“Make sure you save some of those for me, piggy,” Mom teased as she moved around the desk toward the box I’d commandeered and then managed to eat six donuts out of. “Or I’m going to stop bringing them.”
I snorted and pushed the box toward her, thinking that six donuts was more than enough, and then said, “Why are you so nice to Mavis?”
My mother took the seat next to me and stared at me for so long that I thought she wasn’t going to answer.
Then she rolled her eyes. “Why do you hold grudges for so long?”
“I don’t,” I denied.
She scoffed. “You do. But that’s me coming out in you. Or, more accurately, that’s my mother coming out in you. Man, could she hold a mean grudge!”
I waited for her to continue.
When she did, I wasn’t surprised that she was super sweet about explaining.
My mother really couldn’t be mean, even if she tried.
“I don’t think that you see Mavis clearly,” she admitted. “I know that you said Mavis invited you to ‘y’all’s favorite spot.’ However, you knew better than to traipse around the property, and you know you did. I’d told you more than once not to do it, because you knew how that bitter shrew hated seeing kids—even her own grandchildren—out on her lawn. But you did it anyway. So, I know this is going to really hurt to hear, but if you want to blame anyone, you should blame yourself. You were the older child. You should’ve damn well known better, because I told you to. And you were twelve to her nine. So…”
So she did have a point.
I sighed.
“It was bad,” I told her. “I know that I shouldn’t blame her but…”
“But you had to live in a car for two years, lie to your peers, dig in trash cans for food, and ultimately degrade yourself just so you could survive.” She paused. “I know that you did, baby. And I hate that I couldn’t give you what every kid should have. But we turned out okay, don’t you think?”
“I think that you’re trying to make me forget the awfulness by realizing that we ended up pretty good in the end,” I rolled my eyes and stood up to walk to the vintage Dr. Pepper machine that was in the corner. “Do you think we could get this thing to work again?”
My mother, sensing the need for a change of subject, sighed. “You’re being very weird today. Does that maybe have something to do with the beautiful Mavis being here?”
Instead of answering her, I jogged up the stairs to use the restroom, and found it cleaned.
I wasn’t sure, but I was fairly sure I’d left clothes on the floor.
Now they were in the hamper in the corner of the room and separated at that.
The towels in one hamper and the greasy clothes in another.
There was also a Post-It note on the mirror that had me grinning.
That grin slid off my face when I read what the note said: You’re a damn slob. Thanks for the shower. I still dislike you. M.
M.
Well, M, I still dislike you, too.
Rolling my eyes, I went back to work.
And I tell you what, I didn’t think about her once for the rest of the day.
Also, I was a damn liar.
CHAPTER 4
If Cinderella’s shoe fits perfectly, why the fuck did it fall off?
-Questions about life
MURPHY
One month later
I wasn’t sure why the hell I was at my second class of the day.
Usually, I only went to one because I just didn’t have the time in the day to spare.
But today’s workout was easy, it was a thirty-minute jog or row.
This morning I’d run.
Tonight, I was going to row.
At least, that was as long as a certain blonde pixie rowed.
If she didn’t, I’d be running.
Because I couldn’t stop fucking thinking about her.
I admit it, okay? I was a glutton for punishment.
I knew that I couldn’t have her—for reasons that I refused to focus on at that moment in time—but that didn’t mean that I could completely turn my brain off and ignore her like I wanted to.
Which was why, after a month of thinking about her nonstop, I was now doing something stupid—attending the class that she normally attended.
I had a plan.
I would sit in my truck and wait until she either A, arrived, or B, didn’t.
If she didn’t arrive, then I would be heading back home where I seriously needed to get some work done on my fixer-upper house.
All of those years ago, when we’d first been kicked out of our home, I’d seen this old house with its guest house and big ass pool, and thought, ‘That’s where I want to live someday.’
And, when we’d come back home, I’d bought it sight unseen.
Possibly, I should’ve looked at it first.
At least it was livable.
My mom’s guest/pool house had been completely renovated and updated with all the latest appliances.
The main house, however, not so much.
It needed a lot of work, and it was exhausting after working a twelve-hour day as a mechanic.
Luckily, though, I only worked four days a week, leaving me with three full days to get shit done in it.
However, fixing one thing only led to another thing wrong.
And I was getting frustrated.
Not to mention while I was fixing the house, I thought about what a certain someone would think.
Like paint colors.
Why was I thinking to myself, ‘this blue is the color of Mavis’s eyes?’ When I should be thinking, ‘Why the fuck am I painting my living room blue?’
I was so focused inwardly on my house and what needed done, and what I shouldn’t do—like think of whether Mavis would like sparkly fucking quartz countertops—that I almost missed her going inside.
When I did see her, it was to see the back end of her disappearing through the door.
Feeling my heartrate accelerate, I picked up my shit from the bench seat beside me and slid out of my truck.
The pounding rain that’d been plaguing Paris, Texas all day instantly soaked me.
I groaned and walked through the rain until I got to the front door.
Just as I was reaching for the door handle, the door opened, and a glaring Mavis stared back at me.
“Get out of the rain already,” she grumbled when I froze.
I snorted. “Thanks for getting the door.”
She scoffed. “You don’t have to sound like you’re disgusted that I got it for you.”
“I could’ve gotten it myself,” I pointed out.
She put her hands on her hips, and that’s when I saw how much she’d grown in the last four weeks.
She’d gotten massive.
Not that I would ever point that out.
“You could just say thank you,” she suggested haughtily.
I could have.
I probably should have.
But there was something about seeing Mavis riled that really did it for me.
That, and I still wasn’t quite on her side.
My mom was right. I didn’t know how to let things go.
But being homeless wasn’t something that you could just ‘let go.’
“Thank you,” I finally grumbled.
“Everyone gather around and let’s get started warming up!” Madden yelled.