by Kate Benson
“I can’t help it,” she chuckles. “You’re just such a sweet boy.”
“Yeah, I know,” I sigh, shaking my head. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation to uphold around here, ya know?”
“Oh, hush,” she snorts. “There’s nothing wrong with a boy carin’ about his mama.”
“Still. This stays between us,” I tease, pulling another giggle from her as she nods her agreement. “Tell me what you want for lunch.”
“How about some chili?”
“Chili?” I ask, barely able to hold the smirk back. “It’s the middle of May and you’re craving chili, huh?”
“I am.”
“Well, then chili you shall have, Mamacita.”
***
“I invited Ava over for dinner tonight,” my mom announces as we settle into the small booth for lunch. “We’ll eat by six and I’ll expect you to behave.”
“Why wouldn’t I behave?” I ask, smirking at her as I take a sip from my glass.
“Well, I know you’ve got it in your mind that I’m trying to play some crazy matchmaker with you two,” she says, making me laugh. “I don’t know where you got that hibbity jibbity from, but nonetheless…”
“You don’t know where I got that hibbity jibbity from, huh?” I ask, wiping my chin on a napkin as I narrow my eyes. “You don’t think sending me over there in hurricane conditions to take the girl a cake was a tipping point in the crazy?”
“That didn’t mean anything,” she waves me off, making me shake my head in amusement. “That’s just called being a good neighbor.”
“Ahh,” I nod. “And I suppose telling me to ask her out every time I’ve seen you in the last three weeks was all part of your little private welcome wagon?”
“Son, this is exactly what I’m talking about with you behaving,” she scolds me, this time threatening to make my drink come out of my nose. “Just act like I raised you right, would you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I snicker. “I’m surprised your spies haven’t already reported back to you, but she came with me and some of the guys last night to the festival.”
“She did, huh?” she asks, her eyes lighting up when I nod. “And did you enjoy yourselves?”
“Yeah, it was fun,” I shrug, unwilling to admit just how much fun I’d had or that I hadn’t stopped thinking of her since. “We’re just friends, though. Don’t start planning a wedding or anything.”
“Well, everyone starts as something,” she winks, laughing at my dramatic reaction. “I’m just teasing, kid. I’m glad you had fun. And I’m glad you’ll be a good boy at supper.”
“I’m always a good boy,” I insist, taking a huge bite from my burger and making her cringe as mayonnaise drips on my chin, burrowing itself into what’s becoming a beard. “What?”
“Wolves!” she exclaims. “The whole town must think you were raised by wolves!”
Chapter Eight
Ava
“What was it like living in New England, Ava?” Mrs. Foster asks me over dinner, the question pulling both her and Nate’s eyes to mine.
I’d been nervous about coming over after everything I was feeling when Nate dropped me off last night. I had fun, more fun than I’d had since before I can remember if I’m being honest. However, there was something unsafe about the possibility of falling for another man, especially so soon after everything with Eddie.
I didn’t think Nate would ever be like that. In fact, I know deep down there’s no comparison between the two. I don’t know much about Nate, but everything I’ve seen from him in the last few weeks has further proven what a genuinely nice guy he really is.
That isn’t the problem.
The problem is that I’ve still not completely worked through all the emotions that have come from my failed marriage, let alone my father’s death. There’s so much damage inside my heart, so much still left to resolve that I’m not sure it would be fair to either of us for me to have the feelings I’m currently having for Nate.
I’ve been replaying the same words inside my head all day, ever since I pushed my door shut last night really. I know logically, anything more than the platonic relationship I’d made him promise me is crossing a line I’m not ready to cross. However, every time he looks at me, his green eyes seeming to peer inside my soul, understand the broken parts and silently promise to help me glue them back together, all that reason flies right out the window.
“I imagine it was quite different than living here.” The sound of Mrs. Foster’s voice pulls me from my wayward thoughts and I swallow hard, regaining my composure.
“Yes ma’am, it was,” I admit. “It was very beautiful, especially in the winter, but after growing up down here, it was very hard to get used to so much snow.”
“I can only imagine,” she chuckles. “My husband and I, God rest his soul, traveled there early in our marriage and had the best time, but I’m not sure I’m cut out for Northern weather.”
“Yes, but the seafood?” I start, my eyes going wide at the memory of how delicious my last crab cake had been. “Almost makes it worth feeling like a human popsicle for seven months out of the year.”
“Yeah?” Nate meets my gaze as we all chuckle at my joke. “Do they have crawfish up there?”
“No. No catfish, either,” I shake my head. “They do have the best lobster I’ve ever eaten in my life and the clam chowder is absolutely to die for.”
“Well, God bless ‘em, but I’m a Southern boy,” he shrugs playfully. “No crawdads or catfish? Game over. I ain’t going.”
“Not even for lobster?” I ask, surprised and amused at his immediate response.
“Nope,” he shakes his head once more, smirking at my gape. “Why the hell would I drive for two days to freeze my ass off for a lobster when I can go two blocks and get one for thirty bucks?”
“It’s not the same,” I insist, my jaw dropping dramatically as he shrugs again. “Mrs. Foster, would you please tell him it’s not the same.”
“Enough of this Mrs. Foster business. My name is Mary, honey,” she chides me before facing her son. “And she’s right, son. It’s not the same.”
I cross my arms victoriously, grinning wide as I face him only to have my smirk wiped clean by his dismissive response.
“Doesn’t matter,” he says nonchalantly, smirking at my annoyance. “There’s no way lobster in ten-degree weather tastes better than a crawfish boil in the Texas heat.”
“But the lobster is…” I trail off, composing myself despite my unreasonable irritation. “How you can argue this without even understanding the severity of how wrong you are is absolutely astonishing to me.”
“You let him have it, honey,” Mary chuckles, patting my arm and lifting herself from her seat, moving toward the living room.
“Wow!” he laughs, his eyes going wide at my defensive reaction. I stand from my seat, reaching for my plate and a few other empty dishes before moving toward the sink. My cheeks are blazing with annoyance, for what I can’t really be sure, when he approaches me with a low chuckle. “Look at you gettin’ all worked up.”
“I’m not worked up,” I shrug, feigning indifference as I take the plates from him and watch him reach for a towel to help dry. “I mean, if you want to be wrong, then by all means, be my guest.”
“I had no idea you were such a firecracker,” he snickers, taking a plate from me and drying it before setting it to the side. “You know, I bet if I told you how I felt about deep-dish pizza, you’d probably get violent.”
“Oh, no I would no-” I start, whipping my head to face him in shock. “You don’t like deep dish pizza?”
“No, ma’am,” he shakes his head. “I like my pizza how I like my women…”
“I swear to God if you say thin, I might actually lose my shit,” I cut him off, his laughter vibrating through his chest, doing something to me I don’t expect.
“Actually, I was going to say hot and cheap,” he snorts, making me laugh. “Calm the hell down over there.”
“I was really mad for a second, but that was pretty clever, so I’m gonna let you slide.”
“Well, thank you,” he smiles, taking another plate from me. “She rules with an iron fist, but she’s fair.”
“Oh, shut up,” I chuckle, glancing up to find him gazing down at me, his green eyes dancing in amusement. “You know, you should really be nicer to me.”
“Yeah?” he starts, taking a glass. “Why’s that?”
“Because I’m getting to know those women at the grocery store pretty well these days,” I bargain, arching my eyebrow. “A couple of them have asked about you. I could be the key to your future happiness.”
He gives me another sideways glance, seeming to consider my proposal for a moment before he finally relents and gives me a shrug, drying the last dish and turning to face me.
“Nah, not worth it,” he says, drying his hands as I reach for the knobs on the sink and shut the water off, surprised when he takes a step forward, his chest brushing against mine. “Besides, maybe I don’t want to date any of those women,” he wagers, close enough now that his hot breath is falling onto my skin.
“You don’t even know who I’m talking about,” I retort, my eyes narrowing as I give him a playful jab. “C’mon, tell me what you like. Blonde or brunette?”
“I think I’m kinda diggin’ red these days,” he winks, smirking at my cheeks as they go crimson.
“Are you sure?” I ask, my heart racing inside my chest as I speak, praying for steady words despite my heavy breathing. “I’ve heard redheads are a little nuts,” I counter. “Besides, some of these girls are really pretty.”
“Maybe, but I bet they’re not as pretty as this other one girl I know,” he shrugs, glancing away in thought for a second before he returns his eyes to mine. “And I need more than that anyway,” he reasons. “The thing about pretty is it’s nice and all, but at the end of the day, my dog doesn’t give two shits what someone looks like,” he continues, his eyes holding mine. “They have a very keen sense, you know.”
“Yeah, I think I actually heard that somewhere,” I breathe, biting the inside of my cheek as his eyes travel over my chest, moving back toward mine. “But even so, how do you know this girl is even interested?”
“You think she might not be?”
“It’s hard to say,” I say with a shrug.
“Yeah, but I’m a decent lookin’ guy, have a nice enough personality,” he reasons, his hand lifting to scratch his scruff revealing a strip of the ink on his arm from beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. “I mean, I work a lot, take care of my mom, I’ve got a cool ass dog. Chicks are kinda into that shit, aren’t they?”
“Well, yeah, but you just said you don’t like deep-dish pizza,” I argue, turning away from him to busy myself with the dishrag I’ve been holding, tossing it neatly over the middle of the sink. “I mean, there’s really no coming back from that. She might find it pretty unforgivable.”
“Yeah, she might,” he sighs as he seems to consider my words. “She’s a bit of a firecracker.”
“Besides, what if she only wants to be friends?”
“You know, she keeps saying that,” he admits. “But I’m pretty sure she’s full of shit.”
“Yeah?” I start, my palms sweating. “Why would you assume that?”
“Because I see how worked up she gets when I talk to her,” he smirks, leaning in close enough that his lips brush the shell of my ear, sending a shiver up my spine as my thighs involuntarily begin to clench together in carnal need. “Call me crazy, but something tells me I might just be able to convince her.”
Chapter Nine
Ava
When I said I was leaving for the night, Nate walked me home and it was hours before he said goodnight. However, in so many ways, it seemed like only a few minutes had passed between us before he had to go.
It’s funny how life works sometimes.
I’ve known Nate and his mother for years, but until my life went spiraling out of control, I didn’t really know him at all. Yet somehow, as we sat together on my father’s worn couch, talking about nothing and everything all at once, it felt like the thing my soul’s been searching for isn’t quite as far away from me as I thought.
Like it had been right in front of me all along, I was just too blind to see it.
I see him now.
He gives me a soft kiss on my forehead, one I hope will linger, and as he pulls away, he holds my eyes, silently saying all the things we don’t yet have words for. I watch him as he steps out into the darkness, the slow strut he takes across the grass toward his mother’s house as Rocky trots along behind him, completely oblivious to the shift taking place in his master’s universe right now. His floppy ears quirk slightly as Nate bends to give his head a scratch and then finally, he relaxes with the gentle reminder that all is right in his four-legged world.
“You’re a good boy,” I hear him say gently before he ushers him inside, lingering on the steps as his eyes shift back toward mine. “Goodnight, Ava.”
“Night, Nate,” I reply, my voice low to match his.
I move inside, his green eyes watching me to ensure I’m locked in safe before I hear Mary’s screen door click shut quietly in the darkness. I twist the deadbolt on the front door and as I lean against the old cedar, a long, low sigh slipping from my lips. As I consider everything Nate had shared with me, I become overwhelmed quickly, exhaustion setting into my bones deep at the idea of returning to the couch for another restless night of broken sleep. I risk a look up the stairs toward my father’s bedroom at the top. The temptation of a perfectly good mattress calls to me, beckons my weary frame with the promise of rest I so desperately need. However, the promise of heartbreak once I taste the bitterness of accepting he isn’t up there, just waiting to come down, is stronger. I don’t feel brave enough to face that yet, so I don’t. Instead, I embrace my cowardice as I feel myself slide, my body lowering to the aged linoleum. My throat constricts, and I try my best to swallow the knot that seems to never really shift or fade.
I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve been promised that eventually I’d be okay. How eventually, the loss wouldn’t feel so substantial. A month has come and gone, yet no matter how hard I try to redirect my focus, push away the pain, I don’t feel any relief.
“He isn’t coming back, Ava,” I whisper, my eyes stinging with regret and a deep sadness I’m starting to realize will never truly leave. “It doesn’t matter if you go upstairs or not, you won’t find him. He’s gone and he’s not ever coming back.”
The last word leaves me broken, that same knot moving into my chest before it explodes, taking my composure with it. I retreat into myself, embracing my sorrow as I wrap my arms around my knees and lean into the corner.
When I was a girl, all I ever really wanted was to get out of this town. Now, this old house is all that remains of us both.
Now, I’d give anything to get back to that girl.
I’d tell her to wait, to just slow down.
I’d give anything to go back and tell her to stay.
***
The ache in my bones had woken me hours later, pulling me to the couch. My eyes drift open just before the sun and the promise of a new day, a new beginning, doesn’t taste any better than it had the morning before.
I move toward the kitchen and start my coffee, pouring myself a bowl of cereal and taking a quick bite before moving toward the laundry room. I tug the bright green polo shirt over my head, the fabric still itching my skin slightly despite the copious amount of softener I’d dumped into the washer the last time. I lift the edge of my shirt to my nose, the familiar smell permeating my senses and giving me a little comfort. At least I smell good, I think as I slip my pants on and return to the kitchen to finish my breakfast.
My shift at the grocery store feels longer than usual, Saturday bringing the locals out in masses. Families, couples, old friends of my father come and go through my line and I plaster on a smile early, ho
ping it’s enough to get me through another day.
I fall into line, fall into the mesmerizing falsetto that comes with each beep of a barcode moving over the sensor in front of me. The melody of their haste fills the air, the hustle of the weekend lurking beneath their movements.
We must hurry, it chants. We only have today to get everything done and then tomorrow is church and Sunday dinner, it whispers with each passing beep. After that, the week will begin all over again. Today is our only chance to relax, to enjoy life, enjoy each other before duty will be calling once more.
This can’t be all there is.
There has to be more than this.
“Thank you for choosing Food Mart,” I recite mechanically as I slip the receipt over the register, the faint shift on the other side barely registering.
“I bet you say that to all the guys.”
His voice slips into my thoughts, breaking through the mundane melody and making me shake my head clear from the fog that’s engulfed me for the last six hours.
I glance up to find his green eyes gazing back at me and before I know it, I feel the slight tug of my lips curving upward.
“Hi, Nate,” I smirk, a wave of amusement at his words refreshing me for a small moment. “How are you?”
“Good,” he says with a slight shrug. “How about you? How’s your shift going?”
“Slowly,” I admit, my voice low. “Nearly over now, though. Only another hour and a half or so.”
“Yeah?” he asks, pulling a nod from me. “Got any exciting plans tonight?”
“There’s a Gilmore Girls marathon running this weekend,” I smirk. “Things might just get a little crazy.”
His laughter is honest and deep, the kind that makes you crave it again instantly the moment it ceases. I meet his eyes and am silently grateful to see them already locked on mine.
“That’s too bad,” he replies.
“Yeah? And why’s that?”
“Well, I was going to see if you wanted to watch a movie, maybe share a pizza, but it sounds like you’ve already got your night all planned out.”
