“The insurance check for your car came to my place. I just wanted to give it to you,” he says, reaching in his pea coat and producing an envelope.
I lean forward and take it before settling in my original position.
“You could’ve just forwarded it to me. I’m not sure why it ended up at your house. I thought I’d updated my address when I left your policy,” I say.
“It’s not a problem, Em. I wanted to see you for myself. Make sure you’re okay.”
He looks nervous. Adam doesn’t get nervous. Maybe he’s afraid of Jordan more than I thought.
“I wasn’t in the accident,” I respond with a quirked brow.
His blond hair is slicked to the side like always and his dark blue eyes are unreadable as usual. But there’s something about his posture that’s not right.
“The accident, right,” he scoffs.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I’m immediately defensive. Everyone in town believes the kids were in a wreck. The sheriff’s department are the only people that don’t. This town isn’t small enough for that to be common knowledge.
“I’ve heard things. Brandon Donovan took quite the beating. His dad wasn’t too happy about it. You know they’re clients of mine.”
“I still don’t know what that has to do with the accident,” I lie.
He approaches me slowly, leaning into my face.
“Are you in trouble? Something bad happened to those kids. I don’t know what, but I know it was bad. Your boyfriend is a felon. Is it possible he’s the cause of this?” he whispers.
“Garrett didn’t have anything to do with the accident,” I accentuate the word as I hiss.
“Don’t be naïve, Em. Nothing ever happens in Bluffside. All of a sudden Sharp’s got a long lost brother and a few days later something bad happens to him. You don’t think it’s his past coming back to haunt him? You don’t think that puts you in danger too?”
“I’m safe with Garrett.”
I know he’s trying to break me and I refuse to be broken. I trust Garrett. I know he would never let anything happen to Cody or me.
“No. You’re not. But I can see you won’t believe me. I know I hurt you, Em. I fuckin’ hate that, but I never endangered your life. I never would. Just promise me you’ll come to me if you need help. I know you’ve got Jordan, but I’ve got pull he doesn’t.”
Adam seems so genuine right now; it’s throwing me. He’s not insulting or badgering. He’s simply talking to me.
“That will never happen, but thank you for the offer.”
He nods and backs away from me. With one last look, he disappears from the kitchen. I stand there trying to figure out what happened for a few moments until Jordan comes in.
“I didn’t beat his ass because we’re here and the shop’s full. Tell me I didn’t make a mistake with that shit,” Jordan demands, wrapping his arms around me.
“He was just dropping off my car insurance check,” I mumble into his chest.
“And tried to get some digs in?”
“He doesn’t think the kids were in an accident.”
“Fuck,” he huffs, letting me go. “Did he say anything? Specifically?”
“Just that Brandon Donovan took a beating.”
“Yeah he did. He spun that as a fight from the party.”
“I’m sure Adam doesn’t know what happened. He’s just trying to make me question Garrett. That’s his thing,” I say dismissively.
“Garrett?”
“Adam intimated that what happened to the kids was Garrett’s past catching up with him and that I might be next,” I explain with a groan.
It sounds even more stupid when I say it aloud.
“That’s fuckin’ bullshit!”
“I’m aware. Let’s not worry about it.”
He hugs me again and leads me out to the counter. I choose to focus on the happy couple and my customers. I’ve missed being here and I refuse to allow Adam or his crazy theories to ruin today for me.
Once we lock up, Jordan drives me to my house so I can pick up some clothes. I’ve barely been here in the past few weeks. I’m always at Garrett’s and starting to consider having the “what’s next” talk with him. He seems content with our current situation, but I’d like to be sure about that.
I know Garrett wants to be with me, but moving in together after five weeks and a lot of trauma may not be the best idea. Once Cody’s back in school next week, I won’t be needed around Garrett’s anymore.
I was able to take all this time off because I have Beverly, Arlene and Jordan. Garrett only has Clyde. He had to go back to work almost immediately while Cody was still in the hospital. Jenna was around a lot between classes, but she has to pay attention to school. Caleb has been a constant. He obviously doesn’t have a “real” job so he’s helped me out.
He would sit in the hospital with Hunter and Alyssa while I was with Cody. Then we’d switch for a while. I like the big scary biker.
So between all of us we’ve been able to manage the situation. If I’m honest, I liked it. Since my mom died, I’ve been alone a lot. It was by choice. Jordan managed to worm his way in and I obviously had some version of Adam, but beyond that, I was on my own most of the time. It helped me heal and grieve. But it seems like walking into Sharp Furniture one afternoon changed everything for me…in the best way possible.
“You wanna sell me your house?” Jordan asks, leaning against the doorframe into my bedroom.
I look over my shoulder at him to give him my stop joking around face, but I find him serious.
“Really?”
He shrugs and walks over to my bed, plopping down.
“You’re never here and I’m sick of renting. It’s a smart move.”
I like the idea of Jordan in my house. I wouldn’t feel like I was losing it, just moving on.
“I mean, I’d have to get rid of all your girly shit. Maybe put a stripper pole in the living room. A pool table in the dining room, but I could make it work.”
“It’s a good idea,” I say through a smile.
“The stripper pole or the pool table?”
“Neither, jerk,” I huff, throwing a shirt at him. “The idea of you living here.”
“My lease is month to month, so I can do this whenever you’re ready. I know you haven’t been with Sharp that long, but it seems inevitable at this point. You’re already livin’ with him.”
“I’ve just been staying there to help out with Cody.”
“You’re so full of shit,” he says through a snort. “You were with douche face for two years and you never looked like you do now. You fuckin’ glow from head to toe all the time. I’m guessin’ that’s from huge amounts of sex that I don’t wanna think about.”
I give him my best glare that leads us both to chuckles.
“Seriously Em, you’re like a new woman with him. You were pretty amazing before, but you’re better now. More alive.”
I walk between his legs and wrap my arms around his shoulders as he grips my waist.
“You’re pretty amazing yourself, Jordan Monroe,” I mutter into his hair before kissing it.
“That’s true,” he snarks.
It is true so I don’t laugh.
“I’ll talk to Garrett and see what he thinks.”
“Okay. Let’s get you to his place. I’ve got a game to get on,” he says standing up.
He always has a video game to get to.
Jordan helps me load a couple bags into his Corvette and we take off to Garrett’s house.
“Cody!” I shout when we walk in.
He’s in the kitchen hanging drywall…alone.
“Jesus Christ, you scared the shit outta me,” he huffs, yanking his earbuds out.
“You’re in trouble, Mister,” I threaten.
Jordan’s already snickering at my attempt to be firm. Cody’s at least attempting to look sheepish, but I can tell he’s fighting a smile.
“You’re not supposed to be
doin’ this. The doctor said to take it easy. Hangin’ drywall isn’t easy. It’s difficult. I know because I did it once. I looked like a body casting art project gone wrong when I was done and ended up with a very textured wall. I had to call my dad to fix it and he chuckled the whole time. It was embarrassing.”
I’m rambling. This has become my new form of communication. I didn’t do this before Garrett. He’s turned my world upside down and my brain into ranting mush even when he’s not around.
Jordan lets out a big snort and Cody starts laughing at me. I follow along because if I can’t laugh at my own crazy, what’s the point?
“I’m sorry,” Cody gasps. “I’m just bored outta my mind. The kitchen needs to get done and Garrett’s been doin’ it all on his own.”
“He doesn’t care. He wants you to get better, sweetheart.”
“I’m better,” he asserts.
He does look better. Most of his bruising is gone or that greenish-yellow. His surgery to fix his eye was successful and his nose was reset. His face looks a bit different now. His cheekbone fractures changed the curve of his face when they were fixed. He looks more chiseled and manly now.
He’ll always have the long scar that runs along the side of his head, but he says he wants to keep his hair short. It doesn’t bother him.
He’s so strong. I’m amazed at that every day.
“I know you are,” I say softly.
I walk over to him and pull him down to me for a good hug. He hugs me back tightly. Before the accident—that’s how we refer to it so we don’t mess up around the wrong people—he was always reluctant to show me much affection. I get him full force now and I love it. I also make him hug me all the time.
“I’ll help you hang these last two pieces,” Jordan offers.
“Thanks, man,” Cody responds, releasing me.
I rub his buzzed head and he leans into my touch a little before getting back to work. I leave the men to their fun and head upstairs to Garrett’s room to put my stuff away.
When I walk into the closet and flip on the light, I’m hit with the reality of the situation. Half of the closet is filled with my stuff. My shirts and jeans are organized with my sweaters and pants. I walk out of the closet and pull open a few drawers in the dresser. My drawers. Again, here’s all my stuff organized right next to his drawers. I look around the room and spy some of my jewelry on my bedside table. My slippers are on the floor in front of the upholstered chair where my robe is flung. My watch and some loose change from both of us is in a tray on the dresser.
I move into the bathroom and find all of my stuff around my sink. My toothbrush is nestled with Garrett’s in the holder. My lotions and hair care products are in the cabinet next to the sink. My razor, shampoo, conditioner, body wash and loofa are all in the shower.
“Emily,” Garrett calls out from the bedroom.
I walk into the room and spy Garrett emptying his pockets onto the dresser.
“Did you know about this?” I ask in a huff.
“What?” he questions, turning to face me.
“This,” I say, waving my hands around the room.
He looks at me like I’m crazy and then tries to hide a smirk.
“Sugar, you’re gonna have to be more specific,” he says as he clears his throat, trying not to laugh.
“I live here, Garrett. All of my stuff is here. I have drawers. My stuff is in your drawers. We didn’t even discuss it. I just put my stuff in your drawers. How did that happen? You should’ve said, ‘Hey I cleaned out a few drawers for you,’ and then I would have said ‘Thank you. That was nice.’ But you didn’t. You never said that to me. I just put my stuff in your drawers.
“And then your closet. I filled up your closet. I mean it would take a Jenna-style wardrobe to fill your closet. I’m not even certain I have that ability in life. But still. All of my shirts and jeans are in there. And organized. I even organized your stuff.”
“Thank you for that.”
I ignore him and continue.
“The bathroom’s full of my stuff. Girl stuff, Garrett. You never said I could put tampons in your bathroom. I know you’ve seen ’em and you never said a word. Not that men want to talk about feminine hygiene. And I have a side of the bed. And a sink! I have a sink in your gorgeous bathroom. I might’ve taken your sink. I don’t wanna be a sink stealer. What kinda person steals a sink?”
I wait for him to answer, but he just keeps staring at me.
“I moved into your house and we never even talked about it. My life is in your house and I didn’t even know it until right now. I’ve lost my mind. Officially! It’s gone. I can’t make my mouth stop. I’m forming relationships. I don’t ever eat alone anymore. I get to take care of you and Cody, which I freakin’ love. My life is so full and it feels so good that I forgot to notice. I didn’t notice.”
And now I’m crying. Hard.
Garrett’s massive arms lift me to his chest and he settles us on the bed with me on his lap. I sob into his neck as he strokes my back, trying to comfort my psychotic break. I continue crying until Garrett grabs my cheeks and forces me to look into his concerned blue eyes.
“Sugar,” he says softly. “You didn’t forget to notice. You’re happy and enjoying life. Time flies during the good and you don’t have to stop to pay attention to that because when everything’s good you don’t need a reminder.”
My man of few words speaks them better than anyone I’ve ever met. He’s right. I’m gleefully happy. Even with everything that happened with the kids, I’m happy in my life. I don’t think I was sad before, but I wasn’t what I am now. Living.
I wipe my messy face with the sleeve of my shirt in a truly attractive move.
“Did I steal your sink?” I ask.
He chuckles deeply and presses a firm kiss to my lips.
“I’m the thief, remember?” he jokes.
Now I’m the one laughing.
“I want you here with me and Cody. You can fill this house with all your shit and I’ll fuckin’ love it because I love you. I’ve wanted to have you move in here since the first time you walked in my shop. I see you in my house. In my bed. In my arms. In my life. You’re my world, Emily. Don’t you know that?”
The tears are streaming again. Garrett swipes them with his thumbs, waiting for me to answer his question.
“You look at me like I’m your world,” I whisper.
“And you look at me like I’m yours.”
I nod because if I try to talk it’s going to come out in that hysterical half-speech-girl-talk that no one finds discernable.
Then he kisses me. He pours every ounce of love he’s feeling into me and I drink it in. Then I give him everything I’ve got. His tongue caresses and teases mine in a slow seductive motion that curls my toes. When he pulls his mouth from mine, he leans his head against my forehead. Kaleidoscopes.
“Jordan wants to buy my house,” I say softly, running my fingers along his five o’clock shadow.
“Okay,” he grunts.
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
“That’s it? Okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
I love it when he talks and I love it when he grunts.
“I better go cook dinner,” I say, sliding off his lap.
He pats my butt before climbing to his feet. Garrett follows me down the stairs and into the kitchen where Cody and Jordan are finishing putting up way more than two pieces of drywall. I scowl at them and they ignore me as I start cooking. Garrett joins the work.
We eat together.
We clean up together.
We watch a little TV together.
Then after my nightly routine at my sink, sliding into my side of the bed and turning off the lamp on my bedside table, Garrett spends hours showing me that I’m his world.
I’m living again.
Holidays.
I fucking hate holidays. I always have. Even as a little kid, I knew Santa didn’t exist. The East
er Bunny was a joke. Halloween was just a night for people to cause trouble. Thanksgiving was another day I was hungry and stores weren’t open for me to steal from. The Fourth of July made it easier to mask gunshots in my trailer park. And birthdays…I’ve still never celebrated one in my life. There was a period while Daryl and Clyde were away when I couldn’t remember if I was eight or nine.
I hate holidays.
Yet, here I am in my freshly remodeled kitchen with a smile on my face as Emily bakes pies and other shit for tomorrow’s dinner. She’s a glowing ray of sunshine that’s contagious. And her surrounded by my walnut cabinets, sandstone-colored quartz countertops, a massive six-burner Viking range and a built-in double oven feels right. It’s where she belongs.
Between Cody, Hunter, Jordan, Devlin, Clyde and I, we were able to finish the kitchen and lay new flooring throughout the first level of the house. I did a quick weekend remodel of the main bathroom down here before Cody got home. He needed a clean, safe space to bathe in.
With the new kitchen and floor, the furniture needed to be updated. My woman saw to that. She was so careful choosing everything with me in mind that we almost had it out. I didn’t give a shit if she filled the house with flower patterned couches and pink curtains. This is her home. I don’t care what fills it as long as she’s in it. She gets me so we ended up with a grey and deep mustard yellow color scheme. My walls are covered in art, mostly local landscape images in heavy ebony frames I made.
It’s warm.
It’s comfortable.
It’s lived in.
It’s my first real home.
“What do you think about a chocolate-caramel pecan pie?” Emily asks, setting some other kind of pie on the butcher block island.
“Okay,” I grunt.
She’s in a tight white T-shirt, deep purple leggings, her sandy hair piled on top of her head and a creased smile on her stunning face. I don’t give a shit about pie. I need to get back inside her. It’s been an hour since I’ve had her and I feel like it’s been a lifetime.
“Oh no you don’t,” she scolds my heated gaze. “I have to get this done. I can’t bake tomorrow and get the meal prepared.”
I stand up from the table and prowl toward her as she tries to ignore me, rolling out another piecrust. I wrap my arms around her body, palming both her tits.
Mugs of Love Page 27
