“Derrick,” I say, staring into his eyes.
“Hmm?”
I clear my throat.
“Why did my parents tell me she was dead?” I whisper. He draws in a long, slow breath and drops his head. He wraps his hands around my wrists.
“I promise you, you will have answers. Tomorrow, okay?” he says. He lifts his big brown eyes to mine, and I can see he’s pleading with me not to press him. So I don’t. The sensation of his skin on mine is making my breath catch in my throat, and I swear he has to be able to hear my heart beating in my chest. I take a step closer to him, feeling that same heat that came over me when I first laid eyes on him at the bar. I tilt my head up to him slowly, my eyes catching his. He swallows, and I watch his Adam’s apple jump. His lips are round and full, and he’s got his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes scan my face. I take one more step toward him so that our bodies are as close as possible without actually touching. He reaches a hand up slowly, cupping the side of my face. This overwhelming possession comes over me, and I want to taste him. I want his lip between my teeth. My palms feel clammy. No, I don’t just want him. I need him. I never do this. Well, hardly ever. It’s been a long time since I threw my inhibitions to the wind and just gave myself what I wanted. But since the moment I laid eyes on him yesterday, I knew I wanted him in ways I’ve never wanted another man. Just giving in to the animalistic desires, his body on mine, running my fingers over every curve of his muscles. My chest heaves with heavy breaths as I decide whether or not to wait for him to make the move or just do it myself. Take what I want.
But then he makes a move.
Back.
He clears his throat again nervously and takes a small step backward. His hands slide down mine until he drops them completely, and with them goes my stomach.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. I shake my head.
“Don’t be sorry,” I say. “You didn’t have to let go.” His eyes jump up to mine again, and he narrows them at me.
“Yeah, I did,” he says, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his head. “Yeah, I really did.”
He turns toward the skyline again. “Sorry, Kaylee. That won’t happen again.”
I nod slowly, letting his words sink down on me with all their weight.
“It’s really okay––” I try to interject, but he shakes his head.
“It’s not,” he says, a firmness to his voice that wasn’t there before. “It won’t happen again.”
I’m not sure what this line is, but he’s drawn it. It’s big and thick, and I have a feeling it won’t be crossed. I nod again and turn toward the door.
“Goodnight, Derrick,” I say. He gives me a sad smile.
“Goodnight, Kaylee.”
I flop back onto my bed, heat raging through my body and settling in the pit of my stomach. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want me. And now I need to figure out a way to calm down my lady boner and forget that the last five minutes even happened. I turn on my side and close my eyes, trying desperately to calm myself.
But after another hour, all I can do is roll back over and stare up at the ceiling, and it has nothing to do with the lumpy hotel mattress or the fact that there’s an extra-hot man lying in another bed just a few feet away.
It has more to do with the fact that my parents don’t even know I’m on this quest to understand their decades-long lies. It’s that I don’t even know where I’m going or who I’m going to meet. It’s that everyone else seems to know the deepest secrets of my life that I didn’t even know I had.
And tomorrow could be the day when everything comes to light. When I step foot in Meade Lake, I plan to leave no stone unturned.
4
We’re both up and in the lobby of the hotel by seven fifteen—a half-hour before we planned to meet.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks me, that dangerously dazzling smile hitting me like a freight train.
“Nah, too worked up, I guess,” I say with a smile and shrug. He chuckles.
“Worked up in a good way or a bad way?”
I smile up at him. Worked up because of the fire you started in me then put out before it got good.
“A little of both, I guess,” I admit. He nudges my shoulder with his as we walk to the front desk to check out.
“You got this,” he says. He hands his key over, and we head out to his car.
For the rest of the drive, he calls me every hour or so. He pretends like he’s just
checking in to see if I need a break. But when I tell him I’m fine, we stay on, passing the time, telling stories, and even laughing. I like the sound of his voice, and each time I hear it, my stomach flutters. He gives me this sense of calm, even though I have no idea what’s waiting for me on the other end of this trip.
Finally, we cross the Maryland state line, and my stomach flips again. Only, this time, it’s heavy with nerves and the weight of a million questions in my gut. My palms are sweating as I grip the steering wheel. Like clockwork, my phone rings.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hey,” he says, that deep, smooth voice calming me down almost instantly. “We’re almost there.”
“I saw,” I tell him.
“Still feelin’ okay about coming?” he asks. I swallow. It’s like he can read my mind.
“A little more, uh, uneasy about it now,” I admit. He’s silent for a moment.
“In about twenty seconds, look out your window,” he tells me. There’s a long silence while I wait, and then I see what he’s talking about.
The sky is the most brilliant shade of indigo I’ve ever seen, streaked with deep pinks and magenta. The mountains around us are shades of black as the sun slides down behind them, and we make it to a bridge. As we drive over it, I look down at the lake below, deep, dark blues and greens moving beneath me. Boats drive through it, leaving trails of white in their wake.
And suddenly, I feel like I can breathe a little more.
All I feel is the beauty around me.
All I feel is calm for a moment.
“Wow,” is all I can manage to say. I hear him chuckle on the other end.
“Yeah,” he says. “It’s gonna be okay, Kaylee.”
He leads me through the town of Meade Lake, and I see people everywhere––on the water, on boats, in shops, sitting on patios eating and drinking. We pass a big sign that reads Willington Lake and Ski Resort, and I see a huge parking lot filled with cars up ahead. Once we pass through town, he leads me across another small bridge, and we turn down a wooded road that reads Wake Way. After a few more minutes, he makes a slight left turn into a gravel driveway, and I follow close behind. We pull up to a modest wooden house with a few cars parked in front of it. I get out and stretch my legs, taking in my surroundings. Tall pines poke out from every direction, camouflaging the house. I can see the shimmer of the water through the trees behind the house, and I take in a deep gulp of mountain air. I’ve never breathed air like this before. Clear, uncomplicated, untouched air.
“Where are we?” I ask him.
“We’re at my mom’s house,” he says. “This is where I grew up.” I look up at the house again and smile. It would have been amazing to grow up in a place like this. “I’m sorry you won’t be meeting her at her best. May was her soul sister.”
I nod as I draw in another long breath and follow him up the porch steps. As he opens the door, I’m hit by a wave of all kinds of mouth-watering smells. Garlic, parsley, and a few other spices swirl in the air and remind me that we haven’t eaten in a while. He pauses as he holds the door open for me.
“Mama’s cookin’ up a storm,” he says with a shake of his head. “Her go-to move when she needs to keep busy.”
As I follow him around the corner of the foyer and into the kitchen, I feel the air escape from my lungs, and I suddenly feel my nerves standing on end. I’ve just followed a virtual stranger hundreds of miles from home to then walk inside of the house of yet another virtual stranger. To learn about my not-dead gran
dmother who is now, in fact, dead. And who was also a virtual stranger.
I see a short and stout woman with her back to us fiercely stirring something over the stove as she hums.
“Mama,” he says, and she turns around. The first thing I think when I see Derrick’s mom is that she’s stunning. Her deep-brown skin is a little darker than Derrick’s, but she has those same deep-brown eyes that he does. When our eyes meet, she lets out a long breath and slowly sets the wooden spoon down on the counter.
“She looks…” she whispers. Derrick clears his throat and nods.
“I know, Mama,” he says. “I thought the same thing.”
I give Derrick a look, and he shrugs. He leans in closer to me, and I notice my body responds immediately to his proximity.
“You look a lot like May,” he says. I nod slowly.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Kaylee. I’m Alma,” she says, her voice cracking, just above a whisper. I see a tear well in her eye, and I’m surprised to feel them in my own, too. It feels like I just met someone I didn’t realize I was missing. She takes a few steps toward me, and before I can prepare, she wraps me in a strong hug. I wrap my arms around her, and we stand like that for a few moments, soaking each other in.
“Shit,” Derrick mutters from around us, scurrying to the stove to stir whatever is now boiling over.
“Oh, thank you, baby,” she says, finally breaking her grasp on me and walking back over to the stove to resume making whatever it is that’s making my stomach growl like a bear.
Then, she turns back to me.
“This must all be so confusing for you,” she says to me. I nod, unsure of how else to respond. It is confusing. And no one seems to be ready to talk about it yet. “When Derrick said he wanted to go get you––” she says, and I freeze. I turn to Derrick, but his eyes drop to the ground.
“You wanted to come get me?” I ask him. He nods slowly.
“Yeah.”
“I thought May wanted to see me,” I say. He lets out a sigh.
“I think she did. She wasn’t able to say much, but I know it cut her to the core that she couldn’t say goodbye to you properly. Then and now. I just wanted to do right by her. And by you.”
My eyes narrow on him, unsure of what he could possibly be doing right by me right now.
“Gosh, when I think of how close you were to meeting her again, to...oh, it just…” Alma’s voice trails off, and a quiet sob catches in her throat. Derrick walks toward her and puts his hands on her shoulders, pulling her into him for a hug.
He’s a big man, tall and broad, but he doesn’t make you feel small.
When Alma collects herself again, Derrick reaches up into the cupboard above her head and pulls down three bowls.
“Mama’s chili.” He nods toward the big pot on the stove. “It’s famous around here.”
She swats at his shoulder.
“Not just around here, boy,” she says before looking to me. “It’s famous throughout the state.”
I smile and nod.
“Well, I can’t wait to try it,” I tell her. She serves us, and I follow them out to the back porch where a small round table sits on the corner.
“So, have any arrangements been made?” Derrick asks her after we all dig in. I’m not sure if it’s the malnourished trip I just took, but this chili really is good. Alma nods her head.
“Yeah, May had it all planned and paid for,” she says. “Funeral will be in two days at Peake’s Peak.”
Derrick nods.
“Leave it to May to make this easier on us,” he says. Then he turns to me. “Kaylee, do you wanna stay for the service?”
I swallow.
How do I say no to attending my own grandmother’s funeral when everyone else in this town will be there?
I clear my throat and take a sip of my lemonade.
“Uh, yeah, I would like that,” I say. He nods and gives me a soft smile, which is enough to make my stomach flip inside my body.
I know I should be thinking about my grandmother, but I’m not. I’m thinking about this beautiful, beautiful man in front of me. Whew. I snap back out of my Derrick trance when Alma speaks.
“Honey, you’re welcome to stay here with me,” she says, “but if you’re more comfortable, we can get you set up at the hotel.”
Just as I’m struggling with how to respond, we hear voices from inside the house.
“Mama?” a man’s voice calls.
“Out here,” she says. I hear the scurrying of little feet running through the house, and suddenly, two young kids spill out onto the back deck, running for Alma. She scoops them both up into her lap, showering them with hugs and kisses, and I feel my heart swelling. When they’re done with Alma, they make their way to Derrick, who does the same. And then I feel heat everywhere on my body.
A devilishly handsome man holding some kids? Goner, man. Goner.
“This is my niece, Kimora,” he says, nuzzling the little girl’s cheek and making her giggle. “And this is my nephew, Van.” He squeezes the kids, tickling their sides and sending them into a fit of laughter before setting them back down. “Guys, say hi to Miss Kaylee. She...she knew Miss May.”
Did she?
I smile faintly and say hi to them before they run off the porch and into the backyard. Just then, a man who looks a lot like Derrick appears at the back door, a woman appearing behind him, carrying a bowl of fruit. He’s got a bit more going on in the gut area than Derrick does, and his face is definitely more aged. But it’s no question they’re related.
“This is my brother, Teddy, and my sister-in-law, Camille,” Derrick tells me, holding his hand out toward them. “Ted, Cam, this...this is Kaylee.”
They’re both smiling, but as soon as they hear my name, the smiles disappear. Their eyes widen as they look from Derrick to Alma, to me, and back to Derrick. I follow their path, trying to see what it is they’re seeing.
“Kaylee...like...May’s Kaylee?” Teddy asks. Derrick nods. “Wow, I, uh, it’s nice to meet you, Kaylee. I’m, uh, sorry for your...loss?” he says it like a question, and I actually can’t help but chuckle out loud.
When I realize everyone is staring at me, I clear my throat and straighten myself out.
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling my cheeks flush. “I know it’s no laughing matter. I guess this is all just...well, it’s really freakin’ weird. You have to excuse me, but I’m having trouble mourning her right now. In my world, she’s been dead for two decades.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Kaylee,” Camille says before awkwardly slipping off the porch to follow the kids into the yard.
Alma leans back in her chair and gives me a half-smile.
“Don’t apologize, baby,” she says. “There’s a lot going on here. This is all very...strange. It will make more sense soon. We just need to talk––”
She’s cut off by the sound of more feet walking through the house. The sliding door opens again, and out comes a strikingly gorgeous woman with chestnut-brown hair tied into a loose braid over her shoulder. She’s holding a platter of meats and cheeses, and she’s got a little girl clinging to her leg. They’re followed by a man who’s also strikingly beautiful––Jesus, what is in the water up here?––who is using a walking stick as he makes his way across the deck. Derrick hops up and makes his way to them, kissing both the woman and the girl on the cheeks and pulling the man in for a hug.
“I can’t believe it, man,” the man whispers. Derrick leads him to the table and pulls out a chair for him. As I watch him feel his way around the table, I realize the man can’t see.
“Kaylee, this is my very best friend in the world, Ryder Casey,” he says, clapping Ryder on the shoulder. Ryder looks up to him.
“Kaylee?” he whispers. Does everyone here know who I am? But Derrick goes on.
“And his lovely soon-to-be wife, Mila. And this,” he says, bending down to scoop up the little girl, “is my girl, Annabelle.”
She giggles and wraps her arms around hi
s neck before he sets her back down to go play with Van and Kimora.
Ugh. My ovaries.
Suddenly, the house erupts in loud, boisterous conversation. They are actually laughing and smiling some, eating all the food and drinking. A few more cars pull up, and I am getting used to the way people just walk right in, knowing they are needed here at this time. They need to be together. And it’s beautiful. I watch as Derrick introduces me, one by one, and I see how their eyes all widen. The whole time, Derrick doesn’t leave my side. He gets me refills, makes sure I’ve had enough to eat, and tells me story after story about May.
While they’re all great company so far, I have to admit, I’m feeling socially exhausted. It’s hard meeting person after person, especially knowing that they are clued in to the mess that is my family more than I am myself.
As I stand to begin to say my goodbyes and casually mention that I’m going to get a hotel room for the night, the back door slides open again.
Out steps a tall, slim, young woman with skin a bit lighter than Derrick’s. Her hair is dark, wild, beautiful curls bouncing together with each step she takes. Her face is carrying something heavy; it’s pained. And as she turns back to face us from closing the door, I notice that everyone has gone silent. All eyes are on her. But she scans the crowd, and then her eyes land on me.
As she narrows them in on me, her jaw drops, and she turns her glare to Derrick.
“I can’t believe you,” she whispers to him, her bottom lip starting to tremble.
“Oh, baby,” Alma says, standing slowly from the table. Derrick stands, too, his eyes on her, his chest heaving up and down. He takes a few steps toward her, but she steps away from him and puts her hand out. Alma makes her way up next to me, keeping her eyes trained on Derrick and the woman, as if deciding when she needs to intervene.
“She never got the letters,” I hear Derrick say in sort of a loud whisper.
I can’t quite make out what the woman is saying to Derrick, but I can practically feel the heat radiating from their conversation. His voice remains low and calm, but hers is high and frantic. Filled with emotion. Filled with pain. Alma steps up to them, standing between them and trying to diffuse whatever situation is going on. Except, I’m starting to get the feeling that I am the situation.
Stones Unturned (Meade Lake Series Book 2) Page 3
