer door spring shut, indicating that she’s probably on her way over. Dillion is nearly silent when she’s coming through the path, and half the time she magically appears at the edge of the property line and scares the crap out of me. But this time I catch the loud crunch of gravel and what sounds like someone dragging their feet. It’s followed by mumbling. Unless Dillion has suddenly come down with some kind of illness that causes her voice to drop two octaves, a dude just left her trailer.
I catch movement between the trees and someone heading down the driveway. And that someone happens to be Tucker the Fucker.
He doesn’t appear to be moving very quickly, so I walk to the end of my own driveway and cut him off before he can reach the end of Dillion’s. I slip one hand in my pocket, aiming for nonchalant. “Hey, Tucker.”
He startles, his attention having been on his feet. His gaze is slow to meet mine. “Oh, hey, Van.”
“What are you doing here?” I flip my keys around on my finger.
He glances back over his shoulder, like he’s not quite sure where he is. “Nothin’. I’m not doing anything.”
Love Next Door Page 17
