Текст книги "Desperate Chances "

Автор книги: A. Meredith Walters

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

“You’re not eating enough. It’s obvious I can’t trust you to take care of yourself, Gracie,” my mother scolded, separating the food on my plate into three distinct piles.

I was almost expecting her to pick up a spoonful and use the airplane method to get me to eat.

I gripped the napkin in my hands and willed myself not to flip the table.

“Please stop touching my food, Mom,” I said sharply. I moved my plate away from her and cast a quick look around the crowded café, hoping no one was paying attention to the crazy woman attempting to force feed her adult daughter.

My mother scowled her pretty scowl and returned the fork to her own plate. “I want you to weigh yourself when you get home. If you’ve lost weight, I want you to call and tell me and I’ll make you a doctor’s appointment. Maybe you need to increase your therapy again.”

Every conversation was the same. Food. Eating. Booze. Sobriety. Over and over again.

Was it any wonder I had issues?

My mother had spent my entire life telling me I was either eating too much or not enough. Food had become the focus of my entire world. Counting calories, standing on a scale. Pulling at the skin around my hips, sucking in my stomach so I could fit into that tiny skirt. I was never happy because my mother was never happy. But at least I could look pretty while I was miserable.

When I was a child, my image conscious mother entered me in every beauty pageant available. I was the reigning Little Miss Augusta County from 1998 until 2002. I had never been allowed to eat sweets and cake at my friends’ birthday parties. I wasn’t permitted soda or chips on playdates. It was ingrained in me to watch my weight. To make sure that I didn’t get fat.

Having my slender mother as a role model was enough to make anyone develop an eating disorder. I was never able to live up to her unrealistic standards.

So, of course I became obsessed with food. With eating it and not eating it. I would starve myself for days at a time, eating only enough to keep me going. But damn, I could fit into those cute J Brand jeans. So by the time I was diagnosed with Anorexia at the age of twenty-one, I weighed a whopping ninety-eight pounds soaking wet.

Since my diagnosis and subsequent hospitalization, my mother’s mantra had changed. Now instead of telling me I could get fat, my mother was accusing me of being too skinny.

The truth was she was never happy with my appearance. Not when she looked in the mirror and saw perfection.

“My counselor seems to think once a week is more than enough for me at this point. I’m doing really well, Mom,” I assured her, taking a bite of my sandwich to appease her.

“Your father and I simply worry about you. We want you happy and healthy. You can’t fault us for that.” Mom dabbed at her eyes. Cue the waterworks and emotional manipulation. “It would make us feel so much better if you’d move home so we could make sure you were okay. So all of us could heal. Together.”

I took my time chewing my food. It was either that or I’d tell her to go to hell in a very uncomfortable hand basket.

“We cleaned out your room the other day. Your dad had some new furniture delivered. We thought that you could pick out a new color for the walls. Something more grown up. Oh, I can take you shopping for a new wardrobe. That sounds fun, right?”

I looked down at my very sensible grey skirt and blue blouse. “Is there something wrong with my current wardrobe?” I asked, picking up on my mom’s unique form of passive aggression.

My mother smoothed out the skirt of her own dress, a pretty pink number with three quarter sleeves and a stylish wide belt. “It just doesn’t suit your frame. You need something that gives you the illusion of curves. Otherwise you look like a stick.”

“I like what I’m wearing, Mom,” I told her. I was learning not to cower under her intense scrutiny. It was tough growing a backbone, but I was trying.

My mom pursed her lips but didn’t push the issue. “Where were you this weekend? Your father had hoped to see you on Sunday for dinner.”

“I went to see my friends’ band with Maysie, Vivian, and Riley. I told you about it.”

“Is this that rock and roll band? I don’t think that’s a very good scene for a recovering alcoholic,” Mom announced loudly. A woman sitting at the next table looked in our direction.

“Jeesh, Mom, why don’t you tell the world about my personal business,” I muttered under my breath.

My mom didn’t acknowledge my comment. “I was talking to Jolene yesterday and she mentioned there’s an AA group that meets at her church on Wednesdays. It’s that group for alcoholics where they get up and talk.”

“I know what AA is, Mom,” I said quietly.

“Oh, well you should go. It’d be good for you.” My mother pulled out a tube of lipstick and a compact. “Vivian’s keeping alcohol out of the apartment isn’t she? She doesn’t seem like a very responsible girl. This is why it would be better for you to live at home.”

I squeezed my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palms. “Vivian is very responsible. She’s an events coordinator at The Claremont Center,” I reminded her.

“Oh, that’s right. Your father just bought me season tickets to the ballet there.” She discreetly wiped excess lipstick from her mouth and tucked it back into her purse. “Eat your lunch, Gracie.”

I picked up my sandwich and finished it off. It felt like lead in the pit of my stomach.

My father was a successful businessman. My mother had built her world around being the perfect wife. The perfect mother. The perfect woman.

In their eyes I was neither successful nor perfect. But I had tried. I had really tried. But I was learning that my version of success was just as important. And being perfect didn’t mean being happy.

“I have to meet Maysie, Mom.” I got to my feet, not able to sit there with her any longer.

“Oh. I was hoping we could have some dessert,” my mom said, looking disappointed. Her made-up face softened momentarily and she took my hand. “I like your shoes, I meant to tell you that.”

I looked down at my plain, black pumps with their short heel. They weren’t the sort of shoes my mother would ever consider wearing.

She gave me a smile and I smiled back. I leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”

I left thinking that maybe I wasn’t the only one trying to change.

“Wow, this place is awesome!” I exclaimed, getting out of my car and joining Maysie on the front porch of a beautiful colonial style house.

“It is, isn’t it?” Maysie remarked giddily. She jingled keys in her hand in obvious excitement.

“So you want to tell me why we’re here?” I asked as Maysie unlocked the front door and stepped inside. I followed her into a small foyer.

“This is my new house. Well mine and Jordan’s,” she said, walking into a large living room with a fireplace against one wall and a bay window looking out onto the street.

“What?” I gaped. “You got a house? When did this happen?”

“Well, we can’t live in Garrett’s spare room forever. As much as I love the guys, we need our own space. Especially now with so many changes happening.” She started pulling dustcovers off furniture and dropping them in a pile on the floor. “I took that PR job. I got the phone call confirming everything this morning. I’ll be working mostly from home with a handful of existing clients, but there will be some traveling required, which is cool.”

I followed Maysie through the downstairs as she turned on lights and removed covers from the rest of the furniture. It was a cute house. Small but quaint, with hardwood floors and lots of natural light. It was the perfect kind of house to start a family in.

“You guys are settling down, aren’t you? Jordan’s not going to go back out on the road is he?” I deduced, leaning against the counter in the kitchen as Maysie went through the cabinets, making sure there was nothing left behind by the previous tenants.

Maysie’s shoulders sagged a bit. “He’s really not sure. Things are up in the air with the label. But it doesn’t look good. Jordan and the others are sort of preparing themselves. And on some level, I think they’re all ready for the hammer to drop. To just know one way or another where they stand. This whole band thing was a dream. They never thought in a million years they would get as big as they did. It’s been one hell of a ride, Gracie, but at the end of the day, it proved to be more stress than I think any of them anticipated. It’s been hard. And with Jordan and me getting married and starting a family—”

I held up my hand. “Back up a second. Starting a family?”

Maysie smiled, her entire face lighting up. “I’m pregnant, G.”

“Oh my god!” I shrieked, all but launching myself at her. “What the hell? When did you find out?” I demanded.

“I had suspected for a few weeks, especially with how crappy I’ve been feeling. I took a test when we got back from the show over the weekend. It was positive. I’m waiting for Jordan to get back into town so we can go to the doctor’s appointment together.” Maysie put a hand on her flat stomach. “It’s early days. I can’t be more than a month along, but yeah, we’re having a baby.”

“Oh. My. God!” I squealed louder, grabbing her hands as we jumped up and down like little girls. “You’re having a baby! I can’t believe it!”

“I know. I can’t really believe it either. But Jordan is so excited. We both are. Which is why we wanted to get into our own place as soon as possible. We want stability. We want roots. We’re starting our family, G. We need something solid.”

“I’m just so happy for you, Mays. I can’t believe my best friend is going to be a mom!”

“You’re going to be an auntie. I guess it’s official. We’re getting old,” Maysie laughed and I bumped her hip with mine.

“Speak for yourself. There’s a lot of living left in these bones.” Then I stiffened. “So the guys are on their way back then?”

Maysie nodded, wiping a hand along the counter top. “They stopped for the night in Richmond but they should be back this evening after dropping off the bus. We’ll be at Garrett’s for the next few days but then we’re hoping to move in over the weekend.” She gave me a mischievous smile. “You up to helping me clean?”

“Do I have a choice?” I asked weakly, already thinking about other things.

“Not really,” Maysie giggled.

“So they’ll be back…” My voice drifted off.

Maysie gave me a sympathetic smile. “Yeah. They’ll be back. Look, I’m not sure what happened between you and Mitch, but maybe with him being home it’ll be a good time to talk. To sort everything out,” she suggested.

“I tried that this weekend. It didn’t turn out so well. He doesn’t want to hear anything I have to say.”

Maysie squeezed my hand. I knew she wanted to ask more but she didn’t push. “Come to Garrett’s tonight. We’ll all be just hanging out, ordering pizza. The guys will no doubt be playing a million rounds of Minecraft. Vivian and I will both be there. Please come.”

“I’m not sure—”

“You can’t avoid your friends, G. Not now that everyone is one place again. Think about it.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good. Now let’s go to the store to get something to clean these floors. They’re filthy!” Maysie exclaimed.

And I was happy to help her. It was better than thinking about what I was going to do now that everyone was in the same place again.

I had driven this road to Garrett’s house so many times I could do it with my eyes closed.

I maneuvered my car around the potholes and the fence post that had been lying on the side of the road for almost three years. I turned the corner and pulled in beside Cole’s Jeep and cut the engine.

I recognized Maysie’s car and Garrett’s van. I also noticed a half a dozen other cars, most likely people from Barton’s. It seemed I was the last person to arrive.

I grabbed my bag from the passenger seat and slung it over my shoulder. The guys had only gotten back into town a few hours ago, but already I could see the bonfire raging behind the house and could hear the loud thump of music coming from inside. There were a few people sitting on the front porch smoking and laughing.

It was a typical scene at Garrett’s house. I had been coming to parties here since I was a junior in college. Since before Maysie and Jordan began dating. I used to tag along with his ex, Olivia and my former sorority sisters. Back then we had been the college chicks slumming it with the townies. A place to get free booze and not much else.

But then these townies became my friends and I still felt a sting of shame when I thought of how little I regarded them back then. How easy it was for me to look down my nose just because they didn’t go to Rinard. I had been a total snob.

“Hey, Gracie!” someone called out. I looked over to see Paco and Fed, who had been dishwashers at Barton’s Bar and Grill for as long as I could remember.

“Hey guys,” I called back. I opened the front door and let myself inside. It wasn’t packed the way parties used to be. In fact there was only a dozen or so people standing around talking with beers in their hands. Just the normal people that had been friends with the guys for years.

I made my way to the kitchen where I could hear Vivian’s voice over the music. She was like my own personal beacon.

I found Vivian and Cole arguing, which wasn’t new. Her face was flushed and Cole looked ready to spit nails. Maysie was standing against the counter looking amused.

“What did I miss?” I asked, grabbing a bottle of water and uncapping the lid. I discreetly looked around but didn’t see any of the other guys. More importantly I didn’t see Mitch. Or Sophie.

“I’ll tell you what you missed!” Vivian screeched, pulling away from Cole’s restraining grasp.

“Tell her she misheard me, Mays. Get her to see fucking reason!” Cole pleaded, pulling at his hair in frustration.

Vivian whirled around and pointed her finger into his chest. “This asshole just told me to get a boob job!” she shrieked. “A fucking boob job! As if these aren’t good enough!” She squeezed her breasts together, giving us all an eyeful.

“I have the best boobs you’ve ever seen!” she yelled. Stan, a friend of Jordan’s from school had the misfortune of walking into the kitchen at that particular moment. Vivian grabbed his arm and pulled him over. “Stan, look at my boobs. Aren’t they nice?” She lifted her shirt and poor Stan’s face turned beet red.

“Uh—” He cast a nervous look at Cole who seemed ready to commit murder.

“Don’t you fucking dare look at my girlfriend’s tits or I’ll kick your ass!” Cole roared. “Put your damn shirt down, Viv! I don’t want everyone to see what’s fucking mine!”

“Run, Stan,” I whispered and he nodded, hurrying from the kitchen.

“These aren’t yours! They’re not good enough apparently! Not big enough! Well maybe I just need to go find someone who will appreciate them!” Vivian made to leave and Cole grabbed her from around the waist. He picked her up and set her onto the counter, his hands trapping her.

“I love your fucking tits. I worship them! I would eat my meals off them if I could! You said you wanted a damn boob job and I said, verbatim, ‘whatever makes you happy, baby.’” Cole grabbed her face and kissed her roughly. “I’ll love you no matter what you decide to do with your body. But don’t you ever fucking think about letting someone else touch you! I’ll kill them! I swear I will!”

Then they were kissing and there was the distinct tearing of fabric. Maysie and I looked at each other.

“Well, that’s our cue to exit,” I said, rolling my eyes, knowing that in about thirty seconds we were going to be witness to parts of Cole and Vivian that we would be happy never seeing.

“Yep. Let’s get out of here quickly,” Maysie agreed, taking my hand as we hurried from the room. She stopped a girl who was about to walk in. “I wouldn’t go in there right now,” she warned. Maysie and I snickered as we walked into the living room where most of the party was congregated.

There was some shouting as a group of guys, including Jordan and Garrett, sitting on the sofa in front of the 50-inch television.

“Gracie! There you are! These guys suck! I need someone to go against that’s an actual challenge!” Garrett called out as something exploded on the screen. Jordan yelled and threw his controller onto the floor.

“I give up! Fuck this!” Jordan groaned, running a hand over his buzzed head. He glanced up at us as we entered the room, his eyes sparkling at the sight of his fiancée. “There’s my girl,” he murmured, grabbing her hand and pulling her onto his lap. He looked like such a tough guy with his shaved head and tattoos, but he was the biggest softie I had ever met. Particularly when it came to Maysie Ardin. I noticed how he tenderly touched her stomach as he kissed the side of her neck.

I noted that Mitch wasn’t in the room. Neither was Sophie.

Don’t think about it, Gracie. Don’t even go there!

“Do you want to play?” Garrett asked, picking up Jordan’s discarded controller.

“Does a one legged duck swim in a circle?” I asked, flopping down beside him.

“Uh, I’m not sure. Does it?” Garrett asked, looking perplexed.

“Don’t be a smartass and let me show you how it’s done,” I told him, focusing on the game.

“Trash talk already. I like it,” Garrett grinned as my character blew something up.

We were firmly entrenched in gaming warfare when I heard Jordan call out a greeting to someone that had entered the room.

I glanced towards the doorway and my fingers fumbled on the controls, causing my character to die.

“Dude, G, what the hell was that?” Garrett complained.

Mitch walked in, looking freshly showered. His hair was still dripping and the collar of his button down shirt was wet. His jeans hung low on his hips and he still hadn’t shaved. He looked good with a little shag on his face.

My mouth was suddenly dry and I was having a hard time swallowing.

Mitch leaned against the recliner where Jordan and Maysie were cuddled up together. He crossed his arms across his broad chest and smiled at something Maysie said. Then he threw his head back and laughed.

I felt that laugh everywhere.

“Gracie, seriously, can you at least pretend to play?” Garrett griped and I turned my attention back to the game. But I couldn’t concentrate.

Not with him here.

“Hey guys,” I heard him say and I knew he was close. Too close. I could almost freaking smell him.

“Hey, Mitch. You’re messing with our vibe here. Get lost,” Garrett grumbled, not taking his eyes from the television screen.

I heard Mitch chuckle, but I wouldn’t look at him. I really wanted to. But nope, wouldn’t do it.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize you found me so distracting,” he said.

Garrett glanced at me from the corner of his eye. He didn’t need to say out loud that he wasn’t the one with the problem.

“Where’s Sophie?” I heard Jordan ask.

My jaw clenched and I blew Garrett’s PC’s head off. Garrett slapped me on the leg. “Damn, girl! Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

“Uh, she’s at home tonight. I’ll probably see her tomorrow,” Mitch said and I finally allowed myself too look at him again. Our eyes met and then we both quickly looked elsewhere.

“So can I jump in or what?” he asked.

Garrett handed him his controller. “Take my place. I’ve gotta piss.” Garrett stood up and Mitch hesitated for a moment, but then sank down onto the couch beside me.

I gave him a sideways smile that was a little on the uneasy side. “Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” Mitch said back. He cleared his throat and hit the restart button.

I held the controller limply between my hands, not in the mood to blow stuff up anymore.

The couch was on the small side and there was less than five inches separating us. I suddenly couldn’t get comfortable. I stretched out my legs, accidentally bumping his knee with mine.

“Oh, sorry,” I muttered, my skin tingling underneath my jeans.

“No problem,” Mitch replied shortly, his voice hollow. He started tapping away at the controller and I tried to focus on the game. People were talking around us, but I didn’t hear anything anyone was saying. Mitch and I sat, side by side, not talking, pushing buttons like crazy and trying to pretend we weren’t completely weirded out by the whole thing.

After a few minutes I blew up the convoy his PC player was in and I let out a whoop.

Mitch rolled his eyes. “I’ll get you back, G, you just wait.”

He called me G.

He hadn’t done that in a long time.

It hinted at a familiarity we didn’t have anymore. It made me feel all warm and fuzzy.

“Oh, you’re going down, you just wait,” I threatened, baring my teeth in a wide grin.

Mitch’s lips twitched. “You always were overconfident.”

“Not overconfident. I’m just confident enough,” I threw back at him.

And this time when his knee hit mine neither of us moved right away. His leg against mine. It was something so little but it felt right.

Then his phone rang. “No phone calls during the epic shoot out,” I warned teasingly.

Mitch snorted but pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Hey, Garrett, take over for me, would ya?” he said, handing the controller over and getting to his feet. He put the phone to his ear. “Hey, Soph. Yeah, I’m home…” I tried not to stare after him as he left the room.

I forced a smile on my face as Garrett rejoined me on the couch. “Ready for more?” I asked, wishing my heart didn’t feel so heavy.

The flickering glow of the bonfire cast shadows around the yard. I sat on the wooden bench and pulled my legs up underneath me. I could hear the laughter filtering out of the house and smiled. Even with things so up in the air, they were all in good spirits.

It was close to midnight and I knew it was almost that point in the evening when people would start to go home. And I would be leaving. Alone.

Mitch hadn’t come back to the living room. I had heard him moving around upstairs in his room, his steps pacing back and forth. I wondered if something was wrong. I knew that pacing usually indicated he was upset about something. Or pissed off. But there was no way I’d go up to his room to find out.

Once upon a time I’d go crawl under the covers with Mitch and we’d cuddle and watch movies until we passed out.

“Is this seat taken?”

I startled and looked up in shock to find Mitch standing just behind me. His hands were shoved into his pockets. He looked hesitant, shifting uneasily on his feet.

“Uh. No,” I said, moving over so he could sit down.

Mitch came around and sat down beside me, our arms brushed against each other then separated. Pulled apart.

“You found my hiding spot,” I laughed. I sounded so incredibly fake.

“Sorry. I can go if you want to be alone,” Mitch offered, starting to stand up.

“No,” I said quickly, grabbing his wrist. He tensed under my grip and I hastily dropped my hand. “You don’t have to go. It was getting a little lonely out here,” I added.

Mitch sat back down, though he didn’t relax his posture. He seemed as though he were waiting to run away.

If he didn’t want to be out here, why was he staying?

“You missed out on some serious COD action earlier,” I piped up. Anything to get rid of this horrible silence.

“Oh yeah? Well damn. Maybe next time,” he commented, sounding a little distracted.

“Sure,” I said and then the damn quiet descended again.

All I could hear was the crackling of embers and the ragged sound of my breathing. Or was it Mitch? Perhaps it was both of us struggling to breathe through all the tension.

“Do you feel the déjà vu too?” he asked softly, looking into the fire. The flames leapt upwards, towards the sky, the smoke heavy and thick in the air.

“Yeah, it does feel a lot like old times,” I agreed just as softly.

Then nothing. We had become very bad at this whole small talk thing.

“Are you glad to be back?” I asked him. It seemed a safe enough topic.

Mitch shrugged. “I’m not sure yet,” he answered truthfully, glancing at me from the corner of his eyes.

“Well, maybe we could just sit awhile and figure it out,” I suggested lightly, all the while my stomach churned.

This had the earmarks of normal. But it was anything but. Once we would have been laughing. Talking about all kinds of things. Mitch would have slung an arm around my shoulders and I would have leaned into him. Natural. Perfect.

But now we sat rigid, unsure how to be in each other’s company when so much between us had changed. All I knew was that I wanted—no, I needed—to find some way to exist with him.

I missed him.

More than I thought it possible to miss anyone or anything.

Being here, at Garrett’s house, with him reinforced for me how truly difficult it was going to be having him back in Bakersville and not having him in my life.

I wasn’t thinking about Sophie or the fact that he was with someone else. I wasn’t thinking about how uncomfortable it was to be around him and not be with him. We had sat on the couch and played video games together and I just missed him.

I missed Gracie and Mitch.

Mitch and Gracie.

The two people who had been friends first and lovers later.

We hadn’t always been healthy or functional, but we were us.

And that mattered more than anything else.

I knew we could never go back to what we were. That ship had sailed.

But I needed him badly. I needed anything he was willing to give me.

Did that make me pathetic? Perhaps. But I really didn’t care.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” Mitch finally agreed, giving me a smile that was a little less pained. I felt some relief in that.

He leaned back against the bench and appeared to relax marginally.

Find a neutral topic. Something to talk about. Keep him here. Keep him talking. Just for tonight.

“Have you been out to see your parents yet?” I asked.

Rebuild the connection. One brick at a time.

Mitch shook his head. “Not yet. My sister is coming down tomorrow with my niece. I’ll be expected to be there of course. Though honestly, I wouldn’t miss it.” He was grinning and that felt good.

“I didn’t realize your sister had a baby. So you’re an uncle now. That’s an awesome responsibility. You up for the task?” I teased. Yes, I was actually teasing him. And he wasn’t scowling or telling me to take a hike. Progress!

“Oh, I plan on being the uncle who lets her watch rated R movies when she’s thirteen and sneaks her sugar after bedtime. I’ll be the cool uncle,” he said, puffing his chest out with pride.

I laughed. “Oh I can see it now. You’ll be taking her to get her first tattoo in no time.”

“Hey, I’ve never even gotten a tattoo,” he pointed out.

“Oh, I know. No matter how much I tried to talk you into getting that rose on your butt cheek.”

Mitch let out a sharp bark of laughter that took me by surprise. It seemed to take him by surprise too. He scratched the back of his neck and gave me a wry look. “There were some things even you, Gracie Cook, couldn’t talk me into. No matter how persuasive you were. Or how much I wanted to give you whatever you asked for.”

And we took a detour back into awkward.

I cleared my throat and struggled to get us back to less uneasy territory. “So with all this free time, what will you be doing? Maybe you could take up shuffleboard. Hey how about archery?” I suggested with an insane little giggle. My voice sounded overly bright. I really needed to tone it down a bit. I came across as mildly manic.

Mitch cocked an eyebrow. “Uh, no I think I’ll pass on the shuffleboard.”

“Yeah, who likes shuffleboard? I mean except for my grandma. She’s a shuffleboard freak.”

Shut up, Gracie! Just shut the hell up!

“Huh. I’ll make sure not to challenge your grandma to a shuffleboard competition anytime soon. Is this the same grandma that pinched my butt while your parents grilled me about my lack of gainful employment?” he asked and I snorted.

“Crap, I forgot about that!” I exclaimed, covering my eyes with my hand in mortification.

Mitch had come by my parents’ house to pick me up from dinner once. I had sent him a frantic SOS asking him to save me from the horror that was my parents and extended family.

Mitch had come inside and attempted to make polite conversation with my mom and dad. My parents were cold and dismissive, nothing new there. They had asked him why he didn’t get a real job and I had wanted to slap them both.

My grandmother on the other hand had already downed a half a bottle of wine and proceeded to comment on his “tight bottom” and gave it a pinch in full view of my grandfather, who continued to smoke his cigar and talk about politics.

“I thought she was going to slip me her phone number. She gave me a wink as we were leaving if I remember correctly,” Mitch mused.

“Oh my god,” I groaned.

“I don’t know, maybe she was trying to get her grand-cougar on.”

“G—Grand-cougar?” I sputtered.

Mitch’s face split into a wide grin and he laughed loudly. “Your face is priceless!”

I smacked his knee with my hand, trying to ignore how good it felt to touch him. “I’m going to need more therapy just to erase the thought of my grandmother grand-cougaring.” I shuddered.

“Even grandmas need lovin’, G.”

He used the nickname again. My heart fluttered wildly and my stomach did a few somersaults.

“Okay, enough already! My poor brain can’t take the images!” I poked my fingers in my ears.

Mitch pulled my hands down. “I’ll stop scarring you. I promise,” he said and I realized instantly how close we were. His continued to lightly hold my hands in my lap where they had dropped after he had pulled them from my face. I wanted to curl my fingers and intertwine them with his.

But I couldn’t.

His hands weren’t mine to hold.

I pulled away and wiped my suddenly damp palms on my jeans. “So, I guess we should go back inside. The fire seems to be dying down.” I motioned towards the bonfire, which was barely smoldering.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cold out here. I should probably call Sophie back,” Mitch remarked blandly. Her name was said as though to make a point.

I get it, Mitch. I really do.

“Yeah, you don’t want her wondering where you are.” I realized I sounded as though I were chewing on broken glass. Brittle and bleeding.

Mitch got to his feet and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He started to walk away but then stopped, turning back to face me.

“I know things have been…well…bad between us. This past weekend got a little out of control, I think,” he said, not quite meeting my eyes.