His eyes swept over me before settling back on mine. “For not being able to help you back then—that day. You broke right in front of me and I didn’t know what to do.” For the first time I considered how it must have felt for him to see me that way. He had been close to my father too; I wasn’t the only one who’d felt his loss.
Images of that day flashed in my mind. My mother trying to catch me as I ran to the treehouse, then giving up to collapse sobbing onto the lawn. She was never the same after that. She checked out of life and remained distant and sad, even after she remarried. Garrett always was faster than me; he caught up and we ran the rest of the way together. We stayed up here into the evening, only realizing later that Becky Lee had spent the entire day sitting beneath us on the spiral staircase in case we needed her while Bill had stayed with my brothers and mother in the house, making phone calls and arrangements for the funeral and the . . . body. Dad had died in his bed of pancreatic cancer. My brother Cameron had discovered him early in the morning, before the hospice nurse had arrived for the day.
“We were only fifteen, Garrett. What else could you have done? You stayed with me. You held my hand. You let me cry and didn’t try to make me stop like everyone else always did. That was enough.” The words floated out of me as if I hadn’t been the one to speak them. Sometimes buried truths felt that way; like they came from somewhere else.
“But, after that—when you finally came back to school—we didn’t talk anymore, at least not like before.”
“I didn’t want to talk to anyone after that. Not just you.”
“But, Clara and Leo—”
“Clara’s dad took off and her mom is a cold-hearted witch. Leo’s parents sent him to live with his grandparents after he told them he was gay. I lost my hearing, then a few years later, my dad died. We didn’t talk to each other, not really, and if we did, we weren’t sober. Look, you and I were on two different paths, Garrett. Yours led to the baseball team and the student council, to college and then the Marines. Mine led to cutting school to get drunk in the woods behind the library with Clara and Leo, then right here back at the inn. I just couldn’t deal, with anything. It wasn’t about something you did or didn’t do. I promise.”
“And what about now?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“What about now?” Too many truths had spilled out of my mouth, like puzzle pieces from the past. I could see him putting it all together as he watched me pace the length of the treehouse deck.
“We still don’t talk, Molly. I’ve been back in town for almost four years and once a conversation between us moves past, ‘Hey, how are you?’ you make sure you have somewhere else to be. You’re not even subtle about it.”
“I don’t do that,” I insisted. I totally did that. He just looked at me as I continued pacing and thinking and pacing some more. Without intending to, I stopped and met his eyes.
He rocked forward on his feet, then forced himself to take a step back, stuffing his hands into his pockets with a frustrated sigh. “You were my best friend. Then you weren’t. I missed you—I still miss you,” was all he said. But I guess that said it all, didn’t it?
I stood there, trapped by his eyes, whiskey brown and earnest. I was a sucker for earnesty. Earnestness? Whatever. Abbie was earnest, and that kid always got four cookies out of me. My guts heaved with the possibility of being spilled. “Maybe I do avoid talking to you,” I admitted. “I—I don’t like remembering how I was back then, how it felt. I really don’t like thinking about the past at all. I don’t consciously avoid you. I don’t want to hurt you. Now I’m the one to say I’m sorry.”
“Maybe we should stop apologizing to each other and lose this awkwardness. Yeah? We don’t have to talk about the past.” He held his pinky out, bridging the distance between us.
I grinned at the familiar gesture and reached out to link mine with his. “Yeah, okay. But I’m on to you, so don’t think I’m overlooking the insomnia thing. I’m just letting it go for now, but turnabout is fair play, my friend.” I let the pent-up feels in my chest take the form of a huge sigh and then let it out. “I need a cookie.” I let my hand fall from his as I stepped around him to return to the table, right my chair and sit back down. I was full of scones but I was also an emotional eater, so I stuffed a bite of cookie into my mouth hoping my feelings would be stuffed down with it.
“Okay, then I’ll eat the rest.”
“Should I have Abbie bring out the big bowl?”
He laughed. “No, I’m good. So, about dinner at my place?”
“Not a good idea,” I answered quickly, stuffing another bite of cookie into my mouth to avoid saying anything else.
“But, we just—”
“Became friends again. Even more reason not to date each other.”
“Who said it’s a date?” He winked, effectively mixing his message.
My cheeks heated with embarrassment, yet I was sure I hadn’t misunderstood him about the date. “Oh, uh . . . I just assumed, since—”
“Friends are allowed to have dinner together, right?”
“I guess so . . .” I remembered this part of him. The sneaky, twisty word guy. Garrett always won every argument we’d ever had. He was also a master deflector. He liked to be the one to provide help or give of himself. He never asked anyone for anything.
“I have to get back to work. We’ll talk about dinner later.” He got up to leave, grabbing the cookie container as he stood up.
“Okay, sure, we’ll make plans.”
Scooting my chair, I leaned on the railing to watch him walk down the stairs and back to the inn, but I failed at being subtle. He caught me looking and waved as he shouted from the lawn, “Bye, cutie!”
“Later, buttface!” I was trying as hard as I could to ignore what was happening—the odd chemistry that had bubbled between us last night and the fact that he definitely asked me out, then took it back to pretend it was a friend thing. He wouldn’t play games with me—I believed that. He had to be just as confused as I was.
Chapter 5
Garrett
“Hey, man, we’re almost done in here. Good thing you’ll be the one in charge after Dad retires. He won’t fire his protégée for sneaking off all morning.” My brother Everett had arrived while I was in the treehouse and just in time to give me crap about missing most of the kitchen demo. My crew had cleared almost the entire space in my absence, and I could hear them outside loading up the trucks to haul away the old cabinets and appliances. It was just Ev and me left in the kitchen.
“No matter what papers we signed or what Mom says, Dad will never retire. He’ll run Monroe & Sons forever.” I grabbed the broom and started sweeping. “You finished with the cabinets yet? We should be ready to start installing them at the end of next week.”
“Yes, sir,” he drawled.
“Very funny. You’re older—you could have been the chosen son. It didn’t have to be just me.”
“Nope, I’m happy with my shop and I’ll be happy to keep working for you when that day comes.”