“For now or…for always?”
“For now. Today, I have to go for now. Grandma has a doctor’s appointment, and I need to drive here there.”
I grabbed her fingers as she tried to walk away, hanging on for one extra moment. Needing more time with us connected. Clinging to the only part of her I could. “Thanks for coming by and for the treats.”
That smile was better. More real. “Thanks for not being a chump again. Sorry about dropping the marshmallow bars.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine. And if not, I’ll eat them anyway.”
“Give the really messed-up ones to Colton.”
“They’re mine. All mine—I’m not sharing.” I licked my lips, finally letting go of her. Fighting back the pressure in my heart as she moved away from me. “Come see me later?”
A shrug. She gave me a shrug and a halfhearted sort of smile. “Maybe.”
There was no telling what hurt more—that bullshit answer or watching her walk away and not knowing if she’d ever be back.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
VIOLET
Driving was a good thing. A moment of freedom when I felt trapped. It let my mind wander, let my body relax as I followed roads and signs. Driving was my escape, and I’d missed it since I rarely drove in the city. Public transportation was too easy, and traffic was too thick to enjoy being behind the wheel. But in the suburbs around Detroit? Out farther west where neighborhoods turned to small farms? Driving became a true pleasure.
I should have been driving across the state, could have been home by then with how much I’d driven after Grandma’s appointment, but instead, I’d literally driven in circles most of the afternoon. Circles that led me right back to where I apparently wanted to be.
The sun hung low in the western sky when I parked in front of Easton’s trailer. His dark, obviously empty trailer. I chewed my lip and tried my hardest not to drive off as I sat there looking toward that metal box. I could have driven over to the shop, but I really wanted to get him alone. I’d messed up horribly that morning. I hadn’t meant to—I’d been in such a state after having sex on his desk. Emotionally raw and almost needy. I wasn’t used to feeling that way, wasn’t used to fighting a connection like the one I felt for Easton. So when he’d told me to stay, when he’d offered himself to me if I could only come back, I hadn’t known how to answer. I’d known what I wanted to say, but there was no way that could happen. I couldn’t come back. He knew that, and still, he’d pushed.
And my God, had I wanted to give in and take him up on his offer, which was why I’d left. And yet, I found myself in front of his trailer. Wishing he were home. Needing to…fix things? I didn’t even know for sure. I just knew I needed to talk to him. Needed to see him.
Unfortunately, Easton’s truck wasn’t in his spot, and I was too set on my plan to talk to him in private to make the drive to the shop. I sat in my car for a good ten minutes wondering what I should do. Stuck in the quagmire of the mess I’d created. Had it really been over ten hours since I’d run out of the shop? Where had the day gone? And why hadn’t I just had the guts to go back and face him? He’d wanted to talk to me, but I’d run from him and then ignored his calls and texts. I was an asshole.
“You okay, dear?”
I startled, tearing my eyes away from the trailer. A woman stood on the sidewalk watching me. Her wavy, dark hair hung past her shoulders, her face so familiar, it threw me off-balance. I felt as if I knew her, but I didn’t know how. “I…yeah. Just…waiting for someone.”
She glanced to the trailer and back, cocking her head at me. “You looking for Easton?”
“Yeah. I guess I am.”
“You must be Violet, then. I’m Constance, Easton’s mom.” She smiled, probably at the surprise I knew had to be showing on my face. She wasn’t old enough to be Easton’s mom, or at least, she didn’t look old enough. But I remembered her from the first day Easton had brought me over here. I hadn’t met her, but I’d seen her from a distance. No wonder she looked so familiar.
I hopped out of the car, my mouth suddenly dry and butterflies dancing in my stomach. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She looked me up and down, her smile growing. “You’re adorable. No wonder my son is so smitten.”
If I’d have still been a teenager, I might have blushed at her words. I definitely swooned a little bit, assuming Easton had told his mom about us. What little us there was.
Constance nodded toward the end of the block, still smiling. “Why don’t you come on over to my place and get out of this sun? He’ll be home soon enough.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” I said with a shake of my head. “I can just head home and call him later or something.”
Her eyebrow winged up. Just one. A trick I wanted to learn. “You head home, and you won’t come back. It took some guts to come out here. Stick around. Entertain an old lady.”
That was probably the last descriptor I’d use for her. “Old?”
She grinned. “I’m not, but I like to spout that off to Easton’s friends. It gets him all riled up for some reason.”
“I can see why. I definitely wouldn’t call you an old lady,” I joked as I leaned into the car to grab my keys. I hadn’t intended on meeting Easton’s mom, especially not without him there to act as a buffer. But I couldn’t exactly tell her no.
Besides, her crooked smirk was too much like Easton’s. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
I followed her to the front porch of a trailer around the corner. Like the others, it was neat and clean, not extravagant but definitely in good shape. Hers had sage-green shutters and a beautiful cedar front porch with screening all around it to keep the bugs away. A perfect outside oasis.
“This is gorgeous.” I headed for one of the plush couches as Constance slipped through the door.
“Thank you,” she hollered from inside. “Easton and the boys built this porch for me when they were in high school.”
I looked around the space with new eyes. Easton, Brogan, and Colton—maybe even Wyatt—had built this with their own hands. There were windows and trim pieces, even a ceiling fan spinning up above. I was amazed. “That was really nice of them to build this for you.”
Within seconds, Constance was back, carrying a tray with a pitcher and glasses. And with a sarcastic sort of smile on her face. “Nice, my ass. They nearly got expelled for hanging a sign from the roof of the school, and this porch was their punishment.”
“Thank you,” I said as she handed me a glass of icy lemonade. “I remember that sign. It was a condom ad slogan for the game against the Trenton Trojans, right? I think I have a picture under it still.”
“And a funny slogan, at that,” she said with a smile. “But his father and I didn’t work as hard as we did to keep him in the district just for him to throw it away his junior year. I practically had to hump Principal Hardy’s leg to convince him to let Easton come back to school.”
Lemonade burned when you choked on it, especially when it backed up into your nose. Constance chuckled and handed me a towel, waiting out my choking fit.
“Sorry,” I said once I finally caught my breath again. “That took me by surprise.”
“Understandable, and I can relate. Finding out my son was hanging out with Violet Foster was certainly a surprise to me.”
I stared, my stomach slowly knotting. “Excuse me?”
“What, you think I don’t know who you are?” The question was innocent enough, spoken in the soft, friendly voice of Easton’s mom while she peered at me from across the porch, but the meaning behind it—the truth there—that was harder. Brutal and humiliating, really. I scrambled for something to say, for something to offer as an explanation. In the end, I had nothing, but Constance did, apparently. “I don’t care about what you did or didn’t do all those years ago. That’s not where I’m going with this conversation.”
“You’re not?” My face burned. Easton’s mother knew about my sex tape. That reality tore right through my
mind. Every inch of me burned, every possible blade of embarrassment laid bare over me. This was a nightmare.
“No. Everyone makes mistakes. Lord knows me and my kids have made more than our share.” She sat back and gave me an appraising look. “No, I’m more worried about what you’re doing now.”
Words didn’t make sense anymore. “Now?”
“Yes, now. You haven’t been home in years. What have you been up to?”
I glanced at the wooden planks and shrugged, unable to hold her gaze. Still fighting the sting of being recognized by her. “Working. Life. The usual boring sort of stuff, I guess.”
“I have a feeling that’s not true.”
Something in her tone, in the way she said the words, gave me the courage to look up. This woman was actually interested in what I did and who I was, not just who I’d once been. My voice was soft when I spoke, barely more than a whisper, but it was more than silent. “I bake. I…work in restaurants making desserts. I’m a pastry chef.”
“Baking is an art form and a science. Hell, cooking in general is a much harder job than people give credit for. Why are you embarrassed by that?”
I shrugged again, to which Constance chuckled.
“I’m not an inquisition squad. I’m just curious about the girl my son chooses to spend his time with. Lord knows he won’t tell me anything.”
I shrugged. “Maybe because there’s nothing going on.”
Constance chuckled. “Please. For the first time in a long time, I hear happiness in his voice. Not the ‘work is going great’ happiness I’ve been listening to for years, but the ‘life is good’ happiness a mother craves for her kids.”
I tried not to smile, scrunching my face to hold it back. “You think?”
“I know. But you don’t sound the same. Did he do something? Do I need to whoop his ass like I did when he was smaller than me? I’m not sure I could anymore, but Gracie would help. She’s always been a little tougher because of hanging around all these boys.”
I shook my head, owning my mistakes. “No. If anyone’s at fault, it’s me.”
“But you’re here to fix that, it seems. That takes courage.” Constance took a drink of her lemonade, her eyes on the flowers in the window box. We were quiet for several minutes, both of us lost in our own worlds. Mine orbited around the things I’d done wrong, the guilt I felt at treating Easton the way I so hated to be treated. But there was fear there as well. A pervasive worry that he might not forgive me. That I’d killed whatever was between us before it even had a chance to truly breathe.
She looked to the street as a car door closed nearby. “Looks like my wild one is home.”
Gracelyn Cole—a girl I’d once tutored in math and who’d played the clarinet in the orchestra with me—opened the screen door, smiling but looking cautiously from her mom to me. “Hey. What’s going on here?”
“Hi, baby.” Constance lifted her face as Grace came closer, accepting a kiss on the cheek from her daughter. “Violet and I are just chatting. You know Violet, right?”
“Yes, of course. It’s nice to see you again.”
“You too. It’s been a long time.” Ten years since I’d run, eleven or so since I’d spent any real time with the girl.
Grace nodded, looking me over as she said, “Easton’s been trying to reach you, you know.”
Crap. I yanked my phone from my pocket and brought the screen to life. Missed calls and texts, ones I’d been ignoring all day. Ones I’d forgotten to check once I’d pulled up at the trailer. “I was with my grandma most of the day then decided to take a drive. I should have looked—”
“Sometimes a girl needs a day to herself. No harm, no foul for that.” Grace leaned against the side of the trailer, her eyes locked on mine, her flared skirt climbing her thigh as she raised a foot. Colors and patterns peeked from under the fabric, a tattoo of something leading up her thigh. Something I couldn’t help but stare at. At least until Constance reminded me why I was there.
“How about you call him, baby?” Constance said to Grace. “Tell him to get his butt home right now. But don’t tell him why.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Grace grinned and pulled her phone from the neckline of her dress. She typed something, then turned away, stepping inside so we couldn’t hear her, I assumed.
“You don’t want him to know I’m here?”
Constance grinned. “Nope. That boy has been a workaholic since his dad left us high and dry, always trying to earn that extra money he thought would give him some stability. He’ll be mad having to leave work, especially if Gracie won’t tell him why. She knows just how to wheedle her way under that boy’s skin. Seeing you will clear all that irritation up, though.”
If only that were true. “I doubt it. I really screwed up this morning.”
“I figured you were feeling guilty about something. Don’t worry, honey. Easton’s too smitten to stay mad for long. He’ll come around.”
I could only hope.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EASTON
Violet was sitting on my front step when I pulled up to my trailer that night. It took me about ten seconds to believe my eyes and another twenty to figure out what to do. When Gracie had called, she’d said I needed to get home or I’d be pissed, and she was right. But I wasn’t ready for this. As much as I’d chased down Violet all day, I wasn’t ready to see her. Wasn’t ready to hear her say she was leaving for good.
I couldn’t leave her sitting on my porch, though, so I turned off the truck, took a deep breath, and manned up. She stood when I finally opened the door, looking so damned nervous. But I couldn’t fall for that. The girl had some serious talking to do. We both did.
“Hey,” she called.
I slammed the truck door, still not moving toward her. “Hey yourself.”
She fidgeted with the skirt of her skirt, having a hard time keeping her eyes on mine. “I…hope you don’t mind that I just showed up like this.”
I shook my head and took a single step in her direction. Drawn to her but holding myself back. “I don’t mind, though you’d better have something to say after today’s disappearing act.”
She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment before bracing herself as if for a battle. “I’m sorry I ran from you this morning. I should have stuck around so we could talk about things.”
I blew out a breath and ran my hand through my hair. “Okay.”
“Okay?” she asked, looking at me as if I’d gone crazy. And maybe I had, but there was a finality to our relationship. Something I could see coming but refused to avoid. As bad as it would be for me, I just wanted to spend time with her. To dig down deep and see if there was any way to help her. To convince her to stay. If that was fixing her, as Gracie and Brogan thought I was doing, so be it. She was here, she was talking, and to be honest, that was enough for me. For the moment.
“Yeah,” I said with a shrug. “Okay.”
“That’s it?” She stepped closer, looking completely confused. “Just okay?”
When she was close enough, I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against my chest. Needing to touch. To feel. To know she was still here. “Yeah, just okay. I accept your apology. We can talk this shit out when we get inside. I’m just really fucking happy you’re standing on my walk and not halfway to Chicago by now.”
Her face fell. “I thought about it.”
Those words of hers nearly shattered something inside of me. I knew she had, could have guessed it, but hearing her confirm that fact sent everything I was trying to build crashing to the ground. There really was no future with her, not how I hoped. But I still wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet. Not on something as good as I knew she and I could be.
“How far did you get?” I asked, keeping a chokehold on the churning in my gut.
“Jackson. Then I went north for a while. But I came back.”
Ninety minutes. That’s how far west she got on what would be a five-hour drive. Not even halfway. I could work with that.
>
“Good. Because I’m not ready to let you go, though I don’t want to play that game again. No more disappearing on me—you’re upset, run to me, not away.”
She gripped my arms, those green eyes I’d been dying to see all day looking a little red-rimmed and watery. “I’m sorry. Running away was a crappy thing for me to do.”
And yet something I should have been expecting. She was a runner, not a fighter. And she’d run again. So I did the only thing I could do in that moment, the only thing I wanted to. I kissed her hard, refusing to give her time to think. I had her back. No matter how bad things were going to get when she finally left, I had to take advantage of what she was willing to give me. Needed to.
She lifted her arms, wrapping them around my neck, pulling me to her level. I went willingly, wishing we were already inside so I could strip her down. I knew we needed to talk more, knew we had some things to say still, but tossing her ass in my bed seemed like a much better idea.
Maybe she wasn’t the only one of us who was hiding.
But as the kiss turned heated, as my hands gripped her ass over her flirty little skirt and pulled her against where I was already so hard for her, our night was interrupted.
“Might want to take that inside, Easton.” Dalton stood on the sidewalk, giving me a smile that was far too smug.
Sighing, aching to get my girl alone, I took a step back from Violet. Gave us both a little room. But I kept my arm around her waist and started pulling her toward my porch. “How you doing, Dalton?”
Pop The Clutch: A Second Gear Romance Page 16
