I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing my dad were still here. He would know what to do—though it’s not lost on me that if he were here I probably wouldn’t be in this situation. My mind drifts back to the look on my mom’s face when Trevor got paged earlier this evening. She was watching me, waiting, hoping that I’d come to her. I’m not sure I’m ready to hear what she has to say, but I know in my heart of hearts there’s no one more likely to talk me through this than her.
I blink up at Mo. “Can you take me to Mom’s?”
“Okay.” Mo puts the truck in drive and pulls away. We get about halfway home before she gets enough courage to talk. “What happened back there?”
“I think I broke up with Trevor.” The words spill from my mouth, and I cry. I cry because he was right. I am a coward, and I don’t deserve him.
Mo doesn’t say another word. With one hand on the wheel and the other resting on my back, she makes the drive to my mother’s.
The second we pull into the driveway, Mom has her front door open.
I reach for Milo, but Mo stops me. “Go. I’ll take care of her tonight.”
“Are you sure?”
She nods. “Yeah, you’ve got enough on your plate. Go do what you need to do.”
“Thank you.”
I walk up the sidewalk to the porch.
“I thought I might be seeing you,” Mom says, holding the door open so I can walk in.
I wave to Mo, letting her know it’s okay to leave. I don’t have a car here, but that’s okay. Sometimes a girl just needs her mother, and we’re long overdue for a sleepover. It’s a good thing Phil sleeps in a hospital bed in his own room or it would get a little awkward because I have every intention of sleeping in Daddy’s spot tonight.
Mom shuts the door, turns around, and opens her arms. I walk straight into them the way I’ve always done—the way I should’ve done tonight at the Allens’. Maybe if I’d given her the chance to talk to me then, I could’ve avoided all this bullshit tonight.
“Oh, baby.” Mom holds me while I cry. She strokes my hair the same way she did when I was a little girl and skinned my knee, whispering in my ear that everything is going to be okay. Minutes pass, maybe hours, but eventually my crying stops, and Mom leads me to the living room and pushes me onto the couch.
Tucking my feet under my butt, I reach for the tattered old afghan on the back of the couch and pull it over my legs. Daddy used to love this afghan. My grandma made it for him when he graduated from the fire academy.
Closing my eyes, I pull the soft material to my face and inhale. The blanket has been washed more times than I can count, but I can still smell him. Cuddling with me on the couch at the end of a long day, he would tell me about all of the crazy calls he’d gone out on, and I would tell him about school while Mom whipped up a pitcher of warm tea or hot chocolate. And then she would join us. The warmth of the blanket makes it feel like his strong arms are wrapped around me again.
We were a small family of three, but what we lacked in size, we made up for in love.
“Your daddy loved this afghan,” Mom says softly, curling up on the couch next to me. I hand her a corner of the blanket, and she tugs it up over her legs.
Shifting on the couch, I rest my head on her shoulder. She pats my leg and sighs. “There’s nothing he loved more than curling up on the couch after a long shift with his little girl and this blanket,” she says as if she were reading my mind.
I smile to myself. “I was just thinking about that, about all the laughs we had.”
“And tears,” she adds. “Lots of tears.”
I laugh. “And a few fights.”
Tilting my head, I look up to find Mom smiling wistfully. “He loved you so much, Claire. You were his pride and joy. He boasted about you to anyone and everyone who would listen. He’d rave about how well you were doing in gymnastics and in your advanced classes. He didn’t care what he was talking about, as long as it had to do with you.”
When I was younger, I thought it was annoying to stand there and listen to Dad go on and on about whatever was going on in my life, but now I’d give anything to relive those days.
“I miss him.”
Mom presses her lips to the top of my head and takes a deep breath. She pauses a moment before blowing it out. “Me too, baby. Me too.”
“Do you think about him a lot?”
“Every day.”
Over the years I’ve avoided talking about Daddy too much. Whether it was to protect myself or Mom from an onslaught of memories, I don’t know. But I’m ready now.
“What do you miss most about him?” I ask.
“Everything,” she whispers. “I miss his arms wrapped around me at night. I miss the way he’d kiss me every morning. I miss the hugs and the way his eyes would dilate every time he told me he loved me. And the way he’d try to cook but would end up ordering takeout because he couldn’t follow a recipe to save his life. I miss his smile and laughter, and the stupid jokes he used to tell.”
I laugh, wiping the wetness from my eyes. “His jokes were so stupid.”
She laughs, but it breaks into a sob, and when I look up she’s brushing a tear from her cheek. “I miss the way he’d call every night after you were in bed and ask about my day. Sometimes we would sit and talk for hours about anything and nothing. It was nice having that connection with him when he spent so much time away from home. But most of all, I miss the small things, the things I didn’t realize he did until he wasn’t here to do them anymore.”
I wait for her to continue, and when she doesn’t, I urge her on. “Like what? What things?”
“I miss his hand on the small of my back when we’d enter a room, and the way he’d always act as if I was the only woman around—the only woman worth his attention. His eyes never strayed. I miss the feel of his hand in mine while walking down the sidewalk, and the way he used to walk beside me rather than in front of me, and how he used to open a door for me. Any door. The front door, the car door, a door to the department store or movie theater. He always opened the door and never walked in before me. Men these days don’t do those sorts of things for women.”
Trevor does, I think to myself.
Trevor.
He holds my door and my hand and not once have I caught him looking at another woman. He presses his hand to my lower back and always goes out of his way to tell me how beautiful I look and how much he cares.
Listening to Mom talk makes me realize that maybe I want all the little things too—cuddling on the couch at night, cooking together and watching movies after a long day of work.
It also makes me realize what I’ve given up…the chance to have any of that with Trevor.
“I screwed up, Mom,” I cry, pressing my face into her neck. She smells the same way she always has, like sunshine and apples and home.
“Talk, Claire. That’s the only way I can help you get through this.”
I take a deep breath and ask the question that’s been on the tip of my tongue for over a decade. “If you had known Daddy was going to die—that he was going to leave you—would you have still married him, or would you have done things differently?”
“What? No, Claire.” She shakes her head. “Your father was the light of my life until you came along, and then you two shared the spotlight. Yes, it killed me to lose him, but I wouldn’t change a minute of my time with him. He was with me through most of the ups and downs life threw my way, and he gave me you.” Her voice wavers and she places a palm on my cheek. “He gave me you, my sweet girl. My Claire Bear.”
I laugh tremulously and wipe the tears from my face. “I haven’t been called that in a long time. Not since Daddy died.”
“I know, and that’s my fault. You were his little Claire Bear, and it didn’t seem right coming from me. I always sort of felt like it was a thing for the two of you.”
“Now maybe it can be a thing between us.”
Her face softens. She watches me warily for a few seconds and then asks, “Do you
love him?”
I nod, blinking back tears. “With all of my heart.”
“Then don’t let him go.”
Those words from her mouth surprise me. I sort of thought she would be pleased that Trevor and I broke up. “You mean that?”
“Of course I do. Claire, I just want you to be happy. And if Trevor makes you happy—if he’s that guy, then I couldn’t be happier for you.”
“But what if I lose him? What if he leaves me the same way Daddy did?”
“What if he doesn’t? What if you two get married and have babies and grow old together?” she says, squeezing my hand.
What if he doesn’t?
What if he doesn’t?
Oh my gosh, what if he doesn’t?
I’ve always believed in fate. I might’ve tried to fight it from time to time, but I’ve always been a firm believer that we all have a set path we were born to live. What if Trevor is fated to live a long, healthy life doing what he loves and I just walked away from him? I left him behind, along with my heart.
I did that.
I walked away.
He was right. I ruined the best thing that has ever happened to me.
And for what? Because I couldn’t see the bigger picture from a different angle? What does that say about me as a person?
For most of my adult life, I’ve been convinced someone like Trevor would hurt me, and here I am the one hurting him.
He told me he loved me, and while I returned the sentiment with words, my actions told an entirely different story.
Christ, he was right. I am a coward. Walking away from him isn’t going to make me happy, it’s going to make me a sad, lonely woman, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering what if.
What if I hadn’t walked away?
What if I’d tried?
What if I’d looked past my fears and begged him to forgive me?
I look at Mom. Tears stream down my face. “I love him.” I’ve said those three words to him time and time again, but I’ve never felt them the way I do now. “I love him.” I half laugh half cry and wipe a fresh wave of tears from my face. “Trevor is the love of my life, and I don’t want to be without him.”
“Then go,” she says. Grabbing her keys out of her purse, she shoves them into my hand. “Go to him. Tell him.”
“I was horrible to him. He begged me to stay and talk to him, and I walked away.”
“You weren’t horrible, sweetheart. You were scared, and if he loves you, he’ll give you the chance to explain.”
“I gotta go.”
“Go.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind me taking your car?”
“I’m sure. Go.”
With my heart in my throat, I make the five-mile trek to Trevor’s house. His truck is in the driveway, along with Coop’s and Rhett’s. Great, that’s just what I need. For a split second, I wonder if I should leave and come back when he’s alone, but I can’t get myself to put the car in reverse, and the thought of going another second with him second-guessing my love for him makes my chest hurt.
I put the car in park, and I’m halfway to the door when the porch light flicks on and the front door opens. Rhett steps out onto the porch and shuts the door behind him. He’s never looked at me with anything other than love and acceptance, but tonight I see neither of those things in his stormy gaze.
“What are you doing here, Claire?”
I’ve known Rhett for far too long, which is how I know there’s a giant, soft teddy bear beneath his steely gaze. “You know why I’m here.”
“Humor me.”
“I want to talk to Trevor.”
“I think you’ve said enough.”
I’m frustrated that I have to deal with Rhett when all I want to do is see his brother. But I’m more frustrated with myself for putting all of us into this situation to begin with.
“Really, Rhett? You’re going to make me go through you to get to Trevor? I didn’t butt into your relationship when you and Mo were trying to work things out, and so I’d appreciate it if you’d stay out of mine.”
Rhett walks to the edge of the porch. “He’s my brother, and one of the best men I know, and do you have any idea what I told him when he wanted to pursue you?”
I shake my head.
“I told him not to hurt you. I told him not to hurt you, because I knew that if one of you was going to fuck things up, it was going to be him.” He glares at me for a moment. “Damn it, I was wrong. Not once did I think you’d be the one to hurt him, and do you know how that makes me feel?”
“Probably a lot like how I feel right now, if I had to guess.”
Rhett pinches his lips together in a thin line and watches me walk toward him.
“I made a mistake, Rhett, and I need to apologize, but not to you, to him.” I point toward the door behind him. “I understand you’re upset with me. I’m upset with me. But I learn from my mistakes, and I try hard not to make the same ones twice, and I promise you I will never hurt your brother again. I love your brother with my whole heart.”
Rhett’s eyes soften as the front door flies open. “Are you still giving her the third degree? Because if you’re done, I have a few things I’d like to say,” Coop says.
Sighing, I drop my chin to my chest. “Not you, too.”
“Yeah, me, too,” he says, joining his brother on the porch. They look so much alike. And while they’re both incredibly handsome, they don’t hold a candle to Trevor.
Trevor.
My Trevor is somewhere in that house thinking I don’t love him the way he loves me.
“Please, guys,” I beg. “All I want to do is talk to Trevor.”
“So talk,” comes the voice I wanted to hear the most.
Rhett and Coop turn around. Trevor stands in the entryway of his house. Sweatpants hang low on his hips. His hair is still wet from a shower, and his expression is unreadable as he stares at me.
“Are you going to come in, or are you just going to stand out there?”
“I’m coming in.”
Stepping over the threshold seems like such a big deal, and when I try to shut the door, Rhett stops me.
“Oh no, we’re coming in too.”
I roll my eyes and when I turn around, Trevor is gone. Rhett and Coop hang back, but I walk around the corner into the living room.
Trevor is sitting on his couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands hanging down. He isn’t looking at me, and that can’t be a good thing.
“Can I sit?”
He nods but doesn’t look up, and rather than take the seat next to him, I sit in the recliner.
“You were right, and I was wrong. I am a coward. I was scared—terrified, really—and it was easier to run away from you when I should’ve been running toward you. But I’ve been running my whole life. It’s all I know how to do. I ran away from Heaven only to come back. I ran away far and fast from any man who had an occupation I deemed unsafe. I ran from the counselor my senior year when she tried to get me to open up about my father’s death. I don’t think I ever told you that.”
That catches Trevor’s attention. He glances up, but doesn’t give me much more than that.
“If I could change any moment in time, I’d change that moment because I think if I had sat there and let her pull everything out of me—all of my fears and insecurities—it would’ve prevented a whole lot of heartache down the road. Not just for me, but for you, because I hurt you tonight, and I don’t ever want to hurt you again. I love you, Trevor.”
My tears are falling, and I don’t bother to wipe them away because they just keep coming. “I love you with all of my heart, and I want every moment with you I can get. I don’t want to live in the tomorrow, worrying about what might happen. I want to live today in this moment with you. I want every laugh and fight and tear. I want to get married and have babies. I want to join the ladies auxiliary at the fire department and be there for you when you come home from a long shift. I’m so sorry I did that t
o you—to us—tonight, and if you give me a second chance, I swear I’ll never fail you again.”
“What changed, Claire? A few hours ago you were ready to write me off for good. What changed between then and now? How do I know you won’t get spooked again and run?”
He has every right not to trust my words, and I hate that I did that to us. I only hope I can fix it. “After the fire, Mo dropped me off at Mom’s. We had a long talk, and I realized something while I was there. For years, more than anything else, I’ve remembered the pain my father’s death caused—I’ve allowed the memory of his death to overshadow his life. I think wanting to keep my heart safe and wanting to honor his memory through the way I lived my life were part of that too. But Mom, she looks at things much differently. She’s focused on the time she had with him, all the laughter and tears, and the great memories they made during their years together. I always thought I avoided firefighters and men with certain occupations because I never wanted to feel the pain of losing another loved one. But now I think I stayed away from those men because I was afraid of falling in love. I was afraid of finding the kind of love my parents shared, and I was afraid of what it would do to me if I lost it.”
I search Trevor’s face, trying to gauge his reaction, but he’s giving nothing away. “Falling in love with you wasn’t part of my plan. But I did. I fell hard and fast, and I know now that I want what my parents had. I want the nights cuddled on the couch watching movies. I want family dinners and date nights, and I want to cook with you and laugh with you and cry with you. I want the memories—good and bad. What you said during our fight…it got to me, Trevor. I don’t want to be a coward. I don’t want to waste my life because I’m too afraid to live it. That’s not what being safe means. I want you to help me, just like I’ll help you. We’ll work our way through all of this together. You were right. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m not going to let you walk away. I don’t want the pain of my past to overshadow my future any more than it already has, and I sure as hell don’t want to look back wondering what could’ve been. I want to do this. I want to live. You’re the love of my life, Trevor. You’re my first true love, and I want you to be my last.” My voice cracks on that final word, and I wipe away my tears.
Crazy, Hot Love Page 25
